Let it be put to record that on this day, Monday, national Independence Day of Togo, that The Great Lamboni, finding, buying, and butchering fine quality pork to Ogaro’s swine-hungry masses, a man who no more than a week ago visited us at our humble dwelling and presented us with a fine chicken producing eggs, a meat man who has for more than a year talked at length of how we are valued customers, a peasant who we have so exhausted with banter of buying, negotiating the price of, and slaughtering pigs that he may one day be driven to call it quits and broach the subject of goats, a gentlemen for whom Katrina and I have discussed buying a scale to increase his profits, a trepid warrior second in grandeur only to the man from which his nickname derives, the great Lombardi, presented himself to us at a local watering hole with his same excited air and, without a tinge of humiliation or hesitancy, promptly asked for both of our names, for he knew not either.
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