"Is someone sleeping in there?" I asked.
"Yes. My wife's brother's kids."
I breathed a sigh of relief. What my sleepy brain had pegged for shrunken strangers were my baby cousins.
My host uncle lives next to the poultry farm where the accident occured. The family came to sleep in our house, which is up the road aways, to get away from the scent. However, the smell got worse and worse. By that morning, it had spread not only around Boko but throughout all Kumasi.
A few minutes later, my two-year-old cousin Yaa (pronouced "Yow") emerged from the room. He took one look at me and screamed. I smiled, held out my hand, and drew near...and he burst into tears. (Yaa acted like I was a boogeyman all morning...which confounds me because he'd never seemed the least bit afraid of me before)