Human Rights...Big Picture Little Picture

The hubbub about China's human rights issues continues, with discussions of whether Secretary of State Clinton did or did not say the right thing in her recent speech, and did or did not give tacit approval for China to continue to do as it pleases without fear of U.S. sanction or reprisal (Are those the same thing? No, they are not. I love dictionary.com!). Now there is a State Department report on human rights worldwide in which China is broadly criticized for committing extrajudicial killings and torture, coercing confessions from prisoners and using forced labor. China's official Xinhua News Agency said the report interfered in the country's internal affairs and ignored China's achievements in human rights, which Beijing defines mainly as improvements to living standards.(1)

This sounds remarkably similar to the arguments used for a long time regarding domestic violence and child abuse. It wasn't appropriate, reform opponents argued, to interfere with the internal affairs of a family. You might even hear a similar "living standards" argument about having a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and food in their bellies - as in, "so what's to complain about?"

Usually, I work in the office, but recently, I was in my room working on my laptop. Whit was out, I don't remember where, and I was here alone. Through my window, which overlooks the outdoor living area of the family below (see photo in the post entitled "Sanitation"), I heard a child crying and screaming. Frankly, this is not entirely unusual in such close quarters with all the windows open and it usually ends after a minute or so. This time, however, I also heard the mother's voice speaking loudly and continuously in the "angry mother tone" punctuated by staccato increases in the child's screaming intensity.

"Beating" children is the #1 - and it seems to me the only - form of punishment in our neighborhood and probably in most of Ghana. Beating wives is also common, but I am told it occurs "more in the north". Children's punishment seems to follow an escalation path including 1) angry and loud berating; 2) slapping any available bare skin (in the way my brother and his friends would test their endurance by holding one another's wrists and slapping forearms with just the tips of their moistened fingers to see who could withstand the stinging pain the longest); 3) slapping the back or back of the head - hard; 4) hitting with a bamboo or rattan cane - approximately 1 meter long and 1 cm. diameter (like those at right but without the handle, sold at the market from pallets containing stacked bundles of 50) - on the back, arms, legs, buttocks, etc.; and 5) additional violence depending on the level of parental rage. Step 1 seems to always be included, but skipping over any of the other steps to get to a more advanced step seems perfectly acceptable depending on the "crime". All except, perhaps, #5 are also acceptable to do to someone else's child.

So, there I was in my room, hearing a berating and, I realized, a slapping session going on in the courtyard below. After 5 minutes or so of heart-wrenching screaming and crying, I went to the window to see what the hell was really happening. Five minutes is a very long time to be on the receiving end of any punishment. What I saw was the small girl, Mamakos (also called Makos), from the downstairs family, cowering in the corner between the building and a short flight of 5 or 6 stairs while her mother yelled at her and slapped her bare skin, grabbing one wrist and then the other to slap her forearms. When Makos pulled her arms back, hugging them to herself, her mother switched to slap her bare legs, all the while delivering a rapid-fire verbal assault. When Makos attempted to pull her legs up under her, curl up and cover them with her skirt, mom switched back to her forearms or pulled up the back of her shirt to slap her bare back. The mother would pause the slapping periodically but continue the yelling. Although I could not understand the words, the emotion was clear, except I couldn't figure out the pauses. I thought maybe it was one of those "now stop crying" things but then the slapping would start up again. For another five minutes, at least, I watched the little girl scoot around the small area below my window trying to find a place to cower that would protect some part of her. And, despite, the screaming, the wailing, the crying, no other adult came to see what was happening. In a culture so inured to the screaming of children, what happens when a child really needs help?

Mamakos is three years old and attends nursery school.

I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to go down and stop it - to stand between the mother and child. But, in this culture, I am a visitor - an outsider - and beating a child is an expected responsibility of a parent. What could I do?

Finally, the mother stopped and I breathed a sigh of relief and wanted to go down and take Makos in my arms and comfort her. The mother went up the short flight of steps and through the screen door into the house, while Makos continued to hug herself in a ball, sobbing and periodically breaking into a more intense wail - of anger or indignity or renewed pain, I don't know which. Then I saw the mother come back through the screen door with a cane in her hand. She called Makos, who, like a wild and terrified animal crept up the stairs and over the threshold into an alcove beyond my view but from which I heard berate, thwack, and wail, berate, thwack, and wail for several more minutes before it ended. I was nauseated and anxious and paced my room like a caged animal myself. Throughout all of this, I couldn't bear to leave Makos "alone" and go to the other end of the building so I couldn't hear - and I couldn't stop it either.

Or could I? Should I? What was the right moral action? If something is morally wrong in one place, can it be acceptable in another? Is "morally wrong" simply a cultural agreement? Certainly there are things others think are morally wrong that I don't. And there are clearly things that I think are morally wrong that others don't. And if I do think something is morally wrong, am I honor and duty bound to stop it? Am I willing to accept that others who think something is morally wrong can forcibly stop me from doing it?

