Archive for african markets

Ghana in Reverse (Five)

Posted in GFYS, Literary Masterpieces, Loves, Rants with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 5, 2013 by ccartlidge

A bunch of us went on a road trip to Togo and back. I had to be convinced to go because I really dislike traveling in a large group, but I need to get out more. The market here is a fluffy, fluffy bed of unicorn farts next to the one that we got lost in (although admittedly I didn’t have to think about hookworms in Lomé and I did get my foot run over that one time in Cape). We had a Lebanese barbecue, smoked hookah, couldn’t avoid an incredibly uncomfortable political conversation, found a free beer fest, went hiking, and rode a swing shaped like a penis. Also, a few lovely ladies gifted me with good juju in the form of a bottle opener carved from ebony wood.

There are tiny ants everywhere. They are so miniscule, they live in my laptop and crawl out from the keyboard when I open it up. It doesn’t seem to make a functional difference, but DVDs don’t play anymore. I don’t think it’s actually related because those ants are really, really tiny.

I’ve discovered a second alter ego. She had a shit fit around 7 one morning and came out swinging, cursing and screaming (and crying of course because that’s apparently how I roll here). Quote of the morning: “Bitch, that ain’t my job!” It’s fascinating what a person does when they’re inhibitions aren’t functioning that well. It’s a little embarrassing to think about it, as many things are, but I do enjoy that I thought it was funny even while it was happening. I am a walking sitcom. It’s a good thing life starts so early, otherwise I would have woken everyone up. There are no secrets in this house anyway.

Frankie hasn’t had the opportunity to show up since I’ve been here. At first, I was happy to know I wouldn’t need to deal with his drunk frat boy act (and it is still nice to know that at least my current co-workers probably won’t meet him), but I think everyone has a part of their life that is largely misunderstood and Frankie is one of mine. Damn it, I am frustrated. Don’t get me wrong: I wish Frankie hadn’t shown up in the first place, years ago, but he makes me feel normal in a strange way. I miss that cocky bastard.

Also, I think way, way too much.

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My found Toms have tire tread marks on them now.

Posted in Literary Masterpieces with tags , , , , , on July 11, 2012 by ccartlidge

So, today was the first time a car has run over my foot. I’m fine and it was a surprisingly low-key affair but a car ran over my foot at the market. Have I mentioned how chaotic and crowded they are? In addition to the complete lack of traffic rules, the market is serious business for a dumbass.

It was mostly the toes and flat part luckily, and hurt, kind of, but was sore and seemed to buzz a little bit, which I found odd. I was didn’t really do or say anything but inspect my foot for damage and say probably just “um” and “okay”. I was pleased to walk around in a cloud for a while after that. Everyone is so considerate.

Lesson learned: when there’s no sidewalk, it’s all street (and Ghanaians have much different concepts of personal space than I do).