I hear its nice to be nice

So a long time ago I promised an entry on bumsters. Now is as good a time as any.

Bumsters are young men in the Gambia who hang around looking to be picked up by, usually older, European or American women. They spend most of their time walking up and down the beaches, doing ridiculous “exercises.” Yes, they’re usually ripped but that’s from working on the farm, not doing their weird moves.
Anyhoo. Bumsters approach women on the beaches, or really anywhere in the Kombos, and strike up conversations. They are extremely persistent. “Hey boss lady” is a common opener. As is “hey nice lady,” “hey, nice baby,” or “what’s your nice name?” or just “its nice to be nice.” Their hope is to pick up a boss lady who will pay them for their services, or if they’re lucky, take them back to toubabodu (America or Europe).
Now, I recognize that this system wouldn’t be there if it didn’t work, sometimes. I have definitely seen it in action--older women in their little short shorts, walking around with a Gambian man thirty years their junior. While we were in training village up in Kiang, a bumster brought his 55-year-old girlfriend home around Tobaski. She was around the village, dressed totally inappropriately, holding his hand (also not culturally appropriate) and it just looked silly. And I try not to judge. But really, how is that not prostitution?
On top of it, prostitution or not, it just makes my day rough. Even men who are not bumsters by profession still buy into the culture. The assumptions about white women are still there. Sometimes, the unsolicited flirtation is just too much. Men in positions of power are the worst, policemen, etc. The cheesy smiles, the catcalls, the “Where are you from, beautiful lady?” Really now, why are you calling out, over two lanes of traffic to try and greet me? Why aren’t you greeting all the other women on the street? If I don’t answer, they’re not like “Whoa, I was harassing that woman, that’s why she ignored me.” its more like, “how dare she? I was just trying to talk to her, she must be racist.” When I do answer, it just turns into “Where do you live? When can I come see you? Do you have a boyfriend in the Gambia? I’ll come see you tomorrow, would you like that?” Do I tell them where I live, and thereby gain some street credit for not being a tourist, but also run the risk of them coming to see me? I tell them I’m married, but lying and saying that he’s here is too big a lie to keep up, and in a culture where extra-marital affairs are pretty common, its not much of a deterrent. And damnit, if I even stop to have this conversation, they’ve won. They’ve got my attention. And they always find a reason to touch me, even though by the rules of Islam, they’re not supposed to.* There’s not an age limit either. Some ten-year-olds are certified creepers. Even some men that I’ve been working with, and thought that I had a very professional relationship with, have suddenly turned creepy out of nowhere, which is very disappointing.
Its hard, I don’t want to hate on men, most of my friends at home are men. And I can’t very well be a successful Peace Corps Volunteer if I ignore half the population. My host father is great. My host brother is really nice, and has never once been creepy to me. Some of the men I work with are downright wonderful. When I’ve got the patience for it, and a man hasn’t been too offensive yet, sometimes I’ll stop to talk, and we’ll talk about why I don’t like being catcalled, why its rude, and those are some of the best conversations I’ve ever made time for, however I‘m never sure if I‘ve made a dent or not. Other days I just don’t have the patience, or they ask me who is going to keep me warm when the cold seasons comes. This being West Africa and all, when the “cold” comes, I think I’ll somehow manage.


*speaking of touching me, the Tickle Finger (aka the Icky Finger). Its when a man, while shaking your hand in greeting (also not ok by Muslim rules, but plenty do), uses his index finger to tickle my palm. Its gross. It means he wants to sleep with you, and its hella creepy.

Nothing puts the peace in Peace Corps quite like gritting your teeth to stop yourself from spitting insults. Men of The Gambia, I’m not your boss lady. Its not nice to be nice, sometimes its nice to be an asshole.