My head was spinning, my stomach was churning, and I didn't know the answers to any of these questions except the last one. Based on my experience with religious institutions, the answer is very clearly "no". But where is the line for how long and how intensely a child can be beaten by someone 5 times her size? And in a culture where beating is accepted, tolerated, and encouraged, is there still a line people think is going too far - and if so, will anyone even investigate the wailing, or notice the abuse? Can it be enforced? Is it when the skin is broken? When an arm is broken? What about when a trust is broken or a spirit is broken or a heart is broken?

So, what do you think? What would you do? Are you asking yourself what Makos did to be punished in the first place? Will that change your answers? Are there absolutes? And how does this apply to the bigger picture of international opinions about the human rights practices of nations? Be careful how you respond, you may be forced to act.
XO

Da Dis Ting

Either it took me four months to notice this - or it took that long for our agents to become comfortable enough with me to stop trying to speak perfect English. In any case, over the last couple weeks it has become so prevalent that I can't not hear it.

At home, we may say whatchamacallit, thingamajig, thingamabob, doodad, or another such fill-in, often when we can't think of the name of something or our brains are in too big a hurry or are just too lazy to find it in that big pile of data that will never make us any money.

Here in Ghana, there is a similar phrase, but it is used not just for things but for places as well and is used in sentences with the regularity of "like" or "you know", as well as when a word is not coming to mind.

This is not a new phrase. If you've traveled in the English-speaking Carribean you've likely heard it - not surprisingly since most of the slaves exported to those islands were from this part of Africa and there seems to be a strong cultural and travel linkage to Jamaica in particular. The phrase is "dis ting" or "da dis ting". Whenever I hear it, which is quite a lot these days, it makes me think of Vizzini's command from The Princess Bride: "Move the thing! And that other thing!" - or that old tease when someone asks you "where" and you say, "You know, at that spot where we were that time by the place and you saw that thing and said it reminded you of that other time we went there. You know."

So, here is a typical conversation at one of our route day meetings:

"How many new batteries have you rented?"

"I couldn't go to da dis ting yesterday because I had to travel to Akropong for da dis ting, but I rented 4 dis ting the day before." (name of some village; a funeral; batteries)

"How many adapters do you still have?"

"My dis ting's small boy stepped on da dis ting and it cracked. Should I count da dis ting?" (customer; adapter; that one)

I've arrived at the point where I generally know what is meant when this phrase is used in a sentence, even more than once. Of course, it's easier if I keep my whatchamacallit specific so that I know the whatsit of their thingamajig. You know? (question; context; response)
XO

Grand Opening

Shopping Malls. Museums. Bookstores. Yachts. Presidents.

These are the things we (Americans, Europeans, et al) think when we hear "Grand Opening" or "Christening" or "Inauguration". We probably wouldn't think of having a Grand Opening celebration with tents and ribbons and balloons and a sound system and speeches for... a pay phone... or even two.

But that's what happened today in Adawso, Eastern Region, Ghana. Yep, and it happened right on the spot where we hold our twice-weekly refresh and reconciliation meeting with two of our agents. The nerve!

Vodafone installed two solar powered pay phones that use only pre-paid calling cards. To inaugurate the phones, they rented three portable tents, a sound system, a desk (for the "Big Man" to sit behind), a few hundred chairs and apparently a couple hundred mid-teen school children to fill them. Each attendee was given a bottle of minerals (aka Coke, Sprite, or Fanta), a meat pie (from Linda Dor, our favorite meat pie place), and a calling card(!) with a couple cedis of credit on it - and, of course, regaled with a speech on the incredible mind-bending, bullet-stopping, train-racing power and value of the Vodafone phone (now, is it appropriate to just say Vodafone and not repeat the phonetically confusing phone? It would seem Vodafone might like that - to become the kleenex of the fone industry).

Anyway, where was I? So, the people were queued up to use their calling cards on the sparkling, beautifully branded, bright red fones. I, meanwhile, was wishing I had my laptop and an internet connection to check my brokerage account to see just how many Vodafone shares I own and whether purchasing a few more might be a prudent move. Turns out earnings are estimated to be up year over year in the next fiscal (how many other companies can boast as much these days) and the P/E is expected to be 7.89. An apparent bargain. However, the analysts (29 of them covering VOD!) are mixed with an average rating of HOLD. But, I wonder, have they been to the developing world?
XO

Sanitation

Every time I wash my hands, the water that rinses off them is black. This seems to be true even if I just washed them a 1/2 hour before. And I know that locals don't wash their hands nearly as often because water has to be hauled for everything as few people have running water at their homes. For instance, the compound behind us has one common cistern which seems to be filled by the city water system, but it only runs one day a week. So, they sometimes run out just before the week is up. We have two poly tanks (as described in a previous post), but two weeks ago, the city water didn't come on as scheduled, so we ran out for a couple days and, like the neighbors, had to get water from the bore hole (well) down the street. OK, we didn't carry it ourselves, but found someone to bring it for us. Nevertheless, we had bucket showers and flushed the toilet using a bucket (if you pour water in the bowl, the same pressure imbalance is created as when you press the lever and flood the bowl from the tank).

