Men with Cleavers

I went to buy Roxy bones at Grande Marche and as always it was interesting. It’s amazing how I feel like I understand the main parts of this chaotic mass of people, food, trash, and of course all the things that people are selling. The butchers tend to be in one area and then there is the indoor butcher building. I know in my heart that they kill animals in that building and I could accidently see this if I venture in too far so I am always careful to not venture too far before I buy the beef bones my beautiful doggie loves.

I walked into the butcher building and I started looking for bones that were exposed from the pinkest meat as I could. I stopped and began to buy from one man. We discussed which bones I wanted, the price per kilo, and I watch as he weighed them for me. After we made it this far I then had to explain how I wanted him to cut the bones. Most people want them hacked to smithereens to make sauce/soup. I need large pieces for Roxy to chew on. Once he understood he started hacking at the bones with the enormous, razor sharp machete. This part always makes me ill so I have to walk away. One time I tried to stay and I had chips of bone flying at me and adhering to my skin and hair with cow plasma. I decided that day that I am not to girlie to walk away and return when the hacking sounds ceases. The mistake that I made this day though was I stood in front of another butcher’s table. So I ended up buying one really nice bone from him too. I figured that I wouldn’t have to return to the bone market for weeks at this rate. So all appeared good until this butcher behind me started yelling “yo-vo va” (white person come). I ignored him, he got louder, the other butchers laughed. I turned finally turned and told him I wasn’t interested. He continued to call yo-vo to me. I was getting ready to leave and I finally just turned and said “No yo-vo me.” He laughed and repeated this to me. I continued “No yo-vo, Nina” as I pointed to myself. He repeated my name. I repeated this again to make sure he got it. He did and he echoed me again. I did it a third time because we were all smiling and laughing at this point and I’m way too much a teacher for my own good. This third time ALL the butchers who had been watching me joined in. Oh yes, only in my life would I spend time teaching butchers in Lome my name and having all these men with gargantuan meat cleavers enjoying echoing my name and laugh at me when I said “no yo-vo me”.

It’s good to know that life is never dull and simple fun can always be had.