tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18280488199603918632023-11-16T10:05:21.696-08:00Maughans in AfricaDelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-5940992919652148182011-06-15T09:32:00.000-07:002011-06-15T09:32:22.751-07:00Good by to Africa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal">These are appropriate pictures to end our experience in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is hard to see the details but Marsha wore out this pair of shoes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWrcrryomE3Qyb6auzjIQaUdwsGSdKXEDINZ-BZzSKKMTaLNEajCfHdBUwNImfbniIKxmrrZPwGynxEvrAyvAF57GHwVC5kpXd2FpcnD1c6wLLO6-qXVaE0_m5fRjqywSpXy6jDYju8Y4/s1600/SHOES+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWrcrryomE3Qyb6auzjIQaUdwsGSdKXEDINZ-BZzSKKMTaLNEajCfHdBUwNImfbniIKxmrrZPwGynxEvrAyvAF57GHwVC5kpXd2FpcnD1c6wLLO6-qXVaE0_m5fRjqywSpXy6jDYju8Y4/s320/SHOES+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDo5Ey-zYp73OeXPCxwTcfZ-9G3XGHWY1EWbeFP0pY97UZyXTNJxAvL-kXOr0kUammJfLvrZnmT2KLlTzVuev-tx6V-41khPJJTWjrmiArtsx-BEkUU6q9jKMCF_U3XmNA5pq-lqyvi0k/s1600/SHOES+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDo5Ey-zYp73OeXPCxwTcfZ-9G3XGHWY1EWbeFP0pY97UZyXTNJxAvL-kXOr0kUammJfLvrZnmT2KLlTzVuev-tx6V-41khPJJTWjrmiArtsx-BEkUU6q9jKMCF_U3XmNA5pq-lqyvi0k/s320/SHOES+004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYq4HCNojGRftF5vY9j89xumzMkAjWGGjpV6QFUGkdMKi6SHbD6LnM1SWBH9LaMoh8Z_7I_oEGmgWa9Z8-HRD1KIkQ_4L9IZ06l9_BDMYa3G367xmK-AjZKGS8YLt-u-AB6z-gJIifFY8/s1600/SHOES+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYq4HCNojGRftF5vY9j89xumzMkAjWGGjpV6QFUGkdMKi6SHbD6LnM1SWBH9LaMoh8Z_7I_oEGmgWa9Z8-HRD1KIkQ_4L9IZ06l9_BDMYa3G367xmK-AjZKGS8YLt-u-AB6z-gJIifFY8/s320/SHOES+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We will be leaving in less than six hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been an incredible adventure!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many experiences still rolling around in my mind, ones that I regret I have not had the time to write about, such as “Goats on bicycles,” “Afternoon siestas,” “Ghanaian favorite expressions,” “How much can you carry on your head?”, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Name that roundabout,”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Tough on crime,” “Saturday night baths,” etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps I will write one more entry entitled “<st1:place>Africa</st1:place>, P.S.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I don’t you’ll have to come visit us so I can tell you the stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know how I like to tell stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
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</span></div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-73397390977838828592011-05-31T15:46:00.000-07:002011-10-06T08:24:28.737-07:00May 2011<div class="MsoNormal">Here it is the last day of May already. What happened to the month? I honestly cannot tell you. I’m sitting here trying to recall the events of the month and I know we have been busy, but I cannot explain how the month slipped by without any kind of a blog entry. Let me see what I can remember. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The bats moved out. The street hawkers are slowly moving back in. The rains have started. It is so invigorating to see everything turn green and vibrant after a few days of rain. The median on <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Avenue</st1:address></st1:street> was brown just a few weeks ago. Now it is green and the grass is six to ten inches tall.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pj6fhFXzii4/TeZr398s4-I/AAAAAAAAAvk/2k878WzSrMs/s1600/End+of+May+Kool+pix+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pj6fhFXzii4/TeZr398s4-I/AAAAAAAAAvk/2k878WzSrMs/s320/End+of+May+Kool+pix+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The roundabouts are green.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HtfX3nB77XI/TeZsh26w4BI/AAAAAAAAAvo/hJHLRvVNZQ0/s1600/End+of+May+Kool+pix+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HtfX3nB77XI/TeZsh26w4BI/AAAAAAAAAvo/hJHLRvVNZQ0/s320/End+of+May+Kool+pix+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Unlike last year (I just went back and reviewed what I wrote last May) the rains this season have been occurring most of the time at night. This is very convenient. We have had very few day time storms to walk in or drive through. The rains have brought a little relief from the heat. However, it is still hot enough in the morning after a nighttime rain, that stepping outside the apartment is like stepping into a wet sauna. Here are pictures of what is in bloom around the apartment.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6USjOcLxXHfNd4XVfyU9kDShoTf-kicOk94wMJOr_TzIjqMfYffsfP4spsld_hgS0h8MEN9aqmfBVCka9a1oytQBBoFtRhibJGNqP4SkeJkQgNpTTL2VOaLXTUO_uwbW9hteE6rzC0o8/s1600/May+flowers+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6USjOcLxXHfNd4XVfyU9kDShoTf-kicOk94wMJOr_TzIjqMfYffsfP4spsld_hgS0h8MEN9aqmfBVCka9a1oytQBBoFtRhibJGNqP4SkeJkQgNpTTL2VOaLXTUO_uwbW9hteE6rzC0o8/s320/May+flowers+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4renSCcCz3prF30h4dt_nsprjjELoLmKoD_YGUCD5TxuvEGOuD8dqzBTxnr6ysUA5smyHx81q1FJ1qvnwIbUKEEhkq-I7L_cEO4GWKwmlxmkSrt-NelVMILRWNg9UyuBqi1ckCeb_qZo/s1600/May+flowers+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4renSCcCz3prF30h4dt_nsprjjELoLmKoD_YGUCD5TxuvEGOuD8dqzBTxnr6ysUA5smyHx81q1FJ1qvnwIbUKEEhkq-I7L_cEO4GWKwmlxmkSrt-NelVMILRWNg9UyuBqi1ckCeb_qZo/s320/May+flowers+028.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlNxvdQPBeH8Z0RwzNK2ghsZmMFsX21HDq_f538pdtAZe_4snzVDdBAM-N_lvEJh-cxjGPK0PDNndYVe_GuOeHfH9hZ0lHL1lowQU-lQ5My4-O9FGsFXIG2-Q4XbqEI9TwMpcplEWfelA/s1600/May+flowers+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlNxvdQPBeH8Z0RwzNK2ghsZmMFsX21HDq_f538pdtAZe_4snzVDdBAM-N_lvEJh-cxjGPK0PDNndYVe_GuOeHfH9hZ0lHL1lowQU-lQ5My4-O9FGsFXIG2-Q4XbqEI9TwMpcplEWfelA/s320/May+flowers+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmesI9QAeY58H392TNzseTz-cEiYu3ombtw1lhhbJWchpERl6ZmUn3ZEvjk-at3OwoVBz_W2j0msAg3CpJAg9csmNNauieElw77hvi2CGC1J3yCCCVaNKMCrHeXsjjPzcnZ67tBtdJF0/s1600/May+flowers+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmesI9QAeY58H392TNzseTz-cEiYu3ombtw1lhhbJWchpERl6ZmUn3ZEvjk-at3OwoVBz_W2j0msAg3CpJAg9csmNNauieElw77hvi2CGC1J3yCCCVaNKMCrHeXsjjPzcnZ67tBtdJF0/s320/May+flowers+020.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9wyjhepL224BX1V5L5kX94NNKMrpr7s7Qvr0VyrN6sPXMrLI61KrqF1SGCDM3o3OZBJtA7q2-z54Oqx-OU5d84juugEI80llZQJtr0R_9927hHi8SLsvvR50OQvaVQt9UKxt1pmx85eg/s1600/May+flowers+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9wyjhepL224BX1V5L5kX94NNKMrpr7s7Qvr0VyrN6sPXMrLI61KrqF1SGCDM3o3OZBJtA7q2-z54Oqx-OU5d84juugEI80llZQJtr0R_9927hHi8SLsvvR50OQvaVQt9UKxt1pmx85eg/s320/May+flowers+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixujBpoh9HSbCMBea9a0ENHolRq7neDYiiy20r_FlAOH1uKVuAfr6TLtRl9fAIWcKW98IBsUHjRIzwOjzZIVSVnKGrV4BSjYB6GrZGcI-DK17ctEzi-WcEFa-B8eADdHPmZ3_41ZQyiEg/s1600/May+flowers+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixujBpoh9HSbCMBea9a0ENHolRq7neDYiiy20r_FlAOH1uKVuAfr6TLtRl9fAIWcKW98IBsUHjRIzwOjzZIVSVnKGrV4BSjYB6GrZGcI-DK17ctEzi-WcEFa-B8eADdHPmZ3_41ZQyiEg/s320/May+flowers+024.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2hMTUoluLZov64OTJGBP1MhjZi4rRQa3xuHAyethOaQSDkTc27WLEEBRSQ0kVzK62JIxfn2xH0j6wZOOTd8E2x3u_guiDPDqzGYg9-CW2u0CZ4GjG1J8MLcpo7r5In1CLKmEEANHJIQ/s1600/D70+pictures+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2hMTUoluLZov64OTJGBP1MhjZi4rRQa3xuHAyethOaQSDkTc27WLEEBRSQ0kVzK62JIxfn2xH0j6wZOOTd8E2x3u_guiDPDqzGYg9-CW2u0CZ4GjG1J8MLcpo7r5In1CLKmEEANHJIQ/s320/D70+pictures+013.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the Orange Blossom bush outside our stairwell that is so fragrant.</td></tr>
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Last Wednesday was Africa Unity Day. I’m not certain what Africa Unity Day represents, other than another day for Ghanaians to not work. One Ghanaian said that it was a holiday throughout all of <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> to celebrate the unique heritage of being African. Another Ghanaian said that it was a day to reconcile Christian and Muslim holidays, a common day for both religions, not that it makes any difference that I can see because the Muslims all take a day off for Christian holidays and the Christians all take a day off for Muslim holidays. Now they can both take a day off without feeling guilty about Holiday Hopping. A few Ghanaians were honest enough to indicate they had no idea what it represents. I didn’t check to see if any other country in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> celebrated Africa Unity Day. I’m curious to know the origin of the holiday. On second thought at this point in my stay in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> I am really not curious. I’m only curious to know if the airplanes are flying out of here, holidays or not. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We’ve had a couple of adventures I need to report. The first involves an animal other than a cockroach. About two weeks ago, towards the end of the day as the light was fading, I stepped into the second bedroom that we use as an office and noticed in my peripheral vision a flash of brown on the wall behind the file cabinet. My first thought was that we had a mouse and I knew how Marsha was going to react to a mouse encounter – screaming equal to or more than a cockroach encounter. Without announcing the presence of the visitor I stepped over to the file cabinet thinking I might be able to do something about the invader without having to alert Marsha. I looked behind the file cabinet as best as I could. I didn’t see anything. I started to move the file cabinet forward and the brown flash shot across the wall above Marsha’s desk and disappeared behind some stacked notebooks. It was way too fast to be a mouse. I pulled the stacked notebooks forward and discovered a brown gecko, about five inches long, two and a half inches of body and an equal length of tail, trying to find a hiding place among the items on Marsha’s desk, as distressed with seeing me as I was distressed with seeing him/her. How did a gecko this big enter the apartment? When one is living in a country where being human is just part of the food chain it seems a logical query to ponder such intrusions. I know that he/she didn’t walk in through the front door. If a five inch gecko can get into the apartment how safe is the apartment in keeping more dangerous animals out? What about keeping mosquitoes out? I called for Marsha. She came into the office. I showed her the gecko attempting to hide behind the items on her desk. I thought the gecko looked pretty cute trying to blend in with the pencil sharpener. But Marsha was not very pleased with the intruder, probably less upset than she would have been had it been a mouse but more upset than she would have been were it another cockroach encounter, which has become routine enough that the cockroaches don’t uptset her very much these days. We briefly discussed methods of getting the gecko outside of the apartment. I thought of the fly swatter – tap the gecko hard enough to stun but not hard enough to kill -- but remembered about a year ago when we tried a similar approach on a smaller gecko in the kitchen and found out that geckos do not have an external skeleton like a cockroach which crunches when smacked, and that a fly swatter to a little gecko results in gecko jam. We decided not to use the flyswatter. We briefly considered spraying the gecko with permethrin but decided that bug spray probably wouldn’t work and Marsha didn’t want sticky permethrin all over her desk. So, we decided to trap the gecko. I quickly located an empty margarine container and moved into position to place the container over the gecko, whereupon we would slide a piece of paper under the container and transport the gecko to his/her freedom. Great plan. I made several attempts to deftly place the margarine container over the gecko but each attempt was unsuccessful because the gecko quickly demonstrated his/her brown flash evasive movement skills and hid behind another item on the desk. Each miss would be accompanied by a shriek from Marsha who was convinced the gecko was going to become aggressive and attack her. After a few more attempts I successfully anticipated the gecko’s movement and smacked the container down on the table catching the little guy/gal under the container. Or at least I thought so. What we quickly discovered was that I covered his body but cut his tail off with the edge of the margarine container. And to our utter amazement, this amputated tail started a Mexican jumping bean routine that kept us both shrieking for several minutes. The two and a half inch tail would lie still for a few seconds and then start convulsing and bouncing around the table. It eventually bounced off the table, fell to the floor and kept on moving. I ran to get my video camera but by the time I got the camera, got it turned on, and focused on the tail on the floor the little appendage was disappointingly lethargic compared to its initial jumping performance. Too bad. It would have made a great You Tube video. Add a little musical score and it could have been a Michael Jackson imitation. Oh, by the way, we did escort the tail less (or should that be “detailed”) gecko outdoors and let him go. As he took off I’m pretty sure I saw him look over his shoulder at us, probably wondering what kind of cruel creatures would cut his tail off and then laugh at it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The second adventure was not quite so humorous. No animals were involved. As I mentioned above the rainy season started this month. A week ago Thursday, in the early hours of the morning, Marsha and I were awakened by thunder. We listened for probably an hour as the thunder boomed and boomed. It seemed the storm was right above us with the flash of lightning and the immediate thunder. And then the rain started. And it didn’t start gradually. It slammed the roof, probably as loud as we’ve ever heard it. When it started getting light we got up and looked out the windows at the rainstorm. The rain was so heavy that as we looked out our bedroom window we couldn’t see across the street. At about <st1:time hour="6" minute="15">6:15 a.m.</st1:time> the apartment phone rang. (We have a phone in the apartment but it only works to communicate with other apartments or the guard house.) I answered the phone. It was the guard house. Without identifying himself the guard politely, as if he were bothering me, announced “it is flooding.” I thought he might want to say more but my silence was matched by his silence. I asked him to tell me again, which he did. “It is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>flooding</u></b>” (a little more emphasis on the flooding.) I asked him what I needed to do. He quietly said “please move your car.” Ha! Now I understood. Last fall we had a similar rain and the street gutters in front overflowed and washed down our apartment complex driveway from the front of the complex to the back of the parking lot into a storm drain at the edge of the lot. Our car is parked right next to the storm drain. The water at that time had surged to the mid tire level on our car. After hanging up the phone I looked out the living room window and noticed the flood of brown water again coming under the front gate and coursing down our driveway. I quickly changed my clothes and went out to the car. The water was almost up to the level of the passenger side door (upstream side.) When I opened the driver side door some of the water flowed into the car. I got in, started the car and drove it through the muddy water and parked it off to the edge of the parking lot away from the water trying to get out the storm drain. The rain continued for about another half an hour and then stopped. The pooled water in the parking lot didn’t recede for several hours. And when it did it left the parking lot covered in a brown sludge that didn’t look good, and didn’t smell good. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had to travel during the middle of the month. I escorted a missionary with mental health problems to his home in <st1:place><st1:city>Melbourne</st1:city>, <st1:country-region>Australia</st1:country-region></st1:place>. It sounds exciting but it was a painfully long trip (lots of sitting.) The trip down was 37 ½ hours travel time from Accra to Dubai to Singapore to Melbourne and then to Sydney. The return trip was 30 ½ hours from <st1:city><st1:place>Sydney</st1:place></st1:city> to <st1:city><st1:place>Dubai</st1:place></st1:city> to <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. I had a day of rest in <st1:city><st1:place>Sydney</st1:place></st1:city>.<br />
<st1:city><st1:place><br />
</st1:place></st1:city><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCdIl2t1UcbATMZoviUOcaS-3HYxV2wUuvLuGUCo_muh51VabLba5LTJZfMwk4Afd-cMKKVoHDD-_2nzuET3K7lJkaiMog-kH3IOkKeN3OzRy41QmQpl31ZvbjweIsDHzSMy9yOPD0F6I/s1600/Opera+house+day+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCdIl2t1UcbATMZoviUOcaS-3HYxV2wUuvLuGUCo_muh51VabLba5LTJZfMwk4Afd-cMKKVoHDD-_2nzuET3K7lJkaiMog-kH3IOkKeN3OzRy41QmQpl31ZvbjweIsDHzSMy9yOPD0F6I/s320/Opera+house+day+%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Opera House.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHBoG-2B7E4jXS3YTv-cTTUSt2eXcx9MtSszqkPFq3LC7b6U1qlNOdeOJ-djXUoYV2h1sYpjzC4vfdYOIYbU5hPeQdZZJsMdVcqDTVQxyXs2udK2IUI59He2gutcT5-RtSpHrjOKX-_4/s1600/Darling+Harbor+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHBoG-2B7E4jXS3YTv-cTTUSt2eXcx9MtSszqkPFq3LC7b6U1qlNOdeOJ-djXUoYV2h1sYpjzC4vfdYOIYbU5hPeQdZZJsMdVcqDTVQxyXs2udK2IUI59He2gutcT5-RtSpHrjOKX-_4/s320/Darling+Harbor+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Darling harbour. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><st1:city><st1:place>One cannot go to Australia without seeing kangaroos and koalas. </st1:place></st1:city><br />
<st1:city><st1:place><br />
</st1:place></st1:city><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMm-zow5Q0qmMFLjLAfNiS-TKkM4BmxmvV5dSzkvqn2FN6QUYqpcJPZD20XqGR0GX4SHqfXGkNR7QKi_JQ9mNHgA6s0ET9uyGHc-3SVSePh3C70DkK3pywxqW920bnZmnw8jHo3RnhQPo/s1600/Sydney+Wildlife+World+%25284%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMm-zow5Q0qmMFLjLAfNiS-TKkM4BmxmvV5dSzkvqn2FN6QUYqpcJPZD20XqGR0GX4SHqfXGkNR7QKi_JQ9mNHgA6s0ET9uyGHc-3SVSePh3C70DkK3pywxqW920bnZmnw8jHo3RnhQPo/s320/Sydney+Wildlife+World+%25284%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><st1:city><st1:place><br />
</st1:place></st1:city><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtkUOpLaaw3dQLxxEoVrzaQYa029g6EkJFJdoHc5NxcT9A6lbgqj_G-4CWerkkKh71WeoHkuTYhOAMq66kcG-98Lxw6JHPQsBLQ7wpGGzkn6CTs_AkuKZqTMXFddUmxBoGR9cOqB8KtCg/s1600/Sydney+Wildlife+World+%25289%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtkUOpLaaw3dQLxxEoVrzaQYa029g6EkJFJdoHc5NxcT9A6lbgqj_G-4CWerkkKh71WeoHkuTYhOAMq66kcG-98Lxw6JHPQsBLQ7wpGGzkn6CTs_AkuKZqTMXFddUmxBoGR9cOqB8KtCg/s320/Sydney+Wildlife+World+%25289%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><st1:city><st1:place><br />
