“I hope you have an experience that alters the course of your life because, after Africa, nothing has ever been the same”

We, the three of us, are back on the deck. The air is warmer than yesterday, and the breeze is slighter. The sky is partly cloudy. In the background, Alexa is playing folk music from the 60’s. I’m quite content.

Last night I went to the Playhouse for the second to last play, Murder on the Orient Express. It was excellent. When I got home and opened the door, I saw paper all over the floor then I saw the batteries, the AAA batteries I had bought last week. Nala had found the package in a basket I thought was out of her reach, but I am finding nowhere is out of her reach. She chewed open the package and the batteries scattered, rolled all around. I found them under furniture, down the hall and in the kitchen. I was on my hands and knees and collected what I hope is all of them. What Nala finds continue to amaze me.

Yesterday I watched a video of Bolga, my Ghanaian home. It made me sad that I wasn’t there and haven’t been in a long while. I miss it and my students.

In Bolga every third day was market day. From the back of my house, I could see women from nearby compounds carrying filled baskets on their heads as they walked to market. I loved to roam on market day. I’d carry my shepherd’s bag, a woven bag which stretched, on my shoulder and head to my favorite aunties. Most of the sellers were women. My first stop was the tomato lady. She stood behind her table on which were several bunches of tomatoes. I’d buy one bunch, and she often dashed me a second bunch. The onion lady was the same. Men sold eggs. I had my favorite as he never sold me a bad egg. What’s funny is my father used to describe people as good eggs. I understood the metaphor completely when I cracked a bad egg. Anyway, I’d get meat at the butcher shop where I ignored the flies and the dried blood and such. I always bought what we call a beef tenderloin. The butcher wrapped it in leaves. Into the bag it went. Sometimes I’d buy plantain, garden eggs, which are really small eggplants, and fruit. I ate a fruit salad every day for lunch. My bag would fill and stretch so far I could barely carry it. I’d head up the hill to my school, but I always got a ride. Most of the people in town knew me. I was the white lady who taught at the school. After I got my motorcycle, I always rode to town and to the market.

Today is a quiet day. Xfinity is coming to fix my phone line. My phone has no dial tone. I could do wash, but I won’t. I could go to the dump, but I’m saving that for tomorrow, something to look forward to.

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