ABSTRACT
It happened the first time in Sénégal. That was when I became aware of it. It happened again in Canada. And then again in France. All our editors and/or board members would arrive for an international meeting and everyone would get through immigration and customs without incident. Except one of our Arab editors or one of our Arab colleagues or one of our Arab consultants. Never the same person. But always an Arab. And always the same uncomfortable, good-humoured jokes afterward.
