It’s a late start to my morning. I was awake until 5. I heard the birds and saw the stirrings of the day before I fell asleep. After I woke up, I made my usual call to my sister in Colorado, brewed my coffee, toasted some bread and got comfy. That’s where I am now.
It rained a bit yesterday. The clouds stayed around a while but many are now gone. The sun is out in spots. It is ugly humid. It is hot, 83°. I have no ambition. Even a sloth would envy me. Logy describes me best.
On Sundays in Ghana, the school had a service in the dining hall. The tables were removed and the chairs put into rows. Clerics from town took turns to give the sermon. Sometimes I went. One week my principal asked me to give the sermon. I said yes because she really never asked much from me. I had to think my approach. Hellfire and brimstones weren’t for me. The Jonathan Edwards’ sermon Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God wasn’t either. I was a bit flummoxed. Finally I decided on one of Aesop’s fables. I went with The Boy Who Cried Wolf. I dramatically told the story and feigned horror at the fate of his sheep. My audience stayed attentive the whole time even when I got into the moral of the fable. It was an unusual sermon. I never found out what my principal thought, but she never asked again so I sort of knew.
On the main road at night between Bolga and Tamale, all the goats lie down in middle of the road with traffic on both sides. They never move. They don’t seem to get hit either. I was always amazed.
Goats and sheep and chickens are free range. On the hottest days, the goats would often lie under big lorries, trucks, in the shade. Chickens are everywhere. After a while, I didn’t notice. They were just part of the landscape.
This week four days have uke events. Besides my practice and lesson, we have two concerts. We’re playing The Beatles tomorrow and love songs of the 60’s on Friday. It will be a fun week.
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