Batter Up!

:: Posted on 12 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

On the way through Accra today, we were driving along just a few blocks north of the new Presidential Palace and office building - which is shaped like a stool, the traditional symbol of power from the tribal chief days. Leslie looked up the road ahead of us and pointed out a huge flock of birds swarming around the trees lining one side of the street. There were so many, that we looked and looked and looked at them trying to figure out what they were. The only birds you see in any significant numbers here are vultures circling and these were too small and too many to be vultures. So, we continued pondering as we got closer – and finally I realized…

They weren’t birds. They were bats!

There were, literally, hundreds of them, in broad daylight, flying around the tops of these very tall trees. Something must have disturbed them because by the time we got close, they had mostly settle back down into the tree. But the closer we got, the more we saw – lined up hanging upside down from every branch, one after the other. It was wild and just a little creepy.

I think I prefer my bats as construction paper cutouts on the window at Halloween!
BOO!

Big Drummer Boyz

:: Posted on 12 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

Our second stop was another beach resort back toward Accra, called Big Milly’s Backyard. There may have been a Big Milly at one time, but now the resort is run by a diminutive British woman named Wendy. Our purpose in this stop was to enjoy a community known for drumming and perhaps partake in some musical and rhythmic pursuits for a couple days before picking up our friend, Pam, at the airport on Tuesday evening.

The first day, we mostly walked up and down the beach, shopped for fabric, and rested in the room between run-ins with the ketchup Nazi at the resort restaurant (he wouldn't let us hold the ketchup bottle and insisted on doling it out quite miserly). On the second day, however, we arranged for a drumming lesson at just about dark. It was beginning to cool off and the Rastafarians were good and mellow from an entire day on the beach with the biggest “cigars” I have ever seen. Cheech & Chong would have been so jealous.

Anyway, we sat down and learned three different rhythm sequences from a cool Rasta man with one side of missing front teeth on both top and bottom. Another guy, called Ellis, joined us and was really chatting us up about how he had just returned from upstate New York and was going back to the US in March and needed to build a network there – yada yada.

The next morning, Leslie decided she needed a drum to bring home, so we went back to the drum shop and bought one. We ran into our drumming instructor and he offered to run through everything one more time at no charge to make sure we had it down. I think they enjoyed teaching us – we weren’t bad, if I do say so – probably because of our musical backgrounds. Anyway, we played drums for another ½ hour or so before saying our goodbyes and receiving an e-mail address from Ellis so we could send him a copy of the photo we took. Then we proceeded to Accra to check into our hotel and pick up Pam at the airport.

Pam’s flight came in after 8:00 so it was already dark, and it was December 30th so the airport was busy. As it was difficult to find parking, Leslie went to find Pam and I stayed with the truck, double parked in the lot. When they came back, Leslie said the drummer guy was there, at the airport. I said that was an interesting coincidence – and she said, “No you don’t understand. It wasn’t a coincidence. He was there hoping to see us.”

That was just a little too weird, but if anybody wants a very nice, cute, Rasta drummer boy with all his teeth, let us know – we can introduce you (he's the one on the right).
XO

Cuckoo for Coconuts!

:: Posted on 12 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

Be careful what you ask for. At breakfast, we were watching the men pulling in the nets and they stopped for a coconut break. Offhandedly, Leslie commented on how much she liked fresh coconut. Our host overheard us and turned around and asked, “Would you like a coconut?” We said, “Sure," and he motioned two of the young men over and the next thing we knew one was up a tree and the other was on the ground with a machete. The guy up top would kick a coconut to the ground (and I do mean kick – as in, hang from his arms and bicycle his feet against the coconuts until one fell loose), and the other guy would pick it up, whack it open and have a taste. They continued this process until he found one he liked and then the guy above knocked down a few more from that cluster.

In all, they harvested about six coconuts – and we shared ONE. We felt awfully guilty that we had sent someone up a 40 foot tree, so the decadent guests could share one lousy coconut. When our host offered, I thought he meant they had some already or were buddies with the fishing guys and would go get one from them – not that he was sending someone up for them. Next time we’ll be more careful what we wish for.
XO

The Ones That Didn’t Get Away

:: Posted on 12 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

Our first stop was on the beach out near Dixcove (about 5 hours west along the coast from the capitol city of Accra - unless you spend 2 hours looking for a currency exchange bureau in Takoradi, in which case it is 7 hours and you barely arrive before dark - not that we would know anything about that). We stayed at a cute little conglomeration of round huts built using African materials and methods (http://www.ghanaspirit.com/) and run by a Ghanaian/British couple.