</st1:place></st1:city><br />
<st1:city><st1:place>Sydney</st1:place></st1:city> is a beautiful city. It reminds me of <st1:city><st1:place>San Francisco</st1:place></st1:city> with hills, an extensive waterfront, and a harbor bridge. I would love to return with Marsha and spend more time exploring the city and the surrounds. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Other events of the month: the weekly routine visits to the MTC to give shots<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh32jfwcVJcusDRgHI86bZcj1uotgfTRBT8IYu6Jc0U86fU4p9dgE2pEY7_stC5316GzZB3gpXvUCgS-vsRTN9keNoXLjxtRY2CufYvwBcZiVXgVQ8-KF7FelHdmQ8eA5Hax0S6GceT69s/s1600/IMG_0563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh32jfwcVJcusDRgHI86bZcj1uotgfTRBT8IYu6Jc0U86fU4p9dgE2pEY7_stC5316GzZB3gpXvUCgS-vsRTN9keNoXLjxtRY2CufYvwBcZiVXgVQ8-KF7FelHdmQ8eA5Hax0S6GceT69s/s320/IMG_0563.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
and health lectures,<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AZEuufKE_Us/Teaxkqe3d6I/AAAAAAAAAwc/tPycDn308lM/s1600/IMG_0567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AZEuufKE_Us/Teaxkqe3d6I/AAAAAAAAAwc/tPycDn308lM/s320/IMG_0567.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
to Ho in the Volta Region for the closing of an LDS Charities Neonatal Resuscitation Program, <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EXtOowL8Rdw/Tea0YH7E4jI/AAAAAAAAAwg/SdLaERvQF7c/s1600/May+2011+koolpix+photos+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EXtOowL8Rdw/Tea0YH7E4jI/AAAAAAAAAwg/SdLaERvQF7c/s320/May+2011+koolpix+photos+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-go0ca_KNfnQ/Tea1BD9mlUI/AAAAAAAAAwk/BVso9PzWxWs/s1600/May+2011+koolpix+photos+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-go0ca_KNfnQ/Tea1BD9mlUI/AAAAAAAAAwk/BVso9PzWxWs/s320/May+2011+koolpix+photos+011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
to Nsawam with Rebecca Tetteh and her mother to get new shoes for Rebecca,<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWwSY6t1e0K5K1Cz9ZmP_AFllyecyCsTi4GqBuxWY5oi46sHh6K455Gbu-J7Z8bopTuXPgqgJxufQjNLUxYgpsGxkOv-fXAlm9XXwoNwrTTh88qRs_Ld_20ZKgvpyhoTHKnNnVtEdWXo/s1600/Marsha+cam+May+2011+193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWwSY6t1e0K5K1Cz9ZmP_AFllyecyCsTi4GqBuxWY5oi46sHh6K455Gbu-J7Z8bopTuXPgqgJxufQjNLUxYgpsGxkOv-fXAlm9XXwoNwrTTh88qRs_Ld_20ZKgvpyhoTHKnNnVtEdWXo/s320/Marsha+cam+May+2011+193.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
and several trips to the airport to pick up or deliver travelers. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Our time here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> is rapidly coming to a close and we will be returning to the states in fifteen days. The emotions we are feeling about seeing our home appear on the horizon are comparably overwhelming to the ones we felt seventeen months ago as we saw it disappear. We are trying to remain focused on the work but we find ourselves looking longingly at each airplane that takes off from the airport, knowing that we will soon be on one. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Stay focused! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-74216888212823294252011-04-30T03:33:00.000-07:002011-05-04T01:36:39.248-07:00What happened to April?<div class="MsoNormal">It seems like just a day or two ago that I was working on the last blog entry on fabric, fashion, and footwear. That was the end of March. And now it is the last day of April. What happened? I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them to find that the world declared the month of April as the Royal Wedding month. Did anything else happen during the month? Thank goodness the wedding is over. No marching bands, nor military parades, nor cathedrals for us but we have been busy. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We traveled to <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> and Axim.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDj4CTXo45QjVmk-fUJvIIpYU1ZNLO5OaKOLqUNyv9EnaIM367jiS1oouWwPXzXOcAgFUQKWOyQ7XD3YV6eSbcvz1n14Sg0i1PlfPa0-qoG8aJr0eGd6cSi4bjQ7QnuyqK9Jq4fFf1Qs/s1600/Lou+Moon+lodge+078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDj4CTXo45QjVmk-fUJvIIpYU1ZNLO5OaKOLqUNyv9EnaIM367jiS1oouWwPXzXOcAgFUQKWOyQ7XD3YV6eSbcvz1n14Sg0i1PlfPa0-qoG8aJr0eGd6cSi4bjQ7QnuyqK9Jq4fFf1Qs/s320/Lou+Moon+lodge+078.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2uIFzqpx2SnjpwLm_uayc2Fbjd72P-FLVM3wLpOb7g8VekyyEOT0-v3z0dtUiAWW7csUaX43kkjnLghgSKByLgig_KYzIqLEHIE8yfZ5m9OLiAv9oRrpR0rpSvzmk-ZtkfWzaMj6nx0E/s1600/Lou+Moon+lodge+088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2uIFzqpx2SnjpwLm_uayc2Fbjd72P-FLVM3wLpOb7g8VekyyEOT0-v3z0dtUiAWW7csUaX43kkjnLghgSKByLgig_KYzIqLEHIE8yfZ5m9OLiAv9oRrpR0rpSvzmk-ZtkfWzaMj6nx0E/s320/Lou+Moon+lodge+088.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our accommodations in Axim.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
We spent four days in <st1:place><st1:city>Abuja</st1:city>, <st1:country-region>Nigeria</st1:country-region></st1:place>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrAifl4Du2xI7dlbWmk6FRJkeFpqEvM1MapJh3wjtq1H3FZFDaoOtpeDXkAztyzBqdJwyrGqJZiO3ny-fLRJXY5MN4LHka0Zq1iC0GnrzUCWr-7Y_rZc9n_cBqC2oTJKiHBQf9RpUdRo/s1600/Abuja+photos+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrAifl4Du2xI7dlbWmk6FRJkeFpqEvM1MapJh3wjtq1H3FZFDaoOtpeDXkAztyzBqdJwyrGqJZiO3ny-fLRJXY5MN4LHka0Zq1iC0GnrzUCWr-7Y_rZc9n_cBqC2oTJKiHBQf9RpUdRo/s320/Abuja+photos+019.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We had a wonderful time with Kim Woodings who came to visit for a week.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExZlkIlHE2VgFAClmcmze_mFd10iHhk4q37ibpBqFccljGTJ1SQr9R5KdXT8FX9rfPfSdEaUNSkrGycuHBRqvs9wy5wDQjxovwjxeNDs8HEksQHraXf0lqlDndyaXvpjPl-s0nAlIySQ/s1600/D70+pictures+April+2011+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExZlkIlHE2VgFAClmcmze_mFd10iHhk4q37ibpBqFccljGTJ1SQr9R5KdXT8FX9rfPfSdEaUNSkrGycuHBRqvs9wy5wDQjxovwjxeNDs8HEksQHraXf0lqlDndyaXvpjPl-s0nAlIySQ/s320/D70+pictures+April+2011+024.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qdTxppLNMM8/TbvF2t90FnI/AAAAAAAAAug/y084usRRacI/s1600/D70+pictures+April+2011+122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qdTxppLNMM8/TbvF2t90FnI/AAAAAAAAAug/y084usRRacI/s320/D70+pictures+April+2011+122.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kim and Marsha shopping for batik.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPWCCLaveKEQ-XbFXayRAtez0TdpinT_mA3C1NTq8MV6ISyx7BSbA6VnN2gNmqHkq2l3_FCeM0MVZ_qzMp5k5nO5ebxduY4Q7Dw26mh_oi10lmuLhUEltJvxAmdsugYNpKndKSPFwtnA/s1600/Marsha+camera+April+2011+103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPWCCLaveKEQ-XbFXayRAtez0TdpinT_mA3C1NTq8MV6ISyx7BSbA6VnN2gNmqHkq2l3_FCeM0MVZ_qzMp5k5nO5ebxduY4Q7Dw26mh_oi10lmuLhUEltJvxAmdsugYNpKndKSPFwtnA/s320/Marsha+camera+April+2011+103.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kim is a dear friend from <st1:city><st1:place>Boise</st1:place></st1:city>. She is an administrator at <st1:place><st1:placename>Boise</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>State</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>University</st1:placetype></st1:place>. She enjoyed being here and was able to purchase some of the BSU football batik shown in the last blog entry.<br />
<br />
We spent an evening with Devon Hale, M.D. a professor of medicine at the <st1:place><st1:placetype>University</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Utah</st1:placename></st1:place>. He is an infectious disease specialist and probably knows more about the unique diseases of <st1:place>West Africa</st1:place> than most of the African doctors. He is always a wealth of information.<br />
<br />
And we have spent a lot of time taking care of missionaries. It has been busier than usual, with a lot of unique medical problems this past month. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The flame trees are in full bloom. They dominate the green background with their bright red/orange blossoms. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvsNK6rOYW3hm31ebxPB_q3fQaEsjcAAiYMCq3bUaktrcXr-rvQWIHGA1E7ZKyv3VdjDTUH4sCgXU4MwpA3Mmh3RT9kptPGd9PHfMMXcwGynhsZyf5tbJ6-hT3yA0mj4-tiNIvFLS2lVc/s1600/Marsha+camera+April+2011+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvsNK6rOYW3hm31ebxPB_q3fQaEsjcAAiYMCq3bUaktrcXr-rvQWIHGA1E7ZKyv3VdjDTUH4sCgXU4MwpA3Mmh3RT9kptPGd9PHfMMXcwGynhsZyf5tbJ6-hT3yA0mj4-tiNIvFLS2lVc/s320/Marsha+camera+April+2011+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There is also a second tree blooming right now. It is a yellow tree, similar in color to the forsythia of home. It, too, is stunning to see.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VNff9z-SDiBisE-w6kbSriXkyoJtUeyyw8ObvtIyWJxiwc6v8zThgXSN-K_P6hDKvAWp_Bm5eAwggUCtatN3SDerk_tkmv2qtKhc-QZ8bxT4r3N9MZuKQXj88Q4Q72JxuCen_B1l_WY/s1600/Marsha+camera+March+2011+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VNff9z-SDiBisE-w6kbSriXkyoJtUeyyw8ObvtIyWJxiwc6v8zThgXSN-K_P6hDKvAWp_Bm5eAwggUCtatN3SDerk_tkmv2qtKhc-QZ8bxT4r3N9MZuKQXj88Q4Q72JxuCen_B1l_WY/s320/Marsha+camera+March+2011+014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The fence around the vacant lot visible from our kitchen window has been painted.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZipSkWZHM2uParBGoBTAcj6AHgjDHkOs1mtiQPWBOT2TrBN5h3lXMlXZfm8bO1q_E23Gv2ifcREoD0L199efRu3HV4QqRurmDA2Nu76IxvV_tykkn5Xmo1lJCjywN9tE7nA7TXGO1jSI/s1600/Nikon+D70+FebMar+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZipSkWZHM2uParBGoBTAcj6AHgjDHkOs1mtiQPWBOT2TrBN5h3lXMlXZfm8bO1q_E23Gv2ifcREoD0L199efRu3HV4QqRurmDA2Nu76IxvV_tykkn5Xmo1lJCjywN9tE7nA7TXGO1jSI/s320/Nikon+D70+FebMar+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBeVk7PmH8i4SVtIRMpMbBXXKK-eXong-CFpvNvfOiMbUDgpuybbtzQlJs0T0Y6rClxsbpennrI5JfboVXp3G63HUrkXc6Lwm09pRwG4xaNFThEJn6zVuRG7IgqQgo6JvQgxhfgp1WU0/s1600/Nikon+D70+FebMar+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBeVk7PmH8i4SVtIRMpMbBXXKK-eXong-CFpvNvfOiMbUDgpuybbtzQlJs0T0Y6rClxsbpennrI5JfboVXp3G63HUrkXc6Lwm09pRwG4xaNFThEJn6zVuRG7IgqQgo6JvQgxhfgp1WU0/s320/Nikon+D70+FebMar+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is a very beautiful blue. It reminds me of the temporary fencing at Sea World that is erected to close off a part of the complex while a new attraction is being built or remodeled. It is exciting to imagine that Shamu might be coming to <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> but the reality of local construction is readily seen from our kitchen window with three unfinished projects staring at us across the view of the vacant lot. No work is being done on any of them: a Hilton Hotel, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvkL4es7SFx0ExNliJcOZH6PNchkE88rAN4gjeNZXXNoUj0yUYmcjeZc1j0qvu64uJO563uj3YcUgHvU26qao7z2v2kh4vAXF7ncPT8kfQ0-FA_8e69AyNSQI2NxP3xTRaispXYYNzzU/s1600/Hotel+pictures+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvkL4es7SFx0ExNliJcOZH6PNchkE88rAN4gjeNZXXNoUj0yUYmcjeZc1j0qvu64uJO563uj3YcUgHvU26qao7z2v2kh4vAXF7ncPT8kfQ0-FA_8e69AyNSQI2NxP3xTRaispXYYNzzU/s320/Hotel+pictures+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzxI5F0OLHWWJQiLSz3fHNM-hPgpoUZ9yKDnvCiX8BFiswAa3PnrjZ4sfdrG9wra6JqY0uGiz_qhklVmH6oRycI5DPbkfNOjylKBlgy6Xh5v8ca3MqgpLasv3-pq6b3MfWnPaLddO6l3w/s1600/Marsha+camera+April+2011+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzxI5F0OLHWWJQiLSz3fHNM-hPgpoUZ9yKDnvCiX8BFiswAa3PnrjZ4sfdrG9wra6JqY0uGiz_qhklVmH6oRycI5DPbkfNOjylKBlgy6Xh5v8ca3MqgpLasv3-pq6b3MfWnPaLddO6l3w/s320/Marsha+camera+April+2011+006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcE1Fo7_x4mK1gImQqDg0rekTVvCg58Q1PoFG3xgD5eqXqwzDL2WgYIcQ3kXL9SydRAVdVGn0giNKxJy9ZcyOwLBwOY3LQukwv9RC2JPnzd8NifilZBkU5VJeZc1LjA7r3fI1fbp_Cgw/s1600/Koolpix+photos+012+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcE1Fo7_x4mK1gImQqDg0rekTVvCg58Q1PoFG3xgD5eqXqwzDL2WgYIcQ3kXL9SydRAVdVGn0giNKxJy9ZcyOwLBwOY3LQukwv9RC2JPnzd8NifilZBkU5VJeZc1LjA7r3fI1fbp_Cgw/s320/Koolpix+photos+012+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sign says "COMING SOON".</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">a Marriott Hotel, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKfhoJz-B0p1_UXc7KmuxUZKp_wn3usTJV4JQHGfqSU-Bv5Ak40nY7Vg2kgJbE5xGrsa8a2MgfJPiHLLtCj2aME45ZlgoZ3nMZdFbVbMKTc6ABaqJPyFENrjgcEDJrSS_0CT86w0vIJk/s1600/Hotel+pictures+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKfhoJz-B0p1_UXc7KmuxUZKp_wn3usTJV4JQHGfqSU-Bv5Ak40nY7Vg2kgJbE5xGrsa8a2MgfJPiHLLtCj2aME45ZlgoZ3nMZdFbVbMKTc6ABaqJPyFENrjgcEDJrSS_0CT86w0vIJk/s320/Hotel+pictures+004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-fMWp5WeEeUCOi_PKWBbaGEmf-6XLgQZ-AV85hZYoVYF7GTKHls4DJOI3HOBL5o_p_Pw9r-o-rhp9zPrOoFfxAXkmFAdAR8g7Qp87UHWQTi_yQyWPGQS7qByXshtBqXuM-MWogX-QuA/s1600/Koolpix+photos+014+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-fMWp5WeEeUCOi_PKWBbaGEmf-6XLgQZ-AV85hZYoVYF7GTKHls4DJOI3HOBL5o_p_Pw9r-o-rhp9zPrOoFfxAXkmFAdAR8g7Qp87UHWQTi_yQyWPGQS7qByXshtBqXuM-MWogX-QuA/s320/Koolpix+photos+014+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">and a high rise building named the <st1:place><st1:placename>Marina</st1:placename> <st1:placename>Mall</st1:placename></st1:place> (where are the boats?)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqoM3-gZ9mAx0xB6uDO7SlyFHVe8SobD3H7s7obhO_bOUK4r8tFR_dLGBlF-jjybfHTNmjZ0JJyVVjsMHnhCmOUwqLzuexsXj7a_2mX2Ewf99u4OovW79LSqET-oKBIEYqVXp86kWqvY/s1600/Hotel+pictures+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqoM3-gZ9mAx0xB6uDO7SlyFHVe8SobD3H7s7obhO_bOUK4r8tFR_dLGBlF-jjybfHTNmjZ0JJyVVjsMHnhCmOUwqLzuexsXj7a_2mX2Ewf99u4OovW79LSqET-oKBIEYqVXp86kWqvY/s320/Hotel+pictures+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3k8wt4R4GoiDP6XHXj_PY5tiirg2ZmCMLdXc48soCq4fvRjP9lGk6a1r-B7xFMaiIG5IWyLfuGzsmQb2nN4DE0_OJkMwo5FSt1LrHNaW6aF4QLHHIDZ6N_oQF6QChrZPDyIe5YKOhVI8/s1600/Koolpix+photos+013+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3k8wt4R4GoiDP6XHXj_PY5tiirg2ZmCMLdXc48soCq4fvRjP9lGk6a1r-B7xFMaiIG5IWyLfuGzsmQb2nN4DE0_OJkMwo5FSt1LrHNaW6aF4QLHHIDZ6N_oQF6QChrZPDyIe5YKOhVI8/s320/Koolpix+photos+013+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is the proposed building that is to be built on the vacant lot.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUxqdJnG5yIJqJBoiWOAu9_7XiR7OU_IN5dEfX7vz5RH_a1mvq7totPt3XE9v2l0KXJUhTxhCby7YUPn-vhyXbRhxTqww2rDfGuz5IrRdVMa2IZDzyiL7GQC5Y3NqKt4ARc7vRtZrhbYU/s1600/Marsha+camera+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUxqdJnG5yIJqJBoiWOAu9_7XiR7OU_IN5dEfX7vz5RH_a1mvq7totPt3XE9v2l0KXJUhTxhCby7YUPn-vhyXbRhxTqww2rDfGuz5IrRdVMa2IZDzyiL7GQC5Y3NqKt4ARc7vRtZrhbYU/s320/Marsha+camera+030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I doubt that it will ever be constructed as evidenced by this similar advertisement</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC6rdceasEsi8wGmUZBu_t8AzUL5pntPCsP8Hbz1eQgobz0YWR31RfKQNyAggaaG7NbYRMOeSEs5BV1fuLzwdjttdS911kjziJh7YCYDnpquQ7SKF0NmHNglZORMmelgk1cg2SUbniyqI/s1600/Koolpix+photos+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC6rdceasEsi8wGmUZBu_t8AzUL5pntPCsP8Hbz1eQgobz0YWR31RfKQNyAggaaG7NbYRMOeSEs5BV1fuLzwdjttdS911kjziJh7YCYDnpquQ7SKF0NmHNglZORMmelgk1cg2SUbniyqI/s320/Koolpix+photos+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">that has been standing along the Tema Motorway so long that the steel posts holding it up are rusting and will probably break with the next strong wind. In reality it is a good thing that Shamu is not coming to <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. He would probably be eaten shortly after his arrival. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We had a paradigm shift this month. You know what a paradigm shift is. It is a change in ones circumstances, due to scientific discovery or personal insight, that makes one look at the world in a different way. Paradigm shifts occur all of the time, kind of like sub threshold earthquakes. Most are minor. But some are big time paradigm shifts such as when Copernicus proved that the sun, not the earth, was the center of the universe. I have had many paradigm shifts in my life, especially as a young man, when I realized that the world was not made up the way I had thought it was, such as when I discovered that Wonder Bread did not really build strong bodies thirteen ways, and that a little dab of Brylcreem actually didn’t do it. Here is what a paradigm shift looks like.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDCiTZAtp5dgZMsaZHnS_-biLWAFN7A_2DD_UOBzjwNkSKCaKdPISISL99IvQEt51Wt5i9imaChopnrpb3EsxV4l4D01_TGcIfCF_eZUmC5lrgG9sJDeQxsSaXNRLIM7n_mfWsiWpnmf0/s1600/Marsha+cam+Mar+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDCiTZAtp5dgZMsaZHnS_-biLWAFN7A_2DD_UOBzjwNkSKCaKdPISISL99IvQEt51Wt5i9imaChopnrpb3EsxV4l4D01_TGcIfCF_eZUmC5lrgG9sJDeQxsSaXNRLIM7n_mfWsiWpnmf0/s320/Marsha+cam+Mar+007.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">The paradigm shift that has occurred here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> happened the first week of April when all of the street hawkers disappeared. To the best we can tell the local government decided that they were hazards to driving and ordered them off the streets. Probably figured they were getting in the way of the crazy motorcyclists. We don’t know the details of the punishment but the ban has been pretty effective. There are only a few brave ones still working the intersections. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a real disappointment to me. I have had to change my perception of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. I have experienced a paradigm shift. I have to look at <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> in a different way. Prior to the first week of April when I would conjure up a mental image of Accra I would think first of the myriad numbers of men/women/children walking among the cars selling items such as automotive supplies, food/fruit/drinks, clothing, exercise equipment, household goods, and personal items such as umbrellas, hair trimmers, etc. I have enjoyed the visual display each day. Driving up and down <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Ave</st1:address></st1:street> has been the equivalent of seeing a Wall Mart walk by your car windows. Marsha and I have slowly become converted to drive by shopping. We have purchased food and drink, clothing, household items, and fabric (of course.) And now it is all gone. What a disappointment. I’ve been pondering for several months a blog entry entitled Shopping Comes to You. But it probably won’t happen now that that the hawkers are gone. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I made another ornithology discovery this past month. I have previously tried to describe some of the bird sounds we hear on a daily basis. [blog entry dated <st1:date day="14" month="8" year="2010">14 August 2010</st1:date>] One of the sounds I attributed to the “bubble up” bird. Here is a link to the sound: <span class="apple-style-span"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">http://www.xeno-canto.org/embed.php?XC=43434&simple=1" scrolling=no frameborder=0 width=340 height=160> </span></b></span>This is the bird that makes the sound. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2pEAdiVqkEWU_uuFzm9ib7Q75f4jBaVSPH08Fl931wVLRPmziwMZYYkdJZoTQWkYKogg42ISrp3ZtPfzUTI2JkpmqCavdOX74PxE2RswOpTm5nlwCKWidmnnfz6YyAB24IuVrKW1ycs/s1600/Nikon+D70+March+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2pEAdiVqkEWU_uuFzm9ib7Q75f4jBaVSPH08Fl931wVLRPmziwMZYYkdJZoTQWkYKogg42ISrp3ZtPfzUTI2JkpmqCavdOX74PxE2RswOpTm5nlwCKWidmnnfz6YyAB24IuVrKW1ycs/s320/Nikon+D70+March+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the radio tower outside our window.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is a <st1:country-region><st1:place>Senegal</st1:place></st1:country-region> coucal. These birds are very difficult to observe while making their sounds. Marsha and I drove into the office complex a couple of weeks ago and heard the “bubble up” sounds as soon as we stepped out of the car. I started looking around in the trees of the parking lot but couldn’t see anything. After a few minutes of searching I finally found this bird in the tree right above our car. He/she was tucked in among the leaves and was minimally visible. Now that I know what to look for he/she is easier to find when we hear his/her melodic sound. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have a follow up comment about the last blog entry. In describing local fashion I purposefully left out one style seen on a frequent basis. I want to mention it briefly here. It is unfortunate, but there are many mentally unstable people who live on the streets of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. They are easily recognized by their behavior and their clothing. They tend to walk aimlessly among the pedestrians, talking to themselves, shouting, or shaking their fingers or hand at those around them. And they are always dressed in either black/dark brown rag clothing because the clothing has been worn daily for years and never washed, or no clothing at all. It is disturbing to observe. It is an unfortunate reflection of the inadequate mental health facilities here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. It is sobering. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One such man lives about three blocks from us. He lives under a tree on the side of <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Avenue</st1:address></st1:street> and has an area under the tree where he piles all sorts of paper goods and then covers them with palm branches. He leaves his tree each morning and walks the streets of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> gathering more items for his pile. Every month or so someone comes along and burns his paper pile. But it doesn’t stop him. He starts his collection again. Marsha and I have become accustomed to seeing him each day. In fact, if we miss him for several days we worry about his welfare. The reason I mention him is because of his iconoclastic fashion. Unlike the other mentally unstable people on the street he doesn’t wear black/brown rags. He gives new meaning to organic clothing. He wears layer upon layer of paper items. He is a walking paper recycling bin. I have wanted to photograph him but have not done so out of respect for his mentally unstable world. He always wears something on his head. For most of the time we have been here it has been a woman’s hand bag, and a good looking one, such as a Gucci knock off. Shortly after my last blog entry on fashion we noticed that he had changed his hat. He had a flat hub cap on his head tied under his chin, kind of a metal sombrero. (Remember the cartoon Calvin and Hobbes? They often wore the hubcap hats.) He has worn it now for a month. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is a pathetically sad situation, but a humorous one. Even the mentally unstable can be trend setters. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We have to go to <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> to give a health lecture today. I am going to close for now. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-91473919341737577512011-03-27T15:45:00.000-07:002011-04-17T09:04:30.531-07:00Fabric, Fashion, and Footwear, Part One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Warning: this is a long entry, don't start reading if you've got important things pending, like water on the stove ready to boil, or if your dog needs to go outside to the bathroom. Sorry. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqD3auu-LhJsSevlhDdSJKgs1odLavGB_iApanwZanU3_gmWaVNg90_pKxgYiYJXwV4BbSx14EdRiL_KHiWl1Y4eecanN_V8JtPHTIa8cMuKP6s_IaB3U2yeDT_6uMqNx_WM0fsvWGLyQ/s1600/Esther+fabrics+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqD3auu-LhJsSevlhDdSJKgs1odLavGB_iApanwZanU3_gmWaVNg90_pKxgYiYJXwV4BbSx14EdRiL_KHiWl1Y4eecanN_V8JtPHTIa8cMuKP6s_IaB3U2yeDT_6uMqNx_WM0fsvWGLyQ/s400/Esther+fabrics+025.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">batik</b> -- noun<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 5.25pt; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">1. A method of dyeing a fabric by which the parts of the fabric not intended to be dyed are covered with removable wax.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 5.25pt; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 5.25pt; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">2. A design that is created by this method.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 5.25pt; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">3. Fabric dyed by this method.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 5.25pt; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Before coming to Africa if a mad scientist had put me in a laboratory experiment to measure my response to certain words, a kind of word association test with monitors attached to measure pulse, sweating, pupil dilatation, salivation, gastrointestinal motility, etc., he, or more likely she in this situation, would have seen little physiologic response elicited by the word “batik,” no different from what my response would have been to “corduroy,” or “flannel,” and quite unlike what my response would have been had she said “sawzall,” “hammer” or “drillpress.” But now, having lived over a year in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>, the batik <st1:city><st1:place>Mecca</st1:place></st1:city> for fabric pilgrims, things have changed. I get as excited thinking about batik as I do when I think about woodworking tools.</div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Let me explain how batik is made in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. The white fabric is first stamped with melted paraffin from a design cut on the surface of a foam block. These are examples of the blocks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_mBTKGnBs6Q/TYu5Re706vI/AAAAAAAAArs/qoKzcQt4S0o/s1600/batik+factory+072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_mBTKGnBs6Q/TYu5Re706vI/AAAAAAAAArs/qoKzcQt4S0o/s320/batik+factory+072.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This is a demonstration of stamping. The melted paraffin is in a large bowel to this woman's right. She dips the foam block into the paraffin and then stamps repetitive designs until the paraffin is gone from the block.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSeN11Tqhl_Tqa7PT_ibJvQEhlzoMzhwSN1xOQDAPSHAY_plP-TlnaO9dS4bUH7HpZE121PGenv1VkGEJrUyi1VJiY3Gd1JMa5Ah082ITJhvlY3kHAjs8_1jWvzAw2ex6iuElTehBXbuM/s1600/batik+factory+082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSeN11Tqhl_Tqa7PT_ibJvQEhlzoMzhwSN1xOQDAPSHAY_plP-TlnaO9dS4bUH7HpZE121PGenv1VkGEJrUyi1VJiY3Gd1JMa5Ah082ITJhvlY3kHAjs8_1jWvzAw2ex6iuElTehBXbuM/s320/batik+factory+082.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The wax is allowed to dry and the fabric is soaked in a dye</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIthKH3vQvLIQqQ_RLx4zUzapc5E3jI9MXzJgTrhalCy3oFBBaiTTVzHWGqLWusUoz-tKKVVBh-qsLpkEn6gXrHWBWvQ47xOY1_4Z0LdzLKuQzt4prVd2guskZJYezgz6con0w1m93urI/s1600/P1030838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIthKH3vQvLIQqQ_RLx4zUzapc5E3jI9MXzJgTrhalCy3oFBBaiTTVzHWGqLWusUoz-tKKVVBh-qsLpkEn6gXrHWBWvQ47xOY1_4Z0LdzLKuQzt4prVd2guskZJYezgz6con0w1m93urI/s320/P1030838.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">which is absorbed into all of the fabric except where the wax is present. The fabric is dried</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0CHenL8GzNZh86YwKoSM0hxxF6eDfR7J6QkQKhbtxXCZ_hJr17LWqcK0_52RDsUP7GQePpt1z6mIf7k0kjBRIlGslD35YQOkjsZTuOLGxlzCQlQoH7qn_RuFLG9dxuJ-hTCVT8uYwaE/s1600/batik+factory+068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0CHenL8GzNZh86YwKoSM0hxxF6eDfR7J6QkQKhbtxXCZ_hJr17LWqcK0_52RDsUP7GQePpt1z6mIf7k0kjBRIlGslD35YQOkjsZTuOLGxlzCQlQoH7qn_RuFLG9dxuJ-hTCVT8uYwaE/s320/batik+factory+068.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span>and then stamped again,<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDRhnhRyEJTBmvUFABMM-SCePwhL7hhtdrRK3JLQcxTEOrRPXIQkW0KM-j7_Z3OnOy0R3DQ8b9Ur7pvokO3xOyVduUYZsbWb88vykVSTQtfl4-qqNxGLKbjTzRs5jLRdch4JFecelowU/s1600/038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDRhnhRyEJTBmvUFABMM-SCePwhL7hhtdrRK3JLQcxTEOrRPXIQkW0KM-j7_Z3OnOy0R3DQ8b9Ur7pvokO3xOyVduUYZsbWb88vykVSTQtfl4-qqNxGLKbjTzRs5jLRdch4JFecelowU/s320/038.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
or brushed,<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Es01Jpa78JKiSJDZkm6670facLSS7JkbMGfzjsqrN9_BV9RD3E5JXhCRyiglI4myaBVg2AORc4XyXC56VS6gw4xMtFn9XaVY0kFNlSVWWSxbIaOxLv3SfOGKYIarpuqd7X4lDgfCFxE/s1600/040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Es01Jpa78JKiSJDZkm6670facLSS7JkbMGfzjsqrN9_BV9RD3E5JXhCRyiglI4myaBVg2AORc4XyXC56VS6gw4xMtFn9XaVY0kFNlSVWWSxbIaOxLv3SfOGKYIarpuqd7X4lDgfCFxE/s320/040.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
and dyed again. This process can be repeated up to four colors. The fabric is then boiled to remove the wax,<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ySZ62WRkiyE/TYw7P4DA6BI/AAAAAAAAAsE/OwGAlWpOQPk/s1600/batik+factory+077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ySZ62WRkiyE/TYw7P4DA6BI/AAAAAAAAAsE/OwGAlWpOQPk/s320/batik+factory+077.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
dried one last time, folded and prepared for market.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4XGAK4txAGoFrhi8mkAjf8JwMPnMIHQ3EjFh7O2JKrdUy4m8CoEoQeVOw3cPG-zbHlpdZ7BYSUg3jb3ivMJNB86DYg8bDhClivVqeqab3vuZZm14_JIwl35HDjqw0tvttjZFGK64nPok/s1600/batik+factory+083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4XGAK4txAGoFrhi8mkAjf8JwMPnMIHQ3EjFh7O2JKrdUy4m8CoEoQeVOw3cPG-zbHlpdZ7BYSUg3jb3ivMJNB86DYg8bDhClivVqeqab3vuZZm14_JIwl35HDjqw0tvttjZFGK64nPok/s320/batik+factory+083.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A lot of people make batik here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>, most of them in their own homes, producing one or two rolls at a time (each roll is about 10 – 12 yards in length.) These individuals usually sell their rolls in stalls along the roadside. Other places, like the “batik factory” in the pictures above, are more elaborate with many employees</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Xaw0FUGfE1PWs3Mee0lGYehJX9sCZyjjaeXtBVcTLFn9KnLo2t7TWVK5-7rGM2WDtj6TvuFSgrGcBK4ojP8UJfBDq9zu84ijmVlCj_8-Xa6KMVS_4e_9OP6JPxzsCd9kAaNcuF5ODIY/s1600/batik+factory+078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Xaw0FUGfE1PWs3Mee0lGYehJX9sCZyjjaeXtBVcTLFn9KnLo2t7TWVK5-7rGM2WDtj6TvuFSgrGcBK4ojP8UJfBDq9zu84ijmVlCj_8-Xa6KMVS_4e_9OP6JPxzsCd9kAaNcuF5ODIY/s320/batik+factory+078.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and large setups, producing as many as 20 – 30 rolls a day. Some of the batik is quite elementary with one color and a simple design. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ob2GbWEYVlg/TY2b3TUk0nI/AAAAAAAAAso/MNIjG4_rk2w/s1600/Nikon+D70+March+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ob2GbWEYVlg/TY2b3TUk0nI/AAAAAAAAAso/MNIjG4_rk2w/s320/Nikon+D70+March+009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Other batiks are more artistic with multiple colors and intricate designs. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UuD5HLr5nqA/TY2cX9ueC1I/AAAAAAAAAss/H4gCZaSGO7s/s1600/Marsha+cam+Mar+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UuD5HLr5nqA/TY2cX9ueC1I/AAAAAAAAAss/H4gCZaSGO7s/s320/Marsha+cam+Mar+037.JPG" width="297" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyE1bLXBCWss8vGsB9Q1OHsE7g5_ExUlocLfa4_i0ZsbrhCk_27CoHZoL2lG_4pIKhAXDqQs6fNzVBc4Yocv2bgNNX6mjBWnp_yWA3tAnerxN551TX8Mp_swGiZR-0iW_Bt1ED1p70ys/s1600/Koolpx+Mar+2011+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyE1bLXBCWss8vGsB9Q1OHsE7g5_ExUlocLfa4_i0ZsbrhCk_27CoHZoL2lG_4pIKhAXDqQs6fNzVBc4Yocv2bgNNX6mjBWnp_yWA3tAnerxN551TX8Mp_swGiZR-0iW_Bt1ED1p70ys/s320/Koolpx+Mar+2011+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVhesxnyOb_3HmP7KWCJKSX3Zu3huezBTisTCy6oljiiWqxSgOuwIUYkpMcO9_P6qLHOUfDNYCJeg4TdkVWvG0VNdmTr3-XKmKVmMMc5NM4PcL_XB1IUoHcGT0Kl8aUsGAy_1p6HPTrQ/s1600/Marsha+cam+Mar+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVhesxnyOb_3HmP7KWCJKSX3Zu3huezBTisTCy6oljiiWqxSgOuwIUYkpMcO9_P6qLHOUfDNYCJeg4TdkVWvG0VNdmTr3-XKmKVmMMc5NM4PcL_XB1IUoHcGT0Kl8aUsGAy_1p6HPTrQ/s320/Marsha+cam+Mar+041.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FO1flhsofao/TY9D_JE0I2I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/PxG8tHBFTRY/s1600/Marsha+cam+Mar+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FO1flhsofao/TY9D_JE0I2I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/PxG8tHBFTRY/s320/Marsha+cam+Mar+046.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Most of the time the fabric is very tightly woven, almost like silk. Occasionally it is very thin and paper like. It takes a skilled eye to appreciate the colors and designs and a delicate touch to discern the quality. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In the opinion of many, and I think rightly so, Marsha has become the Accra Queen of Batik. She knows where the batik is made, the different varieties of batik fabric, the different designs, etc. She knows where to go to acquire the best. In short, she has become the African equivalent to the Great White Hunter of fabric safaris, and I, as her gun bearer, or more properly, her money carrier, have learned much from her fabric hunts. (If you think I jest, two weeks ago a new American senior missionary here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> called on my phone and asked if she could talk to Marsha, because this missionary had heard that Marsha was the “Queen of Batik.” I don’t make this up.) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Our favorite place for batik is Esther’s. </span>(There is no name on her store.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-N2Mj5ebbeOs/TYw97k0bT7I/AAAAAAAAAsM/sAnSfLM4Rm4/s1600/Esther+fabrics+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-N2Mj5ebbeOs/TYw97k0bT7I/AAAAAAAAAsM/sAnSfLM4Rm4/s320/Esther+fabrics+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This is Esther.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3FvCW12rSHS6JVEDvQBWMBHiNuYtLdWB5qOdcSTlav-NLiBhCjheDpYx2NRs_G9WH1e98Kf1WXq1EaTICBXQmevBI2hLKcEX58Z4gx1nMAP3Xj44ktN_yRYVUcu8c_qv5OLpgVJ0kqE/s1600/Esther+fabrics+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3FvCW12rSHS6JVEDvQBWMBHiNuYtLdWB5qOdcSTlav-NLiBhCjheDpYx2NRs_G9WH1e98Kf1WXq1EaTICBXQmevBI2hLKcEX58Z4gx1nMAP3Xj44ktN_yRYVUcu8c_qv5OLpgVJ0kqE/s320/Esther+fabrics+016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Esther has been producing batik for over twenty years. She has an incredible eye for colors and makes about 6 - 8 new prints each week. She can recall all of the Americans that have been regular visitors to her store. She makes her batik in her home employing family and friends. These are some of the choices of batik in her store.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6A5OVjelZZajw5_uoGK2UKFFW8g9qyrIzXKidiwIAq_1QwR_gtsKZ8uKHUqn9RqFas0FfE4nmyPTM1dsgNZC-JQONON6tpH76FRwvSPqAWsbkNFyD4ctJfdpw4LAppAmbaDpuUcJWrRQ/s1600/Esther+fabrics+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6A5OVjelZZajw5_uoGK2UKFFW8g9qyrIzXKidiwIAq_1QwR_gtsKZ8uKHUqn9RqFas0FfE4nmyPTM1dsgNZC-JQONON6tpH76FRwvSPqAWsbkNFyD4ctJfdpw4LAppAmbaDpuUcJWrRQ/s320/Esther+fabrics+037.JPG" width="270" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTTdhxZgFuMFh-oT5NR9OjVYM_8OXTySQhCdPs7bhTJE7sYfphRmPq8OQtJeXnIdcx8guG66Y21eIGSoB7jnp9Y1ngdMv_nK4w1S8zpcvWV3inKwHFZhB5OBCb8jxbXzBYBb8kKFUzoM/s1600/Esther+fabrics+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTTdhxZgFuMFh-oT5NR9OjVYM_8OXTySQhCdPs7bhTJE7sYfphRmPq8OQtJeXnIdcx8guG66Y21eIGSoB7jnp9Y1ngdMv_nK4w1S8zpcvWV3inKwHFZhB5OBCb8jxbXzBYBb8kKFUzoM/s320/Esther+fabrics+040.JPG" width="316" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-6zgX9afj6zY/TY2SGnpVfnI/AAAAAAAAAsg/JV6i3B5r7bg/s1600/Esther+fabrics+036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-6zgX9afj6zY/TY2SGnpVfnI/AAAAAAAAAsg/JV6i3B5r7bg/s320/Esther+fabrics+036.JPG" width="315" /></a></div><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLqTlmL4p7ZZEE4pV-O47v4vHJdwq_DCbXZUbJzytqkYGwAlSGnUeGfBBayERMZej9nqajVlyFCy1tFOSbXIxAGwXqf49K1_NL8Okad4xwxdcgUYibnRr9ZCePibnoiTti7y7HLf7aY4/s1600/Esther+fabrics+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLqTlmL4p7ZZEE4pV-O47v4vHJdwq_DCbXZUbJzytqkYGwAlSGnUeGfBBayERMZej9nqajVlyFCy1tFOSbXIxAGwXqf49K1_NL8Okad4xwxdcgUYibnRr9ZCePibnoiTti7y7HLf7aY4/s320/Esther+fabrics+008.JPG" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the BSU football batik!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Having been with Marsha looking for batik many, many times (we have been to Esther's enough that she has started kissing me on the cheek like a relative) I now start salivating, my pupils dilate, and my heart rate picks up when Marsha says “lets go look for batik.”<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZmiobo4h0zCOKYKzHtxrJ-SZtyzEiewDJhZNOGV6DUTwkPE4q8Dc6ZijPpg3LevnHpXzzCYOAXv9K3qeJjygmmddRwpQ5tOnW_2b0P3yPvxLURgTd9SMRKaFn9ULv7UuI7KXebSxLs4/s1600/march+Coolpix+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZmiobo4h0zCOKYKzHtxrJ-SZtyzEiewDJhZNOGV6DUTwkPE4q8Dc6ZijPpg3LevnHpXzzCYOAXv9K3qeJjygmmddRwpQ5tOnW_2b0P3yPvxLURgTd9SMRKaFn9ULv7UuI7KXebSxLs4/s320/march+Coolpix+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A successful batik outing! Marsha has washed the fabric and it is drying.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
I need to write something about kente cloth, a traditional cloth associated with Ghanaian tribal weavers, but I do not have enough information to present an accurate description. There is more history about kente cloth than I have been able to discover. We have visited the weaving villages three times. Here is a photograph of our most recent visit.<br />
