My Silent Goaty Bolga Basket

Did you have to sing that song in school? We did. It gets stuck in my head all the time now.

It went like this (I think—I’m notorious for mixing up song lyrics):

My silent goaty oaty oaty oaty oaty
Was doing fine ine ine ine ine
He ate three shirty irty irties
Off my back line ine ine ine ine

Or something like that.

Here in Ghana we could sing:

He ate three rubbers ubbers ubbers ubbers ubbers
From in the gutter utter utter utter utter utter

Or something like that.

Either way, they choke.

In her article about the problem in Burkina Faso, Emily Bowers wrote:

“Here, women were worried about the mysterious deaths of their goats. When they realized their animals were munching on the plastic bags and dying shortly after, they decided to do something to clean up the filth.”

Who wants to eat “Aponkye Nkrakra” (goat light soup) flavoured with plastic bags?

Maybe that’s why I don’t like the taste of goat: it’s the plastic.

If you would rather enjoy your plastic on the outside, then take a twenty minute trip to Trashy Bags in Accra where plastic is recycled into brilliant, handmade bags and purses. You can also find these brilliant Bolga baskets made from recycled pure water bags and cloth there.