On my way home from work today, I was accosted by an African man speaking French. He was sweating like mad, hadn't eaten and started telling me in broken English about how he was robbed last night by a taxi driver and a boy; they took all his money and cut his wrist. He went to the police station and all they said was to give them the license plate number. He asks Ghanaians for help and they ignore him. He's trying to get back to Togo but has zero money for the trotro to the border, which costs $3.40. He was really in terrible shape. Of course, this was the one day I decide to take $1.50 with me to work. I will remember him for a long time. I've only met one beggar as desperate as him before; a man with AIDS on College Hill in Providence.
Here, my most fascinating skill is typing. Literally EVERYONE watches me type. Today at the internet cafe, ten or so 9-year old boys in government school uniform (brown shorts and orange button-down shirts) came in and stared at me typing. At work, my most commonly received compliment is, "I like how you type." Uh.. thanks?
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