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The villages continue traditional weaving and teach the techniques to the younger generations. All of the village weavers do a variety of designs but each village usually has one or two designs that have been a part of that village for many years. In the past kente cloth was associated with the ruling chiefs and their families. In one of the museums here in Accra there are samples of kente cloth over a hundred years old. <br />
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Enough of fabric. Let me say a few things about fashion and footwear. <br />
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I would characterize the fashion of Accra, in general, as being either Daily Casual, which I would describe as American Goodwill (I would venture to say that most of the t-shirts, button shirts/blouses, pants and skirts worn here are American donations),<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare single car accident without a light post involved.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Makola market</td></tr>
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or Sunday Best, which I would describe as Fabric on Display (none of which is American donation.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Batik dress and head wrap; kente cloth on the shoulder.</td></tr>
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The exceptions to these two styles are the children and teenagers who are required to wear uniforms to school,<br />
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and the Muslim women, who always have their heads covered (see blog entry dated 31 January 2011.) In regards to Daily Casual, both men and women tend to wear clothing that is modest: t-shirts or button up shirts/blouses with long pants, knee length shorts, or dresses. They will occasionally wear muscle shirts/tank tops, but, for the most part, there is very little skin exposed. Even when the men are working hard they tend to keep their shirts on.<br />
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Many of the t-shirts are reminders of American culture of the 80's/90's and the early 00's. I have seen a lot of Chicago Bulls and Miami Dolphins tops, reflecting the immense popularity of these two teams when they were winning, and the quick donation of tops to Goodwill when the teams started losing. I have seen t-shirts advertising high school proms and family reunions, athletic events -- a lot of 5K and 10K runs, popular foods and drinks, and charitable events such as a t-shirt this week with "Kid's Food Basket" on the front, and "Attacking hunger in Grand Rapids" on the back. I am very confident that the Ghanaians understand the meaning of the shirts as little as I would understand a shirt advertising African tribal traditions. <br />
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In contrast to the Monday through Saturday casual dress, which is pretty homogeneous, and quite truthfully, monotonous, the Sunday dress is a visual feast. On Sunday all of the businesses shut down and everyone goes to church. Because a large part of the residents of Accra do not drive private vehicles (hard to believe when one looks at the crowded roads) the Sunday pedestrian traffic is a walkway for Ghanaian fashion. All of the women are dressed in their best outfits. And they are all stunning. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">They wear colors that look OK on a white person -- fuscia, orange, pink, lime green, red, etc. -- but, as Marsha describes it, against the African's skin these colors "pop." The men frequently wear traditional tribal clothing which consists of a long sleeve pajama type pullover made of brightly colored fabric with matching pants. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kathy Froerer and Marcus Ogbonna</td></tr>
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If the men are not wearing traditional tribal clothing on Sunday they wear white shirts and dress pants. They like long sleeve shirts (I cannot understand why the long sleeves, I am uncomfortably hot in short sleeves) with cuff links. I would dare say, again, that all of the white shirts are American donations because of the frequent number of Ghanaian men I have seen wearing tuxedo shirts, proudly displaying their cuff links but totally unaware of why there are multiple folds on the front of their shirts. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am very impressed that the Sunday dress for both men and women is spotlessly clean, disproportionately so for the amount of dirt and debris that one has to navigate through on a daily basis. I can hardly go to work and back each day without coming home with dirt or a stain somewhere on me. I don't know how the Ghanaians keep their Sunday best so clean. And it is hard to understand why this Sunday dress can be so immaculate when the daily casual dress often appears to be one week overdue for laundry. The Ghanaians obviously love their Sundays and the clothing they wear on that day. </span><br />
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Footwear is an easy description. This is a photograph of the footwear of the day, worn by most of the Ghanaians on the street. <br />
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We have seen these open toe sandals so thin, especially the flip flops, that they would better be described as cardboard sandals. And we have frequently seen these sandals repaired with tape to get a few more months of wear. The street hawkers all wear them. Marsha and I cringe as we watch these street hawkers move in and out of traffic while dodging the motorcyclists who are driving between the cars, all the time oblivious to the fact that their feet are in constant danger of being run over. Last week we observed a woman sitting on the sidewalk in Tema sobbing and holding one foot, we assume because it had been run over by traffic. We are amazed that we don't see it each day. Here is one of the many places to buy open toe sandals. I think the boxes are where one sits when trying on the shoes. <br />
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The other style of shoe seen occasionally on the streets, but most of the time in businesses and at church, is a closed toe shoe. Both the open toe and closed toe shoes are second hand donations. When you buy these shoes you don't ask for a size, say 8 1/2 B, instead you choose the style/color and look to see how much the shoes are worn. Here is another place where one can buy shoes. <br />
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I honestly do not think that one can purchase new shoes, those that come in a box with tissue paper wrapped around them, anywhere in Ghana. Even the biggest shoe store in the Accra mall carries only used shoes. Just like any shoe store in the USA this store has the shoes on display on racks. However, only one of the pair of shoes will be on the rack. If you are interested in the shoe the clerk will obtain the second one and you can examine the pair closely and try them on assuming you don't mind wearing someone else's shoes. We found some Ferragamo shoes in a smaller store in the mall one time, and they looked like new ones, but they didn't come in a box which means they were still second hand, or we suppose, surplus.<br />
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We have recently noticed a shoe style worn by the Ghanaian men that we hope is not fashionable in the states. I call the shoe a Pinocchio shoe, something that one would imagine an elf, or a leprechaun, or some other imaginary creature would wear, which, just like Pinocchio's nose, looks like the front of the shoe has grown out of proportion to the main part . I recently stood next to a man and glanced down at his feet and noted this style of shoe with the tip of each shoe at least four inches beyond where his toes would have been with a central line of small, sequin type shiny stones from the top of the shoe to the tip of the toe. I wanted so badly to discretely take my camera out and photograph these shoes but I knew it might have been perceived as being rude. I should have commented on how stylish his shoes were and asked if I could take a picture in order to find similar ones, but by the time I had decided to follow this line of reasoning we had parted. This is a picture of similar shoes, just not quite as long and pointed. Look carefully at the man in the middle. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>So much for fabric, fashion, and footwear. If you're still reading this I hope your water hasn't boiled over, or your dog hasn't made a mess in the house.<br />
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I have invited Marsha to write Fabric, Fashion and Footwear, Part Two. She is working on it. <br />
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Final comment. We are still occasionally asked what we do here in Ghana. One would think that it is obvious that a physician in Africa would do doctor type things. But some who read this blog think I am a photographer (that's a joke as evidenced by the quality of the pictures) and/or a writer (another joke.) I am not. What I write in these entries represents what we observe while going about our full time doctor work. For the majority of each day I am on the phone or the computer dealing with missionaries throughout West Africa having medical problems. Because of confidentiality issues I cannot write about most of that doctor work. I can write about what I observe in our travels. My time spent on writing blog entries occurs at off hours -- night time and on the weekends. And most of the time the entries are random thoughts prompted by observations made during the previous weeks, nothing which requires a lot of thinking, this current entry being the exception, where I have had to work really hard on a topic I would have not otherwise written about. <br />
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It's Sunday night and I'm tired. And the new week begins in the morning. With only twelve weeks of time remaining on our mission I am going to have to be selective about entries. There is so much more I would like to write about than I have time.<br />
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I don't know if I'll get to the four levels of sweat. <br />
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</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-62076399885502088772011-03-15T00:04:00.000-07:002011-04-11T00:25:27.738-07:00Gates of Ghana<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The plumeria trees are blossoming.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjd9QJcFssDk9xF7VcS5A3i8gEOdeW7nsk4SpZ5cyeqKXFM58YgUnAY0zgCdqILhXO_sCKI38Uusefv0utXpu1fS5dazgu-iQ3QBJP1S50qmfgi-jaddgifSz0YDPvqS7eyUQnm06kYY/s1600/Marsha+camera+125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjd9QJcFssDk9xF7VcS5A3i8gEOdeW7nsk4SpZ5cyeqKXFM58YgUnAY0zgCdqILhXO_sCKI38Uusefv0utXpu1fS5dazgu-iQ3QBJP1S50qmfgi-jaddgifSz0YDPvqS7eyUQnm06kYY/s320/Marsha+camera+125.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Marsha and I had an “aah-ha” experience this week. You know what an “aah-ha” experience is. It is a brief moment when the light bulb clicks, when enlightenment and understanding flow into your mind at a time you least expect it, for example, when you are staring at the large holes in your cedar fence, wondering what kind of a cruel person would have done such damage to your property, and why would he have made such unusual holes only a foot off the ground, and as you are trying to figure out this puzzling situation you see your dog run up to you grinning with cedar splinters in his mouth. Aah-ha! <br />
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Marsha and I were in our small kitchen at the same time, which we try to avoid because of its size – I can simultaneously touch the countertop on two opposite walls and am about one foot short of touching the countertop on the third wall and the door to the kitchen on the opposite wall -- because when we are together in the kitchen each of us has to directly visualize the other before making quick moves, especially when sharp instruments or hot dishes are involved. Marsha was preparing food on the one available counter top and I was putting away dishes. I opened the cupboard above her head intending to put away the plates. I said “above you” to warn her of the incoming plates. Without looking up from her food preparation she replied “I love you, too.” I stopped putting away the plates. She turned to see why I had stopped. I looked at her, puzzled by her unexpected reply. She looked at my quizzical expression and was similarly puzzled. And then we had the “aah-ha” moment. We simultaneously figured out the communication – the light bulbs clicked -- and said, quietly, “Oh, isn’t this growing old together going to be fun!” “Above you, I love you, too” has become our new mantra. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Speaking of dogs we saw a yellow lab this week. He was full size and on a leash and was being held at bay at an intersection. We had only a fleeting glimpse of him as we drove by but we could see the characteristic <st1:place>Labrador</st1:place> enthusiasm for life: the sparkling eyes, the smile, the excitement of being outdoors, and the straining on the leash wanting to get going. It brought back fond memories of our previous dogs, despite the holes in the fence. We both wondered if this lab even had the faintest idea that he was living in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>. Probably not. And he didn’t care. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have been working on a blog entry about really important topics: a double light pole crash, a “twofer” (one car taking out two poles – I even have a blurry picture to prove it), more cockroach encounters (we have had several more cockroach encounters just as we did last March, it must be the season of African cockroach migration, like the Great Wildebeest Migration in the Serengeti during the month of July), Accra gastronomique delights, such as chicken light soup and banku eaten Ghanaian style,</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV0Dodemen2G-h9w_M__NQSbHcV9aHo7ABA0Mt9HwHUMmNYnaZ3hJAeZfbfThmL57c9nwslM4FapmMdrN1CojXJMXm6zOOHFZ0Dim78U6QXD3itF2PygttHPQ1yks6rz1Otb2pq15hFjQ/s1600/ELDERMAUGHANWOW.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV0Dodemen2G-h9w_M__NQSbHcV9aHo7ABA0Mt9HwHUMmNYnaZ3hJAeZfbfThmL57c9nwslM4FapmMdrN1CojXJMXm6zOOHFZ0Dim78U6QXD3itF2PygttHPQ1yks6rz1Otb2pq15hFjQ/s320/ELDERMAUGHANWOW.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">and sweating in Africa (I thought because of the hot season this would be a great topic to talk about.) But Marsha has strongly suggested that I skip these boooooring topics and instead focus on things appealing to a wider audience, meaning men and women, not that all women would be turned off by sweat. So I, I mean we, are going to prepare a blog posting on Fabric, Fashion, and Footwear. Marsha says it will help me get in touch with my feminine side, whatever that means. The four levels of sweat will just have to wait.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Because our exposition on Fabric, Fashion, and Footware is not quite ready to post I will show some photographs of gates in the neighborhood. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is the gate to Alema Court, our apartment complex.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-qwghT3W6kHs/TX73dWiG5qI/AAAAAAAAAqk/wi1_jO2dSiI/s1600/Marsha+camera+March+2011+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-qwghT3W6kHs/TX73dWiG5qI/AAAAAAAAAqk/wi1_jO2dSiI/s320/Marsha+camera+March+2011+041.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">These are some entries to other apartments.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-U78w2gNviRlam-6e_NLoP3jPORUnIJc_ulS-mYjjcQfh5wb6EYeJ2Tii-4lLLCw1wcjZ141X3O1cvAPuZjOCcZREBQgS2t2zqrLhuSI5Iw0Xh32UtYeWTcs5TPhBBlce3g9V9JzCiE/s1600/Marsha+camera+March+2011+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-U78w2gNviRlam-6e_NLoP3jPORUnIJc_ulS-mYjjcQfh5wb6EYeJ2Tii-4lLLCw1wcjZ141X3O1cvAPuZjOCcZREBQgS2t2zqrLhuSI5Iw0Xh32UtYeWTcs5TPhBBlce3g9V9JzCiE/s320/Marsha+camera+March+2011+024.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIJc4Fkn87GByHCIPJkssbuIzVhyphenhyphenDl50qubFkqvlKiVWuJvuB8H7rGvt-tRVahGdmU0SRFYnuw00firytP8v0Pc3qIgYX__kucXTzMMRXBTsz-K4rQogC6GfoAu149iB30X54FxBoZRQ/s1600/Marsha+camera+March+2011+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIJc4Fkn87GByHCIPJkssbuIzVhyphenhyphenDl50qubFkqvlKiVWuJvuB8H7rGvt-tRVahGdmU0SRFYnuw00firytP8v0Pc3qIgYX__kucXTzMMRXBTsz-K4rQogC6GfoAu149iB30X54FxBoZRQ/s320/Marsha+camera+March+2011+037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIARZ_UQ6WJP2I2b23TJLmZF5FRfl2g9IfZ8vyDucy-zJWkhCWJ93-8E-VP3ThDwBADlyHS6CNyc6y9JiIe5mzWOUcXptqX7J0va4pC348iJDAnkaZOz9jWxR8kgpPps8a__lbchA-KVk/s1600/March+photos+Koolpix+065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIARZ_UQ6WJP2I2b23TJLmZF5FRfl2g9IfZ8vyDucy-zJWkhCWJ93-8E-VP3ThDwBADlyHS6CNyc6y9JiIe5mzWOUcXptqX7J0va4pC348iJDAnkaZOz9jWxR8kgpPps8a__lbchA-KVk/s320/March+photos+Koolpix+065.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1znl5JX2Ntf_IKDwcw2rF83wlZEJS_EuoQ6PiZiOrjk_uuLie8yWIYrO3Ld4IoGBZGmeCH9Lo5KkxmL6GZql3Zaslg7njrYpHCvb26dT66JBvT2geLDJ8LGdRpUnDRM2rNFyF7kxT1QM/s1600/March+photos+Koolpix+053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1znl5JX2Ntf_IKDwcw2rF83wlZEJS_EuoQ6PiZiOrjk_uuLie8yWIYrO3Ld4IoGBZGmeCH9Lo5KkxmL6GZql3Zaslg7njrYpHCvb26dT66JBvT2geLDJ8LGdRpUnDRM2rNFyF7kxT1QM/s320/March+photos+Koolpix+053.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">These are gates to private homes. Note the detail at the bottom of the gate of this first one.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLzQga5htLQ3S4TT1f6ti88mj-0MBZ1DJqKcx7PrQM9BAN68ZWeRpGS9tM9QC9cq3kixwj2gG9BgzbIxU1z7xcnkbpA0Alp00j3chnjhNgsOikaXrltuq9-zNa3FiVRczfo_3Ux1wOdO4/s1600/Marsha+camera+March+2011+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLzQga5htLQ3S4TT1f6ti88mj-0MBZ1DJqKcx7PrQM9BAN68ZWeRpGS9tM9QC9cq3kixwj2gG9BgzbIxU1z7xcnkbpA0Alp00j3chnjhNgsOikaXrltuq9-zNa3FiVRczfo_3Ux1wOdO4/s320/Marsha+camera+March+2011+019.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjj2hJitThH5fZTwwa8MC5MpHGr0A1Y0zGxuaK5mRm3zirhDnNLwEpPm-b1Qi6ij_05QOrlENBp2aN5ziNDkz4O8bxuNghwTz3fMsN2bmwO83iGzHSIDAiRMyU49vGYiTHtEA939q27A8/s1600/DRM+koolpix+March+2011+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjj2hJitThH5fZTwwa8MC5MpHGr0A1Y0zGxuaK5mRm3zirhDnNLwEpPm-b1Qi6ij_05QOrlENBp2aN5ziNDkz4O8bxuNghwTz3fMsN2bmwO83iGzHSIDAiRMyU49vGYiTHtEA939q27A8/s320/DRM+koolpix+March+2011+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0r_CuB9R4d8IcNAi__obHDU1tT34ecFIdUBp84yWc6yk0Pi78zXTEzGzCn8tur7zEssE4MJMqhDEOkvn5QMYsRVq1dzUiYJ5h3QCy7wGrcLdlSZNQj4LHpKyzN-rAhmsBXsL5o_f14A/s1600/March+photos+Koolpix+054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0r_CuB9R4d8IcNAi__obHDU1tT34ecFIdUBp84yWc6yk0Pi78zXTEzGzCn8tur7zEssE4MJMqhDEOkvn5QMYsRVq1dzUiYJ5h3QCy7wGrcLdlSZNQj4LHpKyzN-rAhmsBXsL5o_f14A/s320/March+photos+Koolpix+054.