We awoke the first morning at 5:30 to rhythmic counting and yelling outside our window. I got up to look and said to Leslie, “Come look. Some guys are playing tug-of-war with the sea.” Well, they weren’t really, but it looked like it. A large wooden boat with about 6 oars on each side had taken fishing nets out at dawn. All but three oarsmen then jumped out and pulled the ends of the net to shore. One side at a time, about 12 men pulled the two sides of the net (in a big horseshoe) in to the beach.

A guy at the back would call out the cadence in rhythm with the waves so that as a set of waves was coming in they would pull the rope in, then the man at the very back anchor it to a tree. Then, when the undertow pulled out, they could all rest with the big tree holding the rope fast until the next set of incoming waves.

It took about two to three hours for one set of nets to be pulled in on both sides. The closer the nets came the more people joined in pulling them in and holding the nets up out of the water to prevent drag and tangling, and folding them to carry back to the village for the next day. Finally, when the last bit of net came ashore they had somehow transferred the contents to a net sleeve – what I can only describe as a fishnet stocking (ha!) – also for carrying back to the village. Any fish that fell out were raked into a pile and sorted into a big pan for someone to… yep, carry back to the village – on her head. Waste not...

Two sets of nets were pulled in over the course of the day. Some days they do all that work for hardly any fish at all. Apparently the government has sold the rights to offshore fishing to the Koreans, so there is little left for the local fisher folk. This day, they seemed relatively happy, but as you can see, there are only a couple big fish and loads of small ones. I have seen a lot of

smoked / dried small fish like this in the market so that must be what they do with them. I don’t know how the big ones are handled, although they seem to have a good market with the three nearby beach resorts – although “resort” is a relative term, as we only had electricity for about 4 hours each evening and no hot water.

We’re not complaining, though! They had the best banana chocolate crepes ever! We have happy faces, lots of seashells, and sand in our… Oh, never mind. I don’t want to make you jealous!
XO

Nanny 911

There is a little girl who lives in the compound behind us. She is the cutest kid you ever saw (not counting my nieces and nephews, of course), full of energy, and the most mischievous and affectionate child I have ever met. Her name is Precious (although it should be PreCOcious) and she is 5. She is also very bright, but her family does not have the money to send her to school, and so she cannot yet count to 10. So, anyway, Precious joins me when I sit on the top stair and have my coffee every morning (the veranda is too sunny and hot in the morning) and she is a hug machine. Although I try not to play favorites, I've come to adore her.

BUT...

Since we are a business and our local agents come to the office for charged batteries and reconciliation, we had a doorbell installed and we often like to leave the door unlocked when we are at home. Once Precious figured this out, she started coming in uninvited. She would come in the door at the top of the stairs, remove her flip flops and leave them by the door (why, when she was misbehaving did she make this polite gesture? I have no idea - just habit perhaps), tiptoe through Whit's room to the office, make a tiny little noise to get my attention, wait until I turned around and saw her, then smile, squeal and high tail it to the other end of the building where she would jump on my bed and roll around giggling and hugging my pillows.

When the door was locked, she would ring the doorbell (which is currently set to "Santa Claus is coming to town") and when we came to open it, try to squeeze by and into the house.

I had tried everything I could think of, short of bodily harm, to communicate to her that this was unacceptable behavior. I pointed at the doorbell and repeatedly said "No" (one of the few words I know in Twi), and so forth, but nothing worked. She had been told by her various aunties around the compound and by her grandmother to leave the oburonis alone and the neighbor who is right below us would yell at her anytime she was seen on the stairs. The advice from every Ghanaian with whom I had discussed the matter was to "beat" her next time she rang the bell or came in the house (...it takes a village and any adult is free to discipline any child in his/her community). I was told no one would have any problem with it.

