A-weigh We Go

Our agents tend to be very busy people – as the most ambitious and hard working tend to be the ones who gravitate to a new business opportunity and have the organizational skills and attention to detail that we require. Therefore, we were not surprised to learn that another of our agents is a volunteer with the polio eradication effort. On this day, she was helping to weigh babies and counsel mothers on breast-feeding and child-nutrition.

Here is a baby being weighed in what reminds me of a Johnny-Jumper, except that the baby just bounces until she stops and then the ride is over.
XO

Bikes not Bombs

Early on we recognized that bicycles could be a significant boon to our business, but that most of our agents did not have one and could not afford to buy one. So, we started offering agents loans to buy bicycles once they had 100 batteries on the Burro program. This number was selected because it indicated a commitment to the business and could reasonably be achieved on foot.

Serendipitously, we also met a young American in the early days who was starting a bike shop almost across the street. In a venture with a Ghanaian-American, Emmanuel Ofosu (you may have seen him on Oprah), of the Emmanuel Education Foundation and Sports Academy for the Physically Challenged, the bike shop is called Ability Bikes and all the employees are physically handicapped in some way.

In a country where one's living is largely dependent on physical labor, those with physical challenges can be particularly hard-pressed to find work and contribute to their families - or feel confident even having families of their own.

Dave Branigan, the guy we met on the street one day, is an avid cyclist and bike mechanic as well as a returned Peace Corps volunteer who spent his tour in Ghana. He has started Ability Bikes from scratch and trained all the mechanics as well as administrative staff and got the business off the ground in about the same time we have been here in Koforidua. (http://bikesnotbombs-eefsa.blogspot.com/)

However, unlike Burro, Ability Bikes receives its "inventory" of used bikes from a number of organizations in the U.S., including Working Bikes Cooperative, Bikes Not Bombs, and Re-Cycle. The bikes come in a variety of conditions but are almost all high-end bikes even by U.S. standards. The mechanics here strip them down and completely overhaul them, cleaning everything, replacing parts that are worn or broken and basically making them like-new.

All our our agents' bikes have come from Ability Bikes and they pay anywhere from 45 to 75 cedis (thats $30 to $50, for reference) per bike depending on their taste for flash. They pay off their interest-free loans to Burro over four months. It's a great deal and we're thrilled to have met Dave early on. It gives us tremendous confidence in the bikes our agents buy. Dave is moving on to a head-office position, with Bikes Not Bombs, I think, but Ability Bikes seems well on it's way to being a huge success story - run completely by Ghanaians with physical disabilities. And, they have really gelled into a fun and amazing team as you can see by the photos, taken on the day they unloaded their latest container of bikes.

XO

Pomp and Circumstance

Several weeks ago, Savanna asked if I would attend her Graduation on August 1st. I asked what sort of graduation it was and she said Christ Complex Junior High School. Since she is only in (our equivalent) seventh grade, I was a little confused but nevertheless agreed to attend. I was looking for a cultural adventure and I was not disappointed!

Last night Savanna came to say that she had to go at 7:00AM, but that it started at 10:00AM, so I should come with her father (actually her uncle – but I think we’ve been down this cultural road before, so I won’t explain). So, this morning I was ready by 9:45 and went outside. Maxwell (yes the same one from the gutter covering project) said he needed to do "one or two things" before we would go. He said it started at 10:00AM so we would leave the house at about 11:00. I just love GMT (Ghana Maybe Time).

Once I saw the programme – I knew how they got around the whole time thing. It says "Arrival of invited guests and parents - 10:00AM". It doesn’t actually say how long they would give everyone to actually “arrive”. We arrived at about 11:00 and the program finally began at 11:45.

As you may also notice on the program – the event is scheduled for two days! This worried me initially, but then I saw that they are having a thanksgiving service at church tomorrow – so that is Day 2. Day 1, however, was sufficient for me. The official title – highly utilitarian and descriptive - is “12th Graduation, Speech and Prize Giving Day”.

The programme contained 26 items. It started with a prayer, many introductions, a small school choir singing the school anthem, and a wooden-rifle drill team. In all, mostly before the diplomas were even distributed, the programme included 2 prayers, 10 speeches, remarks or addresses, 3 sets of introductions, and a history of the school (Christ Complex is one of the best primary and junior secondary schools in the Eastern Region). In addition, although it was only one agenda item, there were over 80 poetry recitals by the primary class children, along with the other entertainment items, which included two dance groups and two short skit/plays.