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4PUAYuwWcNoesnkcIJUWGOjaQOErN3kn5JanW5JY1JLU3v5ve1U43nUFc8qdF_aDAMf4p8Pflk0wazRcQna9zs2gwL0ADbl7p0qidsxcQrJjjgfn7hWOgQqhPcloxZI4as3I4amSlCo/s1600/March+photos+Koolpix+051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4PUAYuwWcNoesnkcIJUWGOjaQOErN3kn5JanW5JY1JLU3v5ve1U43nUFc8qdF_aDAMf4p8Pflk0wazRcQna9zs2gwL0ADbl7p0qidsxcQrJjjgfn7hWOgQqhPcloxZI4as3I4amSlCo/s320/March+photos+Koolpix+051.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDwEIfGnwyMWFeHQFiBzsU1IKztpGJpcBIr_YYVEvjPQPQFvX6BeHYEUZKxlfyWkx0zpO1C9pFNHKri4emZ1925SvKKHwBl11ICofoXy-RAGserQOSe3r9bcEPxbpmeZU8KrOqp7175s/s1600/March+photos+Koolpix+058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDwEIfGnwyMWFeHQFiBzsU1IKztpGJpcBIr_YYVEvjPQPQFvX6BeHYEUZKxlfyWkx0zpO1C9pFNHKri4emZ1925SvKKHwBl11ICofoXy-RAGserQOSe3r9bcEPxbpmeZU8KrOqp7175s/s320/March+photos+Koolpix+058.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIggfM65WNm1PuPjMTJon8kRVsyHwGrasWiy__2qF4REQDgqbDD9WiYwYjVy70pKxnYx6au0P1CMbc01NVa-EdB9Vt7DpnRedN753SKyfi_8J6KbXwNFg9l4sk9KMFEFXo3yiaj43kIs/s1600/March+photos+Koolpix+050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIggfM65WNm1PuPjMTJon8kRVsyHwGrasWiy__2qF4REQDgqbDD9WiYwYjVy70pKxnYx6au0P1CMbc01NVa-EdB9Vt7DpnRedN753SKyfi_8J6KbXwNFg9l4sk9KMFEFXo3yiaj43kIs/s320/March+photos+Koolpix+050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTFnTtqNNblLWPubs9s2lFpX9UmtrZCNqxlLTHR3aBMx8XEex2xJIwEyijLPWuxDYrtyOiyNDdU57fKfufHTIQg-cs5LlJFMdUTpi43qo3Ts_WK1UYjr5h99miTxoOMKzcjGg7rtAbPU/s1600/March+photos+Koolpix+052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTFnTtqNNblLWPubs9s2lFpX9UmtrZCNqxlLTHR3aBMx8XEex2xJIwEyijLPWuxDYrtyOiyNDdU57fKfufHTIQg-cs5LlJFMdUTpi43qo3Ts_WK1UYjr5h99miTxoOMKzcjGg7rtAbPU/s320/March+photos+Koolpix+052.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is the entry to a complex of three homes very near us, recently built, allegedly belonging to someone who is involved with the gold mining here in Ghana. The homes are probably the nicest we have seen in Accra. The gates have panels of 1/2 inch stainless steel that have been acid washed to take away the sheen. A little over the top, perhaps, but then gates of gold would have been too ostentatious. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeC177TN0p1Cm14Hg8KMYi8OzVT5nj1PzVR8DhxRsILwYcmkTGEHqIC-wH9hXP9lLSUp80PnMC30li2f-H2PyuFl-w1uL8LMCPKoBQ6Pt_wBxf9_ojMYMM4lSyF7OJPls1Ez_f8yoCMXY/s1600/Marsha+camera+March+2011+039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeC177TN0p1Cm14Hg8KMYi8OzVT5nj1PzVR8DhxRsILwYcmkTGEHqIC-wH9hXP9lLSUp80PnMC30li2f-H2PyuFl-w1uL8LMCPKoBQ6Pt_wBxf9_ojMYMM4lSyF7OJPls1Ez_f8yoCMXY/s320/Marsha+camera+March+2011+039.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Please don't look at these gates and get the impression that all of the housing here is really nice. Except for this last one the gates are probably the nicest part of the apartment/house. Just as in so many other things of life, first impressions tend to be most emphasized. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Here is a closing photograph of another beautiful child. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEgj1zPjoer_0a0momlUYJP-5E7mfMWp-nOLA0Ph8dPxF8TKRu7KtMAg6ZzHEJI32srUQHjN4G2fFRmcYw9E1M67JvCzeA8N00lRDvmiXJoNk5XvHDXGgf6VDGwIaR_i6LZTEOiZFMuxQ/s1600/Nikon+D70+FebMar+054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEgj1zPjoer_0a0momlUYJP-5E7mfMWp-nOLA0Ph8dPxF8TKRu7KtMAg6ZzHEJI32srUQHjN4G2fFRmcYw9E1M67JvCzeA8N00lRDvmiXJoNk5XvHDXGgf6VDGwIaR_i6LZTEOiZFMuxQ/s320/Nikon+D70+FebMar+054.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-2753088102438806152011-02-28T15:26:00.000-08:002011-03-06T07:43:09.538-08:00End of February<div class="MsoNormal">[This entry is not complete. I am trying to figure out how to load an audio clip.]</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a follow up photograph of Thomas the wood carver. I made reference to him in the last blog entry. He is working at his workbench. He gave me permission to take his picture. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTVKmfryP-wVbh5llLcEXCGt_c8UOHN2NXI3795_CXEEgYODvUvI_7qG0sbYGUaKFUJTV-Lq88AWLX1iu5-pwRBTDJPFkz57a1VRLeN6qLkWQhdJYsRFWn80_4V_Wc7bRwHEunY3mKgc/s1600/Koolpix+photos+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTVKmfryP-wVbh5llLcEXCGt_c8UOHN2NXI3795_CXEEgYODvUvI_7qG0sbYGUaKFUJTV-Lq88AWLX1iu5-pwRBTDJPFkz57a1VRLeN6qLkWQhdJYsRFWn80_4V_Wc7bRwHEunY3mKgc/s320/Koolpix+photos+018.JPG" width="248" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We have just returned this morning from ten days of traveling in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Nigeria</st1:place></st1:country-region>. When I have time to review my notes and think about the trip I will try to write about it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Marsha and I had a new experience about two and a half weeks ago. The harmattan started clearing the first part of February and with the gradual clearing of the atmosphere the temperatures have increased. We are back into the <st1:stockticker>HOT</st1:stockticker> season and stepping outside at any time of the day, or night, is like stepping into a steam room. Ghanaians say this is the “dry” season (steam rooms aren’t dry??) and cooling of the temperatures is not anticipated until the rainy season begins in May. About two and a half weeks ago the morning started hot with a slightly overcast sky. By mid day ominous dark clouds had moved in creating the feeling of an impending storm. Marsha and I decided to drive home. We pulled into our parking lot just as the storm started. The rain was torrential. The thunder and lightning rivaled any that we had seen at home. And it continued all afternoon. We could look out from our porch and because of the heavy rain not see the vacant lot across the street.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/--uwAEGLvuqM/TWu-exYxGfI/AAAAAAAAApI/sGKl4q7R0mo/s1600/Koolpix+photos+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/--uwAEGLvuqM/TWu-exYxGfI/AAAAAAAAApI/sGKl4q7R0mo/s320/Koolpix+photos+038.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the street light that is on in the middle of the afternoon.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">We watched the rain on the front porch. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS83AHU3Naj11Gy0Q-pbnyWBq6FL2_oteZW4POhWBIrj04zRBYftzDNLULeCUJom8udfFpW6sN-sr1EuF-_wdXq8P2m9oA87jW5QQcy71S8VAou3t0lCHsCn7BSqnkZMYHkghVuI6BSrM/s1600/Koolpix+photos+042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS83AHU3Naj11Gy0Q-pbnyWBq6FL2_oteZW4POhWBIrj04zRBYftzDNLULeCUJom8udfFpW6sN-sr1EuF-_wdXq8P2m9oA87jW5QQcy71S8VAou3t0lCHsCn7BSqnkZMYHkghVuI6BSrM/s320/Koolpix+photos+042.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal">At about <st1:time hour="16" minute="0">four p.m.</st1:time> a muddy brown flood of water started coming under the gate in front. It flowed down the driveway toward us. It then split around our apartment and moved toward a storm drain to the east. Our car was parked near the storm drain. The water came up to the top of the wheel wells on the car. At about <st1:time hour="18" minute="0">six p.m.</st1:time> the storm let up and the flood water starting receding. Marsha and I stepped outside onto the back balcony to get a better look at the mess. As we did we experienced something completely new for us here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The temperature had dropped so quickly with the storm that we were actually COLD. (It was not that cold, probably 60 – 70 degrees F, but after 14 months of hot and hotter, it was the first time since arriving in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> that we did not feel some degree of hot.) It was an unusual sensation. We looked at each other and both commented on feeling cold, a sensation we had forgotten. It was refreshing. The temperature felt like those days in September when the sun is shining and it looks nice outside but you need to wear a sweater or light jacket to enjoy the day. We could have enjoyed it for several days. We didn’t need to run the air conditioners that night. By morning the temperature was back to steam room. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While we were on the balcony enjoying the cool temperature and surveying the storm damage we observed, in the fading light, a change in the evening bat routine. I have mentioned before that each evening, starting about 6 p.m., the bats leave their daytime resting places in the trees near 37 Military Hospital and fly to the north, almost in formation, for a night of feeding, or whatever they do all night. (Two wonderful childrens’ books have been published that explain what bats do at night: <u>Bats at the Beach</u> and <u>Bats at the Barn</u>.) We can observe their overhead flight for about fifteen minutes in the diminishing light of the day and then it is too dark to see them. I have tried to record this mass movement in flight on video but have not been able to do so successfully because of the inadequate light and the distance the bats fly above us. I would estimate that they fly about 50 – 75 meters above the ground, just too far above me to capture them on my inexpensive GoVideo recorder or on my point and shoot camera. I have tried many times. Each time the bats, if visible on the video at all, look like little unrecognizable dots in the sky, like specks of dust on the lens that need to be cleaned off. More commonly the bats are not even visible and the recording looks like some idiot is slowly taking a random video of the evening sky and the tops of trees, radio towers, buildings, etc. Trying to record this incredible phenomenon of thousands and thousands of bats flying through the sky has been unfulfilling. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The bats were different on the evening of the storm. Maybe the cold temperature messed up their navigation systems. Or maybe the moisture was still so heavy in the air that they couldn’t get altitude. But for whatever reason they were immediately above the apartment flying haphazardly in and around the trees. They were so close that with enough attempts and some luck I probably could have thrown a tennis ball and hit one of them. They were not in formation at all. They were totally random. They all looked like bats that would have failed sobriety tests. And they were making a lot of noise. We watched them for the fifteen minutes of fading light. And I tried, again, to capture them on video. I was a little more successful this time. You can actually see them!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzhcb3hH4JS8Dl9nwJXZc0fyuBh5iYrDqnsJB9ygQpb20QZ6hTQy2JZfOGIeKoGAGORY6w_6j8G9D1YRBLs0g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want to share a few other observations about the harmattan.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-p75Ol5kzDB8eaVG8jjLkEZEHiyj80ITd_g97sVAHP_2TnQtZ1vAx0fwBQLr-XLMSM9Y3_CNotq2beqZcSxJ2OmbBkFcFKCY6iDON4ba-wCqvuuiwK6A3TWhN4yDQb263t7l1nFC_RqE/s1600/17+January+2011+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-p75Ol5kzDB8eaVG8jjLkEZEHiyj80ITd_g97sVAHP_2TnQtZ1vAx0fwBQLr-XLMSM9Y3_CNotq2beqZcSxJ2OmbBkFcFKCY6iDON4ba-wCqvuuiwK6A3TWhN4yDQb263t7l1nFC_RqE/s320/17+January+2011+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is an unique phenomenon I think best described as a continuous dirty haze for two months. Just like el Nino, or global warming, I have heard Ghanaians blame it for everything from illness (“put vaseline on your lips to prevent pneumonia”) to unusual human behavior (“crime always increases during the harmattan.”) For the two to three weeks when it is at its worst it is like a dense smog indistinguishable from air pollution except for the lack of the acid smell. It is like a <st1:city><st1:place>Los Angeles</st1:place></st1:city> that doesn’t burn your eyes. It is a miserable two to three weeks. The only benefit is the temperatures are cooler because of the blanket effect of the sand in the atmosphere that cuts down on ultraviolet penetration. One of the doctors at Korle Bu, when I asked him to compare this year’s harmattan to other years, commented that it did not get as cold this year as it has in the past, recalling one of his years at boarding school when the nights were so cold that he had to sleep under several blankets. Personally, the most disturbing aspect of the harmattan, having now experienced two seasons, is the change in the color of the sky. When the harmattan is at its worst the sky is brown. Compare these two photographs of the same palm trees taken six months apart. You can easily tell which one was taken during the harmattan.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguyAU1ju3bvQA6hGG9poNqCh3g4VGGfbolQrg7MQIE0Mlg9UCvBmbQLGVPl3cP1cTmTujvhaoNs788AH4sYk8HJeJY-pl7KQzb9hGqg_-wIuGbI_XBkVS4kA8o7IxgI0XjbKF3jTI3fVk/s1600/Palm+trees+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguyAU1ju3bvQA6hGG9poNqCh3g4VGGfbolQrg7MQIE0Mlg9UCvBmbQLGVPl3cP1cTmTujvhaoNs788AH4sYk8HJeJY-pl7KQzb9hGqg_-wIuGbI_XBkVS4kA8o7IxgI0XjbKF3jTI3fVk/s320/Palm+trees+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqRRSV6v-v4pattwh32AKoYKnijJAtVMC-F-KP9ydp77UMDveeCmCFH96RYHaX4t34DuDFYIt6v6-soq7oUVEIt9ss2xA4J26pr5nabBs8QtUBBDoKTuKjrMg00Cr2vfgIrtax66Uxgt0/s1600/Jan+coolpix+photos+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqRRSV6v-v4pattwh32AKoYKnijJAtVMC-F-KP9ydp77UMDveeCmCFH96RYHaX4t34DuDFYIt6v6-soq7oUVEIt9ss2xA4J26pr5nabBs8QtUBBDoKTuKjrMg00Cr2vfgIrtax66Uxgt0/s320/Jan+coolpix+photos+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Even as the harmattan clears, as it has the past several weeks, the sky remains a gray color for several more months. If this sky were portrayed in a landscape painting you would ask why the artist did not put enough blue into the sky. Gray just isn’t natural. I reviewed my journal from last year and noted that the first time the sky looked blue – sky blue -- was in April. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Final comment about the harmattan. I need to bring up the LGU in order to describe this. (In case you’ve forgotten, LGU stands for the <u>List of Ghana Unexplainables</u>, my record of observations of life in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> that defy logical explanation.) Here is what I am adding to the LGU: during the three weeks that the harmattan was at its worst, when the haze was thick and brown and the atmosphere looked like a major health hazard, it seemed so stupid to do it but everyone started burning things – garbage piles, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6y4lbNvq_0K1I9OBcxzB7j9yUvWjbNMOiUYYs8NANAzw6EBF_xerSlxMuJe11FFipezw48aOa_LndtLlW2BPEV1I9xrihByrRZ3dkPvtnIGU8FkP7Hmyp8mT0oBFZgs1GXHVyoLtcGVU/s1600/Bird+in+the+tree+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6y4lbNvq_0K1I9OBcxzB7j9yUvWjbNMOiUYYs8NANAzw6EBF_xerSlxMuJe11FFipezw48aOa_LndtLlW2BPEV1I9xrihByrRZ3dkPvtnIGU8FkP7Hmyp8mT0oBFZgs1GXHVyoLtcGVU/s320/Bird+in+the+tree+017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">grass along the roadside, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-6t7WbEDPouEtYWRq5NpjiLxJBlLxBJXLtxUCyAvj_rZ6DdLQ5DMitUSdEATk_xJDjF17AErAC17nlpHpRMt8iF411zgMuIemf1eX-d8Po045hNgImt59yKtVOuQTAYwvhAmgYS-Fn0/s1600/Marsha+camera+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-6t7WbEDPouEtYWRq5NpjiLxJBlLxBJXLtxUCyAvj_rZ6DdLQ5DMitUSdEATk_xJDjF17AErAC17nlpHpRMt8iF411zgMuIemf1eX-d8Po045hNgImt59yKtVOuQTAYwvhAmgYS-Fn0/s320/Marsha+camera+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">and community trash.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1KIX0w8VT-tdAsQniyCcxTd44gPe-0r4UN29XV-a6LrWhD5mFcvhj0wNe8qWDv2tRvKuD7hbE6gobTY_Vq-1ddVHx9-w5QFrnl1EEc4yfk-4O6Z0-9gTXLgCiq7BdqCQtjCTdaJkZuYE/s1600/Nov+pictures+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1KIX0w8VT-tdAsQniyCcxTd44gPe-0r4UN29XV-a6LrWhD5mFcvhj0wNe8qWDv2tRvKuD7hbE6gobTY_Vq-1ddVHx9-w5QFrnl1EEc4yfk-4O6Z0-9gTXLgCiq7BdqCQtjCTdaJkZuYE/s320/Nov+pictures+017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It was as if someone in authority commanded the residents of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> to make a miserable condition even more miserable. Why? I have no explanation. Hence the addition to the LGU.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have a follow-up to a previous blog posting. Several months ago I mentioned the significant number of light posts that are damaged in one car accidents here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. (Blog entry dated <st1:date day="5" month="12" year="2010">5 December 2010</st1:date>.) Marsha and I recently observed another demonstration of this unique phenomenon. This most recent accident occurred on <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Avenue</st1:address></st1:street>, probably the busiest street in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. The vehicle that took out this light post hit the fence that divides the two lanes and took out a fifteen foot section of the fence, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZ18uncAcVPgJ5keu0jDCysNF664TCZ9SEYU9Fm-dh3b-kwVpX4ga_XcgCdmypjQ_iYHMrNn1qgnQJ6AmcoHOWWDuyY8P-cyXw3iyJNUHI2OOOqM8IAc1pnczU104C-iznI9Eiqzu52A/s1600/Mom%2527s+camera+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZ18uncAcVPgJ5keu0jDCysNF664TCZ9SEYU9Fm-dh3b-kwVpX4ga_XcgCdmypjQ_iYHMrNn1qgnQJ6AmcoHOWWDuyY8P-cyXw3iyJNUHI2OOOqM8IAc1pnczU104C-iznI9Eiqzu52A/s320/Mom%2527s+camera+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">crossed the two lanes of oncoming traffic, pushing the fence section the entire way, and then hit a light post 20 meters away, dead center.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDFQjbMzHw4GvuNj75sGrYOA-TRqyReGBfwvpnOcgJGXQz2qsemt86hUJ1PBo_nRDkDY2vKqnPNxDzESVpNMYDnwZC9w41M-ZjGP6emTP8a1y1-3PY0s9tVrVB1U0XyA9FH3F0a3kMy8/s1600/Mom%2527s+camera+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDFQjbMzHw4GvuNj75sGrYOA-TRqyReGBfwvpnOcgJGXQz2qsemt86hUJ1PBo_nRDkDY2vKqnPNxDzESVpNMYDnwZC9w41M-ZjGP6emTP8a1y1-3PY0s9tVrVB1U0XyA9FH3F0a3kMy8/s320/Mom%2527s+camera+004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The light post has paint on it from the vehicle that straddled it. Amazing accuracy! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>Yikes. I just read the last few paragraphs. It sounds pretty depressing. Unusual weather, fire, smoke and car wrecks. It sounds like script written for the NBC Nightly News, or what I remember of the evening news not having seen it for 14 months. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me share something more uplifting. Let me talk about birds. We have made some wonderful ornithology discoveries during the past two months. Late last summer I described some of the exotic bird sounds we hear each day. (Blog entries dated 14 and <st1:date day="28" month="8" year="2010">28 August 2010</st1:date>.) One of the four distinct birds we hear is the one I described as the Machine Gun Bird. [sound bite] Much to our gratification, and to our pleasant surprise, we recently heard this sound coming very loudly from outside our kitchen and discovered that this staccato call was coming from our Most Favorite Africa Bird, the Gray Headed Kingfisher.