Yesterday I got pulled over by the police for the fifth time since January. The officer was polite but said that stopping to let a friend out was a "manœuvre dangeureuse" and I would have to explain it to his boss. I waited by the curb, trying to find somewhere to stand where I couldn't smell the sewer, until another man in a blue uniform sauntered over. He stuffed peanuts in his mouth and let the shells fall to the ground as he smirked at me. Finally he said, in English, "Don't do that." Then he flapped his hand as if to shoo me off: "Allez!" And I was free to go.

I don't know why I get stopped so often; it doesn't happen to anyone else I know. Twice it's been for so-called "manœuvres dangereuses." Once I made a supposedly illegal U-turn, and was let off with a warning, because there was no sign prohibiting it. Once it was just a routine check of my registration, and the officer asked me to bring him a present next time I came by. "I'm right on this corner, every day!" he told me cheerfully, after I declined to share my lunch with him.

The worst time was when I was driving home from a friend's party late at night. I gave a ride to two people who live near the market in Centre Ville. During the day that part of town is clogged with cars, mopeds, people and animals, but at night, it's eerily quiet and empty. I'm still not sure why I was stopped. After what seemed like forever they let me go.

It's always my barely functional French that seems to get me off the hook. As soon as I ask the officer to speak slowly, he either switches to English (which is always worse than my French) or signs animatedly at me (shaking his finger: You naughty girl!). I guess it's just too much work to extract a bribe from an American who can barely understand what you're saying.

Unrelated link: This could make our weekend in Senegal rather interesting.