November 10, 1980

OUAGADOUGOU - ABIDJAN
Slept better than I expected I would. Watched the daylight come in, but it was earlier than I at first thought. The landscape had changed since the evening before: there were forests now, instead of isolated trees, dense fields of shrubbery, vines and general overgrowth, and everything was drenched with dew, unheard of in Niger. I was hungry and bought something to eat at nearly every stop: oily sandwiches of onions, tomatoes, lettuce, a little meat; hard-boiled eggs; oranges; bananas, much larger and cheaper than in Niamey.

I usually don't feel too obviously out of place here, because no one makes much of a fuss over me. Even in rural areas, everyone speaks some French—it all gives me the impression that I'm just one of thousands of whites the see every day. Every now and then I think of this and look around. For instance, I'm sure I'm the only white on this train that has a few hundred passengers. When I was watching a soccer match in Niamey, mine was the only white face in the crowded stadium. Except in Niamey, when I see a white face on the street, it stands out as unusual to me. Maybe it's only the season, but there seem to be far fewer tourists here than I generally assume.

As we approached Abidjan in mid-afternoon, I could see that it was not a town like the last two capitals I'd seen. This was a real city, with highways and with a half-hour ride from outskirts to center. Again there were no police checks or customs at the station.

The first thing I wanted to do was find Jean-Luc, so he could help me get settled. On my two-day trip from Niamey to Ouagadougou, I'd managed to get more filthy than I had on my two weeks in the desert and I desperately wanted to wash myself and my clothes.

I found the Post Office of the quarter, the only place I could make a phone call, waited a half-hour or more to have my call put through and when I asked for Jean-Luc, the party hung up! Didn't have time to go through that again, so I put it aside and decided to get a room. I asked around for a cheap hotel and a guy offered to find one for me. I'd read that Abidjan was one of the most expensive cities in the world, close to Tokyo, but he said he could get me a room fro $3 - $5. After literally walking through garbage dumps—this was Treichville, the African slum section of Abidjan—the best deal we could find was $10/night. Defeated, I accepted.

My next project was to get my clothes washed. I could never go to a consulate looking for a visa if I looked like that. I'd tried washing my own clothes in hotel sinks before and not done a very good job, so I asked for a laundry. The place I was directed to looked like a dry cleaners—they did regular wash, but it was not self-service. One shirt and one pair of pants? No problem, only $45. Tonight, I learned to clean my clothes perfectly in a hotel sink.

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