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59IVPOHNK9RA7jiBXPlwwUfFJT6BvItaKrr9QXibGZe7J_ggeOfRZrdpU2F2tyFB9thHROVdr-u9xA8CFLslKpYPbWcK8Pz2kCfuxfuk0vnTceDeDnCFtd2CmMo4jNqpkMSMCrwoDdAg/s1600/Christmas+D70+pictures+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59IVPOHNK9RA7jiBXPlwwUfFJT6BvItaKrr9QXibGZe7J_ggeOfRZrdpU2F2tyFB9thHROVdr-u9xA8CFLslKpYPbWcK8Pz2kCfuxfuk0vnTceDeDnCFtd2CmMo4jNqpkMSMCrwoDdAg/s320/Christmas+D70+pictures+003.JPG" width="238" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It was a moment of pleasant discovery. We hear the staccato call most every day but had only visualized the kingfisher three or four times in all the months here. The bird is obviously not seen as often as it is heard. Now that we recognize the source of this sound we are pleased to know that the Gray Headed Kingfisher which we had thought was so rare is actually around us a lot. He/she must be very shy. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is another discovery. I showed a picture of this bird two months ago. Click on the picture to get a better look.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQsgZ380uzLOe27QT-mYKW9AVcVVBpdCpkKgoKLIR8JeoZeef26xzbIAzasELusFYm3ngGLthLgJbA5xvQsAd4USJ8ifsfnzH_caGREROxviOHGxUerxSygG1GSKULTakovoBlyWMnbI4/s1600/Bird+in+the+tree+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQsgZ380uzLOe27QT-mYKW9AVcVVBpdCpkKgoKLIR8JeoZeef26xzbIAzasELusFYm3ngGLthLgJbA5xvQsAd4USJ8ifsfnzH_caGREROxviOHGxUerxSygG1GSKULTakovoBlyWMnbI4/s320/Bird+in+the+tree+016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I didn’t know its identity at the time of posting its photgraph. At that time it was sitting in a tree having a lunch of palm berries. I have subsequently learned that it is the Western Grey Plantain Eater. As I read about this bird I discovered that it is everywhere in <st1:place>West Africa</st1:place> (we noticed it in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Nigeria</st1:place></st1:country-region> last week) and it eats “fruits, especially figs, seeds and other vegetable matter.” Several weeks ago we observed this bird in the tree directly outside of our living room window. It was not eating palm berries. It was not eating fruits or figs. It was eating the blossoms on the tree branches. Here is a photograph of the Western Gray Plantain Eater consuming tree blossoms. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1R7TAFSnOgVrYfO8c7VoBc6KMrayQf7ZmDlnFDbPkItgWA65gs67xU9bjRj0rHNXhwYtYr1Nh1vDPfn_o_b3spOlcJ2XexoU_0YsO5yaRheOA6OY_fNiGXM34LrHXF8w2BsKtPs0p-r8/s1600/Bird+in+the+tree+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1R7TAFSnOgVrYfO8c7VoBc6KMrayQf7ZmDlnFDbPkItgWA65gs67xU9bjRj0rHNXhwYtYr1Nh1vDPfn_o_b3spOlcJ2XexoU_0YsO5yaRheOA6OY_fNiGXM34LrHXF8w2BsKtPs0p-r8/s320/Bird+in+the+tree+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I guess tree blossoms qualify as “other vegetable matter.” We watched it on a Saturday eat all of the blossoms on the tree, not just a few but all of them. It made for great fun trying to take photographs as the bird moved from branch to branch. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On that same Saturday we had a second ornithology experience. We were entertained by a flock of birds, unknown species as of this moment, that flew into the tree that the plantain eater had just deflowered and demonstrated the most unusual bird behavior we have ever seen. I took a dozen pictures of these birds, in one flock but looking like two different groups, that landed on adjacent limbs, faced each other, and proceeded to make a lot of noise, almost as if they were shouting at each other, and bobbed up and down on the tree branches, just like two groups of rivals taunting each other. The back and forth chatter and body bobbing lasted about five minutes and then the whole flock flew off. We mutually decided that this bird behavior reminded us of the encounter between the Sharks and the Jets in West Side Story. Finger snap, finger snap, “When you’re a jet you’re a jet all the way . . .” Maybe they were arguing over territory. Or maybe they were upset about the plantain eater that had just cleaned the tree and each group was blaming the other group for the blossom loss. Who knows. Here are just a few of the pictures that capture this gang behavior. Click on the picture to see the birds more closely.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvOBRqRHxyM25W0UaZN3nBijXyKWrSebiYokJ0Wv7XjgU77tgzlzvDFWNjnsYaU8Fy1LG3FB-Y-y29BJKLH_KcoFyK2738WLgpNs4FUC6CCaRZ_XvM2Aet1QTo33S6Ixcc0S0blwgAEU/s1600/D70+photos+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvOBRqRHxyM25W0UaZN3nBijXyKWrSebiYokJ0Wv7XjgU77tgzlzvDFWNjnsYaU8Fy1LG3FB-Y-y29BJKLH_KcoFyK2738WLgpNs4FUC6CCaRZ_XvM2Aet1QTo33S6Ixcc0S0blwgAEU/s320/D70+photos+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBa78CbpcWLMh0lLYP1RhNZpbTeJIWz70BRxjiie3IMePmqjft8k7eV48QQ4BcB2h77ARqKAD59txUcjp-A_On-5x-MjXd90GQ1ytiTucssCvaOXTLPI3Hq-Rsww0DF8kC6J_aR8UbWHs/s1600/D70+photos+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBa78CbpcWLMh0lLYP1RhNZpbTeJIWz70BRxjiie3IMePmqjft8k7eV48QQ4BcB2h77ARqKAD59txUcjp-A_On-5x-MjXd90GQ1ytiTucssCvaOXTLPI3Hq-Rsww0DF8kC6J_aR8UbWHs/s320/D70+photos+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the unusual bobbing the birds would do while chirping loudly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">We have seen these birds one other time and they did the same thing: two groups faced each other, and made a lot of noise and a lot of body bobbing gestures. I am still trying to find out the bird species.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here are two more recent birds, yet to be identified. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYycFi0Cjynvwus0Fy-lzrUpzc0Ww2r5YytxlkxIURhN95wCSl3fs2BLe6YuI4iHn4Xr_kBau7nSM8Opo4a8gGAcbSB00rXO4nPrOYGWBhP93024kUUMwZlGBpjBiKseVC_1jfb857m-c/s1600/Nikon+D+70+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYycFi0Cjynvwus0Fy-lzrUpzc0Ww2r5YytxlkxIURhN95wCSl3fs2BLe6YuI4iHn4Xr_kBau7nSM8Opo4a8gGAcbSB00rXO4nPrOYGWBhP93024kUUMwZlGBpjBiKseVC_1jfb857m-c/s320/Nikon+D+70+013.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOjY6m3acr34TXjh379SIikNEkA_xMQmwfuxLcQKq5bJJUHcFffUk10RaGtqhj8DlFw9m_x7mjfmzHNgwwU44jVOfU5ztDufV0_deQP08DYMFWlft6LHE9jsPEqG5-lSg06AINBF8SoQ/s1600/Nikon+D+70+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOjY6m3acr34TXjh379SIikNEkA_xMQmwfuxLcQKq5bJJUHcFffUk10RaGtqhj8DlFw9m_x7mjfmzHNgwwU44jVOfU5ztDufV0_deQP08DYMFWlft6LHE9jsPEqG5-lSg06AINBF8SoQ/s320/Nikon+D+70+014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have learned a lot about birds in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> as I have researched each new discovery. You will probably be excited to know that <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> has 754 species of birds, including two species that had been thought to be extremely rare or extinct and are now found only in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. (For comparison Idaho has 417 species.) Some of the birds found in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> have wonderful descriptions such as the Red-throated Bee-eater, the White-crested Helmetshrike, or the Yellow-headed Picathartes. (I wonder if the <st1:state><st1:place>Idaho</st1:place></st1:state> magpie has such a graphic description, perhaps it is the Black-and-White Winged Nuisance.) I have discovered that <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> has so many species of birds that it is very high on the list of hot destinations in the world for bird watching. You could have blown me away with that discovery. I have read every tourist guide book on Ghana available in Accra. Bird watching isn’t advertised in any of the ones I've read. I have not once seen an invitation to come to <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> to see the birds! I’ve never thought that some of the tourists wandering around <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> might actually be here on purpose, intent on observing birds, instead of here on accident thinking they were coming to a destination resort. I now look at the tourists walking the streets in a different light. I try to see if they are hiding very expensive binoculars. And I watch them to see if they are frequently scanning the trees.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> If you are so inclined to further your education about the birds of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>, or possibly want bird watching in Ghana tourist information, or if you just want a well written summary of birding in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> you might check out this web site: <a href="http://www.tropicalbirding.com/2010/08/30/trip-report-ghana-2009/">http://www.tropicalbirding.com/2010/08/30/trip-report-ghana-2009/</a>. Click on the link "View the full report." It is an entertaining and informative read. Note the discussion on the extremely rare Yellow-headed Picathartes found only in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Here is a picture of it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWmLh0EjV5QbPoZ9xQuuhmnOHkNG32VLm41hO8KN884hLTAGDiZ81WJ6TIPTKuOCRU3halm2DXBUPhPcELCru0IFfivSPczeLnWDfDa3iWSnxRKdqrlziscWLrUg5xGBjxHF35MgRdTc/s1600/Ghana12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWmLh0EjV5QbPoZ9xQuuhmnOHkNG32VLm41hO8KN884hLTAGDiZ81WJ6TIPTKuOCRU3halm2DXBUPhPcELCru0IFfivSPczeLnWDfDa3iWSnxRKdqrlziscWLrUg5xGBjxHF35MgRdTc/s320/Ghana12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Yellow-headed Picathartes appears to me to be the bird that served as inspiration for Kevin in the animated movie “Up”, just smaller and different colors.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">To demonstrate how much we have become accustomed to living here I want to mention that we had another cockroach encounter. (Encounter number four in the apartment, number five if you count the one at Mama Mia's.) I was in the office/bedroom when Marsha yelled (controlled yell, not a scream of fear) for me to come to the bathroom. The quality of the yell was consistent with one that might have been a request to help in looking for a dropped object, or perhaps an invitation to observe a new water leak. It was not a frantic call. There was no fear in the yell. As I arrived at the bathroom door Marsha calmly pointed to the cockroach in front of the sink. It was upside down, and obviously in the process of dying, undoubtedly because of an encounter with the cockroach paste that we have put down around the perimeters of all the rooms. The cockroach had obviously just smelled, ingested, or bathed in it, whatever method is required for producing death. As soon as I had observed the dying cockroach, and without even a request for assistance from me, Marsha smacked the cockroach, scooped him/her up in a Kleenex, and disposed of him/her down the toilet. We both commented on how far we have come since our first terror producing cockroach encounter. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here are some fun photos.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuuHovgbnyM3Htl4briSRRr6J4N4-Dqwe7brNQwNoG_V5hVpLTP5OJwrD51gzc6E8JD7-FqNRgOH2iz4vrPv5KhtfTagtdIYkk66akMhs7BpnM9V4to3U4jKGxlnusaD0GG65ffdFHx8/s1600/Nigeria+trip+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuuHovgbnyM3Htl4briSRRr6J4N4-Dqwe7brNQwNoG_V5hVpLTP5OJwrD51gzc6E8JD7-FqNRgOH2iz4vrPv5KhtfTagtdIYkk66akMhs7BpnM9V4to3U4jKGxlnusaD0GG65ffdFHx8/s320/Nigeria+trip+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFzH5Icdfozo7CA-zjNRUNR6LkkKzMliLg_I0dlS1ATspy5nke89B_SRoDiB-fgwziI2kRRk9JCXnusBMeJn6ZsMpoKR9DvzqaQQcIxuGCvJotH8tAM4YErjUkFfmwL5Nbe_A6vqnG6h0/s1600/Coolpix6+photos+044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFzH5Icdfozo7CA-zjNRUNR6LkkKzMliLg_I0dlS1ATspy5nke89B_SRoDiB-fgwziI2kRRk9JCXnusBMeJn6ZsMpoKR9DvzqaQQcIxuGCvJotH8tAM4YErjUkFfmwL5Nbe_A6vqnG6h0/s320/Coolpix6+photos+044.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you look closely at this second photo you will see three men climbing this radio tower. There were actually four of them but the one on the bottom was out of the picture. What you don’t see in the photo is the paint brush and bucket of paint each man is carrying. These four men were painting this radio tower by hand, starting at the bottom and painting to the top. I wish I could have remained long enough to see how these men were to get down from the tower when they had finished its painting. Talk about the proverbial “painting oneself into a corner.” How does one climb down a ladder when one has just painted all the rungs?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Last photo. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_km_e1zq0oZgh15gDNyvVXcHkG-XThf50oSc_kerfBiDFENtwPCEFCzfgara0Jc6iWm93ad8ydvIVT-xuiWjQxlXdFgmrRz7BmLOMbLzcNwFaYQaEQe6TUOK8CTH4V-5Zfu91YNQ_RuI/s1600/Christmas+Marsha+cam+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_km_e1zq0oZgh15gDNyvVXcHkG-XThf50oSc_kerfBiDFENtwPCEFCzfgara0Jc6iWm93ad8ydvIVT-xuiWjQxlXdFgmrRz7BmLOMbLzcNwFaYQaEQe6TUOK8CTH4V-5Zfu91YNQ_RuI/s320/Christmas+Marsha+cam+006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ghanaian women do a lot of cooking in big pots but these are the largest I have ever seen. I wonder what they cook in these??? They look big enough to seat two.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One last humorous incident. As our plane from Nigeria was approaching the Accra airport this morning we were advised to "make sure your tables are locked and your seats are in the upright position for landing." Routine message. We've heard it a thousand times and don't even think when it is announded. What we heard next was something new. Our ears perked up. The head flight attendant announced that one of the attendants was going to "spray the plane with bug spray." At that moment we could see a male attendant start briskly walking from the front of the plane, in the first/business class section, with two arms overhead, each hand holding a cannister, down the aisle toward the back of the plane spraying into the air a mist from each cannister. As he was doing this the head flight attendant assured us that the spray was "non toxic, but if you are concerned you might close your eyes and hold your breath." We closed our eyes and held our breath. We hypothesized that either Ghana didn't want to receive stowaway bugs from Nigeria, or that Nigeria didn't want one of its airplanes to be contaminated by bugs from Ghana. While we were discussing this new in flight experience, and making sure we didn't have any evidence of toxic damage, we noticed in the front of the plane, in first/business class, on the valence that comes down from the ceiling containing the "toilet vacancy" sign, a gecko running around the face of the sign. We watched the gecko for a minute or so. We both concluded that either the bug spray was so nontoxic that it didn't even stun the gecko, or, possibly, the gecko might be one of many geckos purposefully placed on board as back ups to eat any of the bugs not killed by the bug spray. Just as we were concluding that our hypotheses might be stretching things a little, we noted a winged insect, obviously not stunned by the spray and big enough to be seen from row 16, flying around the first/business class cabin. The gecko disappeared, we presumed, trying to get the bug. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh, the adventures never cease. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We will be leaving Ghana in less than four months. Is it really going to happen? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-87645520003454304372011-02-05T02:13:00.000-08:002011-02-06T22:53:45.400-08:00A Month of Sons – part 2<div class="MsoNormal">Just as it was when we arrived a year ago the internet at the apartment recently has been very uncooperative. Maybe it’s because of the harmattan. The internet doesn’t work a lot of the time. And when it does work it is painfully slow. Uploading pictures takes forever. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Christopher returned to the states on <st1:date day="1" month="1" year="2011">Saturday, 1 January 2011</st1:date>. Garrett arrived three days later. (Arrival photo on the 10 January blog entry.) We hardly had time to change the sheets. Garrett stayed with us two weeks. Just as with Christopher Marsha and I thoroughly enjoyed his visit and tried to savor each day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is his departure photo.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd25MDXxImX3G8chZOVnPcXqspFn0nAWOpB3uWsq_vOmZObCpxlquMsY3K8Hqwif8DzWtZPa1hAOw_M3VyJdi4fNmn3Upf2pRRXaXArg5yS4fZk3Q8foRKo9N8uTy08Fa8XP_tJI2mxj8/s1600/Coolpix6+photos+039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd25MDXxImX3G8chZOVnPcXqspFn0nAWOpB3uWsq_vOmZObCpxlquMsY3K8Hqwif8DzWtZPa1hAOw_M3VyJdi4fNmn3Upf2pRRXaXArg5yS4fZk3Q8foRKo9N8uTy08Fa8XP_tJI2mxj8/s320/Coolpix6+photos+039.JPG" width="305" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We were saddened to see him go but felt blessed that he, and Christopher two weeks earlier, had been able to share time with us here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Garrett did not experience any “culture shock.” He said, repeatedly, that <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> reminded him of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region>, the only difference being the language. He enjoyed interacting with the people. He worked very hard to learn some of the local dialect. I took him with me on a Saturday morning to participate in a church building clean up. He was immediate friends with all the kids.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZzyT9YO1ldzZ_j2qY7wrGb1tDC_VxQcv8vNjO60adj0dRSvcEjRUzRokGwFdkFK-bpZmjsQegRPIBo5Tc82rjKKN_ug7SnG8LhcLZo7bZ03qe3euNTPRw7lHHr7FWjWlmj1H54s1tut4/s1600/Coolpix6+photos+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZzyT9YO1ldzZ_j2qY7wrGb1tDC_VxQcv8vNjO60adj0dRSvcEjRUzRokGwFdkFK-bpZmjsQegRPIBo5Tc82rjKKN_ug7SnG8LhcLZo7bZ03qe3euNTPRw7lHHr7FWjWlmj1H54s1tut4/s320/Coolpix6+photos+017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a picture of Garret with a family at church. Garrett is trying to look inconspicuous by wearing sunglasses.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEherEWh85VC-8Ruou4CU-WpORO-nAlUj0eYOiZodL-ZRFsnpHwNUFo5WluWa_r_d3oZmxI4Ys_ERNFNvUYB47HQhTkonKSlsqKVb4ZEW6LuZinNYov83vEFY7C1riCB81JJk90KQNLyDoE/s1600/Coolpix6+photos+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEherEWh85VC-8Ruou4CU-WpORO-nAlUj0eYOiZodL-ZRFsnpHwNUFo5WluWa_r_d3oZmxI4Ys_ERNFNvUYB47HQhTkonKSlsqKVb4ZEW6LuZinNYov83vEFY7C1riCB81JJk90KQNLyDoE/s320/Coolpix6+photos+028.