During the morning meeting today (in front of all staff) 8:30 am:
Reporter: Alison! You look tired. Your eye is red.
Alison: Yeah, I guess I'm tired!
Reporter: You need more sleep.
Alison: Yeah.
Reporter: Or a good shagging. *
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Walking through the promenade at Danquah Circle, Saturday night, 12:30 am, on my way to meet Hannah with a sackful of egg sandwich:
Liberian prostitute (I've met her before): My friend!
Alison (pausing on the street with typical, damnable Canadian decorum) : Yes?
Liberian prostitute: My friend and I were looking at you!
Alison: Yeah?
Liberian prostitute: Yes. And we were saying to each other, you know, this girl has a good shape.
Alison (who has been called fat by three different people this week, preens) Ah! Thanks.
Liberian prostitute: And your hair is nice. Very different.
Alison (beams): Aw. Thanks.
Liberian prostitute: Yes. But you have a flat ass.
Alison: Ah?
Liberian prostitute: Yes!
(Liberian prostitute then turns and seamlessly, almost gracefully, horks a line of perfectly stringy phlegm from her right nostril onto the pavement. It sluices downward like a pasty Christmas ribbon. After this, I will buy her an egg sandwich.)
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*I should point out for the benefit of my probably-blanching parents that Reporter s not implying we should "shag" together. He's married and we are friends. This is simply what passes for morning small talk at JOY, often uttered in the same breath with such pleasantries as"what did you do last night?" and "I want porridge for breakfast."
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1 comment:
i love your conversations in ghana postings. you have such interesting (and bizarre) conversations with people!
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