[Spike: It reminded me of an FKU karate open house :)]

Some highlights included:

• The speech by the PTA Chairman was entitled “Good God! Bad World” and in it he claimed that an “enemy” is responsible for all evil, sickness, and suffering in the world. Although god is all powerful, he chooses to let these things play out.
  
• The youngest students at Christ Complex Early Childhood Development Center (primary school) recited bible verses in the “Poetry Recitals” agenda item. The youngest was 3 years old. Each recitation (regardless of language) went as follows: “My name is ______ and I am __ years old. I am a student at Christ Complex Early Childhood Development Center (a mouthful at any age!). I am in class ___. My recitation is from _____ chapter ____ verse___: ‘yada yada yada, depending on the verse”. Amen. (Amen from the crowd). As the children aged, there were some actual poems, but the basic format of the recitation was the same.
  
  -- One poem was called “My name is Electricity”, with words like: “My favorite food is water” (all the power in Ghana is hydro) and “My parents are the Water Conservation Board and the Electricity Company of Ghana”. It was cute.
  
  -- Another was called “My name is Mr. Trouble”: “…Mr. Trouble won’t trouble you if you don’t trouble Mr. Trouble…”
  
  -- Two 7 year olds recited a poem together, entitled: “I am Proud to be born a Boy or a Man” – I totally had the giggles.
  
  -- The youngest children recited their poems in English, but it was clear they were just making memorized sounds and didn't really know the meaning of what they were saying.
  
  -- One group of older students recited all their poems in French.
  
  -- When each group entered, they were led by a teacher who was singing – generally a Jesus song. She had a very nice voice and led each group in succession.
  
  -- Then she (same teacher/singer) led a group of 6 Muslim girls with heads covered (attending "Christ" Complex school?!) and she sang a song about Allah as they entered! The girls then knelt and recited verses or poems about Allah in another language, but not Twi as far as I could tell. I was incredibly impressed by this one. The children attend the school because it provides a very good education - and the school respects their beliefs, despite what must be a tremendous drive to proselytize. I have no idea how these children are incorporated into the "Religious and Moral Education" curriculum.
  
  -- Finally a group of children of varying ages in traditional tribal dress recited poems in Twi.
  
• The two skits had strong messages - one was about different people living in harmony and the other was about how to improve sanitation.


• Some of the parents of the children would go up to their child during their recitation and put money in their shirt collar, which was then collected and placed one of the strategically placed collection bowls. They finally asked them not to tuck it in the children’s clothes because they got so distracted from their recitations. After that, most parents just made a big show of waving the money in the air (in pride over their child) and put it in the bowl. Some parents did make such a to do out of prancing up to the bowl, though, that they totally stole the spotlight from their children.
  
• After each group of children finished their performance – poetry, dance, dramatic skit/play, etc. – they could not return to their seats until their parents “ransomed” them for GHC 2.00 each! The longer it took the higher the price went, so a couple parents - who must have been in the bathroom at the time – paid up to GHC 5.00.
  
• Savanna was in one of the dance numbers and was very cute. Maxwell ransomed her for GHC 2.00 – and I think he was thankful his two younger children hadn’t participated in the poetry recitals!
  
• Another dance routine (a group of 14 year old girls in pink) was to a number called “You do me, I’ll do you”, which seemed a bit out of place at a religious Junior High School. Like a lot of dance music though, it was mostly music and the words were just an afterthought. Nevertheless, the group got lots of applause, stomping, shouting, and cheering – mostly from the school boys.
  
• There was an appeal for funds (private school) that went on for at least 45 minutes. One person gave GHC 10.00 (about US$ 7.00) and it went down from there to GHC 2.00. Then, just when I thought it must finish soon, they started working on the dignitaries on the podium – starting back up at GHC 50.00 and working down to GHC 5.00.

All this was finally followed by the presentation of awards – including diplomas for the 36 graduates (19 girls, 17 boys), a “top student” award for each class beginning with Primary 1, the “top student” in each subject among the graduates, the best overall student (academic) among the graduates, as well as sportswoman and sportsman of the year, prefect awards, and best all around student (all activities and classes).