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We took Garrett to meet Thomas, a wood carver.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEE37AnrqJXStlR7E8S3Aaz35AaidwhwfQ0iNDBplh0p_19Pc1v3dR1MTiUGONfT90dp612ZFcFkcuXqjEaFqNuJj0lxf5v5_gUX01vEja-6Ez2eQGvGGCtVLman0pUeMPGWguu91RYM/s1600/Marsha%2527s+camera+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEE37AnrqJXStlR7E8S3Aaz35AaidwhwfQ0iNDBplh0p_19Pc1v3dR1MTiUGONfT90dp612ZFcFkcuXqjEaFqNuJj0lxf5v5_gUX01vEja-6Ez2eQGvGGCtVLman0pUeMPGWguu91RYM/s320/Marsha%2527s+camera+008.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thomas is a little man about five feet tall who works in a little shop about four feet by ten feet. You can see part of his work bench in the photo. He does not have electricity in his shop. He does all of his woodwork with hand tools. He is a true artist/craftsman. Thomas is showing us part of the nativity set he had just finished. We had asked Thomas last fall to make a nativity set for each of our children. He finished three of them in time for us to mail them home for Christmas. He finished the remaining two after Christmas. Christopher and Garrett each took one home.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We took Garrett to see Bernice. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVSZ11rVuWhVIAgmDcQhOj4VqV92pN7rWGCE65jNbK5M3PQvNLOHto8vbmTK8WlemO8jZEmZ3cnPBeFk70zvhaMVO4APJAPzZLBbq8LdCjwJbo2j4jHFPWyyaIr0kGT4G94XpwpXIM-s/s1600/Marsha%2527s+camera+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVSZ11rVuWhVIAgmDcQhOj4VqV92pN7rWGCE65jNbK5M3PQvNLOHto8vbmTK8WlemO8jZEmZ3cnPBeFk70zvhaMVO4APJAPzZLBbq8LdCjwJbo2j4jHFPWyyaIr0kGT4G94XpwpXIM-s/s320/Marsha%2527s+camera+006.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bernice is a wonderful woman. She is a seamstress. She makes bags, briefcases, children’s clothing, aprons, etc. She, too, is a real artist/craftsman. Her sewing room is a little larger than four feet by ten feet. It has electricity. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>We took Garrett to dinner at Mama Mia's. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn7ovZDXxq-M698HTSZIcQTyJGwN_22kjHrpYfn2kir1WuuHuqL8xUoZEQvWiDnmZAseWmRvKwL0UC4gJwe7uOcBYojMQhMonvaDRdiLF2VQ7HaPJY_uXUdyrvXS8ly8nYcmS9rp3RxJw/s1600/Koolpix+photos+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn7ovZDXxq-M698HTSZIcQTyJGwN_22kjHrpYfn2kir1WuuHuqL8xUoZEQvWiDnmZAseWmRvKwL0UC4gJwe7uOcBYojMQhMonvaDRdiLF2VQ7HaPJY_uXUdyrvXS8ly8nYcmS9rp3RxJw/s320/Koolpix+photos+011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Mama Mia's is our favorite restaurant. It had been closed when Christopher was here. This is the restaurant that serves cockroach pizza. Just kidding. (see blog entry dated <st1:date day="15" month="11" year="2010">15 November 2010</st1:date>.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We went to <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> for two days. We toured the slave castle.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17tZH6EWg5AxG8_50Rp25ZC-m36D2dFTSye1L4mlfXKBM7katQ4S9aumrFZr2Y4KiJ2Ts8jRP0ZLqG9JlEVoLaRceAxeB6ZQjVN3IBAbaRNiU2a5lFEPoRFCVQH7_tqarvZEBU_OMYdA/s1600/Garrett+photos+D70+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17tZH6EWg5AxG8_50Rp25ZC-m36D2dFTSye1L4mlfXKBM7katQ4S9aumrFZr2Y4KiJ2Ts8jRP0ZLqG9JlEVoLaRceAxeB6ZQjVN3IBAbaRNiU2a5lFEPoRFCVQH7_tqarvZEBU_OMYdA/s320/Garrett+photos+D70+013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg887gxVx5n_yevmEUA8Uns27CvFA4SfuIzAc-vEOoiGkB9xali2iNU56rqdyC2b2S1fKMr3cG2hNwxmXWK1v8zQRRVgi2hl-fbdINQNicazx0ztpsfxzQsEiKyCHHMF_z1dQM-r_T-zUw/s1600/Garrett+photos+D70+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg887gxVx5n_yevmEUA8Uns27CvFA4SfuIzAc-vEOoiGkB9xali2iNU56rqdyC2b2S1fKMr3cG2hNwxmXWK1v8zQRRVgi2hl-fbdINQNicazx0ztpsfxzQsEiKyCHHMF_z1dQM-r_T-zUw/s320/Garrett+photos+D70+017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We have been there enough, now, that we declined the opportunity to have a guide show us around. I mentioned the museum in the last blog entry. We took Garrett though the museum which has displays that are very informative and much more factual than the guides, who tend to focus on the emotions that can be easily aroused when talking about slavery. We went to the dungeons where the slaves had been kept. We looked into the tunnel that took the slaves to the ships. And we stood on both sides of the Door of No Return. Here is another picture of the fishing village seen from the castle.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiguXZBLEMQxtWuc6bai8DZ5c-KOUn5Csg9vp-pMKKuXlRMeGLkXPRZeLScscZQge6r0Doo0w6zXza6pRfBHyiw0aAPYwlzCPqCVlv-PxYyyxWTyERrl43pOUyzhOmp0sym7qs9r54dEMA/s1600/P1030818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiguXZBLEMQxtWuc6bai8DZ5c-KOUn5Csg9vp-pMKKuXlRMeGLkXPRZeLScscZQge6r0Doo0w6zXza6pRfBHyiw0aAPYwlzCPqCVlv-PxYyyxWTyERrl43pOUyzhOmp0sym7qs9r54dEMA/s320/P1030818.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpAEyihf8fnlybGFSR2OrP6TldPu1x5DwNGrl2MO_v2nZTxVv0BwgD08VcjvW3ShIo9avgUg9VLfktOEbnocQtEYonTZRcgjxas973VyK_QGxzdWD5JNqsMU8R_CKf9bnmzU9xbpcXv4/s1600/P1030826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpAEyihf8fnlybGFSR2OrP6TldPu1x5DwNGrl2MO_v2nZTxVv0BwgD08VcjvW3ShIo9avgUg9VLfktOEbnocQtEYonTZRcgjxas973VyK_QGxzdWD5JNqsMU8R_CKf9bnmzU9xbpcXv4/s320/P1030826.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Garrett and I did the canopy walk. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8wTjYqTt4FZ1rYRKmTzdPvfAYu12E7T0xag3MeIXnmhdYyiImzfUSfNYEYBxLN56qnHfJwxopl9p9wtzsu1bxQP8fCgnvjDwcbq-1R0ccPskvQ0PIMkGcwjtKffGmfSjfHvzni5Jeapo/s1600/Koolpix+photos+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8wTjYqTt4FZ1rYRKmTzdPvfAYu12E7T0xag3MeIXnmhdYyiImzfUSfNYEYBxLN56qnHfJwxopl9p9wtzsu1bxQP8fCgnvjDwcbq-1R0ccPskvQ0PIMkGcwjtKffGmfSjfHvzni5Jeapo/s320/Koolpix+photos+015.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Marsha did not want to do it again. She chose to stay behind. It turns out she chose wisely. Garrett and I were climbing the hill, about a 500 meter distance, to the beginning of the canopy walk in a group of about 30 people led by the guide. We were following a very well dressed black family, probably Ghanaians, but ones, by listening to them talk, who obviously lived outside of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> and were just home for a visit. The mother had a dress way too western for a Ghanaian, and way too nice for a sweat producing hill climb/canopy walk. We were about half way up the hill when this woman in front of us let out a blood curdling scream and started jumping up and down, obviously frightened out of her wits. The whole group stopped. Garrett was on my left and quickly pointed out the tail end, about six feet long, of a black snake as it disappeared into the jungle. We were all startled. The poor woman, however, was more than startled. Obviously she had just experienced a closer encounter with the snake than the rest of us. She wouldn’t stop screaming. She continued in frenzy mode, upset about the encounter, but also jumping around and fanning her dress. I thought maybe something had crawled up under her dress. And then I realized that she had wet her pants. Poor woman. No one tried to console her. She finally slowed down the screaming but continued fanning her dress. She obviously didn’t enjoy the rest of the walk. Garrett and I agreed that Marsha had made a wise decision to stay behind. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We stayed at the Elmina Bay Resort, which is a new facility with very nice rooms. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFP0z_JNHsuBpF1KsMJvxmhHRmIFvLuuhZ4bD4jfwX6bEAYVY_nGKPnuOHBYOlMzX07-wGaTXWfgRWY2zY7VqvE-5-ADHI00TmR76imY0m4RT5lNZKKXsysKpqYm51a0MwyDE0McOpfY/s1600/P1030850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFP0z_JNHsuBpF1KsMJvxmhHRmIFvLuuhZ4bD4jfwX6bEAYVY_nGKPnuOHBYOlMzX07-wGaTXWfgRWY2zY7VqvE-5-ADHI00TmR76imY0m4RT5lNZKKXsysKpqYm51a0MwyDE0McOpfY/s320/P1030850.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is about a half mile from the Coconut Grove Beach Resort. The accommodations at Elmina Bay Resort are very modern and consist of a dozen two story quadraplexes facing the ocean in a semicircle around a pool, and a restaurant/bar. Two of the quadraplexes are still under construction. Unfortunately, because it is so new the grounds consist of recently planted trees/shrubs and immature grass. It will take ten years to get the grounds to a maturity similar to the Coconut Grove Beach Resort. But the rooms are modern, clean, and comfortable and the pool is very nice. We had tried to stay at the Elmina Bay Resort with Christopher but there were no vacancies the entire two weeks of Chrismas/New Year. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We went to the <st1:place><st1:placename>Kwame</st1:placename> <st1:placename>Nkrumah</st1:placename> <st1:placename>Memorial</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Garden</st1:placetype></st1:place>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLeqvGJ5Pv2O99kHeWUxOY-qWMzXTsQEi3m2Yw63P5zH1QGK2PV6zIpOADQYCKbQziyzmZyABG6Ek-gIFQonpo6ffm6gVYr27oDCHFf1XppZZul7eL5sLDwHOMNoll2dC9hscJ0JhG_nM/s1600/P1030946.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLeqvGJ5Pv2O99kHeWUxOY-qWMzXTsQEi3m2Yw63P5zH1QGK2PV6zIpOADQYCKbQziyzmZyABG6Ek-gIFQonpo6ffm6gVYr27oDCHFf1XppZZul7eL5sLDwHOMNoll2dC9hscJ0JhG_nM/s320/P1030946.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kwame Nkrumah was the leader of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s independence from <st1:country-region><st1:place>Great Britain</st1:place></st1:country-region> in 1957, the first country in Africa to break colonial rule. He is a hero. Kind of like George Washington. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We went to the batik “factory” and watched the workers make the batik prints by hand and then lay them out on the ground to dry.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQKpeiy9HyrWEwulWFo1pHPvbs1Q0O5paoAie5NsCV4dSY_to3xY7Cvdm2pL0NH3psRhxkYC3c6X-AmD4lUYoQTKtm6oCQMAXDwSxZ8wj08qvJcdvhJHIuHNgCe5F7k_AGzN74gcCWzM/s1600/Mom%2527s+Camera+%252801-13-2011%2529+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQKpeiy9HyrWEwulWFo1pHPvbs1Q0O5paoAie5NsCV4dSY_to3xY7Cvdm2pL0NH3psRhxkYC3c6X-AmD4lUYoQTKtm6oCQMAXDwSxZ8wj08qvJcdvhJHIuHNgCe5F7k_AGzN74gcCWzM/s320/Mom%2527s+Camera+%252801-13-2011%2529+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We went to TK Beads and watched the workers make beads as they grind the recycled glass, put the glass powder into molds, fire them, and then hand paint them. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxMSfu4NSAolaZQ1GnjgVKi9If9_iRymwM1-OvfOVCZJxT7mYYOasBIuIEl1ipImXn0o-6lCCyGhwcDHhweZiu0zi6iehAKhhwuYLShBx8JAE3Kj-7GZI84yk6yhRV5DlFlMPT4Ax_wY/s1600/Nikon+D+70+113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxMSfu4NSAolaZQ1GnjgVKi9If9_iRymwM1-OvfOVCZJxT7mYYOasBIuIEl1ipImXn0o-6lCCyGhwcDHhweZiu0zi6iehAKhhwuYLShBx8JAE3Kj-7GZI84yk6yhRV5DlFlMPT4Ax_wY/s320/Nikon+D+70+113.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L24wTYaHnDuK_FFWscxD57KhLNcBZFP9qaVDaDbubf-VeE_Vzkg7a_o78tlCJhOH0sNTJdfuTG7T3yIr-sv-dmSZYrQRkRw9LvUq6KTvWhiiZR3F6D2AC9vdMqxql7YHHROvDiaxFkk/s1600/Nikon+D+70+116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L24wTYaHnDuK_FFWscxD57KhLNcBZFP9qaVDaDbubf-VeE_Vzkg7a_o78tlCJhOH0sNTJdfuTG7T3yIr-sv-dmSZYrQRkRw9LvUq6KTvWhiiZR3F6D2AC9vdMqxql7YHHROvDiaxFkk/s320/Nikon+D+70+116.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We went to <st1:place><st1:placename>Aburi</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Gardens</st1:placetype></st1:place>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhPWaeJNiYwRalEoVbMDn6eTrogdpXQso42awxywCzEYYXt601arBdB20QGEIp0PTBq_pPKBMZDHJs69MXAs0jJrRWUK55FfqKsM1uSDEIOh1cE0i4AtJq7_tS0K7ik0ej2jjsUk4eQU/s1600/Nikon+D+70+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhPWaeJNiYwRalEoVbMDn6eTrogdpXQso42awxywCzEYYXt601arBdB20QGEIp0PTBq_pPKBMZDHJs69MXAs0jJrRWUK55FfqKsM1uSDEIOh1cE0i4AtJq7_tS0K7ik0ej2jjsUk4eQU/s320/Nikon+D+70+019.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZu2eNtIOlY05MsVJkHYTifH6ob6BMB9FCY-mzeQ6rZqKGd3FK8BjEHPr1qvVKsJjufRVQn_1_2yNrf_VIbacQ85bw4RMANnRfoEDErfUnYmnLNOxDBIz16B5OiUxE4l04B6ptUcgQc4/s1600/Mom%2527s+Camera+%252801-13-2011%2529+068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZu2eNtIOlY05MsVJkHYTifH6ob6BMB9FCY-mzeQ6rZqKGd3FK8BjEHPr1qvVKsJjufRVQn_1_2yNrf_VIbacQ85bw4RMANnRfoEDErfUnYmnLNOxDBIz16B5OiUxE4l04B6ptUcgQc4/s320/Mom%2527s+Camera+%252801-13-2011%2529+068.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am trying to demonstrate for Marsha proper snake encounter scream technique. Without the wet pants. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7j7z_54KkYirO63sTzNngdTnppBZ5qsfPOSO8AeTp38X7t4_9WqklRwEN0I3IaPigvemFR_kWd1roN2KZ995h2Vdzif13zbXAlo9YCfxBlC_csd0paG4cnONM-1jtYqmwOvam5pqJgUw/s1600/Mom%2527s+Camera+%252801-13-2011%2529+052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7j7z_54KkYirO63sTzNngdTnppBZ5qsfPOSO8AeTp38X7t4_9WqklRwEN0I3IaPigvemFR_kWd1roN2KZ995h2Vdzif13zbXAlo9YCfxBlC_csd0paG4cnONM-1jtYqmwOvam5pqJgUw/s320/Mom%2527s+Camera+%252801-13-2011%2529+052.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Garrett’s time with us, just as it had been with Christopher, passed too quickly. It seemed he had just arrived and then he had to pack and head home. We enjoyed being with him each day. We laughed a lot. For example. We were in the car one day, running a few errands and heading out to the MTC to give shots. Marsha and Garrett simultaneously noticed a chicken by the side of the road that didn’t have any feathers. They tried pointing it out to me but I missed it. This sighting of a “naked” chicken led to a ten minute laughing session as we joked about why a chicken would not have feathers in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>. (Who would want to constantly wear a down comforter in this heat?) I was a little skeptical of their observation at the time but have subsequently seen a similar chicken. I tried getting a photograph of this second naked chicken sighting but failed. It must be an African example of Darwinian evolution. We'll keep looking for more.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Another example of laughing. This is a photograph of the geckos that are seen everywhere.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLgJ8YLJGNr0aM910WqVafo2Qn1_Cpl4PrY4ktMTDGiYnml_ir0u6owy3XtMkMNogG8WxhMLBch5G_RxoUUV5tToTEgd4uNvlz3vuLatjCOFbIrZO0V3qe0BqDcsODd-KazUqqhXZ6faY/s1600/Garrett+photos+D70+035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLgJ8YLJGNr0aM910WqVafo2Qn1_Cpl4PrY4ktMTDGiYnml_ir0u6owy3XtMkMNogG8WxhMLBch5G_RxoUUV5tToTEgd4uNvlz3vuLatjCOFbIrZO0V3qe0BqDcsODd-KazUqqhXZ6faY/s320/Garrett+photos+D70+035.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Marsha, Garrett and I were going from the parking lot into the mall, which is not a usual location for a gecko encounter, but noticed a gecko on the sidewalk in front of us. (Not the gecko in the above photograph. The one at the mall had a stubby tail.) He (?she) would pause as we approached him and then scurry ahead five to six feet and stop and wait, almost as if he were teasing us to follow him. (Maybe an explanation for the stubby tail.) At one point he ran onto a three foot by three foot stainless steel plate on the concrete walkway, a covering for some kind of a manhole. He stopped in the middle of the plate. As we approached the plate he waited until we were close and then started to run. However, we didn’t know it, and he might have known it but forgot it, but geckos don’t move quickly on stainless steel. It is too smooth for traction. He frantically moved his legs but didn’t go anywhere. He moved his legs faster. It was like watching a car on ice spinning its wheels. We immediately started laughing. For about two seconds this little guy/girl was a gecko in high speed but not going anywhere. You could almost hear the engine whining. We cracked up. He finally got a little momentum and made it to the edge of the plate and jolted off at high speed, just like the car spinning its wheels on ice and then hitting pavement. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As we pulled out of the mall, still laughing about the high speed gecko encounter, we started toward the Tema highway and noted a car coming directly at us, backwards. We veered to the right and watched the crazy driver, driving his car backwards at an unsafe high rate of speed, head towards the mall entrance. We probably shouldn’t have laughed about it, but it seemed so logical to have just seen a gecko at high speed out of control and then encounter a Ghanaian at high speed out of control. I wonder if the police ever consider giving tickets for reckless driving? Duh. Where would they start?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We enjoyed the Month of Sons. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9l2VzSJI7wtvQB2En7on-8Vo-nxL_ag9CxuJPcUlDeCHnnP1DyNLpcdCYmHdSkVonysZXZa0SnIDVGtpZ8enlomKUWIPkmgU_3GzSpePSPl6j_XuDSouuOT23tHqRaFHEPh1f1EkZ170/s1600/17+January+2011+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9l2VzSJI7wtvQB2En7on-8Vo-nxL_ag9CxuJPcUlDeCHnnP1DyNLpcdCYmHdSkVonysZXZa0SnIDVGtpZ8enlomKUWIPkmgU_3GzSpePSPl6j_XuDSouuOT23tHqRaFHEPh1f1EkZ170/s320/17+January+2011+001.JPG" width="255" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-16712214716679960632011-01-31T16:29:00.000-08:002011-02-06T23:04:01.607-08:00A Month of Sons<div class="MsoNormal">(First installment. The internet is so slow I am going to finish this in the office.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Christopher arrived on <st1:date day="20" month="12" year="2010">20 December 2010</st1:date>. He departed on New Years Day. I posted a photograph of his arrival on my entry dated <st1:date day="26" month="12" year="2010">26 December 2010</st1:date>. This is a picture of his departure.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLco4ptl1_vA6E99tKZiacRCh4Ok_9GGF9V742N_gyFhoDOdYwcmQ-DrjHdaErOulBNUjWpqAvpSutx1MKGXdsfxCYciYGQZJIyi8MMbpOzo1AToEKkvgLfXEq_JUjl3tO8VrmvnAC7Q/s1600/DSCN3295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLco4ptl1_vA6E99tKZiacRCh4Ok_9GGF9V742N_gyFhoDOdYwcmQ-DrjHdaErOulBNUjWpqAvpSutx1MKGXdsfxCYciYGQZJIyi8MMbpOzo1AToEKkvgLfXEq_JUjl3tO8VrmvnAC7Q/s320/DSCN3295.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Even from the back I don’t think anyone would have trouble picking him out. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We enjoyed Christopher’s visit. During his twelve days here: </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_zcfbCsVqeCjJXUcCQ4XtA8IyQBo62JSub6aw5eDF5_ev13eIpYxbk2btJpXGyqx9fOEYYqrKEgx3kxFTC_3U6TFBTAHzPpj_dYX2KRY0fHiIyQfaAAdlpsGFWAX26K26LLM4fUFWVI/s1600/Marsha+cam+mid+Dec+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_zcfbCsVqeCjJXUcCQ4XtA8IyQBo62JSub6aw5eDF5_ev13eIpYxbk2btJpXGyqx9fOEYYqrKEgx3kxFTC_3U6TFBTAHzPpj_dYX2KRY0fHiIyQfaAAdlpsGFWAX26K26LLM4fUFWVI/s320/Marsha+cam+mid+Dec+027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We took him to the <st1:place><st1:placename>Missionary</st1:placename> <st1:placename>Training</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Center</st1:placetype></st1:place> twice. On the first visit he helped us give vaccinations. He administered the oral polio drops. After we finished at the MTC on the second visit we drove around Tema. Chris thought this road sign at a rotary warranted a photograph.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPslxxG0ZAC514TYOqxGUZzOD8r2h8slueZSGH8EnbEgp-RVUlP8VMhnF55Gwn4J3ji5uJb2nGHIWosB1lR-8f0qRdxAN5DWYJte8LX7vOj4KG4KjvE9L-hyPvcvlkiX9eno7SrV2AhMs/s1600/Christopher+pictures+124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPslxxG0ZAC514TYOqxGUZzOD8r2h8slueZSGH8EnbEgp-RVUlP8VMhnF55Gwn4J3ji5uJb2nGHIWosB1lR-8f0qRdxAN5DWYJte8LX7vOj4KG4KjvE9L-hyPvcvlkiX9eno7SrV2AhMs/s320/Christopher+pictures+124.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">And this muslim woman. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzuYnvISXKF3phW7ffVcOxLGxHPj1BGyxPByk7yVhGhfS69uiDycqgqfxGy3wKFFH6p531nRHkcdY_rzcWwedo3A4WHoka14HiyUQLTV5Ke75sAQ2tX3qFlMhC-sZc6aqr38uU0mJhi8/s1600/Christopher+pictures+144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzuYnvISXKF3phW7ffVcOxLGxHPj1BGyxPByk7yVhGhfS69uiDycqgqfxGy3wKFFH6p531nRHkcdY_rzcWwedo3A4WHoka14HiyUQLTV5Ke75sAQ2tX3qFlMhC-sZc6aqr38uU0mJhi8/s320/Christopher+pictures+144.JPG" width="242" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is when we photographed the Christmas dinner goats shown in the entry dated 26 December. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
