Second Thoughts a Little Too Late

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I spent a part of one afternoon with my private tour guide, Francis.  This driver spoke English, making him worth his weight in gold in a country where most people speak French.  I love to go to market places, so Frances took me to an African arts market filled with colorful woven and batik fabrics and wooden carvings.  I wanted a few pieces of carved wood.  The salesman said, “11,000 CFA.” (The currency throughout what was once French West Africa is the CFA, the Communauté Financière Africaine Franc or the West African Franc.)  Francis told me I was expected to bargain.  So, I asked for the last price.  The guy said, “11,500”.
 
“What?” I exclaimed.  “Price number one was 11,000 CFA and price number two was 11,500?  Do you know how to bargain?  What is price number three?”  When I heard “10,000”, we had ourselves a sale.  (For those who just have to know, 6,000 CFA is about ten dollars.)
 
A picture is worth a thousand words, but these photos leave me speechless.
Afterwards, we headed off to a fetish market.  I’m not sure what I expected at this market.  For certain, I absolutely didn’t think there would be a guided tour.  I was hosted by none other than Elvis at the fetish market.  Of course, he knew all about Elvis Presley.  I exclaimed, “I never knew that Elvis had a son in Africa!”  It was only the first of my sense of humor that took the young man by surprise.

 
Elvis showed me a whole lot of dead birds, baboon skulls, necklaces made from snake vertebrae, animal skins, crocodile parts, warthog teeth, porcupine quills, dried lizards, cow tales attached to wooden handles, shriveled starfish, assorted jawbones, lots of animal heads, and so very much more. Items were frequently boiled or burned to make potions, lotions, bath salts, and ashes.  You could get cures for whatever ailed you.  Not to mention, if needed, you could be made invisible to someone else or become bulletproof. Yes, it was all for sale.  I don’t know if any of it was reasonably priced.  I wasn’t about to bring any of that into my home.
 
Elvis showed me several statues around the market.  One was of the founder of the place.  He died a long time ago.  I said, “His potions didn’t work so well for him.  He had a couple of necklaces on, but I guess they weren’t strong enough.”  It’s my guess that nobody ever made that comment before.  I continued to surprise Elvis.
 
If I had it to do all over again, I never would have walked into a building in the back of the market.  It was where the witch doctor was.  I’m sure if I wanted to interact more, I could have had a much longer conversation.  I didn’t.  The witch doctor asked to pray for me and blessed some token that I could take home.  I declined the token.  And, Francis had a good laugh once we were in the car, because he noticed I didn’t give the guy my real name.  There was no way I wanted a witch doctor praying for me!
 
I left the market almost immediately after that experience.  I’d been to places like this market before but never had a guide, nothing was ever explained to me, and I never saw a witch doctor.  A little knowledge is usually a good thing.  This time, I don’t think I can say that.space\\
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The New Abnormal

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