Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Aren't you supposed to be in Ghana on Business?

My mother (Hi, Mom!) recently asked for an update our business successes - because people keep asking her how it's going and if we are meeting our goals and objectives. It reminded me that the blog has been focused on cultural observations and sight-seeing for quite some time and that some other readers may be asking the same questions.

So, I'll preface these comments by saying that Burro is a privately held company. Although there is a company blog, it doesn't tell everything and neither will I - but I can definitely give you some idea where we are in the process and how it's going.

Here is the general idea, for those who don't want to dig bag through the blogs for the original overview - or for those who thought the first explanation lacked appropriate detail.

BACKGROUND:
First, you must know that 69% of Ghanaians do not have electricity in their homes AND it get's dark every night, year round, by 6:30 PM.

THE PROGRAM:
We rent the use of rechargable batteries. That's it. We have AA-size rechargable cells that can be used as AAs or can be inserted into a plastic adapter and used as a D-size battery - this is what most clients do.

The way the program works is: a client rents the use of a rechargable battery for one month. The rental occurs through an agent who is generally located right in the village or neighborhood - or quite nearby. For the entire month, anytime the battery loses power (the local terminology is: the battery "falls"), the client can take the battery back to the agent and the agent will give him or her a fresh battery with no additional cost.

Twice weekly, we travel a delivery route. Map #1 shows where we are within Ghana and Map #2 shows yellow dots where we have agents. The blue line is the planned delivery route along which we are expanding. Right now we don't go all the way around. As the business expands there will likely be two additional loops served by the Koforidua branch.

In any case, on route day, agents meet us at the route point closest to them (agents who are close enough to K'dua come to the office) and exchange used (fallen) batteries for fresh (recharged) batteries. We take the used batteries back to the branch and recharge them.

At the end of one month, the client renews the rental for another month or returns the batteries.

OUR OBJECTIVES:
We are definitely in a pilot phase with Koforidua as the pilot branch. Our objective is to test the concept, figure out how to do it profitably and sustainably, and develop a roll-out plan to have up to 50 branches throughout Ghana.

SUCCESS SO FAR
We have changed the concept and the operational approach several times in the last three months. This is expected during a pilot, and we will likely change several things again before we have a standardized method for everything, but there are a few things we seem to have settled on:

1. Customers love the offering. They are saving money AND using their battery operated devices more than they could ever afford before.

  • For instance, if you remember the days of the Walkman, you recall how quickly they went through batteries. Our customers have the same issue with radios, tape players, flashlights, table lamps, etc.
  • Because it gets dark early (from a light standpoint, villages with no power are like camping in the middle of nowhere), and because radio is the only source of entertainment and news, all these devices are used a lot. Previously if a client used a radio carefully, he might make the batteries last one week.
  • Batteries - at least the very cheapest, crappiest ones that are highly likely to leak and ruin the devise - cost about 25 pesewa each. So that means, even using the battery carefully, a client would be spending at least 1.00 cedi per month for each low-end battery. With Burro, he may actually spend less for a very high quality, high capacity battery, and can exchange the battery every day if he needs to.
2. Customers are DOING MORE in addition to saving money. (Since "DO MORE" is the company tagline, it's a good thing it's working!)
  • Farmers take their radios to the field and work longer or with more energy - in the same way you might crank up the tunes while doing housework, except that, for the farmer, it means more crops, better yield, better family nutrition, and increased income.
  • Shopkeepers are open longer hours and/or need not contend with the cost and nasty smell of kerosene
  • Hunters (nocturnal - rodents and snails) find more game and can provide for their families AND have some left over to sell
  • Mothers feel more confident and secure with a "porch" light in the evenings
  • Children can see to do homework
  • etc.

3. There are many honest and conscientious individuals who would like to be agents

  • Although most of them are not used to business processes and requirements, our agents are very responsive when we try new forms (remember, no computers either - all paper record keeping) or change the way they have been tracking things.
  • Lost batteries has been only a minor issue and the agents show genuine concern when a battery is lost.
  • Agents have learned along with us and I see them changing their approaches to incorporate their learnings, which is very exciting
  • Although GMT is jokingly called Ghana Maybe Time, our agents are showing up more or less on time for their assigned route meeting times

4. The route seems to be the best way to collect used and distribute fresh batteries

  • Customers are refreshing their batteries on average about every 5 days - more in some villages than others
  • Asking all agents to come to the office (our first idea) turned out to be cost prohibitive for the agents - some villages require both a taxi and then a trotro (passenger van) to reach Koforidua, which can cost up to 2.00 cedis each way
NUMBERS (so far):
Average batteries per client: 2.9
Average clients per agent: about 25 (high of about 50)
Average batteries per agent: about 75 (high of about 150)
Total customers: about 300
Total batteries rented: almost 1000
Batteries re-charged per week: around 1700

LESSONS:
There are a number of things we have learned, some good and some challenging, but all useful.

1. Despite a high "official" unemployment rate, people are doing many things to care for their families and "make a living". Therefore, few of our agents are doing this full time. They have farms, shops, jobs (two teachers), and so forth.

