Douane.

Two Tuesdays ago (le 2 octobre), I received a call from DHL (during class) about my package arriving. Renata changed my ring tone, so I didn't realize that it was my phone ringing during Wolof class... Luckily Kéba (my teacher) thought it was funny. Besides, all the teachers' (and guest lecturers' for that matter) phones ring during class and they pick them up. Anyways they called during la petite pause and Souleye (the academic director) talked to them.

"Because of the nature of my package," I had to go down to their customs office located at the airport. I asked Papis (the go-to guy/'office manager') what times their office is open, wondering if I could go after class. He said that they close at like 5pm, so my only choice would be to go during lunch. Today was a good day to go because lunch was longer--2.5 hrs instead of 2. I thought that would be the perfect amount of time. I was so wrong...

Papis and I left SIT at around 12:37ish. Some guy came up to the taxi selling CDs and Papis bought like three recordings of Mouride chants. We got to the airport around 1:10ish? And the office was closed. We just missed them before they went to lunch. (Aren't they supposed to be fasting anyway?) So we found a nearby bench in the shade, where lots of people were sitting, I guess during their breaks too. A couple people came by trying to sell the pointy Moroccan slipper shoes, and some bootleg sneakers. They were 'New Balance' and 'Adidas' and 'Converse.' Could have fooled me--they're pretty real looking. Except the NB ones said 'Nando' on the back. Papis examined the shoes and determined that they're not rasta enough for him. He's a little shopper!

For waiting there for nearly an hour, it went by quick. Got to look at the music on Papis' ipod--learned a little about his gigantic family, and that he's had his dreadlocks for about 3 years. I love how he PRETENDS like he can't speak English--whenever you ask him something in English, he always responds in French, and so forth. I discovered that he can speak virtually perfect English! It's a scam... altough it's a good scam because we're forced to use our French--that's what we're here for, no?

Anyways, Germaine, the lady who called about my package--my glorious package! My computer!--called and said she was going to email the quote, but there was no need because we were right outside the door. 2pm finally arrived, and we went inside the DHL office, where they had my package and the customs fee I had to pay. They brought me the paper and my worst fears were realized--346,900 CFA?! (or something like that) Might as well buy a new computer. I explained that I'm a student, using it for school. It's a used laptop, not intended for resale. They said yeah yeah yeah, but the value on the sheet said $2,500--too much they said--but I said it's only for insurance purposes.

So they gave me a second option. I would buy those papers from them, so I could buy a ticket that said, "Please, customs people, re-evaluate my package." So I bought those stupid papers for 23,600 CFA. While they were processing my info, they were making friendly conversation... But friendly conversation here is just a little different than what we're used to. They straight up ask questions like, so, what religion are you? I always enjoy explaining to them that I'm not religious. "Animist? Athiest?" they ask. No. I think I've gotten a little better at explaining. I think the convo got started because I was eating some pretzels. "You're not fasting?" (You're not either! You ate lunch!)

So then we took the papers over to the customs office where a couple men approached us. Keep in mind, I had NO IDEA what was going on. I was still confused about why I had to buy those papers from DHL. So Papis talked to him (I thought they were friends?) and we walked to the waiting room, where the man with the nice shoes and pointy face explained what we had to do, where we had to go, who was who. I thought he was just being nice--he had his prayer beads in hand, after all. But then he took my papers and I understood what was going on (kind of). We had to wait again for the office to open up, where some man takes some money and writes a ticket that lets me get the customs guy to look at my package again. So we had to wait some more for some other guy to go back to his office so he could look at my papers again? ...more waiting...

Then he gave us some paper that said we could go back to the DHL "warehouse", get the customs office in DHL to get my package and loot at it again. There was some yelling at nice shoes man to not let him in, so Papis and I went into their warehouse room to find the Douane man, who was located at the far end of the warehouse and was dressed in traditional garb. He was discussing with two other similarly dressed men, one of whom was holding a copy of the Koran, we explained our presence and he stood up, revealing his enormous size. He seriously looked about 8 ft. tall. I remember wondering how they got clothes that big. His big dorky glasses made him less intimidating--more like a gentle giant, which a slow, kind of hunched over walk. He was nice. He sat behind a desk in front of the cage where packages are kept and instructed me to open it, where we explained my story and turned on my computer to prove it was used. He filled out some report and sent us with my laptop to the other customs guy.

So we went back to the office with my computer and waited for sme guy to look at it and verify that yes! it was used. But then we had to wait for some other guy who wasn't in his office, but we couldn't wait in his office because too many other people were waiting in there. So we stood in the hallway in front of his door, where Papis got mad at nice shoe man for demanding 20,000 CFA from me for his 'services' as 'gatekeeper' showing us where to go for what. By that time I had to quit trying to understand what was going on, my head hurt A LOT and I was pretty much just following them around blindly. Papis when on a rant about the country--where people accept bribes to easily--everyone is a 'businessman', no one knows what they're doing! everything is mal-organisé... I was d'accord because by then who knows how many circles we'd taken, how many government people weren't doing their job...

I seriously felt like I was going to pass out from waiting so long in the heat and I think my face must have started to show it because Papis insisted on buying me some water. It was well received--silly me, not bringing water because I thought it would only take an hour or two... I was grateful and drank most of it. Then Papis came to the dramatic realization that "Oh! You haven't eaten!" It's okay, I said, it was already 5pm, I could wait--I was more thirsty than anything.

We finally made our way into the air conditioned office and then finally into the head honcho's office. He was a young mand in a gigantic office with piles of paperwork in mounds surrounding him. It was almost as if he were sitting on mounds of paperwork on his gigantic leather swivel chair, since he seemed like a child in a monkey suit anyway. It just didn't quite 'suit' him... HA

Anyways, we went in and sat in the two chairs in front of his desk, and I felt like a little child peering up at the wizard, trying to see above the stack of papers. As he was talking to us, he was stamping papers so robotically that he didn't even look to see where his stamp and ink were--he didn't even look when he turned pages. He was dazzled by the idea that American students come to Sénégal to learn art & culture... and he finished his friendly conversation with, "This is the country of Teranga, you don't have to pay." And at that, I had to pay nothing for my computer. But if I could only enjoy the moment without a splitting headache...

We went back to the DHL warehouse where I got to repack my package (I gave Papis a packet of Twizzlers for being such a good sport) and signed some papers and we were off. Nice shoes man waiting outside, and I ended up giving him 5,000 CFA for his 'services,' as Papis suggested. And we finally returned to SIT, and it was after 6:30pm. I missed my afternoon class, but Sarah (my teacher) said that it was okay--I earned a blue stripe for going there, everything is a learning experience. I'm just thinking about the whole trying to find information on L'École des Otages in Saint-Louis, and it's impossibility... the circles you go through here...