We left after the awards. There were still four programme items left and it was 4:00PM. We had been alternately rained on and baked in the sun (we were in the front row). I'd had one very chemical tasting sachet of water since my arrival, I had to pee like crazy, and both our bums had had enough. Still, it was a very interesting look at a celebrated rite of passage and the pride of parents (and uncles) everywhere in the accomplishments of their children (and nieces!).
XO

Pharmacopia of Plenty

The new agent we were training in the previous post runs a small provisions shop (packaged dry food, crackers, cookies, rice, beans, meal, water, etc.) as well as a Pharmacy. I hesitate to call Becky (Rebecca Tettey) a Pharmacist, because she has only a Certificate of “Participation” in a pharmacy class – probably more like a workshop or seminar and she can do only very basic arithmetic. Nevertheless, she is the only one with ANY training in pharmaceuticals – probably for 10 miles in each direction.

It looks like she carries mostly over the counter stuff – and a few generic meds that have probably been on the market forever and for which the indication is well known. However, Leslie tells me (when I call her seeking advice for myself or others) that many of the meds available here were taken off the market in the U.S. years ago. I guess the pharmaceutical companies don't mind endangering lives as long as it's not illegal.

As for some of the most interesting over the counter items, I especially like the Gripe Water and Blood Tonic. I have no idea what they are – but the Gripe Water has a picture of a baby – so I’m thinking it’s for cholic or something. Although, in my more wicked moments I imagine it is laced with benadryl or some other oft used “mother’s helpers”.

(This post is for Leslie and her new co-workers! Hi and enjoy!)

XO

Class Act!

The creative agency that has been working on our branding finally finished everything – just as we are rolling out a new concept and ready to really drive some marketing. So far we have t-shirts for the agents and staff. Next week, we will get posters and business cards, assuming the printer can match the really intense Burro green. Now that we have a printed sample of Whit's business card (which he had done in the U.S.), we should have an easier time.

Here are some photos of Whit’s first day back from the U.S. We were training a new agent on the new program. The green of the shirts in these photos isn’t quite right. The printer showed us one shirt, but then used these for our order. After the fact, without a call, he told us he could only get 30 shirts of the brand he first showed us, so he decided to use a different brand where he could get the full quantity. And out of 98 (2 short) shirts they presented to us, we found 12 defects. That is about par for the course in Ghana, so we will be managing their performance tightly.

Why not find another company, you ask. This was the best we found (in the big capital city of Accra).

Our newest employee, Rose, also joined us as part of her training. She just graduated from Ashesi University, a new university started in 2002 by a Microsoft alumnus who is also Ghanaian. Rose was at the top of her class (of 54) at this elite and highly selective university (I call it the Harvard of Ghana) whose mission is:

“…to educate a new generation of ethical, entrepreneurial leaders in Africa; to cultivate within our students the critical thinking skills, the concern for others and the courage it will take to transform a continent.”

And WE got the top of the class! How cool is that?
http://www.ashesi.edu.gh/
XO

Saturday's Child

We have a young woman come to clean our offices three mornings a week (sweep and mop) and all day Saturdays (other cleaning). She was recommended by one of our downstairs neighbors, who also runs the small provisions shop out front. She is very nice although I can’t communicate with her much, so I took pictures of all the things she’s supposed to clean and put them on a one page sheet posted in the store room. That works great.

She always brings her baby, Prince or Kwaku depending on whether you are using his day-of-the-week name (he was born on a Wednesday), who is just walking. Today she also brought her older son. And imagine my surprise when it was a boy who had been one of my pals when I was here before. He “traveled” at one point during my stay and I never saw him again. I think they used to live in the compound just behind us and now live elsewhere nearby so he doesn’t hang with the kids here anymore.

Kwame (born on a Saturday) or Frank, if you prefer, is six. That is the same age as Precious and Louis, downstairs and they both love to color, although they have a little difficulty staying inside the lines. So, I got out some crayons (the really cool 64 box with the built-in sharpener) and gave him the Winnie the Pooh coloring book. I was sitting at the table also, applying branded labels to our battery adapters, and he carried on a whole conversation with me in English! And then I noticed he was coloring almost perfectly – and selecting really interesting and beautiful color combinations. Someone, please tell me if this is normal at six! I always thought he was very smart (when I knew him before) and he was only 5 then. Do I have some sort of prodigy on my hands?

