It was deep, smelt like 3-day old festival and ran both sides of the street. In it, stuck fast, random bits of rubbish; waiting for biodegradation, the destruction of the planet or whatever comes first - probably not the Ghanaian garbage service. Is it, I wondered, a drain or very elaborate obruni trap? For beyond the ankle snapping gap, encroaching in fact, to its very edge, was a chaos of road side stalls, leaving me with no option but to walk on the road, drain one side, traffic pulsing past on the other. One lil lurch to the left and I’d be in the sludge, one falter to the right and I’d be one more dent; every car, bus, and truck having a good collection - even the taxi’s and tro-tro’s with their rear window messages
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