I must say that in the last few days of chasing her around the house and placing her back on the stairs repeatedly, I certainly understood the inclination to whack her bottom, but I also realized it would be more a satisfaction of my own frustration than because I thought she would understand it and respond out of anything other than fear, hurt, or anger. I really wanted to give her a "time out" (hey, I've seen it done), but that would require me to communicate and reason with her, which I cannot do because of the language barrier. I was stymied.

Then, I thought of Nanny Jo. (Oh, admit it, you've been channel surfing and seen "Super Nanny" or "Nanny 911" - you know who I'm talking about.) Since I couldn't give her a "sit-on-the-naughty-stool" time out, I decided to try giving her an "emotional" timeout. Starting last Thursday, I began ignoring her. When she snuck in the house I walked down to my room, scowling the entire time (attempting to perfect the "mother" look), took her by the arm and pulled her to the door, opened the door, placed her - and her flip flops - outside and shut the door, all without a word. When I went outside and she came running up to me squealing, "Auntie Jan", I raised my hands up too high for her to hold one and walk me to the street, as she usually did, and continued walking, saying nothing to her.

Then Friday, she opened the door, but we were in the battery charging room and saw her immediately, so I went to the door and pushed her back out. Then I had our Assistant Branch Manager tell her that Auntie Jan was upset because she kept ringing the bell and coming into the house uninvited - and that unless she apologized and stopped this behavior, Auntie Jan would not be her friend anymore.

OMG - it worked! Since I hadn't spoken to her or smiled at her for a couple days, she was primed for Philip's message. On Saturday morning when I sat on the step to have my coffee, several of the neighborhood boys (ages 4-8) came up to see me. Eventually, Precious appeared and sat on the very bottom step, watching through the railing as her honored spot beside me was taken by a small boy who clung to my arm. She looked glum, but I tried not to make eye contact with her. She did creep step by step up to the landing, and by the time I had finished my coffee was just a couple steps below me but I still had not acknowledged her. I will admit that my heart was breaking.

Finally, I went inside and purposely left the door unlocked. Then I walked around to the door to the kitchen/shower/toilet/sink hallway, and watched surreptitiously through the window. Precious touched neither the door nor the doorbell. I did see another boy ring the bell, so I waited a few seconds and opened the door, pointed him out (in that miraculous way that adults have of knowing the culprit even when they were - theoretically - out of eyesight), pointed at the button, and said "No". He was missing a front tooth, so I know he was old enough to know exactly what I meant. I did notice out the corner of my eye that as soon as I opened the door, Precious began gesturing to indicate it wasn't her, and pointing at the boy. I already knew that, but I was delighted (and amused) to see that she understood what was expected of her, despite her need to lay blame.

I left the door unlocked the rest of the morning, and there was no sign of Precious - nor for the rest of the weekend. It turned out that on Saturday afternoon, she had traveled to see an Auntie in another town and returned on Sunday evening. On Monday morning, she again did not try to sneak in the house. So, when I saw her at the downstairs neighbor's, I went down. She ran up to me and then stopped short just in front of me and looked up tentatively. I squatted down to her height and asked earnestly if she wanted to be friends again. She doesn't understand English, but some things are universal I think. She nodded. I opened my arms and she nearly bowled me over with her hug.

Precious has touched neither the doorbell nor the door since coming home from her (other) Auntie's. When I am outside in the mornings and evenings she is always there, quite certain that her place is in my lap while the other children should sit on the stairs. Hey, I can't even speak her language to tell her to share. One thing at a time. ABCs and counting to 10 are next.

Thanks, Nanny Jo!
XO

Mr. President, Can We Talk?

In order to try and stay out of any potential conflict around the upcoming Presidential runoff (on Sunday, 28 December), I have been simply telling people that I already voted, in America. When people look at me quizzically, I tell them I voted for Barack Obama and immediately their eyes light up with recognition and delight.

When the neighborhood children joined me for coffee this morning (I sit on my top step), they tried to get me to do the party hand signs (I've mentioned the rolling fingers and "walk like an Egyptian" moves before, I think). Anyway, I gave them my usual spiel that I had already voted - for Barack Obama - and to my surprise they broke into song. Apparently, there is a song about Barack Obama on the radio. I haven't heard it, I guess because the religious radio station played by the stereo store downstairs doesn't play it, but the kids have heard it and it's repetitive enough to be catchy.