Plus, he’s totally adorable – with a huge gap between his front teeth, which seems very common here – I would guess one in ten. Here are a couple pictures. Check out the socks! He was in a thick denim shirt, long pants, and tennis shoes today. It was overcast all morning and is perceived to be “cold”. I’ve been in shorts all day, as usual. Maybe it will give me reputation as tough – but I doubt it. Last week in the village, a very old woman came over and poked my arm in several places. Someone saw it and laughed, then told me that the old lady thought my skin must be delicate and tear easily and she wanted to check it out.

?? So, she was sure I would tear easily but didn’t mind damaging me to find out ??

Anyway, it was so nice to see Kwame again. He was really cute playing with his little brother while his mother cleaned. I imagine he’ll be coming regularly on Saturdays from now on.
XO

...and Mondays

“The rainy season” is a term used often when speaking of tropical climates. It means different things in different places. In some places it’s thunderstorms every afternoon at 4:00. In other places it is rain day in and day out. In Ghana, it is a mixture of some of both but still with many days of sunshine and many days with both sunshine and rain and yet more overcast days with no rain at all.

On one route day (the day we go around to our agents and exchange batteries) it began to rain when we were about ½ way home. I had to remind 36 year-old Philip, who has had his driver’s license for three months and thinks he’s the king of the road, that if you can’t see the safest thing to do is pull over. These were views through our windshield and one flooded view off the road. Because it’s just the way things are here, people just find some shelter and wait it out – then clean things up after.

And, for a little added rainy-day blog bonus, here is a photo of a literal “flagger” – no sign with STOP on one side and SLOW on the other – just flags. I’m not sure how much training they get either. Sometimes the flags wave around so randomly it’s hard to tell whether to stop or go.
XO

Piece of Cake!

My birthday fell on a Saturday. When they learned of it, Pamela and Savanna insisted on cooking me dinner – chicken and rice. In actuality, they had been wanting to cook again for some time, this was just a good excuse.

Savanna has “studies” every Saturday morning. I guess it’s like a study hall or extra tutoring or something, but every Saturday morning from 9-12 she goes back to school – but without her uniform. After that, she said her mother (aunt) wanted her to pound fufu, so we decided to start the cooking at 4:00. While Savanna was at her studies, Pamela and I went shopping. I purchased all the ingredients for my birthday dinner, but that’s fine. It was about $15 for 15 people. Not bad. At the cold store we got one kilo of thighs and one kilo of breasts. When I ordered the breasts he asked if I wanted soft or hard. I assumed this meant frozen or thawed, but Pamela informed me it meant boneless or with bones. We took the boneless. It turned out no one had ever had chicken breasts. Since they are nearly 2x in price, I’m not surprised. In fact, Savanna and Pamela thought they were made of fat (like literal breasts). I had to explain they were the chest muscles and why they were white and the thigh meat was dark. Ah, the teachable moment!

Philip had stopped to bring a card and I invited him to stay for dinner. The kids were all clamoring to get in, so he told them they couldn’t come in until they’d had their baths. I think the various caregivers never had such an easy time getting the children to bathe! I let a Precious (freshly bathed) in early along with Savanna’s young cousins, Mamakos (pictured) and Felix. Felix’s twin sister, Felicia, was not feeling well so she was with her mother. I had purchased some bubbles in the $1.00 section at Target before I left Seattle, so I had 8 tiny bottles of bubbles and they were a huge hit. We spent quite some time on the balcony blowing bubbles downwind. Some of them got pretty good at blowing a lot of bubbles from one dip. Others just got soap all over themselves.

I had purchased some cheap plastic bowls and plastic spoons and cups, which was good because we had both Pamela’s (Grandmother, mother, sister, cousin) and Savanna’s (Mother/Aunt, 4 cousins) families, plus Philip (our Asst. Branch Manager, pictured), Quinn and Pearl (sisters), and Kwadwo (pronounced Kwa-joe), a 2-yo who was being watched by Quinn and Pearl. The food was absolutely vacuumed up. It was good, in the tomato paste and spicy hot pepper way that most Ghanaian food is good. Philip had to leave after dinner and it was all I could do to save him one tiny piece of the chocolate cake I had baked.

Pamela had written on the white board to commemorate my day – although she got a little carried away and also wrote “Merry Christmas, Auntie Jan”. They also sang me Happy Birthday, at my request, before I served the cake. They clearly knew the tune, but sang “Happy Birthday to you” for every phrase, but that’s the basic gist of the song, so it worked for me!

