New Friends

It's an odd world, really.

A down-the-rabbit-hole kind of world, you know?

For instance, one might have had a few casual conversations with the Ghanaian-Indian (dots-not-feathers) owner of one of the popular expat cafes and hotel in kumasi. He might have invited you to give him a call some time. You might have had dinner with him at the cafe last weekend. You may have repeated dinner with him, joined by a lovely Ghanaian Rotarian (i.e. Rotary-club-going) family this past Friday. You may have dropped in to visit him in his office this Saturday.

And you may, during a few hours of saturday conversation be asked a few questions about blood sugar and his here-and-again battle with hyperglycemia, hear about his 18 year old daughter's vague constitutional symptoms, review her lab tests, faux-diagnose depression. Apropos nothing, you may be invited to council on the appropriate use of viagra and it's possible side effects. You might bite your tongue when he then shows you his box of "Herbal Viagra" and a mysterious penis-enlarging concoction covered in kanji but nonetheless reading "Made on USA."

And despite the fact that you've yet to recover your hunger since the last time that his wife served you scrumptious--not to mention free--indian food in his cafe, you might feign indifference when he introduces his barely 20-something would-be Ghanaian mistress. You might reconceptualize your acceptance of his fumbled Viagra use, and the questioningly endearing nature of mid-life crises as you're washed in the detached boredom of her saucer eyes while playing pool with a wealthy lebanese man in a bar named "Cheers" (same font) Ahodjo, Kumasi.

and you might wonder what another day will bring.