Of course, when I staged them to capture it on camera, they were much more reticent and never really got it together, but it was fun and you'll get the idea.

I didn't get an exact translation, but it was basically "let's talk". Mama, let's talk about Barack Obama. Papa let's talk about Barack Obama. I think there is a lot of underlying meaning about what "talking about Barack Obama" means to people here, but the response is fairly universal. They are amazed, excited, and inspired.

The world is watching - no pressure, Mr. Prez!
XO

Sense of Community

Today was a route day - when we travel our route to collect used batteries and replenish our agents' supply of freshly charged batteries, and reconcile the agents' new sales, renewals, cancelations, and inventory. However, when we arrived at one agent's house, he said he only had time to exchange, not to reconcile.

A young man in the neighborhood had been cutting a bamboo stalk to use as a support for an aerial antenna for his radio. This is very typical here, as shown in this photo.

Unfortunately, when this man cut the bamboo, it fell on a high tension wire (ironic because while the high tension wires cut across rural Ghana to take power from the hydroelectric plants to the cities, most of the rural people have no power). Not thinking - or not realizing the amount of electricity traveling through a high tension wire, or not realizing that so much power will conduct through almost anything, including bamboo - he attempted to push the stalk off the wire.

At the time we arrived at Borbor's house (a nickname pronounced Bobo), this had just happened and the body was still out in the bush where the accident occurred. As we sat with Borbor for no more than 10 minutes, a parade of people worked its way down the street and by the time we were leaving, at least 50, perhaps 100, people from the neighborhood had gathered to go out to the bush in a community processional to carry the body home. Borbor and his wife and family were joining them as we left.

I've written before about death and the cultural differences in response to it here in Ghana. It is both mourned and seen as a transition to be honored. But in a case where the individual is so young (about 18, Borbor said) and the death is sudden and completely unforeseen, I have to think it takes a while for anyone to think of it as an honored transition.

In any case, it was this sense of community - within minutes the news had spread throughout the community and within half an hour, everyone had gathered - that struck me as something westerners simply cannot touch. There was perhaps a time - and there are still some pockets of this sense of community, I am sure - but for the most part it is gone - and well worth mourning.
XO

Village People

It was a field day today. That's when we go out to the field with our agents and visit some of their customers. On this trip we were helping them have some of their first renewal conversations.

I've been told my explanation of our business was good, but how it really works was a bit muddy, so I'll clarify. A customer essentially rents the use of a rechargable battery for one month. They can have as many re-freshes of that battery as they want in that one month. Meaning that when the battery loses power they give it back to their agent who gives them a freshly charged one in its place. Twice a week, we travel a route to visit and reconcile with each agent. At that time, the agent exchanges the used batteries they have collected for fresh batteries. We take the used batteries back to the branch office and recharge them. NOTE: about 70% of Ghanaians do not have electricity.

After one month then customers have to renew for another month in order to continue in the program. Unfortunately, we are moving into the lean part of the year and people don't have a lot of money. While disposable batteries are more expensive over the course of a month, they require a smaller outlay at any one time. So, people really want to stay in our program because once they sign on, they can use the batteries as much as they want, but they just don't have the money to renew.

That will seem strange from a western point of view, because the rental is about the equivalent of $0.62 per battery per month. But renting even two batteries requires an individual to put what is a fair amount of cash together at one time. We are getting creative about how people can pay a little at a time so that by renewal time they are all paid up - or allowing them to pay ahead during major harvest periods. You know how it is, when you have money, you spend it - not necessarily on things you need or will need down the road. This way, they can use the money for something they will need - and have one less thing to worry about when the lean months come, as they do twice a year for most people.

So, anyway, people do a lot of things to get by and make a little money. These photos are all of one family, that sells some things along the roadside (first picture), operates a still (second), making the Ghanaian equivalent of white lightning, and gathers what they can find for their own use (fourth). The little girl was pounding something (third), maize I think. I should have looked. The boys were watching as is fairly typical around the home compound.

But I know the men work hard, too, you can see the musculature from farm labor on men of every age.

The woman on the left put her shirt on in honor of our arrival and as you can see, the children spend most of the time in their underwear. It was blistering hot and I will admit to being exceedingly jealous!

