PAY YOUR TITHE

After tackling some technical difficulties this morning, Fran and I took a cab into Accra to take care of some grocery shopping. Around here, it really isn't a one stop in-and-out ordeal when you have practically an entire kitchen to stock.


We waited around for a little while for the cab with Kay, one of the builders working on the house.




















I befriended some chickens that live in the yard (the same ones that kindly wake me up with the sun). First stop was the grocery store at the Accra Mall. It's a Shoprite, and I could only think of my friend back home, Becky, who works at a Shoprite in North Central New Jersey. It's absolutely true, you can go 5,000 miles, but in today's shrinking world, you'll still find things that are exactly the same. For instance, there's a shop that sells music near the house. They blast songs all day, and every once in a while I'll hear a song that's become pretty popular at least up at Penn State. Strange strange feeling for sure.




We went to a place called Koala further into Accra for fresh produce. it was a more popular place with foreigners, and I felt less awkward as the obroni in the crowd. (Obroni is the local equivalent to Gringa)






One thing I've come to really like are all of the super christian messages lettered across the backs of taxicabs and vans. The majority of the time, they're in English, but there's something almost humorous about them, in my opinion. I tried to get a few more pictures, but the battery on my camera quit during the ride. I'll be sure to get a more complete series of these pictures going. I've got some other plans for photo sets, but I'll talk more about that as I actually get to taking those pictures. The cabs also have a lot of great Ghanaian flags and some pretty fun bumper stickers.







On the ride back to the house, we bought some tiger nuts from one of the many venders that walk through traffic selling all kinds of things, from plantain chips to Ghanaian flags to the plastic vuvuzelas you hear during all of the world cup matches. We also stopped at a small shop on the side of Abattoir road, a dirt road full of potholes from the rain, to get some African yams. I'm talking big, heavy, huge, yams that would bring a tear to Okonkwo's eye, not the wimpy orange yams we see in American grocery stores. I'll be cooking with them tomorrow (judging by the pile, we'll be cooking with them for a few days). The tuna can is there for a size reference.