Abidjan Fauna

Today I ventured out of the office (and air conditioning) to the pharmacy around the corner to get some drugs for the cold I picked up at the weekend. Walking there, I noticed a relatively normal looking man walking in the same direction as me, with a dead rat on a string that was attached to his wrist. This was not a newly aquired piece of meat (they eat rats here too), as rigor mortis had set in and the poor creature bobbed up and down uncomfortably like an old shoe. I mean I just what exactly was this man up to? And he didn't even look embarrassed, or particularly mad. Dead rats on strings are just a bit too medieval for me. As was the pharmacy, come to think of it, which was about as well stocked as a Moldovan chemist in the 70s. I did, however, notice a leaflet advertising a lotion that is guaranteed to sort out your varicose veins, acne and stretch marks, with its unique ingredient – snail saliva. Yes, indeed. And the pharmacy assistant looked a bit blazé and bored when she explained what it was. Well i decided i'd stick with the ibu profen and nose spray and try the 'bave d'escargot' another time. So I set off again and finally made it to the post office after several attempts at asking for directions followed by blank stares (I don't think Ivorians are big letter writers). The place was deserted and having been redirected to about 4 different counters which were all without queues and within ear shot of each other, I finally purchased my stamps. That French model of public administration was super imposed here as I well know, but I didn't realise this extended to customer service without a smile. I might add that the 3 giant stamps required for each post card were about ¼ of the surface area of each bloody postcard. Those of you lucky enough to receive a post card should be grateful of the effort it entailed just to send the things off, and those who didn't, sorry but I won't be trying that again!