March 28th
Out to Legon to do a couple of interviews at the national university. On the trotro going out, I kept hearing worried chicken sounds and couldn’t figure out why. The woman next to me had a small black plastic bag on her knee, and as she moved to get comfortable, a chicken stuck its head out. Then another one. They were anxious and hot, but felt better after panting out of the window for a while. They were sweet, but I fear they weren’t destined to become pets.
The best sign yet – “I love you chop”. (chop is any kind of place serving food). I live next to one called Lover’s Inn Chop, 
but you get all kinds. “God Almighty Chop, Pray to Jesus chop, everything important comes together around chop.
The dogs here are loud all night, then lie around exhausted all day. One, Brown Dog,
has a thousand-mile stare and isn’t sure about people. Saskia, who’s very secure in his masculinity despite his name, is very friendly though slightly smelly, and Banjo, their mother, is warming to me slowly.
They range themselves up the staircase in the yard to sleep off the heat and get ready for another night’s frantic defence of the homestead.