  • That means we'll need more agents to achieve the rental numbers needed for viability
  • That means the route will take longer (more agents to meet, reconcile, and collect)
  • Cost per agent to execute the route is higher

2. Many agents seem to be happy with "enough" income. While there is an awareness of the "stuff" they could buy, it is not part of the culture to want and buy everything you see. Many people hardly ever leave their villages anyway, except to travel to a relative's funeral, so all they really need are the "must haves".

  • This means we'll need more agents... as well as the other two bullets above

3. When tracking is all manual and paper-based, LESS is more. Also, it's more of a "verbal/memory" culture, than a writing culture. If we ask an agent about any client, chances are he will know how many batteries the customer has, where he lives, if he's due, etc. Collecting addresses, for instance, was not adding value - usually it just said "On the Nkurakan to Asesewa Road" or something similar, which wasn't useful anyway. But the agent knew exactly where to find the customers (and our batteries), which was the important thing.

  • This means we can dramatically reduce the amount of data we are collecting and simplify the amount of data the agent has to record.
  • This means training and roll-out to new agents will be easier .
  • This means we may have less data for management reporting and will have to make do with summary information at the agent and branch level.
  • This means we can't add a lot of additional items. The paperwork would be a nightmare (we tried it, see below for details)

4. Our program takes a long time to explain and selling is a skill that must be taught. Most of our agents were jumping right to "here's a battery for XX pesewa". It took a lot of time to get them to ASK questions of the client first - do they use batteries? how many? in what sorts of devices? etc.

  • This means training and roll-out to new agents will take longer
  • This means we will need to spend more time in the field "modeling" the right sales techniques

5. This is an ownership culture. People want to own things, not rent them. They are catching on with the batteries that what we're "renting" is the charging service along with the battery. But, we tried renting some battery operated devices with the batteries and people had a hard time getting that they didn't own the device. At the end of the day, we had difficulty with the bookkeeping and the quality of local devices anyway, but if we do begin offering devices again, it will likely be for sale not rental.

So, I'm sure I've forgotten a bunch of stuff that would be interesting, but on the off chance it's more interesting to me than to you, I'll stop now and give all that some time to marinate (name that movie). All in all, it is a challenge and there is never a dull moment and we are constantly hashing and re-hashing. Who knows, having spent 2 hours at the Social Security office and 4 hours at the IRS today, maybe it'll be the taxes and bureaucracy that are the most challenging!
XO

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Don't be a Pastry

Ghana is on the Atlantic ocean, and Koforidua is only about 60 miles (100 km) inland from the sea. Taking this little data, and a cursory review of average monthly temperatures which were available on the internet, I did little other research on weather. Hot and humid - that's what I prepared for and that's what I packed for (sorry Mr. McHaney for ending both those phrases with prepositions, but "it was that for which I prepared and packed" just sounded a little too un-bloggish (oops, made up word).

Now, people have been talking about the "dry season" for several months, so I was expecting some period of time with little rain - although the monthly rain data for Koforidua don't really show much difference throughout the year. The "dry season" seemed to begin in November, although there were still a few big storms in November and December. Tim (our Ghanaian partner) did mention the word Harmattan a few times and mentioned how dusty it would be because of the winds from the North picking up tiny particles from the Sahara.

Then last Monday, Philip (our first employee) said to me, "It started today." I said, "What started?" (I know I'm supposed to start a new paragraph with every new speaker, but hey, this isn't a novel and I am my own editor, and the tempermental artist is winning the creative license argument today) Anyway, he said, "Harmattan. I can feel it in my throat. No matter how much I drink, I still feel dry." I had noticed this feeling as well, but thought it had more to do with the cold rapidly settling upon me.

It is now six days later and the sky is hazy with dust every day (tiny particles, yes, but so many!). The wind blows primarily during the day so visibility is generally down to a few hundred meters by evening. It looks like L.A. or Guangzhou (for those who have been to Southern China) on a particularly bad day - but it's not smog, it's dust. And so dry! (incomplete sentence - sorry, again, Mr. M.) It has gone from Miami to Phoenix in a matter of days. And so has my skin - or should I say the Phyllo dough pastry I am wearing.

The first of these photos was taken back in August when Whit first rented our office space. It is the view from our balcony, as featured in one of my first two blog entries. The second photo was taken today from the same vantage point. The last photo is looking left off the balcony to the end of our street. There is a mountain in that direction, too, believe it or not, but it is difficult to even see the bush at the end of the street - about 300 meters away.

Weather.com suggests that Accra will be 91F and 54% humidity today. As we are at a higher elevation, we are generally a few degrees cooler, but I have to think our humidity is also much much lower. The children's legs are so dry they are white and they are passing around lip balm in a way that makes it clear why there are so many colds this time of year.

I'll be shopping for hand cream and body lotion today - I brilliantly left them out of my 100 lb checked luggage limit in favor of too many shoes and socks. So, next time you pack for Africa, be sure to check the location of your destination relative to the Sahara desert, which covers nearly all of the Northern part of the continent as this map showing Africa's Natural Vegetation reveals. And if your research says "dry season", it may have to do with more than rain. Don't be a pastry!
XO

Friday, January 23, 2009

Not Missing

(The details of what I do and will miss are in the previous post)

What don't I miss from home?

I was going to say there is very little I don't miss - perhaps because I have been away for 4 months now and am getting a bit homesick, but on further reflection... the things I don't miss are mostly cultural, having seen, if not experienced, this lifestyle which is focused on need, not want, and a daily struggle to provide for oneself and one's family

I don't miss the way we use so much credit to buy so many things we don't need and then discard them within six months - either because we don't use them or because they were poor quality and have stopped working. People here pay cash for 99.9% of everything they buy and repair things to re-use them, for many different purposes, until they literally fall apart. Of necessity, they do the things (three R's - reduce, re-use, recycle) that we pat ourselves on the back for - when we really only do them in tiny increments to "reduce our carbon footprint".

I don't miss television as much as I thought I would. I may disappear into a fog of DVR recordings when I return, but there has really been little extra time to spend on TV anyway, what with the monstrous Excel business model I was working on every night - and which we will be re-modeling in the next few weeks.

And, I don't miss driving to and from work every day in stop-and-go traffic. Walking down the hall in shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops is awesome.

What won't I miss when I go home?

Frankly, there are a few things that come to mind.

I won't miss people, including adults and neighbors, calling me (yelling in a chorus when I appear) "oburoni" as if it's my name.

I won't miss the abysmal customer service - although after spending an hour on the phone with Bank of America the other night, it's not looking so bad.

I won't miss the speed bumps (two or three homemade ones on the main highway through many villages on our route - requiring us to slow to 5 kph or hit our heads on the roof), potholes, nor "dusty" roads, as the locals call the mud-rutted, washboard, dirt roads that are the vericose veins of the land.

I won't miss people demanding things ("Give me ____") as if I am a money tree, plastic bottle tree, biscuit (cookie) tree, banana tree, or ice tree. OK, that last one is my own fault. I did start giving the kids a piece of ice now and then. It only costs a few pesewa to fill all the trays in the freezer and they L-O-V-E, love it. And I can't begrudge them the empty bottles either - they use them to save water for when the city main is not running, and for the children to take water with them to school.

NOTE: In fairness, from speaking with many people, I understand that "give me..." is the literal translation of what they would say to another Ghanaian, so it is just a cultural difference, but especially when combined with "oburoni" it is the cultural fingernail on the chalkboard of my days.

Most of all, I won't miss the heat. As most everyone knows, I wilt in the heat. Since being here, I have taken half an Oral Rehydration Salts packet in water every route day (the day we deliver fresh batteries to our agents in the field and collect the used ones) since I discovered them. Unfortunately, I discovered them out of necessity - I'll spare you the details. Anyway, I completely understand why people in very hot climates get up early and work while it's cool, then rest when it's hottest, and work again after the sun finishes its assault for the day.
XO

Missing

I was asked recently, "What do you miss most and what don't you miss at all?" I found it an interesting question and one I hadn't really considered. So I considered it - and decided to include it here, but I've added a bit. This entry will be on what I miss from home and what I will miss from here when I leave. The next entry will be what I don't miss from home and what I won't miss from here when I leave.

What do I miss the most from home?

I miss many many people most - but that probably goes without saying, so I'll give a more "thing-ish" answer.

I miss long, hot bubble baths. When at home I like to read until I prune - and I have not had what I would consider a "proper" bath since arriving in Ghana. We have only a shower stall in our residence, from which water does generally spray - with great pressure one day a week when the city water is on, and with pathetic pressure on all the other days when we are using water from the "PolyTank" on our roof. Occasionally, the knobs turn but no water comes out at all, and then I have a faucet bath.

We have a hot water heater (tiny), but when there is no pressure, there is virtually no hot water as it depends on gravity and is barely higher than the shower head, so most showers are cold or cold-ish. So, when the water starts bouncing off the bottom of the kitchen sink, it means the city water has come on (usually Thursday or Friday) and I get so excited anticipating my next warm shower and actually getting all the soap out of my uber-thick hair.

While traveling - a couple times to Accra and on my vacation with Leslie and Pam, I have had a tub a couple of times in hotel rooms, but usually with little or no hot water - definitely not enough to fill the tub. Most places are like ours - shower only, no hot water. At Mole National Park, we had two very large buckets in our bathroom and a smaller bucket to use as a scoop - to rinse after soaping and to pour water in the toilet to make it flush.

And that's what Tim and Shika (solidly upper-middle-class) have in all their bathrooms, since someone diverted the city water line and stole their water and since the neighbor who agreed to share a bore hole (well) with them kept a lot of Tim's money, by installing 2" pipe only at the point where Tim's line attached and where he could see it. He used 1" pipe leading up to it, burying it before Tim could see it, so there is not enough water getting through to supply the household. Tim discovered it when they had to dig for something else and found the 1" pipe, but digging it all up and replacing it would be expensive. Tim has tried to dig his own bore hole, but on the first try he went 40 meters and hit granite. After 60 more meters he still had not a drop of water and had not yet cleared the granite. He decided to wait for an engineer's survey to continue.

So, who needs GDP or per capita income? Let's make bubble baths the next index of economic development. But, seriously, for now we have much to be thankful for. I am beginning to agree with experts who argue that water will be the next natural resource to fuel the wars of the future.

What will I miss most from here?

Again, I'll mostly miss people - like Shika and Tim, and some of the kids downstairs (including Precious, of course), and some of our agents, who are just wonderful people. But, as above, I'll also include the "thing(s)" I'll miss most.

I'll miss fresh fruit. Since arriving here, I have realized that most of our fruit at home is really pretty tasteless. Fully ripened, brought to market within a day of harvesting - that's the way to eat fruit. I've enjoyed pineapple, oranges, watermelon, bananas, plantain, tomatoes, garden eggs (small eggplant the size of a goose egg), mango, and papaya (paw paw). All delicious when ripe - raw or in cooked dishes.

Plantain is the new "favorite" fruit I'll bring home with me (figuratively). Ripe plantain is served roasted on a barbeque and served with peanuts; fried and served with bean stew (a dish called Red Red because ripe plantain are called "red plantain" and the bean stew is made with red beans); spiced and fried (kelewele); and made into plantain chips and sold on the street. I'm not so fond of un-ripe plantain, also called green plantain, which is also made into chips or boiled and served alongside many different types of stew.

Oh, and peanut soup is also yummers. I need to learn to make it, too, but mostly I'm praying I'll be able to find ripe plantain when I get home.
XO

Monday, January 19, 2009

Back to the Future

So, the trip was over last week and the last of the official posts has been posted. To finish up the story for those who need closure, Leslie and Pam and I returned to Koforidua on 08 January where we spent two days at a local hotel (with a pool) and where they got to see where I live and work. Both Leslie and Pam were a big hit with the children, what with the long blonde hair and motherly ways. Oh, Leslie had Tootsie Pops, too, that might have helped.

We hung out at the office/ residence most of Friday, and also packed up some of the things I brought with me that I had since discovered I didn't need - like shoes! Whit's brother and nephew were also here, so it felt like the Brady Bunch for some reason - three boys and three girls from two different families, I guess.

On Saturday, we drove to Accra very early in the morning to deliver Pam to the airport for her continuing journey to India. Then Leslie and I went with Greg, Peter, and Bobby - oops I mean Whit, Max, and Harper to the Cultural Center aka Craft Market where we saw some real drumming with six drummers, and looked for an Oware board (also known as Mankala, the name you are most likely to have heard) but the quality wasn't so hot, so we got a few other last minute things and continued on our way.

Tim and Shika had us all to their house for an amazing lunch of Ghanaian food. Leslie's comment: "Oh, so this is what it's supposed to taste like!" After that, the guys took us to our hotel for a last afternoon by the pool and an evening together before Leslie's flight in the morning.

At 7:00 in the morning, we rode the hotel shuttle to the airport, where no one but passengers are allowed inside. We said our goodbyes on the sidewalk three hours before Leslie's flight. As checkout was not until noon, we agreed I would stay at the hotel until the flight left, just in case. Leslie called me at 8:30 and said she was at the gate and the plane was there, so all should be well.

I, unfortunately, was not well. I went to the pool for about an hour, then back to the room for a shower and an emotional meltdown. Whit had taken the truck and gone with Max and Harper to Cape Coast, so I was intending to take my first trotro ride back to Koforidua. But the idea of two hours in a van with nothing to do but feel lonely, think, and sweat was more than I could handle. As Leslie said: "It's a lot harder being the one left than the one leaving." I get it.

In the end, I called Tim, who answered even though he was in church. Having no idea what to do with a distraught woman, he called Shika, who called me then came and got me. Having done his good deed for the day, Tim left church early and arrived home shortly after we did. I stayed the night at their house and Tim brought me to Koforidua in the morning. It's such a gift to have such wonderful people in my life here.
XO

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Monkey Business

:: Posted on 16 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

Yesterday we drove to Techiman, and continued today back to Koforidua where Leslie and Pam will get to see where I stay and work.

On the way, we stopped at the Boabeng-Fiema Monkey Sanctuary. Apparently, this sanctuary has succeeded because of an old taboo on the hunting of monkeys around the two villages created by a village priest about 150 years ago. There is a monkey cemetery in the sanctuary and the priest, whose marker says he lived to be 120 years old, is buried with the monkeys.
As I haven't mentioned much about the primates on our trip so far, I'll include some photos here of both the baboons from Mole National Park and the Mona monkeys from the Boabeng-Fiema Monkey Sanctuary. There are also black and white monkeys at the sanctuary, but they eat leaves way up in the trees and, while we saw several 50 ft. straight above us, the sun was behind them, making picture taking impossible. However, I have included a photo from the internet. They were really cool looking - and both species have incredibly long tails - longer than I ever remember seeing at the zoo.

In addition, there was one trail in the sanctuary called Ficus Trail, and we soon discovered why. There were huge - HUGE - ficus trees along the path. I have no idea how long a ficus has to grow unhindered to become so large, but they were very impressive. Terese (one of our Swedish passengers) and I actually got inside one.

Enjoy.
XO

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Behemoths and Gate Crashers

:: Posted on 16 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

Our visit to Mole National Park was exciting and filled with bureaucratic intruigue. We arrived on Sunday the 4th and stayed until Wednesday the 7th. As previously mentioned, safaris were offered at 7:00AM and 3:30PM as the animals are most active in the mornings and evenings. During the hottest part of the day, they hole up in the shade and rest - not a bad idea.

On our first safari, which started with the warthogs at the staff dump as previously described, we saw bushbuck (small-ish antelope with really interesting white markings on their sides - sort of like cave paintings), kob (medium-ish antelope with two single prong antlers with a twist), crocodile, baboons, some of the biggest termite hills I ever expect to see, and three elephants.

One of the elephants was very close to the road and came even closer as we watched. We were allowed to get out of the car, but then the elephant looked right at us and growled - yes, very low and rumbly for about five seconds, which is quite a long time if you are on the business end of an elephant. Our guide just quietly said, "Get inside," and we did. We later learned that another guide had to fire a warning shot the day before to scare off an elephant that began to charge.

We also had two sightings of a red-flanked duiker (shy and rare and so fast we only got a glimpse but reminded me of a cross between a really big jack rabbit and a fawn), and many, varieties of birds. Pam had brought a West African bird book, so we had fun looking them all up whenever we returned from safari.

The roads in the park are set up in loops that begin and end at or near the information center although some of them cross one another. This particular morning, as we finished our 6 km loop, we turned onto a 9 km loop that intersected the road we were on and led us down toward the watering holes. It was on this second road that we saw the baboons and crocodile and also, where we found the elephant footprints and body imprints from where the elephants had visited the watering hole area to bathe in the mud during the rainy season. You really get an idea how big they are from these prints.

That afternoon, we were a little slow getting back to our room from the pool, getting cleaned up and out the door. Pam was resting in her room, so decided not to go along and Leslie and I arrived at the information center at about 4:10, but there was no one there. The Ghana guidebook we have says that "walking in the park without an armed guide is forbidden," but since we were driving, we decided to drive one of the loops on our own and just avoid getting out of the truck if any game were nearby. We selected a 16 km loop and discovered after about 2 km that the camera battery was dead. This was disappointing but turned into a blessing because we simply enjoyed being out there together and discovering nature like children, wide-eyed and amazed.

On this outing we saw more baboons, both gray and red monkeys, more bushbuck and kob, which are ubiquitous in the park, and another elephant who was too far away for a photo anyway, but was on the move climbing across the face of a rocky ridge. We watched him through the binoculars until he crossed out of sight in a more densely forested part of the hillside. He just plodded along seemingly without a care, but was incredible to watch as he was easily the largest elephant we had seen and seemed to own his domain with an enviable anthropomorphic confidence.

However, the most majestic of all the sights on our (soon-to-be-labeled) misadventure were the roan antelope, which are absolutely huge. We came around a corner and there were about 30 of them crossing the road, at least until they turned to look directly at us. Each of them stands 150-160 cm at the SHOULDER (that's 5 ft + to most of you). Now, remember, the camera was "finished", as they say here in Ghana, so the photo above is from the internet, but it essentially means that the top of the horns is probably about 8 ft -or 240 cm - or more. So, now imagine there are 30 of them blocking the road and looking at you. Fortunately, the corner we had rounded was pretty far from where they stood in the road, so they did not see us as a threat and continued across the road. Nevertheless, it was terrifying and exhilerating, and positively the highlight of my trip, and captured only in my memory as perhaps all of life's true gifts should be.

So, we returned to the Motel by about 5:30 and went to the room to freshen up for dinner. We left the room again at about 6:30 as it was just beginning to get dark and stopped by Pam's chalet next door on the way to the dining porch beside the pool. As I waited on the main sidewalk while Leslie went to Pam's door, a casually dressed man approached me. "My boss would like to see you," he said. I assumed he was a Motel employee or something and told him we were waiting for our friend and would be right there. In Ghanaian English, the way to say this is simply, "I am coming."

Boy, were we in trouble. Waiting two or three minutes for us to come along was apparently unacceptable in this case because the "boss" met us on the sidewalk half-way to the dining porch. "You just returned in your truck. Where did you go?" Cue the deer (kob, bushbuck?) in the headlights.

The man was the head of Tourist Relations or some such title, but basically the senior dude at the dude ranch. We told him we had just been driving around and he said, very politely, "Oh, so you went on safari without a guide. That is illegal." We tried to tell him that our tour book said you could not walk in the park without a guide but said nothing about driving. He was very nice and polite, but unmoved by our argument, telling us it was posted at the front gate - and then the "bad cop" began.

The first guy, who had told me his boss wanted to see me, turned out to be the manager of the safari guides. He derisively began really telling us off and basically called us liars and said that we knew a guide was required because we had taken a guide in the morning. That's when I got my back up and decided this was probably a shake-down to see what they could get - as they were the two most likely to have lost some personal revenue from the deal (a two hour safari for two people would have cost 3.00 cedi, or about $2.50). So, thinking quickly, I told him that I always take a guide the first time I visit a place and re-iterated that the only information we had said a guide was required if walking, not driving.

Then we had a long discussion about a why we didn't have a copy of the rules, which are not only at the front gate but in the park brochure/guide. They wanted to know what book we were talking about and said that it wasn't an official park document - and I became mock-indignant about the fact that when we entered at the main gate they told us the park maps and brochures were "finished" (meaning they had run out) and that we had to get one from the information center, but that the information center had sold us a booklet and map for 15 cedis (!) which turned out to be the "Ghana @ 50" tourist guide (left over from 2007) for the whole country with a map of Ghana on one side and Accra on the reverse side so totally useless to us in Mole.

This almost got them distracted because they were shocked I had been sold this map at the info center for 15 cedis (somebody must have been supplementing her salary but not cutting the bosses in on the deal). But, alas, they did come back to the fact that the safari guide rule was "clearly" posted at the park entrance and that if anything had happened to us our embassy would hold him responsible, and that if you break the rules you have to pay a penalty.

There it was. So I asked him, out of curiosity, what the penalty was. He glanced at the ground and quickly, but with just a hint of testing the water, said, "50 cedis." Seeing this slight hesitation, my confidence about the shakedown increased. I looked distraught and said we didn't have 50 cedis, which was almost true, as I intended to pay for the Motel in US dollars, which it turned out would have been stupid because they were only giving 0.90 cedis to the dollar rather than the market rate of 1.20! But that is later, when the whole place begins to look like a racket, but I digress...

Anyway, growing bolder, he said we had to pay and he would give our license plate to the gate guard and would not let us leave unless we paid. He just went on and on about how if you break the rules you have to pay the penalty and at some point made some comment about what would happen to us if we broke rule back in America, to which I responded, "But we can't do that because we'll be living here with you." It totally caught him off guard and he laughed - and one thing I've noticed in Ghana is that once you make someone laugh, any and all animosity is gone. So the entire tone of the conversation changed to a friendly banter, but he did not relent and said we should pay the penalty at the information center when it opened at 7:00 in the morning. I told him I would see him there, like friends planning to meet for lunch, but did not promise to pay. That seemed the only way to make it to dinner.

BUT, we didn't go right to dinner after all. Feeling an adventure coming on and a growing desire to argue before the Supreme Court, we decided to drive to the main gate and actually read the sign. As the gate guard saw us approaching from far up the road, he opened the gate so we could continue through without stopping. He was a bit baffled when we pulled over on the inside side of the gate and got out of the truck, so we told him we just wanted to look at the sign. This seemed rather unorthodox to him, but he motioned us through.

On a billboard-sized sign with a safari-ish picture in the center were listed 10 bullet points, five on each side of the picture. Beginning on the left, we read that we should wear closed-toed shoes when on walking safari, pick up our litter, and other typical park reminders. The seventh item said "Avoid going on safari without an armed guide". The ninth item said "Park authorities may expel any visitor failing to follow the above," and the tenth said, "You are in Mole National Park at your own risk."

We discussed the meaning of the word "avoid" at length and decided that combined with the last bullet, and the word "may" in the ninth item, we had some pretty good arguments. The best, we decided, was that he could expel us from the park, but the sign said nothing about a monetary fine - an argument we decided to keep in our back pocket until it was time for us to leave anyway (two mornings hence), at which time expulsion would be a non-punishment.

Therefore, we did not pay the penalty the next morning, and the woman at the information center did not mention it and did not strike me as someone who would be organized enough to remember it even if she were instructed to collect it. She had enough trouble catching on to the idea that the two people in her office to pay for their safaris were from two different groups, one with three adults and one with three adults and a child. Nor did she mention it when we went on safari that evening. We did, however, see the Tourist Relations guy (the good cop) twice more. The first time he was on his way to the clinic as he "wasn't well". The second time, I greeted him like an old friend, shook his hand, inquired about his health, and he jovially said "you haven't paid your fine yet." I smiled on one side of my mouth (is that a smirk?) and said, "Oh, yes, I know," and he again told us he was telling the woman at the information center to expect us to pay the 50 cedi fine and telling the gate guard to detain us if we tried to leave.

So, Wednesday morning rolled around. Having experienced Ghanaian customer service, employee training, and efficiency for these few months, I was fairly confident that any instructions given to the gate guards would not be properly passed to whomever was on duty nor that, if they were, he would note them somewhere and actually be looking for a white truck, not to mention the specific license plate. Nevertheless, since we had told two Swedish women we would give them a ride to Techiman, we did feel it only fair to inform them at breakfast that there was a small chance we would be arrested at the gate. They also had been in Ghana for several months, found the prospect and story hilarious, and were up for the adventure.

After breakfast we loaded the truck and as we did we saw the head guy (my buddy) come down the road from the staff quarters on a motorbike and turn toward the main road. Leslie and I looked at each other and thought, "Uh oh. He's seen us packing and is going to the gate to make sure the instructions are followed." I was all prepared to pretend to call the embassy and ask for the names of the gate guards and all sorts of intimidating, underhanded tactics - at this point, just for the thrill of it. But we were also prepared to pay the fine if it came to that. Our outing, with just the two of us had been worth far more.

So, making a long story longer - as we approached the gate we did see a motorcycle on the other side of it, still too far away to determine if it was the same one. Just after we saw it, however, it seemed to take off away from the park and toward the town three kilometers away. But at the same time, as we continued toward the gate, the gate guard did not open it as he had done the other evening. We all looked at each other and said, "Here we go." We stopped the truck in front of the gate and the guard came over.

He had both a worried and relieved look and said, in English not quite this grammatical but in essense, "When you arrived I gave you a receipt from the wrong book. Can I have it back so my accounts will balance?" I gave him the receipt (he did not replace it with one from the correct book - so he probably just made 16.50 cedis, the price of our admission) and he opened the gate. Thank goodness for Ghanaian bureaucracy. The guard was so worried about losing his job for having his books not tally that any instruction he may have been given about the oburoni women in the white truck was far from the top of his mind.

We got a few hundred meters down the road before we whooped like Thelma and Louise (without the Grand Canyon). Although, we were a little disappointed we didn't get to make any of our well prepared legal arguments.
XO

Monday, January 5, 2009

First Impressions - Pumbaa or Vinnie Barbarino?

:: Posted on 14 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

If you're not old enough to know Vinnie Barbarino, one of the "sweathogs" in Mr. Kotter's High School class of miscreants, don't rub it in. But it was John Travolta's breakout role if you want to know.

In any case, our first safari at Mole National Park was a bit rocky. We arrived at the information center at about 7:20 AM, having been told that safaris are at 7:00 and 3:30. We took that to mean "starting at 7:00" and "starting at 3:30". NOT so! In typically efficient Ghanaian style, they wait until all the tourists have arrived, then if there are not enough guides they call some more, and everyone waits until the additional guides arrive before anyone starts off. The explanation for this (the following day when we arrived at 6:50 and didn't leave until 8:00, the grumpy "process engineer" asked why the groups didn't just go out first come first served in the order in which they arrived at the information center) was that unless everyone goes at the same time some people get upset. Better that everyone gets upset I suppose.

OK, so where was I? Oh, right - we arrived at 7:20 on the first morning and everyone was gone. Our arrival threw everyone for a loop but after much discussion the senior guide rode along with us to the staff housing compound where we picked up an on-call guide. That was pretty efficient I suppose, going to him rather than waiting for him to come to us. He got in and directed us to continue driving straight through the compound on a dirt road that became trashier and trashier as we progressed. Finally he directed me to stop - so we could look at the warthogs in the staff garbage dump.

THAT was our introduction to Mole National Park, one of the treasures of Ghana. I wonder if they get special training to start a tour out like that. Our guide had been at it for 15 years, yet he still rested the butt of his shotgun in the floorboard with the barrel over his shoulder pointed at Pam's head. I would really love the opportunity to bust some process and customer service moves on this whole country.
Oh, oh, oh, oh! Pick me! Pick me!
XO

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Postcards from the Road

:: Posted on 14 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

Today is our longest travel day, from Kumasi to Mole National Park. In all, we will travel around 2000 kilometers on this journey, so I thought it would be appropriate to share some photos from the road. Feel free to hum Willie Nelson while you look.
XO





























Saturday, January 3, 2009

To Market To Market, to Buy a Jawbone?

:: Posted on 14 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

Next stop, Kumasi - the second largest city in Ghana (1.5 million) and very clean, vibrant, and enjoyable. While there is much to do here and traditional Kente weaving, begun in the 12th century, is nearby, we only had one full day and spent it all at the Kumasi Central Market. It is the reputedly the largest open air market in Africa so we were very happy to have a guide.

Comfort ( our guide - contact her through Four Villages Inn, an excellent B&B - http://www.fourvillages.com/ ) grew up at the market and seems to know about 9,000 of the 10,000 market women there (5,000 of whom told her I must have African blood because I have an African butt). She first took us to the top of a four story building which houses the market offices and a couple outhouses (on the roof!? and very scary - I "held" it). We we looked over the entire market from above. This was good because we would never have appreciated its scale from the ground. Imagine being a mouse in a 1200 acre maze. I think there are still some tourists wandering around lost in there since 1998.

One feature of our tour was the funeral section of the market. Yes, there are entire aisles dedicated only to funeral apparel, supplies, and gifts. Different outfits are worn to the funeral, burial, and memorial service (which could be on a future annual anniversary of the death). Women wear three pieces of fabric - one wrapped as a skirt, one wrapped as a blouse with one bare shoulder (Comfort and Leslie have their normal shirts on under their demo apparel), and one wrapped around the head. There are also funeral shoes (not that Leslie's sneakers don't add a nice touch), sashes in tribal weave to be tied around the waist (although no one sees them), and so much more! Close family members wear black with a lot of red and red-based prints - others wear mostly black or black-based prints. Black and white patterns are for memorial services.

Funerals are very expensive with top of the line sound systems turned up beyond their technical limits to the point of vibrating speakers and eardrums. As such, it is traditional for attendees to bring a gift or money to defray costs. The funeral aisle at the market had quite a selection of gift baskets. Year's supply of matches anyone? Got enough toilet paper? There are some who believe all this has gone overboard and funerals are now exploited as money-making opportunities for the family of the deceased. Everybody and their brother is invited and I have heard stories of the body being shipped to a cold-storage facility for three months to allow for a funeral at a future date so more family members, friends, and acquaintences could make time to attend. If they have time to visit the funeral aisle at the market, so much the better!

We also bought Kente cloth, beautifully woven. It comes in a three piece set for ladies or a two piece set for men and is donned in the same way as the three piece (or two piece) funeral outfits - but is only worn on very special ceremonial occasions. We couldn't decide what we would do with it, so we got a three piece set in Christmas colors and intend to make a tablecloth, which I'm sure will violate all sense of respect and decorum regarding the use of this traditionally royal fabric. Nevertheless, as I will be unlikely to wear it in the traditional skirt, "blouse", headdress manner, I am convincing myself the weavers and sellers, if not the culture police, would prefer I spend my 60 cedis on fabric to be used as a tablecloth than not buy anything at all.

The remainder of our purchases included batik fabric, some beads and carvings, and a few other gift items. Pam was tempted by the jawbone of a cow, which we were told makes a nice soup and becomes soft again when boiled long enough. In the end, she settled for a photo. Same with the snails, which are hunted at night with flashlights. That is a 5 pesewa coin beside them, which is about the size of a dime. The snails are quite large. They are alive and are sprinkled with water. If they try to climb out of their shells (one was sitting on top of it's shell), they are sent back into hiding by being whacked on the head by the market women. Market Women is a term commonly used in Ghana to describe this group of workers, in much the same way we might use the terms "auto workers" or "mail carriers". With many shared concerns, they are a force to be reckoned with and there was much talk of their thoughts and needs during the recent political campaigns.

Ah, but I digress. Pam did buy a couple snail shells. They have a very pretty pink edge, but may have been stinking up her suitcase by the end. I think she gave them to Leslie to carry home since Pam is going on to India. Next on Mysteries of the World - will the snail shells make it home or will the smell make Leslie dump them? Hmmm...
XO

Friday, January 2, 2009

Heritage

:: Posted on 13 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

This is the day I claim my Norwegian heritage. After visiting Cape Coast Castle it was hard to feel much pride in being American or British - or African for that matter. The tour begins in the "Male Slave Dungeon" and, in rather creepy and bizarre style, ends in the church directly above it. If you share this blog with small children, now would be a good time to go to the next post and come back for the rest after they have gone to bed.

Cape Coast Castle was originally built to support trade in timber and gold, but later became the busiest gateway of the trans-Atlantic slave trade. It was built in 1653 by the Swedish African Company, captured by the Danes for a short time, and finally conquered by the British in 1664, in whose hands it remained until Ghanaian independence in 1957, although I think there was a lot of unrest with the Dutch during that time. Anyway, it was restored in the early 1990's with funds from the United Nations development programme.

So, back to the tour - the male dungeons are far below ground. There are several (can't remember exactly, but 5 or 6) each holding 200 or so men. On the tour, they take you there immediately, down a sloped brick tunnel that was slippery and difficult to walk even during the dry season and with the help of a few bare light bulbs. Once everyone is inside the dungeon used for the "most difficult" men, they turn off the light in the dungeon (although the one in the hall is still on) and remain silent for several minutes. It is a profound and deeply humbling experience.

  • Imagine an arched room made of brick - about 20 x 40 feet in size, with two small (maybe 18" x 24") windows 20 feet up the far end of the room, shooting tiny rectangles of light down a shaft through the eight foot thick wall to the outside

  • Imagine these two windows are the only light and at night it is pitch black

  • Imagine urinating into a six inch wide and four inch deep trough in the floor around the entire perimeter of the room, running slightly downhill toward the main entrance arch and into the hall

  • Imagine defecating in a slightly deeper and larger trough in the corner farthest from the main arch

  • Imagine the smell

  • Imagine having food and water thrown at you from an arched opening about 20 feet up the wall opposite the windows

  • Imagine being nearly naked, barefoot, chained, finding a place to stand, sit, sleep

  • Now, imagine living that way for 90 days - how about the 90 hottest days in Miami between Memorial Day and Labor Day

And then, if you survive (4-5% or more did not), when you are finally herded out of the dungeons, you walk under the entire castle in a tunnel that prevents any possibility of escape and exit through the Door of No Return, where you are loaded into the hold of a ship bound for Brazil, the Caribbean or America. Are you lucky or unlucky if you are one of the 12-15% who die on the multi-month voyage?

If you are female (two dungeons worth), you have the added bonus of being selected to be given a bath and taken to an officer's bedroom so you can be raped. And, if you are a "favorite" you may get to stay for months or years, but always with the possibility of being sent on the next ship if your rapist/benefactor/father of your children becomes tired, bored, disappointed, or angry with you.

Now, previously, I said we visited the dungeon used for the most "difficult" men, but that wasn't 100% accurate. There was another room for the captives who tried to escape and attacked a Brit in the process. This room had no light, no bio relief troughs, no food, no water, and no ventilation. Once put in, you stayed until you died - as an example to the others supposedly. However, I can't imagine that many of the others even heard of the fate of these men - what with the whole go-straight-to-the-dungeon-and stay-there-with-no-interaction-except-food-thrown-at-you thing.

The castle visit and tour was incredibly powerful and if all history were learned in this manner, it seems we would be far less likely to repeat the mistakes of prior generations, centuries, eras. The opposite side of the Door of No Return has been now dubbed the Door of Return as descendants of slaves have symbolically re-entered the castle through the door, returning, if only for a visit to the continent (yes, George, Africa is a continent) of their ancestors. Beyond the door today is a vibrant fishing community.

And, yes, I said that it was hard to feel much pride in being American or British - or African. In fact, while some small percentage of slaves were captured on the coast, the Europeans did not venture far into the interior of Africa. Slaves from inland were primarily the defeated warriors and captives from intra-African wars who were sold or traded to the slave traders by other Africans. Convicted criminals were also frequently punished by being traded to the Europeans.

So, while I'm sure there is a Viking slaughter to be depressed about - for today - ya, shure, you betcha - I'm a Scandahoovian.
XO