In Which I Encounter an African Hooker

July 14th, 2005 by Sarin

It was the 4 of us in the Peace Corps group going off to the “bad” side of the beach, or so our contact told us. The side that was definitely not as safe as our side of the beach, which was empty, and private with a 24 hour security guard. We wanted to venture off and see some scheduled bonfire that was supposed to take place at 9. Since African time is generally very late, we departed around the time it was supposed to begin. I didn’t make it back to the hotel until much later and I really did not know what we had in store this night.

We were all stuck in Senegal, West Africa en route to Cape Verde. Our airline that was transporting us from Dakar, Senegal to Praia, Cape Verde was shut down for an indefinite time and we all had no clue for how long we would be staying at some beach hotel in Dakar. Every 4 hours or so, we would get a new rumor, telling us about our new departure time but with each rumor we believed them less. By that time we have been stuck in Senegal for 2 days and barely keeping a good night’s sleep. On this night, our next rumor would keep up awake until we would leave the hotel later that night at 4am. We decided we would not sleep and try and live Saturday night true African style.

We walked to the other side of the beach before some Senegalese nationals stopped us to sit down and hear some drums. That stopped about 15 minutes later when I came to realize the so-called bonfire was a ruse to get us Americans into the closest bar. While I wanted to stay and learn some drums outside, sitting in on an indoor African drum session wasn’t too bad. There was English singing going on… a sign that us Americans were very welcome.

So we’re all having a good time; some of us volunteers brought beer from our hotel and I finished my rum and coke in my nice glass that I borrowed (hoping they would never find out). About 3 songs in, other volunteers have followed our tracks (thee Americans are thees way!) and we now had a crowd of about 10 of us. And then I needed to pee.

I knew I had to confront it sooner or later so I swallowed my gut. It was obvious this facility did not having a running toilet and that some squatting action was something to look forward to. I quickly learned the word for “water closet” in French and was on my way. An overweight female bartender took me upstairs and showed me the house’s hole. It was definitely a squat toilet.

I did the job. Aimed directly in the hole, and washed my hands from the drain. The female bartender was waiting for me directly as I came out of the bathroom. She shooed me off to the other side of the porch and I immediately obliged. There was a great view of the beach but couldn’t pay much attention to it because she crept from behind me and kept rubbing my back.

“Do you love me?” She says.

Now I really did not want to offend her. This was her place, I surely did not aim to insult.

“Sure I love you.” I say with little assuredness.

She rubs my back some more as I stare off into the beach. She mumbles another sentence in English before I decide to take the lead.

“Do you have kids?” And then I motioned my hand as if I was patting a child’s head.

She runs off into the other hallway for another second and I’m expecting to see her kids. A half a minute later a window on the porch opens up and I see a bedroom, well lit, with… supplies sitting on the bed (condom, soap & other crap).It was very obvious what I did now…. I just told an African hooker I loved her. And then I mentioned kids.

“NO!!! I said babies!”, with my arms motioning a baby rocking motion.

She shakes her head no, “No babies”

“I’m not interested!” as I stormed back to the basement to join my friends.

I’m playing it cool without a smile on my face from obviously the funniest thing that has happened to me since I left for the Peace Corps. I sit down and get some stares from my friends. They must wonder why I was up there for so long.

“Did you just get head?”

“No, but she’s definitely a hooker.”

And then my friends told me she had holes sticking out in her underwear.

I still have positive thoughts about Senegal though.

Related Posts

Share this post: