In the streets

I just got back from taking a walk to a cafe for lunch. On the way there I passed by a number of small shops. Peering into these shops, which sell bottled water, charcoal, pasta, sugar, rice and other staples, as well as some candies for the kids, you can usually see a young man or woman lounging inside, simply minding the store as it were. These places are open morning to night every single day.
I also passed a few hairdresser shops, easy to spot thanks to the headshots of lusty looking, well-groomed models covering the shopfront window.
I passed by a small shop called Mango Store, although it was closed and it didn't look like there was anything inside.
Blue minibus taxis passed by me every other minute, full of passengers. Some of the vehicles were carrying loads on their roof such as bags of grain or a mass of plastic containers stacked impossibly high.
I passed by man dragging something behind him. As he passed I saw it was an animal skin, and could make out the side and legs; it looked like it had been a goat. I looked back and saw in his other hand he was carrying a knife.
In the cafe I ate pasta with meat sauce and vegetables and stared out the window when a huge crowd came parading down the street. They were cheering and marching in front of a taxi carrying three soccer players wearing Siemens jerseys sitting on the roof holding onto the luggage rack and, one of them, holding a large victory trophy in the other hand high up for everyone to admire. The  jovial crowd carried on down the street and the street was quiet again.