I found an amazing cake recipe online and the cake came out fabulously considering our oven has no thermostat and it is only possible to use the top or bottom elements but not both. As there is no powdered sugar in Koforidua (maybe in Accra but I wouldn’t hold my breath), I found a stove-top recipe with granulated sugar. It was basically runny fudge that firmed up as it cooled. Yum! While I was serving it (in plastic cups with vanilla ice cream), people who had not been at dinner kept appearing – “…and one for my grandmother”, “…and three, for my sister, mother and baby brother”, etc. I had cut very small pieces from the beginning, fearing this exact eventuality, but I finally just said it was “finished”, took the pan into the kitchen and shut the door.

And that’s what it’s like here – Auntie Jan, give me - and Auntie Jan where is mine? I loved having the party and making my special kids happy, but the hangers-on and the demands can be wearing.
XO

Holy Teddy Bear, Batman!

3:18 AM
I wake up. I don't know why. I do need to pee, so I think that must be it. Then, I hear a clicking noise out the window above my head.

3:19 AM
Oh, I think, that must have awakened me. Funny, I think, that with so much noise in this neighborhood a small click like that would wake me up. Then, I hear another click from the window to my right (I'm lying on my back). Then another click from my left - but there is no window there. My eyes open to maximum width to try and see what is making the noise - another click, which now seems more like a slap as my muddy brain awakens, to the right. My eyes adjust - and see it. Something dark, with wings, slaps against the wall on my right, then a few seconds later, against the wall on my left.

3:20 AM
My brain catches up. There is something flying in my room, from one wall to the other, flattened briefly against one wall before launching back to the other. A bird? No, that doesn't seem right. I peel my eyes wider yet to see it. Why can't I see it? Suddenly, I am in the hall and the door to my room is closed. I realize I am clutching my pillow against me like a teddy bear - or a shield - and my heart is pounding through the pillow so that I can feel it against my hand. My brain has decided there is a bat in my room. Suddenly, I crack open the door and reach in with one hand to flip on the light. My analytical brain is beginning to awaken. Perhaps with the light on, the bat will stop flying and hang upside down somewhere. Isn't that how it works?

3:21 AM
It's the middle of the night, my brain thinks, and I'm standing in the hall in my underwear. Thankfully, it has been cooler recently and I wore a shirt to bed. Fortunately also, I am the only one here at the moment. Max has gone back to Maine for a month with his family, and Whit doesn't return until next week. I stand in the hall, listening to the slap, slap, slap as the creature flies from one side of the room to the other. What now? I decide I should go ahead and pee, grateful that I haven't already.

3:22 AM
I get a glass of water. Isn't that what you do when you awaken from a nightmare? I drink it all. My mouth is still desert-dry. I cannot produce saliva. I return to the hallway and begin to analyze. I have a pillow. I can sleep in Whit's room or the spare room. Ah, the spare room, my brain thinks, hmmm. An idea is toying with me. Since Max's departure, I unlocked and opened the door between my room and the guest room - it creates more airflow. The main door in that room is also open, with a screen door to the veranda that allows even more airflow. A plan begins to emerge. I walk down the main hall to Whit's room and close the door. Then I close the doors between the meeting room and the hall, and between the battery charging room and the hall. I am isolating the hallway. There is another small hallway between the main hall and the balcony, opening onto the main hall just outside my door and opening onto the balcony just outside the guest room door. It is the hallway Max uses to access the main part of the building when he is here.

3:23 AM
I listen at the door to my room. The slapping is louder than before, it seems. Is that my imagination? Has the light agitated the bat? My next step is to open the door to my room, then slip into the small hallway and close the door to the main hallway. My hope is that the bat will abandon the brightly lit bedroom for the darkened hallway. Then I will be able to enter the guest room from the balcony, access my room and close the door, capturing the bat in the hallway. I stand outside my door. I have turned the handle and the door is unlatched. All I must do is push it open and scoot into the small hallway. My heart is pounding as if I were sitting in the open doorway of an airplane preparing to jump. I push the door. I don't look to see if it opened or stayed open. I am in the small hallway leaning against the closed door. I rest.

