Arriving at the Airport in January 2006

It was hot but not as hot as I expected. A friendly, wealthy, young Guinean took me and a small group of americans under his wing, promising that with him we would not be hassled at the airport. True to his word, he gathered up our passports, in the somewhat stately airport reception room that seemed to send us back in time to when the french last ruled the colony in the 1960's, and flew us through the immigration checkpoint.
Meanwhile, I noticed this tall scragle-toothed military man approaching every white female in the room and coming to me fast. He looked at the girl next to me and with a concentrated look asked, "Kadiatou?" The poor confused and fairly frightened woman said "What?"
"Je m'appele Kadiatou." I said, could this man be looking for me?
The man's face broke with a grin of relief, as he quickly told me in french that he was Tamadu the director of Ballet Saamato and that Manimou was waiting for me outside the airport.
I started bouncing like a kid on a pogo stick and after ten minutes of waiting in a line and a short haggle with the security, me, the american, the rich Guinean, and Tamadu the militare dancing director found our selves in the baggage claim.
I immediately looked toward the exit where already the Guinean airplane passengers were lined up to be searched before they could exit the airport. Behind all that was Manimou, and once he saw me he started waving and bouncing against the security guards that were holding him back.
I ran and bounced my way to him and jumped on him, giving the security people a shock. And because the world is not fair, the color of my skin allowed him to move past the security and into the airport.
It was good, it was worthwhile.