I’m a bit distracted at the moment. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, then you probably know that this means I’m unsuccessfully trying to pack a suitcase. Seventeen years of traveling, and it’s still a self-inflicted duel where I pit myself against the clock to start and complete the entire process at the very last minute. I know I can do it, so I am always a willing participant in this masochistic game. Still, I wish my suitcase would pack itself.
So as a pile of disappointed clothes waits just beyond my computer, I sit here and accomplish nothing productive in particular. Writing, downloading music, chatting with my twin sister in Japan (who is thankfully okay after the earthquake), and cooking some crazy carrot-coconut oil recipe (to use up the staples in my fridge)…none of this adds up to me getting organized.Still, at least you can now profit from all of this by seeing photos that I have been meaning to throw up here for some time.
So without further ado I’m providing you with a slideshow of the crap that is currently advertised in this week’s Dakar circular. Put your credit cards away, because they won’t help you at all here.
The local newsagent. When he gets to our car, he will pull out the glossy magazine with a white person on the cover, because this is what I am its target demographic.
What about a mirror? Surely there is room in the back of your 4X4 to buy a big ass mirror on a whim while sitting in traffic. Right?
This guy has the market cornered on matches. I’m trying to figure out how each person selects their particular collection of wares to hawk once the latest cargo of consumer crap is dumped off at the port.
Adidas tracksuit so you can fit in with all the other sportifs working out on the corniche? Au nom de dieu, he’ll swear to you this is not a black market tracksuit…
Shower curtain. This guy doesn’t seem to be too enthusiastic about peddling such unsexy merchandise. I should have told him that he needs to try harder, but then he’d have only chased our car, mistaking my sales advice for actual interest in this hideous thing.
You know, just the other day I was riding a taxi into work and asking myself, “Now if only I could get my hands on a live chickadee at this hour…“
This a-hole is wearing a Lakers shirt, so I am never going to buy his coffee pot. If he comes back with a blender or ironing board, however, that’s another story….
This guy with a sackful of fluorescent lights is chasing a car that may or may not actually buy something from him. Me, I’m trying to get a photo of my favorite item that I always see for sale out here. Look further down and you can see a big wall clock (Flavor Flav could not wear this thing) with Arabic writing in the middle. I am guessing it must say alhamdoulilah, but again I don’t want to actually engage any of the vendor to find out. Once you enter into any sort of discussion, you are almost obligated to buy something.
Okay, one more unrelated photo. It doesn’t really have a home in this particular posting, but I snapped it with my cell phone yesterday morning while I running into work (hence the blur). At this same spot last week, I had spied a Polk High Al Bundy t-shirt that was worn by someone working in the fish market. Today, I came upon Soumbédioune once again and was greeted with highly appropriate hand-me-down couture:
Wow. Even the Senegalese get our old Navy sweatshirts (I was issued one of these at Officer Candidate School).
Note to my American readers: please continue to donate your unwanted clothing to charity. Your generosity is guaranteed to provide unintentional comedic entertainment to whatever follow-on military officer happens to be out and about in West Africa. This kind of stuff totally makes my day.
