Fragment #57 - Weird encounter

It’s quite hot outside, but I want to get out of the hotel. To see, and to meet the people of Dakar. I love this crowd of women dressed with those colourful boubous. I’m walking down the street, Steve’s hand in mine, feeling like I owned the world. We turn on the Gomarou Guèye Street. We’re strolling slowly, and turn now and then in the little streets that make up this area of Dakar. After a little while, we found an antique dealer, who opened a shop in his garage. Steve gives it a look from outside, and he seems quite interested. I pull him in, and we start browsing. While I’m walking around, I see two men in the shop. I suppose the owner of the shop is the old guy in the rocking chair. He doesn’t seem affected by the temperature. The other man, on the other hand, is sitting on a sofa at the back, a cloth in his head. By his looks and his suffering, I would say that he’s a European. But I might be wrong. The table I have in front of me is covered with a lot of different things, among which a very nice Black Virgin. I take in my hands to check the fine sculpture and reveal behind it a little frame. It’s a painting of the Babel Tower, from the Bible. I remember how I use to love that story as a child, when my grandma would try to interest me to religion. I put the Virgin down and take the frame in my hands.
“Steve? Come here, look.”
Steve steps next to me and looks at the painting with me. I show him one or two details, when the guy I suppose to be the owner speaks from right behind me.
“It is the Babel Tower”, he says with a very strong French accent.
He scared me a little, so I turn around.
“Effectivement. C'est un tableau de quel période?”
“Fin XIXe. Anonyme.”
“Ah oui...”
Steve comes closer to my ear.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, but I'm not going to buy it!”
I turn to the guy, and realise he’s been staring at my right arm. He takes the frame from my hands and turns it around to look at the back. He shrugs his shoulder and says: “Pourtant, il vous attendait.”
I’m stunned. “Je vous demande pardon?”
“Je dis que ce tableau vous attendait” he repeats.
Steve looks a bit worried and grabs my arm.
“Charlie, what is he saying?”
I turn around to face him and say “He said that the painting was waiting for me.”
At that point, two policemen come in, and grab the arms of the man who was talking to us. They tell him that he’s arrested in suspicion of the robbery of a mask of great value in M. Abou’s collection. The man at the back of the shop stands up and is staring at the scene with at least as much surprise as us.
The owner turns to him and says: “Ca serait bien que tu gardes la boutique quelques temps. Bon courage, Louis.”
He’s handcuffed and they walk away. We stand there, and look at Louis, the guy of the sofa. The same incomprehension can be read in our eyes.