Taxi

Most of the time I'm pretty comfortable here in Nouakchott. I know where to find the things I want, I know how much they should cost, and if not, I'm more confident in my French, so I can usually work it out. I shut my windows in the morning to keep the apartment cool in the day and open them up at night. I know which restaurants have A/C when the afternoon is unbearable. I can turn down three glasses of tea, gracefully leave a friend's house when I'm ready, and turn down an invitation if I don't want to go. But there are still things I sometimes dread. That includes taking a taxi. It's not just the terrible driving; it's being locked in a car with curious strangers and dealing with the same questions again and again.

1.How can I get a VISA to America? I tried to get a VISA to America. I need to go to America! (Response: Yes, it's very hard right now. I have nothing to do with it. I wish it was easier.)

2.Bush bad! (Response: He is not very popular. He won't be president much longer.) I've heard this less and less lately. Now the conversation usually starts with Obama, who is a superstar. No one knows the name of the other guy.

3.Who will win? / Who will you vote for? / Obama! (Response: I don't know, he could win. He's very popular. We're from the same city!)

4.You don't speak Hassiniya/Pulaar/Wolof/Soninké? (Response: No. I'd like to learn. Languages are very difficult for me.)

5. Are you married? You should be married! (Response: No, not yet. That's what my mom says.)

6.You need to find an African wife! (Response: Awkward laugh.)

7.You don't have anything smaller? (Response: No, I told you I would need change.) Now we drive around asking people for change.

8.Give me your phone number! (Response: ummmm. uhhh.)