Oh, and for those, like me, who don't (didn't) know how a homemade still works: In the barrel behind the men is Palm Wine, which is made from sap tapped from Palm trees that has been allowed to "harden" like a cider would. It is then heated in the sealed barrel until it changes to a gaseous form. At this point, the pressure forces the gas into the copper tube running out of the top of the first barrel and into the top of the second barrel. The second barrel is full of water to cool the alcohol gas back to a liquid. The tube actually passes through the second barrel and is attached to the spigot at the bottom, from which drips distilled alcohol, the local gin called Akpeshie. I'm told it's about 78% alcohol, which is 156 proof. Yikes!
XO

Killer Bugs

If you asked 10 people the biggest health risk of going to Africa, most of them would probably say, mosquito bites. And they are probably right, as far as it goes. Apparently mosquitoes are responsible for more human deaths than any other living creature. There's malaria, dengue fever, west nile virus, yellow fever, and so on.

But, what they don't tell you about - and I just looked at the CDC's travel website on Ghana to check - are the eensy-weensy bugs. The bacteria that can infect even the smallest cut - or bite - especially if you scratch it.

Now, you might ask: Why is Jan so uptight about this oversight. Well, it's because two nights ago, my right foot was twice this size and I was dreaming about calling home to say goodbye because I was dying of gangrene and kidney failure (don't ask me about that one - the human sub-conscious is a funny place). OK, a bit melodramatic, but honestly(!) I'm not a dirty girl - I wash my hands a bazillion times a day - and am generally pretty careful.

What looked like a basic mosquito bite scab (yes, I had scratched it - in my sleep most likely) one day, started to swell and turn red by that night. I put Neosporin on it, but it didn't help. Fortunately, Leslie had packed me an Azithromycin five-day dose pack and I started taking it the next morning (OK, OK, I was in denial the night before - surely a good night's sleep, blah, blah, blah...). Anyway, by that next night (even having started the antibiotics), my foot was the size described (twice that in the photos) and I couldn't walk it hurt so much. That was the night I had the dreams.

Anyway, all is well now. The swelling is down, the redness is fading, and Leslie has come down off the ceiling - although I think she's still cranky with me for not going to the doctor.
XO

Election Update

The election went off here without many issues. The majority party seems to have lost far more seats in Parliament than anyone expected, so that is causing claims of voting irregularities in some parts of the country. And 2.4% of ballots cast were declared invalid for one reason or another. After dipping the left pinkie in indelible ink to prevent duplicate voting, constituents voted by placing a thumbprint next to the candidate of choice on the ballot (see sample from 1996 at left). It seems, one of the main reasons for invalid ballots is the use of the wrong finger! Many people used the finger that already had ink on it. And some claims are made that the illiterate and elderly in certain candidates' strongholds were being told the wrong finger by "mischief makers". So, you talk about your hanging chads - 2.4% could decide an entire election!
In addition, some constituencies seemed to have more votes cast than there were registered voters in the constituency. Hmm... minor details. At any rate, these issues did not appear to be wide-spread and were, of course, blown up for maximum effect by the parties. The general opinion of the world seems to be that the elections were, in fact, free and fair. I stayed at a guesthouse in Accra on Tuesday and Wednesday evening that was across from the German Embassy. There were a number of EU electoral observers also staying there (from Germany, The Netherlands, and the Czech Republic) and their response was quite positive. Most candidates are accepting their fates with professionalism. It seems clear that if the candidates don't foment violence through claims of rigging, stealing, intimidating or other voter fraud, then the populace will maintain its cool as well.

My only first hand experience was this: When Tim went to vote, his name was not on the registrar's list. Now, he is an NDC (opposition - "we are changing") supporter, so one could think there was some intentional funny business, but his wife claims it's his own fault because when they opened the registers about a month ago, and all the people who had registered before were allowed to go and confirm their names were on the list, he didn't go. He and I maintained that if you were registered before (he voted in 2004) your name should not be removed from the rolls. His wife, however, says they were trying to clean up the rolls to prevent fraud and that, based on his age, since he didn't confirm, they may have thought he was dead (he's 56!?). So, you see, the process is not quite beyond it's infancy.