3:24 AM
I go outside onto the balcony. I feel exposed. The railing is as tall as my waist, but I'm still in my underwear and it feels strange. I peer into the guest room. I can see half the room. The open door blocks the rest from my view. I'm really wishing I had my glasses. I can see the rope running across the room. I washed my underwear yesterday and they are all hung up to dry across the room like a string of photographs in a darkroom. (There is nowhere to hang them outside except on the balcony for all the world to see - so I hang them inside under a ceiling fan.) Through the screen door, I see that there is a dark shadow (shape?) on the ceiling. Is that the bat? Has it already abandoned my room for a darker one? I squint and peer into the room, trying to make up for my missing glasses. There is no sound from the room - no slapping or screeching. Don't bats screech? I work up the nerve to open the door, so I can scamper across the room and shut the door to my room. I slowly pull the door handle. It is locked.

3:25 AM
Well crap, so much for that bright idea. I go back to the door to the main hall and listen. Nothing. I crack the door open and listen. Nothing. I can see the bright light from my room seeping into the hall. There is no slapping sound anywhere. I peer out the door and down the hall. Nothing. I step into the hall and through the door to my room. I crane my neck around that door, too, to see the whole room. Nothing. I race into the room and slam shut the door to the guest room. I am convinced the dark spot on the ceiling in there is my bat. When did I start thinking of him as mine? My room is a shambles. The remaining pillows are scattered on the floor. The bedsheets are a jumble. I finally spy my glasses and put them on. That's when I see it. A tiny black pellet on the bed, where my pillow should have been. I realize the pillow is still clutched tightly under my left arm. I walk toward the other side of the bed. It occurs to me I should "clear" the room first, like the police do at a crime scene. I slowly poke my head around the corner of the wardrobe. Nothing. I don't want to, but I kneel and peer under the bed. Thankfully, nothing. Finally, deciding the room is clear, I move to the other side of the bed, to look at the pellet. It is black, or dark dark brown, about 4-5mm x 2mm. It looks like a mouse turd. This is too surreal. There is bat guano on my bed!

3:26 AM
I'm a bit disturbed that I can no longer hear the bat, but have convinced myself it has been captured in the guest room. My only thought is that I can no longer access my underwear, and I have waited until I was down to my last pair before doing laundry. Well, nothing I can do about that now. I do imagine the bat seeing my undies hanging there in a line and thinking they are also bats. I can see him hanging upside down on the line beside my underwear. Anyway, I tidy up my room, and know I will not sleep anytime soon. I put on pants and decide to write this up while the memories are fresh.

Note: Everything up until this point was done one-handed. I just realized I still still have my pillow, now in my lap.

3:51 AM
In the midst of writing, had a nature call - terror really gets things moving. The office is connected to Whit's room in the same way the guest room is connected to mine. I went through Whit's room and down the main hall to the other end and the entrance to the kitchen/shower/bathroom. Upon exiting, I was about to step back into the hall, when I heard a familiar slap - from the main hallway. I peered out and saw it, flying figure eights near the ceiling about halfway down the hall. I raced across the hall and into the small hallway, slamming the door behind me, mind racing. So, it wasn't in the guest room. Where had it been for the last 15 minutes? Can't think about that now.

3:52 AM
I realize I left the door to Whit's room open. I race down the balcony toward the office, but can't help the urge to go into the main room through the screen doors. The doors from that room onto the hallway are glass. I watch the figure eights through the double glass doors. It seems to be in a holding pattern - back and forth, back and forth. And, it is much bigger than I originally thought. It's wing span looks to be about 12 inches (30cm). I'm glad I didn't know that before. Then the horror-movie part of my brain thinks, what if there is more than one and this one is bigger than the other one?!

3:53 AM
Feeling comfortable the figure eights will continue, I re-enter the office from the balcony and cross into Whit's room to close the door. Then, again using the balcony, I return to the small hallway. I need to close the door to my room, or this whole isolate-the-bat mission will have been in vain. I crack the door open and peer down the hall. The figure eights continue so I scoot out the hall door and into my room, closing the door behind me. Then I go into the guest room, with my glasses on this time, and see that the dark spot on the ceiling is the collar where the electrical wires drop down. I unlatch the screen door and walk back down the balcony to the office to continue this account.

