The sun is bright, the sky blue and the small breeze refreshing. I woke up from my hibernation just before noon. I had gone to bed when morning light was making its appearance. Nala woke me up. She was at the bottom of the bed crying. I figured she wanted out so I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door. She ran outside. Speaking of Nala, I did guess that the mouse motel trap which had gone missing from the kitchen had been stolen by Nala. I ventured another guess and figured a mouse was inside when Nala saw it so she took the whole trap to the yard. She knows to hide her swag. I was going to look for the trap, but it rained for a few days and then I forgot. Last night it reappeared in the hall. It was dirty inside and out. One end was partially opened and the plastic on the bottom of that end door had been chewed. I think it was the mouse trying for freedom, but I’ll never know its fate.

This is one of those where is my muse days. I’m watching a video of a street market walk in Accra. These are local markets, and every day is market day. It is loud, a babel of voices. Most are speaking Twi or Fante. Tables line the sidewalks. Aunties are selling their merchandise. If you want yams, rice, tomatoes, fruit, onions, ginger, carrots, cloth, pots and pans, clothes, baskets, buckets, palm oil, kenkey, canned mackerel, spaghetti, peppers and so much more you can shop at any table after table selling the exact same goods. Mostly women walk in the small spaces between the tables while carrying goods or buckets on their heads. Cars are carefully driven in the streets made narrow by the tables on each side of the road. In another market the tables are three deep along the sides of the railroad tracks. Goats are sleeping between the tracks. The train doesn’t run there any more. People are rummaging through piles of used clothes. When I lived in Ghana, they called the clothes obroni wawu, translated as dead white man’s clothes.

I have a busy uke week. I also need to do a dump run, vacuum the upstairs, wash floors and polish furniture so dusty I could sell advertising space on it. I think I just saw my sloth walk down the driveway with a suitcase in her paw.

This entry was posted on August 25, 2026 at 3:19 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.