In any case, the various MP races (Member of Parliament) have been resolved for the most part, but the Presidency requires a majority (50% + 1 vote). Neither of the two major parties received a majority, so now they will have a run-off on 28 Dec. This is supposed to ensure that the minority parties have some ability to cast the deciding vote between the two front runners.

So, the campaigning has started up again. Here is a video of a little parade by the NPP party ("we are moving forward") that went by in front of the office at 7:00AM. If you look closely, you

might see some people doing the NPP dance/hand sign - sort of like "walk like an Egyptian", but both hands pointed forward. The NDC's dance/hand sign is more like Saturday Night Fever finger twirling (without the pointing or the strut) - or the motion you make when you want someone to get on with it - as I will do now.
XO

Rock the Vote!

It's a very big day today in Ghana. It is election day falling on the Sunday of a holiday weekend. There is a ton of energy and excitement for a variety of reasons. Because of the holiday, many people are traveling to visit family - AND because many people are registered to vote in their hometowns whether they live there or not, many people are traveling home in order to vote (no absentee voting system here). Sort of puts me in mind of Mary and Joseph traveling to their hometown of Bethlehem for the census.

Anyway, back to the Ghana election. First, a short history:

Ghana was created as a parliamentary democracy at its independence from Britain in 1957. The post independence leader, Kwame Nkrumah's goal was to merge the dreams of both Marcus Garvey ("back to Africa" movement) and the celebrated African-American scholar W.E.B. Du Bois into the formation of the modern day Ghana.

Kwame Nkrumah was overthrown by a military coup in 1966. A series of subsequent coups ended with the most recent coup in Ghana's history in 1981, giving power to Flight Lieutenant Jerry Rawlings and resulting in the suspension of the constitution and the banning of political parties. A new constitution, restoring multi-party politics, was promulgated in 1992, and Rawlings was elected President in "free and fair" elections. He was re-elected in 1996 for his second and term-limited last term. (left, Rawlings is shown touring the country leading up to these 2008 elections)

In 2000, the opposition party candidate was elected - a significant test. However, power was handed peacefully from one government to the next and that candidate was re-elected in 2004 and is now in his final term. In speaking with people here, there are two distinct camps -one which believes the current government and political party have done great things for Ghana and that "we are moving forward" (shown on right) and the other party (below) that believes the current party is corrrupt beyond redemption and a change is needed - "we are changing" (see http://www.attamills2008.com/) . This second party, the NDC, is also the party of J.J. Rawlings, the party founder and coup guy from 1981 (remember him). However, even supporters of the NPP seem to think the candidate himself is a good man. They just worry about the continued heavy involvement in the party of Rawlings.

So, the arguments by the first group are that more children are in school now, including many more girls and education quality is improved. This seems to be true to my untrained, completely non-expert view. The opposition argument is that the government is corrupt - the heads of government departments are cousins, uncles, brothers and other hangers on regardless of qualification, all of whom somehow become quite rich; the infrastructure is deteriorating - roads that once were paved are now deeply rutted dirt and the railroad has ceased functioning altogether; and people who supported the other party or who are not of the "correct" ethnic background who used to get government contracts stopped getting them entirely when the NPP took power in 2000. People are asking "where has the money gone" and "what are we getting for it"?

And again, it's politics and I have no way of really knowing which of these assertions and allegations is true. I'm an outsider telling other outsiders what I have seen and heard. In fact, in true political style, all the stops are out. The NDC is even comparing the change needed in Ghana to the change achieved by the U.S. electing Barack Obama. (right)

The approach to campaigning is also interesting. Based on what I've heard, the typical approach is to give people money (one Cedi, about $0.80) and a t-shirt to get them to vote for you. According to some, this ensures the ongoing corruption - because the candidates have to accept large sums of money and go into significant debt to afford to do this, thereby making them beholden to their contributors after they are elected (sound familiar?).

Anyway, today is the big election, and whichever party wins, there is some possibility of unrest. If the opposition party wins, the supporters of the current government could cause trouble or the government itself could try and hold onto power. If the current party in power wins, the opposition party can claim the elections were rigged and unfair. So, everyone is very excited, but also on pins and needles. The final rallies were held on Friday - and no campaigning has been allowed since then, to allow emotions to settle before the election.