And, where does the water go after it's used? Into the open sewer, along with everyone's pee - men pee directly into the sewer as if it were a urinal, and women straddle the sewer, reach under their skirts and pull aside their underwear and pee directly into the sewer as well. Skirts seem much more practical in this light. Each compound has a couple "poo houses" where everyone, well, poos. They are more like outhouses, with doors for privacy - and one I used in a village (to pee, actually, because I'm shy) had a basket of corn cobs in the corner. OK, I'd heard of that, but seeing it was different.

Anyway, the open sewer is the recipient of pee, laundry water (laundry is done right alongside the sewer), bath water (children are soaped up and rinsed off alongside the sewer), dish water (washed alongside the sewer - you get the idea), tooth brushing water and spit, hanky-less nose blowings, and one kid's every-morning poop (he refuses to use the toilet). Oh, and the concrete courtyard of the compounds all slant toward the sewer so that rainwater will also flow into them. However, anything else round, bouncy, or slippery also rolls or slides into them. Back to the water issue - most of these things are retrieved and use of them continues, without washing.

Our kitchen and bathroom sinks also drain directly into the open sewer. Fortunately, our toilet and shower seem to go somewhere else, which is good, but since I don't know exactly where it goes, I'll hold off on giving too much praise.

The courtyard really begins to reek of urine after a couple hot days with no rain. It makes the rain that much more welcome. I think the neighbors also like it when we wash our hands and dishes a lot because the soapy water flows into the sewer and helps wash the pee "downstream".

In the villages, the issues are more profound because the areas for pee and poo are often not very well contained - so when there are torrential rains, as we had two days ago, everything washes out and runs through the village following the path of least resistance toward the nearest stream, river, swamp, pond, or gully. A number of NGO's (Non-Governmental Organizations, usually charities funded by people in developed nations) work almost entirely on village sanitation issues.

Unfortunately, all the NGO activity seems to lead to an entitlement mentality. Whenever an oburoni shows up, people expect to be given something and are unabashed about asking for/demanding it. One NGO guy told us that after he organized a community activity to dig a hole for a concrete bore hole frame the local men who helped dig wanted to be paid for their efforts. He was like, dude - we're paying to have a bore hole drilled so that you and your family and everyone in your village has safe drinking water and you want to be paid for helping!? (Ever hear of a barn raising?)

Anyway, maybe more on NGOs and entitlement vs. empowerment in another post.

XO

The Power of Music

So, several weeks ago I went to the bookstore across the street (about 1/2 the size of an airport bookstore) and bought an ABC book and a 123 book. Precious has been "reading" them with me in the mornings. She likes E for Elephant best and now gets the difference between Lion and Tiger right. But after a few times through the ABC book, she began stopping at V for Violin and holding out her left arm and playing it with the finger of her right hand. So I started doing that, too, and trying to hum/buzz like a violin at the same time, which she really liked.

The other morning our handyman came by with the ladder to check our water situation on the roof, so Precious had to scoot down the stairs to get out of the way and happened to have the books in her hand. I haven't got them back yet. This morning, she asked for the books, forgetting that they were at her house, not mine. I asked her to bring them, but she couldn't - maybe the room was locked and no adult could come open it for her right then. Anyway, she started playing the violin on her arm and wanted me to "hum". So, I did. Then I had a brainstorm...

I brought out my iPod to let her hear what a real violin sounds like. But, oops, the only thing I downloaded before living home was Mahler, Symphony No. 9. OK, Mahler is a bit intense, but she listened to 6 movements before I had to take the iPod and put it away because we were drawing quite a "grabby" crowd. Then this evening she asked for it again, playing her arm to make sure I understood. Again, she listened for 15 minutes or so, from the 9th movement to the end of the symphony. At one point, she was playing the violin on her arm and swaying to the music with her eyes closed (Remember, she is 5) like a soloist who is lost in the music.

Wow, it really pointed out to me the impact of poverty. But, in this case I don't mean on the children, although that is very real. I mean on the rest of the world. I think it's easy to think of all the education and opportunities that people in poverty miss out on and our efforts to help *them*.

But this made me think of the world picture, and how we should also think of it as helping *ourselves*. What will the world miss out on if a prodigy or future virtuoso or the child with the potential to cure cancer or negotiate world peace doesn't get the opportunity to listen to Mozart or learn the violin or travel beyond the family farm or go to secondary school, much less medical school. How do those losses reduce the amount of soul-moving music in the world, or world health, or space travel? Progress in so many areas takes years and generations to come to fruition. If some percentage of the minds or talents that could be contributing to art, music, medicine, science, or literature are unable to do so, how much more slowly do we advance as a species? (This is true of American poverty as well)

On the other hand, is that just my Western view and bias that everyone should want to be able to do those things? Watching Precious "play" the violin - I'm not sure. I guess I'd at least like everyone to have the chance to want those things if they choose. And selfishly, I think my world would be richer if they did.
XO

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

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

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

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