Haiti-funny story

There are always funny stories when you visit Haiti. Here is one that was a hysterical situation.
I wanted to email home etc and asked Claudy, Jean's 19 year-old uncle, to walk with me to the internet cafe. He took me across the park (I objected: that's not where it is!), (it indeed wasn't), then seven blocks over, up and down hills, to another one. This place had one computer, and it didn't work. Money-back guarantee. After about five attempts to find a computer I insisted on asking someone for a BIG cafe. And sure enough: exactly the one where I had been before. Claudy didn't know about that one, but assured me it would be 'expensive'. We didn't know how right he almost was.

We walked into the place and a man asked what we wanted.
"Use the computer."
"Ah! No problem."
First he made sure we paid (more than the other places), he then pointed at a computer, turned on a big fan, and left.

Another man came out of the back of the place and said
"What are you doing here? You want to use the computer?" (Well..yes, I did.)
"First you have to pay."
"PAY?? I already paid!"
"No you didn't."
"Yes I did: I paid the other man!" (I then gave him some coins - what the heck)
"There IS no other man!"
"Sure there is: fat, short and an orange shirt, and I paid him"
Claudy intervened and repeated (in much better Creole) what I had just said.
"Show me the man!"
"I don't know him."
"Go and look."
I popped my head outside but no orange man. Then the people outside got involved. Then some more. Saint Marc is a small city and everyone knows what's going on. I went inside and returned to the computer: they could figure it out themselves. The noise grew and grew, and finally the orange man was dragged in.
I turned around and said "yup-that's him!" and went back to work.
The little orange man started yelling, tried to pull my shoulder so I could convince the others that he had done nothing, but was held back by the crowd that had formed by then - at least 20 men crowded in one dark room.
"You never gave me anything. I took nothing. I wasn't here! I don't even know you...and I turned on the fan for you, didn't I? You have to pay me for that!"
At this point the crowd was roaring with laughter, the jubilant from-the-gut laugh I have only heard in Haiti. They stuck their hands in his pockets, and out came the exact amount I had told them about. They chased him down the street until he was gone.
Claudy, Rudy and I looked at each other and started laughing all over again and the whole crowd joined in once more. Then they bought me a coke because, they said, I was one of them -they liked this 'blan', this white one.