So there you are. I have a bat isolated in the main hallway. I have been awake long enough now that I'm hungry, but I can't access the kitchen - or the bathroom, for that matter. I don't know if I can sleep, but it's now 4:44 AM and the roosters are awake. I cannot get to the only point of egress, the main doors, which are locked from the inside. A key from the outside will not work while the key is in the lock from the inside. The doors are about halfway down the hall. Exactly where the figure eights are under way. I'm not sure what to do next. What would you do?
XO

Update - 7:50 AM
On my way back to bed (I didn't sleep), I had a brainstorm. I would open the doors to the meeting room - both the inside doors to the hall and the outside doors to the balcony, giving the bat an escape route. Before doing so, however, I wanted a closer look.

I got a flashlight and shined it through the glass into the hallway. This seemed to interrupt the bat's figure eight pattern as he tried to deal with the light. As a result, he landed on the screened window next to me (the windows from all the rooms to the main hall are screened so the main doors can be left open if desired). I could clearly see his body and wings, which was sort of cool. His body was a golden brown with dark wings. As long as I shone the light directly on him, he stayed perfectly still. When I took the light away, he crawled to the edge of the screen and then flew off. Satisfied that this was a common fruit bat, I enacted my plan. I propped open the outside screen doors, then opened the inside doors and scurried out the screen doors and back to the guest room and through to my room.

Must be the radar or whatever bats have - I guess its called echolocation - but he found his way out within 10 minutes or so. At least I hope so. The information online also says bats are very good at hiding in shadowy corners during the day. For now, I'm holding to the notion that he is outside and back with his family - although for all I know, that family may live in our attic.
XXOO

Here a chief, there a chief

We’re testing a new business concept – along the lines of pre-paid phone minutes. Many of our clients have difficulties with our current model because their battery subscription comes due on a specific day of the month (1st or 15th) and their income doesn’t arrive nearly so predictably. When they can’t pay, then we have to take their batteries back until they can re-subscribe. It’s a lot of administration, paperwork, and headache for the agents and disappointing for the clients because they develop a sense of ownership and don’t like giving the batteries back. So, we’re trying a new concept with pre-paid coupons (they can stock up when they have money) that can each be redeemed for a fresh battery exchange. If they don’t have money, they just don’t exchange until they do. There won’t be the same back and forth with the batteries.

Since we still have about 30 agents on the subscription program, we picked a village far up the road to try the new model, so people already on the other program don’t get confused or concerned. As a result, we have a nice long drive (about 30km / 19m) through some beautiful countryside along the way. There are some glorious bluffs and rolling hills. Pictures can’t do them justice.

This one does show a small cornfield in the midst of the forest. It’s all people can do sometimes to clear enough space for a small plot. Because this part of Ghana is geographically categorized as forest, there are a lot of trees and brush to clear to make farming possible. These little plots dot the hillsides and often right up the steep slopes of mountains (coming from Washington, dare I call them that?) like these.

The village where we are testing is different from most of our other areas so far. In addition to farming, the area is also know for gari roasting and bead making. Gari is like a crunchy toasted grain, made by milling cassava into meal, which is bagged in large gunny sacks and then squeezed in large wooden vices until the moisture is gone. Then it is toasted in several wok-like pans over several wood ovens. It starts in one pan and as it gets more done is scooped into the next, finally making its way to the last pan and out. As far as I can tell, it is used as a crunchy topping for almost anything – to add a bit of flavor and texture. People seem to look forward to gari season.

In addition, this area also makes beads for the weekly bead market in Koforidua. They make their own bead molds out of clay and fire them. In the center of each hole in the mold, they take a small cassava stem and stand it up, then cut it off just above the top of the mold. Then they take used glass bottles (think mayonnaise, mustard, ketchup, whatever) and, using a mortar and pestle, grind them in to glass dust. This takes several iterations of grinding and sifting to get the very finest powder. Then the powder is loaded into the molds, either plain or in layers with glass dust which has been colored. The beads are fired in clay ovens, where the cassava stem burns away leaving the hole in the bead. Depending on whether they were colored by layering the colored powder, the beads may be painted with a colored paste made of the glass dust and then fired again.

So, this is an economically active area. It has 500 adult voters (sort of a proxy for population) and 5 chiefs (here are two of them on their way to a district meeting). At some point in the past, there was some conflict and five factions each came up with their own chief. Now, although they are the same primary village, they continue to have five divisions. But, the five chiefs and elders apparently meet regularly to discuss community issues, so all is friendly now. And so far, 3 of the 5 are using Burro batteries!
XO