Nouakchott-St LouisTom Griffith At all of the border crossings I have made, whether in Latin America, Europe, the Middle East, or Asia, I have never once been asked for a bribe. Then I arrived in West Africa, and things changed. Leaving Mauritania via the depressingly awful border town of Rosso, I had our passports snatched from my hand by a policeman, who then wandered around with them for 20 minutes while Suze and I followed him. Eventually, a bigwig in an office signed them, and then they were taken away to be stamped. The policeman returned, handed Suze's back, but then kept mine and asked me to hand over some money. I smiled and pretended I didn't understand him. He then marched me over to his supervisor, who swung open the gate leading back into Mauritania
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