Today is cloudy and damp. It rained a bit during the night so paw prints on the kitchen floor are back. It is warmish at 42˚. I went out on the deck while my coffee was perking. Pieces of different sized white paper, torn white paper, are strewn about the yard, the part of the yard I’ve already cleaned. The backyard is beginning to look like a vacant lot. I don’t know what the pieces used to be. I’ll find out when I clean the yard. (I just found out when Nala, of course, tried to steal more. She brought out and ate all the cat treats. I had not closed the gate well enough, my fault).

This morning has been almost perfect. I slept late. Everything is quiet, not a person or a car anywhere on the street. The coffee was delicious, both cups of it. Nala is now asleep, resting from her morning antics.

I took my time with the paper. It was filled with all sorts of news I just had to read. I noticed the overthrow of the president of Burkina Faso by the army. I used to go to Ougadougou, the capital, for the weekend. Back then the country was called Upper Volta. I loved Ougadougou. First, it had a great name. It also had a great market, below the street in the center of the city. I bought some unique metal pieces in that market. We always stayed at a nice hotel. With three of us splitting the cost of one room, we could. Breakfast was Yukka soda and small baguettes. We always ate dinner in a nice restaurant. A couple of times, it was the one in the center run by nuns. Ouga always felt small in a comfortable way.

I have no plans for today. Groceries are being delivered shortly. I can’t remember the last time I was in a supermarket. (Ring doesn’t count as a supermarket because it is many stores.) Mostly I ordered essentials, like cheese, and some odd things like chopped dates and chocolate croissants. I’m good for a while on supermarket stuff.

I think the most amazing experiences in Ghana are on market day, every third day in Bolga. When I lived there, I loved market day. It was a carnival without the rides. All the stalls were filled with sellers. The paths through the different offerings sometimes had so many people you had to walk sideways through the crowds. I bought my fruit and vegetables first. There were lots of fruits but few vegetables. I went to my favorite onion and tomato lady. She always dashed me some of each. Next came the eggs. I went to the same egg man all the time. He never gave me a bad egg. The beef came from the meat market which was disgusting, but only in the beginning. After a while I didn’t even notice. The meat came wrapped in leaves. The chickens were tied by one leg to a thick rope or string on the ground. There were rows of chickens. I’d look for the fattest and buy it. The chicken man tied the chicken’s legs together and handed the chicken to me to carry by those legs. It felt odd at first to be carrying a chicken. After a while, it felt day-to-day.

Any lifetime when carrying a live chicken by its legs is just part of the day is a life filled with the unexpected becoming the usual. It is living in Africa, in Ghana. My day-to-day didn’t even seem different after a while and neither did the chicken. I just slung it over the handlebar of my moto and drove home where it was destined to be dinner.

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