I think this is a good thing.


Not my actual fufu
Not my actual Fufu

This afternoon at lunch I found myself craving dried fish with my Fufu.  On my first eight or so visits to West Africa the sight or smell of dried fish immediately turned my stomach.  I even avoided walking past them laid out on the ground at the market.  But in September, Churcher dared me to try a bite of his.  And today I was almost disappointed that the dried fish was “finished” at Osofu Mommy’s Chop Bar. 

I still give the fish head to Churcher though.  That is my current line in the sand.

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