January 1996 Abidjan, Ivory Coast Dining at a restaurant in the Marcory district of Abidjan, I struck up a conversation with the young waitress who happened to speak passable English. I told the waitress whose name was Ann of my plans to go to the crafts market the following morning to buy some fabric and some indigenous crafts. As I was looking for somebody to help me with the shopping and act as a translator, I asked Ann if I could hire her to accompany me. She agreed to take the assignment.

The next morning, I hired a taxi and we went to the crafts market. After finishing my shopping, I wanted to cash some traveler’s checks so I asked Ann if she could take me to a place where I could get a good exchange rate. Nodding her head, Ann said no problem. So we hopped into a taxi, a short while later we arrived at our destination. Pulling up in front on a nondescript office, the taxi was instantly surrounded by at least 30 very animated young men who were jostling for position and chattering in languages that I didn’t understand. Some of them held wads of the local currency in their fists. I guess this was the black market welcoming committee.

To say the least, I was very alarmed and feared for my safety. Casting a nervous glance at Ann, I summoned up all the courage I had and opened the car door, got out and made a beeline for the door to the money exchange office, all the while pretending to ignore the bedlam surrounding me. Once inside the office, I breathed a deep sigh of relief and I proceeded to exchange my traveler’s checks. Funny thing - after leaving the office, the welcoming committee had disappeared. Maybe they found new fish to fry. I hopped into the waiting taxi and returned to my hotel safe and sound. What an adventure!

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