Guingan Style

Speaking to likely inevitably Mr. Diallo found out he was Mr. Bah. He was a bit drunk and me not really but our conversation was in four languages. He was selling prepacked semi-local snake oils and powders. Wearing sunglasses too. I saw him later drinking his earnings, and selling still.

And we were sitting on a log that termites had finished with, balancing. Palm wine is 2000 francs guinéens per skin, about a litre. Easy to drink, even when it’s hot. And it’s always hot. Or warm. There is no good equilibrium between sweetness cloying sweetness and vinegar pee fart juice. But some things don’t matter when you’re drinking.

There was a young girl wearing yellow, including a bucket on her head that was yellow. An older girl went by with what are those pancakes in a bit of brown paper. Presented them to some seated men. Commissioned undoubtedly, she didn’t eat any of any of them.

I was holding a chicken with my feet. A cock at that, seven dollars at that. But its legs were tied together with a band of blue so it wouldn’t have gotten away quick even if it had been inspired to go and if I hadn’t been gently retaining it. But I got up to pee on the other side of the dry streambed so I confided the chicken to auntie sitting just in front of me selling tappets, and she confided it to her sister next to her. I came back from the openair bathroom finding the pancake lady. One thousand each to break the bank so emptied my pockets acquiring them, brought them back to share. Oily and leavened a bit and with rice flour and tepid and a bit hard so we devoured them.

Time to go cause the wine and the wine are gone. Back to bikes. Back to the market. Bought more wine, the red kind in the bottles that are repurposed to hold gasoline later. So it can get hot against my sweaty back on the way home. Or we could send it with mom. Ended up choosing the later. Better for transport, worse for potential hydration on the ride home. Two almost crashes and one real one, involving a domesticated animal.

The road is flat and rocky, barren, exposed, gravelly, flesh wasting away to expose the hard white bone beneath. I traded bikes and rode the “Eastman” blue one with the upside down bars and bent cranks. It had a slow leak that got faster. Later we found out that there were two trous. The chain was skipping and descending frequently too so frequently that I finally gave up flustered and traded back. The air boiled away, leaving only dust and light behind, each competing for my antagonism but instead they got beat by yeast+sugar.