But here I am, still at the Palm Beach hotel, having my morning coffee. The 11 staff around the empty poolside are stirring excitedly, mopping up and polishing away with renewed gusto- there are so few people passing this way. They even put some music on for me which they thought I might like: Celine Dion. Africans invariably believe her to represent the ne plus ultra of sophistication.
I smile sweetly. How are they to know that I have a long standing battle with Beigna in the bar of Hotel Djenne Djenno about Celine Dion? He insists on putting it on and I invariable stomp over to the bar and hiss unpleasantly: 'get rid of that crap immediately! Ce n’est pas possible de jouer Celine Dion pour des toubabs. C’est trop ridicule. Beigna replies, with admirable logic, that Celine Dion is herself a toubab, and she is very successful, so toubabs must like her. ‘Yes, yes, Beigna, but there are toubabs and toubabs. The Celine Dion type is not our sort of toubab’ I reply snobbishly.