14 September 2012
On the way home from the airport the taxi driver who Nigel uses a lot, Fwankila, drove us through an open market area that was very, very poor, with no paved roads. He was using a shortcut home because of the morning commute traffic on the main roads. Everyone looked at the white people in the back of the cab! There were women carrying large sacks of rice or grain on their heads, and huge netted bags of coal being sold. All the poorer people cook over coal fires. In fact, the first thing that struck me when I walked out of the airplane on to the tarmac was the smell of smoke in the air.
Moments after we arrived at the flat, Beauty arrived for her work day here. Every Thursday she cleans the flat and does the laundry and ironing. She cooks a midday meal for herself and makes enough that there is an evening meal for Nigel, and now me. So we had pork chops (very small, very tough and overcooked, but still tasted good) and fresh cooked vegetables and rice and beans for dinner.
Yesterday after my nap, Nigel and I walked to the local grocery store area where there are restaurants and some shops. It is very different here (duh!). There are lots of people out on the streets, hanging around, selling things, walking to work and school, etc. Several corners have groups of parked cars just waiting around with the drivers either sitting at the wheel or congregating with the other men. These are are taxis, although there is no identifying markings to indicate that. No sidewalks to speak of, just uneven dirt paths alongside the road. It reminds me a bit of Mexico. There were a ton of school kids on their way home - they all wear uniforms. To pay for cell phones here, you buy a card that has a code on it, which you punch into the phone and that is how you buy airtime. There are little red shacks, literally just 3 sided structures built with pieces of wood that have a flat tin or wood roof. A person, it seemed usually a woman, sits inside on a stool and sells you the air time cards. There are often three of four shacks within yards of each other all selling the same thing.
The grocery store was larger than I expected and was the only place that I saw some white faces. The butchers all do their cutting right at the counter instead of behind closed doors, so you see large sections of carcasses right out in the open. Loads of produce, but most of it looked quite old. Nigel said it isn't always that bad.
On the way home from the airport the taxi driver who Nigel uses a lot, Fwankila, drove us through an open market area that was very, very poor, with no paved roads. He was using a shortcut home because of the morning commute traffic on the main roads. Everyone looked at the white people in the back of the cab! There were women carrying large sacks of rice or grain on their heads, and huge netted bags of coal being sold. All the poorer people cook over coal fires. In fact, the first thing that struck me when I walked out of the airplane on to the tarmac was the smell of smoke in the air.
Moments after we arrived at the flat, Beauty arrived for her work day here. Every Thursday she cleans the flat and does the laundry and ironing. She cooks a midday meal for herself and makes enough that there is an evening meal for Nigel, and now me. So we had pork chops (very small, very tough and overcooked, but still tasted good) and fresh cooked vegetables and rice and beans for dinner.
Yesterday after my nap, Nigel and I walked to the local grocery store area where there are restaurants and some shops. It is very different here (duh!). There are lots of people out on the streets, hanging around, selling things, walking to work and school, etc. Several corners have groups of parked cars just waiting around with the drivers either sitting at the wheel or congregating with the other men. These are are taxis, although there is no identifying markings to indicate that. No sidewalks to speak of, just uneven dirt paths alongside the road. It reminds me a bit of Mexico. There were a ton of school kids on their way home - they all wear uniforms. To pay for cell phones here, you buy a card that has a code on it, which you punch into the phone and that is how you buy airtime. There are little red shacks, literally just 3 sided structures built with pieces of wood that have a flat tin or wood roof. A person, it seemed usually a woman, sits inside on a stool and sells you the air time cards. There are often three of four shacks within yards of each other all selling the same thing.
The grocery store was larger than I expected and was the only place that I saw some white faces. The butchers all do their cutting right at the counter instead of behind closed doors, so you see large sections of carcasses right out in the open. Loads of produce, but most of it looked quite old. Nigel said it isn't always that bad.
Nigel seems to have befriended a lot of people who really
like him. The taxi driver was so happy
to meet me, as was the guard at the gate of the compound where the flat is, and
even his favorite clerk at the supermarket, a young girl named Sylvia, who
greeted me across the counter with a kiss on both cheeks! He told everyone I
was coming!
We have been invited to a dinner party at the Danish Embassy
on Saturday night, so of course while I couldn't sleep in the middle of the
night I worried about what to wear. I didn’t bring anything dressy because Nigel
said I didn’t need to - typical male, right? Nigel has just left for work and after I shower and dress I
am going to walk down to the shops on my own before it gets too hot.
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