Abraham and I took the camera with us on Friday as we ran our errands. We’re starting to do this with increasing confidence, no longer intimidated by the craziness of downtown. Still, we have to be discreet. I still stand out, obviously much more than Abraham, and people constantly approach me, either selling me something, directly asking for money or trying to scam me for money.

On this day, a very healthy-looking man approached me and spoke in English, “Hello, my friend. I’ve been trying to catch up to you.” My scammer radar was up and running, and this guy was ringing all the alarm bells. First of all, he was way too friendly. Bad sign. He called me his friend. Another bad sign. He went on, ” You see, I’m from Togo. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you for money.” This meant he was asking me for money. He continued, “I am a diabetic and I need insulin.” I had heard of this scam and knew the rest of the story, that all he needed was a little cash for insulin.

I put on my most serious face possible and said, “I can’t help you.”

“But all I need is some insulin…”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

His friendly demeanor dissolved. He turned and quickly walked away.

A firm no usually does the trick, and then it’s easy to move on and continue with your business.

Meanwhile, while I was deflecting scammers and picking up our tickets to Ghana (we’re going there when our visas run out before Christmas), Abraham was having a meeting for his project. He’s presently interviewing small and medium business, but this one turned out to be a very large business, with over 1,000 employees. Yet another frustration, but that’s part of the task. At least he had an interesting conversation with the owner.

We met at the train station, in the above photo, to catch a taxi home. Senegal is down to one rail line now, leaving Dakar twice a week, crossing Senegal and continuing to Mali. Everyone has advised us to avoid this train at all costs. Apparently it’s often late. Very late. Sometimes 24 hours late.

By the time we arrived in our neighborhood, school was letting out for the day. I love this part of the day. We live near a string of schools, so when school let’s out the streets literally fill with children. Traffic slows down or comes to a halt as kids cross the street or get picked up by relatives. The air fills with their voices laughing and yelling out.

When we arrived home, the usual group of neighbors was gathered in front of our building. The little boy is the son of one of the caretakers. The smaller girl is the daughter of the woman making tea below. The other girl must live in one of the buildings.

N’dour is one of the caretakers. We often exchange our few words of Wolof with him and the rest of the group, and they try to teach us a new word or two. I like his sense of humor. He calls Blackie, my favorite dog (below), “Air France.” He calls her that because he says I should take her with me when I leave Senegal.

Ibu, short for Ibrahima, is also a caretaker (there are three guys who all seem to be caretakers/guards, but I’m not sure what the division of labor is). Whenever we have a problem, Ibu is the person we turn to. He’s a great guy who’s run several errands with us. He always seems to be in a good mood. He’s skinny as a rail, and his voice is very gravelly because of his smoking habit.

This woman is part of the group. I’m not sure if she’s married to one of the caretakers. She usually makes tea in the afternoon. She and the others were very excited to see these pictures on the digital camera monitor right after I took them. I’ll have copies made for them.

And of course, as always, Blackie was waiting for us. She has an uncanny ability to know when we’re coming, because she’s always there wagging her tail when we arrive. She never fails to put a smile on my face.