Sights & Sounds

Every morning I wake up to a rooster crowing in my front yard and the Islamic call to prayer resounding through the speakers of the closest mosque. And for one split moment I have a brief lapse of awareness... "Where am I? What time is it? Someone tell that rooster to go back to sleep." Then suddenly, my memory returns and my questions are answered, "I am in Yendi...It is too early to look at the clock...someone please eat that rooster for dinner!" After a cold shower and instant coffee I am ready for my day.
Today is market day and I need to purchase some baskets for the school library. I ride my bicycle into town (approximately one mile) and park it with a friend at the IRS building (yes, they even have an Internal Revenue Service in Ghana). With small bills in hand (mysteriously, no one ever has change for any bills higher than a 5.00) I venture into the market and begin my hunt. I have to manuver carefully and watch for oncoming motorbike, huge trucks hauling goods, bicycles carrying baskets of live chickcns, and herds of goats. People are everywhere. I smell a woman frying yams and the distinct odor of diesel fuel all in the same breath. While stepping around each small stand displaying items for purchase, I see what I have come looking for; baskets. Yendi is a small farming community and market day only happens once a week, I look forward to this day every week, and instead of traveling the one hour to Tamale (the closest city) in search of baskets I have decided to wait for market day to find my items. I negotiate with the lady selling the baskets and she puts my purchase in a black plastic bag. While walking back to my bicycle, I purchase some fried yams from the woman I passed earlier (this purchase is also placed in a black plastic bag). I tie my baskets on the back of my bicycle and take off for home.
The ride home is slightly uphill and today I stopped at a small stand near my neighborhood mosque to buy a few more items. A loaf of bread and two cans of coke (in a black plastic bag of course) are added to my other purchases of the day. The road from town to my house is very busy with foot traffic, motorbikes, and bicycles. I have to listen for car horns greeting me from behind, warning me to move over to the shoulder of the road. Children that saw me passing on my way to town are waiting at the curb of the road to wave as I ride back by, "slaminga" (white lady) they shout as they frantically wave. I respond, "daebaewula" (hello) and they shout in English, "Good morning, how are you?" I am peddling too fast to continue the conversation, but then more children are waiting and yelling as I pass them by. It's quite beautiful really, I am they most exciting sight of their day, and they are of mine...entry written on 30th August 2009.