For those prone to worry, I am in no danger. Any unrest will be internally focused, not targeting the oburoni. However, for your peace of mind, I am going to Accra this morning to stay with Tim and Shika (our business partner and his wife) and their family for a couple of days until the results are tallied and there is some idea of the reaction. It will be fun to be part of their family and to see their reaction to the whole process.

So, keep the people in Ghana in your thoughts as they stand in the heat for hours to decide their future by standing behind a cardboard voting screen to mark their paper ballots for insertion to a plastic bin which used to be opaque, but is now transparent (more free and fair).
XO

Name that Citrus

Welcome to real fruit. I don't know what they do to it in the U.S. to make it pretty and the "right" color, shape, texture or whatever, but it has made shopping in Ghana an adventure. Just when you think you know what something is and you buy it and take it home and get all ready to put it in your tea or squeeze it for juice or eat it in slices, you get a bit of a surprise.

Now, I'm not saying that fruit and other growing things here are all organic or anything. Farmers, as much as they can afford, are drawn by the promise of greater yield through pesticides just like in America, but the fruit does generally ripen all the way on the tree and it is not engineered or colored.

So, I've created a little quiz for you - to see how well you know your citrus. Do you have piece of paper? Write the letters A through E on your paper. You may want to gather the children for a little help if you have them. They do a lot of these matching exercises in school. But, don't feel intimidated by them. I'm sure you'll get the answers right, too.


Ready? Now name the citrus shown in the photo above. Take your time, give it a little thought - examine them closely. If you're using Internet Explorer you should be able to use that little zoom button (mom, it's the one with the magnifying glass with the (+) sign in it and the 100% beside it) in the lower right corner of your browser to see a bigger viewer. I don't want you to feel as if you haven't had a fair chance.

OK, are you finished? Good.

Well, I'm not going to tell you the answers right now. Don't look at me that way and watch your language! I'm just not ready to tell you yet. And I'm not sure you want to keep the answers you have anyway. Have another look and see if you want to change your mind on anything.

Yes, as a matter of fact I did buy all this fruit and take pictures of it and slice it and take pictures again and crop them and size them (they are relatively close to scale), and label them just for you. I think I mentioned we have no TV or DVDs, right?

Anyway, are you keeping your answers? Did you change some? Still confused? What if I tell you that there is at least one lemon, lime, orange, and tangerine. Does that help?

OK, if you're still deciding don't scroll down yet. It may spoil the suspense - and citrus is nothing if not suspenseful. Have I done a good job keeping you on the edge of your seat? Don't answer that - and I said watch your language. This is a G Rated blog.

All righty. Ready for the answers now? OK, here they are.




What? Oh, that's too small. I'm sorry. Here, how's this?




No, my answer key is certainly not incorrect. The green one is the lemon and the tiny yellow one is the lime. The medium sized yellow one is a tangerine as is the shiny orange and green one. They are two different varieties and have different tangerine-y flavors.

Thanks for playing! And you should really try tangerine in your tea - or lime - they're both quite refreshing!
XO

Reading is good for you!

I brought a lot of books to Ghana and have one going most of the time. I read mostly in the evening before I go to sleep - and when I finish with my book I toss it in the drawer of my nightstand to keep my room tidy and to keep the book clean (more on the dirty winds off the Sahara in a later post).

Last night, I had turned on the bedside light and turned off the overhead light, climbed into bed, and opened the drawer of my nightstand. I pulled out my book and in the dim light, saw something in the drawer that was dark and inert where the book had been. I couldn't identify it, as I had already removed my glasses and it was back just far enough to still be in the shadow cast by the edge of the table. Thinking it was a dust bunny, I gave it a little flick with my finger to move it into the light and have a closer look. That's when I saw this.

Apparently, the previous night when I tossed my book in the drawer, it landed on this guy, who measures 3cm (that's 1-¼" to some of you) in his curled up death pose. He was probably closer to 2" in life, with legs extended and scuttling about, which gives me the willies so close to my bed.

If you don't believe me, get out your headphones and look at the size of the jack,

then look at these photos again.

He seems to have lost a leg when I flicked him (see upper left in third photo), so I guess the book squashed him (sorry Sandy!) and he was a bit stuck to the bottom of the drawer.

So, this just proves, reading really is good for you!

XO