“meat, meat for sale!”


I haven't been to the butcher that Inell buys from so I don't know about our meat but the stuff on the street?! Not refrigerated, covered in flies, rotting on the hooks, I don't think you could cook that stuff long enough to be safe. I still stand by my enjoyment of rare beaf but I am willing to give up some of my finer tastes in cuisine if duty requires it.


I can't bring myself to eat eggs any more. Now the idea of a fried egg in the morning just turns my stomach. The eggs are strange looking. They are all fertilized, so there is a spot of blood in each and there is always the slim chance that when I open the egg I will find a half formed chick. That prospect makes me less eager for breakfast. The yokes also look funny; probably because of the food the chickens eat or don't eat. The yokes are a light pale yellow, almost albino. I expect Africa will have changed my eating habits quite a lot by the time I get back.