January 18, Ada Faoh, Ghana.
Word Picture
At the Trotro Station in Accra
Sweating in a hot old van,
We wait for every seat to be filled.
Outside, amid the smell and noise of idling engines
Colours collide and swirl.
Many bare brown feet
And strong dark legs
Support bottoms that are round and prominent.
The money aprons are hung around thrust-forward bellies.
A jarring print cloth wraps around the breasts,
Like a cummerbund
And tie tiny babies securely
To their mothers arched backs.
Proud shoulders support
Long regal necks.
Faces are broad and dark,
With big white smiles.
Lively eyes dart everywhere,
Searching for a nod of interest.
Cloth rings on the top of heads,
Balance large metal trays, huge aluminum bowls,
And glass-sided wooden boxes.
These are the "shops" that dance around at eye level.
Almost anything you can imagine is available for sale:
Q-tips, matches, deodorant,
Mens boxer shorts, shoe laces,
Cold bags of water and bottles of pop,
Meat pies, fried tofu,
Crackers, cookies,
Chewing gum, computer cables
And smutty books.
All it takes is a wink of an eye,
And one Ghanian cedi.
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