So the flatmate who had Covid is feeling better, another flatmate who caught it whilst elsewhere in the country is staying away until he tests negative, and it seems that the remaining two of us got lucky and avoided getting ill.
A consequence of the resident Covid-infected flatmate being confined to her room, however, was that she was unable to go to work to collect her salary, so her employer paid the money directly into her new Senegalese bank account - for which she doesn't yet have a card to enable her to withdraw the money so I was asked if I could, please, lend her CFA150,000 (some US$270) towards her rent due on 31 July. I did so. Then last week, on Thursday, the flatmate who sublets to us needed a loan of CFA40,000 to go out that evening. Not an acceptable reason for me to make a loan (and I was brought up to NEVER borrow or lend money), but it was to be just overnight as she showed me her salary cheque that she was going to cash the next day - and of course I pay my monthly rent to her so could always offset any money owed me if I had to. I didn't want to appear difficult, so made the loan.
The next day I went out to my regular Friday lunchtime haunt - a non-descript looking bar-restaurant with a regular crowd of mostly retired 'intellectuals' (as they call themselves), mostly (if not all) with PhDs, formerly employed as journalists, university professors, etc. Their conversation is usually pretty interesting, covering subjects close to my own heart such as politics and philosophy, and the place has the added bonus of the cheapest food and drink in Dakar. Many of these interesting folk seem to spend a lot of their time in the back terrace there, eeking out their small pensions on coffee, beer or wine, whilst those who can afford to also eat their lunch there tend to discretely go into a different part of the building to do so. I once made the mistake of eating at the table, and one retired journalist asked if I could possibly spare just a morsel of my cheese, only to be loudly rebuked by another person present for behaving inappropriately, the whole scene being quite embarrassing for several of us sitting at the table.
This same retired journalist was there on Friday, and I sat at a vacant seat beside him. As I was about to order my glass of wine (the cheapest kind they sell, being CFA1,000 a glass), I decided to ask if he wanted a glass. He accepted and so I bought a small bottle, at CFA2,000, which provided each of us with a large glass full. Being unemployed and therefore careful with my money, I made that glass last me the two hours that I spent there. He, however, drank his more quickly and signalled for a second glass. As I paid my bill I was astonished to be asked by him if he could please have CFA1,000 - presumably for him to use to pay for his second glass. The cheek of it! But I paid up, as it would have been awkward to say no, and it was not really very much money.
I arrived home to an annoyed and embarrassed flatmate telling me she had been unable to cash her cheque, as by the time she got seen following a wait of six hours (believable, from my limited experience with banks here), the person who needed to provide authorisation from her company had already gone home for the day. I told her that it wasn't my lucky day, recounting the story of the additional glass of wine I'd had to pay for earlier.
But the tale wasn't over. Later that night I was woken by a knocking at my bedroom door - at what turned out to be 02:30 - by my flatmate. I said that yes, she could come in, and what did she want? Well, apparently she and her boyfriend had gone out to a nice restaurant for a pizza with something to drink, and when it came to pay the bill, it turned out that her boyfriend didn't have any money on him - as of course she didn't. So the restaurant called the police, and were holding her boyfriend there as she was allowed to go and try to 'find' the money. She'd tried calling me, but I turn my phone off when I go to bed and so hadn't responded, so she'd come back to the flat to ask me in person, as the situation was desperate. I could hardly say no to this, so rolled, naked, out of bed (I'm not worried about being naked in front of another woman, but it is not normal in the Senegalese culture and I felt awkward) and went to check what cash I had; I was able to lend her a further CFA40,000 of the CFA50,000 she wanted, and she told me that this should do the trick.
Later on Saturday I was recounting all this to a friend, when my phone rang. I didn't recognise the number and so didn't answer it, but it was followed by a text message saying "hello Louise" and then a further call, so I answered - to hear my flatmate's boyfriend telling me that he had an urgent situation with a friend in his truck on the Senegal-Mali border needing money... Of course I told him that I didn't have any left, but this little run of experiences seems to show that once you show any generosity to someone here, you open the floodgates to further requests.
Our cleaner, who normally leaves by 16:30, is still sitting here as I write this at 18:30, and I imagine this means that she is waiting to be paid some money by my flatmate, who is not yet home (I can't ask why she's here as she doesn't speak French and my Wolof is very limited). I'm wondering whether she, and I, will get paid this evening - but one thing is certain, that if my flatmate says she still couldn't access her salary today, and asks me to loan money to pay the cleaner, I will make it very clear that I have no more money right now and that I will not be making loans in future!
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