Christopher went with me to Korle Bu hospital. He took pictures as we drove out and back. Here is a photograph of children in <st1:city><st1:place>Jamestown</st1:place></st1:city> waking up and starting the day. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3eii-SACbbqnwnRFZWmjUl4aJGbrPVgopIE6zsTmsWTdghWWiNEngnj_XzES752PHDWuCXTKouQWIqX4sRD9s7R899TNDlgVWZRu9mO7x6g7L9925W8Lw9LFl4DnB0pLHRfzvDzhYdKs/s1600/Christmas+Marsha+cam+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3eii-SACbbqnwnRFZWmjUl4aJGbrPVgopIE6zsTmsWTdghWWiNEngnj_XzES752PHDWuCXTKouQWIqX4sRD9s7R899TNDlgVWZRu9mO7x6g7L9925W8Lw9LFl4DnB0pLHRfzvDzhYdKs/s320/Christmas+Marsha+cam+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We took Christopher to an evening outdoor Christmas block party hosted by some of the embassy personnel. The food was great. The entertainment was a local dance troupe, the Kusum Gboo Dance Ensemble which consisted of twenty men and women, and a dozen drums. They performed three native dances. We were exhausted watching them. The dancing is hard to describe. It was definitely not a two step waltz. Try to visualize Michael Jackson at his dancing best. Then add some flailing of the arms and some jumping into the air Then turn up the speed about three times. That’s what these men and women did for about 20 minutes. I would estimate their caloric expenditure for these three dances equivalent to what I burn in two days. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The photographs we took on Christmas day are on the 26 December entry.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We took Christopher to <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> on the 27<sup>th</sup>. This is a photograph of the sun setting along the shore.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfyG-iU3-v6cC-nTfF-1C0F2hByrOcHeCOveujHrlEKbH1AGpik8WG8CL5n6WsUTLUCyhys06yBnSqiteLZDUOxImpuKHylfZq9fKMIeCksJ6S_2GBD0w36azCG6ECSJjwtudOq8rEpg/s1600/Christopher+pictures+286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfyG-iU3-v6cC-nTfF-1C0F2hByrOcHeCOveujHrlEKbH1AGpik8WG8CL5n6WsUTLUCyhys06yBnSqiteLZDUOxImpuKHylfZq9fKMIeCksJ6S_2GBD0w36azCG6ECSJjwtudOq8rEpg/s320/Christopher+pictures+286.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Pretty nice, isn’t it? Looks like paradise.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We toured the <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Castle</st1:placetype></st1:place>. We discovered the museum (how had we missed it on other visits?) The museum has excellent displays on the history of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> with an emphasis on the slave trade. We learned a lot more than what we had been told by the guides in previous tours. Such as: only 10% of all slaves taken from <st1:place>West Africa</st1:place> came to the <st1:country-region><st1:place>United States</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Almost half went to <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The guides would have one think that they all went to the <st1:country-region><st1:place>United States</st1:place></st1:country-region>. These are photos of the castle. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFEr84tv9l9m4sq9X5meoOantuwn_w3JHgI6CaECEomHCX9oq8BUZRvY7FNal8IuYlh7doaHc-RFwSbwrfGheIFi38KEoFGn9ryYxMvQy-Yiirey89OYgKHZjXV86PMOBUxBfgXof-hyI/s1600/Christopher+pictures+056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFEr84tv9l9m4sq9X5meoOantuwn_w3JHgI6CaECEomHCX9oq8BUZRvY7FNal8IuYlh7doaHc-RFwSbwrfGheIFi38KEoFGn9ryYxMvQy-Yiirey89OYgKHZjXV86PMOBUxBfgXof-hyI/s320/Christopher+pictures+056.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkm9KxJJdHniMusqLohsPyeJLQna1Qdpxw6Fb7pXJ_M3NRRZFHGo8ddagC8UgpWksZCNjOOkBnT3LPKps8G6Z6HpIHrgnkaX-zzabIrQDliINmYd99Cjo4q_4VAmpqoogMmCk2Yt1Iv8/s1600/Christopher+pictures+061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkm9KxJJdHniMusqLohsPyeJLQna1Qdpxw6Fb7pXJ_M3NRRZFHGo8ddagC8UgpWksZCNjOOkBnT3LPKps8G6Z6HpIHrgnkaX-zzabIrQDliINmYd99Cjo4q_4VAmpqoogMmCk2Yt1Iv8/s320/Christopher+pictures+061.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
This is the "Door of No Return" through which slaves passed as they were loaded onto ships. It's a nice touch to the finality of departure, and it makes a great tourist photo opp walking through the gate and returning, but I seriously doubt that the sign was there at the time of the slave trade. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVOEWQ3KF47VN6veHf3AKvQAVUPHyzmSF0IhyxcjCeJa6j56ejWnJB-gDSN4DAXZAFYk5K2I4vqcRdnAyXjL8tPqfqU5_Tjs55rMt9EwgF3cc3MmroKhp_Rgq9X6qgthsrYFzbXJOqGI/s1600/Christopher+pictures+062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVOEWQ3KF47VN6veHf3AKvQAVUPHyzmSF0IhyxcjCeJa6j56ejWnJB-gDSN4DAXZAFYk5K2I4vqcRdnAyXjL8tPqfqU5_Tjs55rMt9EwgF3cc3MmroKhp_Rgq9X6qgthsrYFzbXJOqGI/s320/Christopher+pictures+062.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Quite different from what the slaves would have seen, this is the current fishing village immediately outside of the door. </o:p><br />
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</o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4WP2_vBtkxHlrr3-zA4tBbodSpyj556NLo6C18QLZNiXsDtpO-9aKDRqZOXg04ZPKIgTlsq5dIljVhzL0MeaWS-Vzh_1D4KDZDgIxpTlyHJ2zYPyG2gQClUyL2I19r5zziRJ-GT0tSs/s1600/Christopher+pictures+063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4WP2_vBtkxHlrr3-zA4tBbodSpyj556NLo6C18QLZNiXsDtpO-9aKDRqZOXg04ZPKIgTlsq5dIljVhzL0MeaWS-Vzh_1D4KDZDgIxpTlyHJ2zYPyG2gQClUyL2I19r5zziRJ-GT0tSs/s320/Christopher+pictures+063.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">We took Christopher to <st1:place><st1:placename>Kakum</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>National Park</st1:placetype></st1:place> to do the canopy walk. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTpUZbLpRAVCJScPpvDeSXXQGq24q7DfDhtZvdnJBbMGlvhUlIERoKszpnkTwFD_GAXUaRro4lIbLi0Q9slYFXP8di-wTNpXMK-Gcr0QmJchCrW5DPOH6MPxMbv3v5iIncywSTlr8zesU/s1600/Christopher+pictures+077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTpUZbLpRAVCJScPpvDeSXXQGq24q7DfDhtZvdnJBbMGlvhUlIERoKszpnkTwFD_GAXUaRro4lIbLi0Q9slYFXP8di-wTNpXMK-Gcr0QmJchCrW5DPOH6MPxMbv3v5iIncywSTlr8zesU/s320/Christopher+pictures+077.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is an exhilarating experience. The walk, a series of aluminum ladders covered by one inch boards, is about 40 meters off the ground and has seven spans, about 300 meters in total length, suspended from the tops of LARGE trees. Marsha was not planning on going but changed her mind at the last minute. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK95vdFcTe-60fAGYINjWBvKqbS8ULaJBPYz1A2lK4WvrnaQrkkVZQOZpH01C8eER3QZ2QxaL8jI6TVqvzysjpzPHSoLOZPo5_0dGhOWXXqKgdD5PgbWrrwP3lHYXmKLIsolDuZK_mXWI/s1600/Christopher+pictures+074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK95vdFcTe-60fAGYINjWBvKqbS8ULaJBPYz1A2lK4WvrnaQrkkVZQOZpH01C8eER3QZ2QxaL8jI6TVqvzysjpzPHSoLOZPo5_0dGhOWXXqKgdD5PgbWrrwP3lHYXmKLIsolDuZK_mXWI/s320/Christopher+pictures+074.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We stayed at the Coconut Grove Beach Resort.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpjM46phh-u9Z_08DJ5RJozUOfKLw3sSuhoicD8vz7iXa3SxvndYfl_zXvCEmecRbGZZlXtEM1-IX2UCpgrtXYc9AdFJ8Tls5MtZw1pLCBsaARWKCMD6kJY-NFVCfY335FeAcwVtRwxU/s1600/P1030716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpjM46phh-u9Z_08DJ5RJozUOfKLw3sSuhoicD8vz7iXa3SxvndYfl_zXvCEmecRbGZZlXtEM1-IX2UCpgrtXYc9AdFJ8Tls5MtZw1pLCBsaARWKCMD6kJY-NFVCfY335FeAcwVtRwxU/s320/P1030716.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This name is a little misleading. There are enough coconut palms on the grounds to qualify as a grove but to call it a “resort” is stretching it. Christopher’s rollaway bed was a mattress on the floor. (more about that later.) He did enjoy the ocean.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Wi4Z7l0NI3ETVocyt17jlCEcDpLwy6U0bNqLCUPtZ31UhRNajA1qt2Q_u5HoSe5GtxYHMMKmd8BaeUVuiC8qwtB5LgDPKv58tSCFBcmqZqwGDqwnygPolkypD9lEQP7HGZ0apseaviE/s1600/Christopher+pictures+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Wi4Z7l0NI3ETVocyt17jlCEcDpLwy6U0bNqLCUPtZ31UhRNajA1qt2Q_u5HoSe5GtxYHMMKmd8BaeUVuiC8qwtB5LgDPKv58tSCFBcmqZqwGDqwnygPolkypD9lEQP7HGZ0apseaviE/s320/Christopher+pictures+017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
Christopher spent a day with the full time missionaries. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_UCYI_4GknLT7Hi28aptwKb9sglNHfztMqHu7B85F5FZ_97K-_CBvB0kgL1nIb2BJeB7IZT_ttLAUn7F0Wd5AO9QpWadryx1jVWZ8vwy3GqG3MTJnVooKUbDlKYddhyphenhyphenZm8CVe_lj3ak/s1600/P1030733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_UCYI_4GknLT7Hi28aptwKb9sglNHfztMqHu7B85F5FZ_97K-_CBvB0kgL1nIb2BJeB7IZT_ttLAUn7F0Wd5AO9QpWadryx1jVWZ8vwy3GqG3MTJnVooKUbDlKYddhyphenhyphenZm8CVe_lj3ak/s320/P1030733.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He had a Ghanaian lunch consisting of banku and ground nut soup. It wasn’t entirely authentic because it didn’t have fish heads. Christopher enjoyed the day with the missionaries very much. However, he didn’t like the two days of post lunch gastrointestinal distress. (Ghanaians call this temporary illness “runny tummy” and don’t get too concerned over it.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We took Christopher to Tafi Atome to the monkey sanctuary. This is a photograph of the five km road leading to the village.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3zdX2ThjE38Y66jhZbjZmVJAgFFNgaXJauTMqdDvSeYhS62OcK1OdMObFeoHNIlmLY-R9liOAqXXDov36Tp3cWBCqSE0kJXzyENCgoLDwqHMt2cZQzUOcErEKon2Wz0DLKp8X-JskSQ/s1600/Christopher+pictures+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3zdX2ThjE38Y66jhZbjZmVJAgFFNgaXJauTMqdDvSeYhS62OcK1OdMObFeoHNIlmLY-R9liOAqXXDov36Tp3cWBCqSE0kJXzyENCgoLDwqHMt2cZQzUOcErEKon2Wz0DLKp8X-JskSQ/s320/Christopher+pictures+011.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have to stop and photograph it each time we drive it. To me it is quintessential <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>: the red clay, the elephant grass, the people walking along the edges carrying items on their heads, and the hills, in the mist, in the background. The monkeys were not very cooperative this time. Our guide had a hard time finding them.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBoC6-ptEkHdD-7BLzkRqOlbZXlVdt73E_yVIsPDsPppUWbYq6PFkDgP5G512PlxGeBJmtmaYVyLRbE_ZfZDIyB3Qdm2bIhsIuapxTtsASGkcgiwb-J1i4B0apTJlYgaZ7V7-LvScLmDg/s1600/P1030758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBoC6-ptEkHdD-7BLzkRqOlbZXlVdt73E_yVIsPDsPppUWbYq6PFkDgP5G512PlxGeBJmtmaYVyLRbE_ZfZDIyB3Qdm2bIhsIuapxTtsASGkcgiwb-J1i4B0apTJlYgaZ7V7-LvScLmDg/s320/P1030758.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We eventually found a few that hesitatingly took Christopher's bananas. It was quite a different experience compared to our visit in October when the monkeys were all around us (and all over us.) <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6U8nwJ0PKl1j53wC2gmxtxf3WCW3LFglB_u1AOswzuCM_YwfrLuNGVKYohO110BQD_BqC36XKCj3kO5ra5_ARm7ZZZYrtYN3EYbTHGajRbElGzToDiNVz8HTDTNZG2ndRf_TZ0ESiWY/s1600/Christopher+pictures+095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6U8nwJ0PKl1j53wC2gmxtxf3WCW3LFglB_u1AOswzuCM_YwfrLuNGVKYohO110BQD_BqC36XKCj3kO5ra5_ARm7ZZZYrtYN3EYbTHGajRbElGzToDiNVz8HTDTNZG2ndRf_TZ0ESiWY/s320/Christopher+pictures+095.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><br />
The monkeys didn’t take Marsha’s earring this time!<br />
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Final photograph. Christopher was able to take a picture of goats on top of a trotro.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6e6eCAeAOXy5qcWNiJeejG7Li1nkCXOfgJHwQFRw2l6biqRWdCbaMWH8Ox8U7O_uUtddX1lR7O5AC1vM4SHyg-8F8QsU4en86HejDPBHjMAiC2D0jvGa59fzE8OB6f4N8smkv8AxdVT4/s1600/Christopher+pictures+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6e6eCAeAOXy5qcWNiJeejG7Li1nkCXOfgJHwQFRw2l6biqRWdCbaMWH8Ox8U7O_uUtddX1lR7O5AC1vM4SHyg-8F8QsU4en86HejDPBHjMAiC2D0jvGa59fzE8OB6f4N8smkv8AxdVT4/s320/Christopher+pictures+014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Many people have lived here for years and not accomplished such a task. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Christopher’s time with us seemed way too brief. Marsha and I tried to savor each day. The opportunity of having him with us here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> made our Christmas seem almost normal. Almost. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">An interesting postscript to Christopher’s visit: A little over two weeks after his return to the states Christopher called me to describe how he had awakened in the night with a pounding headache (hammer hitting the head type) bed shaking chills, and nausea. By the time he made contact with me the chills had diminished. The headache and nausea were unchanged. I instructed him to start the malaria medication I had given him at his departure. Within 48 hours he was 90% improved. I can’t say for certainty without a blood test to confirm it but it is probable that Christopher spent 12 days in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> and contracted malaria. I think it was the night he slept on the mattress at the “resort.” He might not be the best to interview for <u>Why Ghana is Fun to Visit at Christmas</u>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-10366910648281224372011-01-10T23:22:00.000-08:002011-01-16T22:49:25.098-08:00Monday 10 January 2011<div class="MsoNormal">We received a bunch of Christmas cards this week, most of them postmarked early to mid December. Thanks to all of you who thought of us and sent a card. We have enjoyed reading each one. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is what’s happening in the neighborhood.<br />
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Garrett is visiting us. He is on break from law school.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5KYh0RUiwoeiwtHoQziBg7kwpI0DwNpKpxwsmp_dcrw_YLu3WrE2na3PuQLqCizNqYwHgWBUilvx7GneumloTYa4Cqq8DabBz3ysVUnoJam33e1tiPqcHjWDMCcLnfjAwEt62Lnumd8M/s1600/Koolpix+photos+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5KYh0RUiwoeiwtHoQziBg7kwpI0DwNpKpxwsmp_dcrw_YLu3WrE2na3PuQLqCizNqYwHgWBUilvx7GneumloTYa4Cqq8DabBz3ysVUnoJam33e1tiPqcHjWDMCcLnfjAwEt62Lnumd8M/s320/Koolpix+photos+007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It hasn’t rained for three weeks. Everything has turned brown.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzqXn_qIFDrWrszjSn8sPCA_LAEM5BMgavHVXlFa2JAluuoTAmjwlG0zv6E_ZtyudVReiONJhWQJnfBULhcBCBBfqnucKuHtaJWNsw-CbXVNP1Y4hrwbAH_nzSMLhwNyxEQ3BdYjRt1w/s1600/Marsha%2527s+camera+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzqXn_qIFDrWrszjSn8sPCA_LAEM5BMgavHVXlFa2JAluuoTAmjwlG0zv6E_ZtyudVReiONJhWQJnfBULhcBCBBfqnucKuHtaJWNsw-CbXVNP1Y4hrwbAH_nzSMLhwNyxEQ3BdYjRt1w/s320/Marsha%2527s+camera+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The flame trees are starting to blossom.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq4KaMVzlsXdfOu56OXjZ0utseH7cGyrAoTAtiMH6ld-bvez8Hr-LLi3vjGjlotmKy6QKpyrJi7JF-lLJGoFgXlVoyXcTD2UrBaLuSkK7SE2qaL6kHuOSOzEHXOPYn9gg8Jo4y0f1G-1Y/s1600/First+sunday+Dec+D70+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq4KaMVzlsXdfOu56OXjZ0utseH7cGyrAoTAtiMH6ld-bvez8Hr-LLi3vjGjlotmKy6QKpyrJi7JF-lLJGoFgXlVoyXcTD2UrBaLuSkK7SE2qaL6kHuOSOzEHXOPYn9gg8Jo4y0f1G-1Y/s320/First+sunday+Dec+D70+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
They bloomed in March last year. Are they early this year, or do they bloom more than once a year? We'll find out. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Gas, or petrol as the locals call it, has increased in price from Ghc 1.169/liter to Ghc 1.520/liter. No one can explain why there has been a 29% change. I wonder if it has to do with the recent opening of the oil industry in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Oil started shipping from <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> two months ago.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was finally able to photograph a gray headed kingfisher, the beautiful bird I mentioned in one of the blog entries last month. He/she was sitting on the radio tower outside our kitchen window.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd48s83sBS_uo5z3odReROS1P_BrLTLiKvHVZe7xcj4r9JxKHJ-VvYcN-UFd29YLu_U6wHas99z9wrpnk5KESmQybn10xOvJ0LIoLvT3sykM5c7MQJGjoLzIH6PCRmMvsg6BmSOG1MdEE/s1600/Christmas+D70+pictures+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd48s83sBS_uo5z3odReROS1P_BrLTLiKvHVZe7xcj4r9JxKHJ-VvYcN-UFd29YLu_U6wHas99z9wrpnk5KESmQybn10xOvJ0LIoLvT3sykM5c7MQJGjoLzIH6PCRmMvsg6BmSOG1MdEE/s320/Christmas+D70+pictures+002.JPG" width="231" /></a></div><br />
We have not seen him/her since I took this photograph. We did see a similar species this week but slightly smaller and dark purple in color. I have not been able to identify the second bird nor find an example on Google photos.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The holiday season is over. Is this how Ghanaians take down their Christmas decorations? This is the holiday photograph of the grinch type Christmas tree at the intersection of <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Avenue</st1:address></st1:street> and <st1:street><st1:address>Achimota Road</st1:address></st1:street>.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zumKY2tc45ebSea9xMO0M-xLBibVCL2262RO2v2E1GXFn4rJwNLTGd1A-VlNkj88VvwWK_T1QMBDKPfMvaS-yKWIpZkPT2OceRRORGjpegrW36Lmjh4hVmEpb5bmOyK6g6cGlFyfa4s/s1600/Mid+Dec+pictures+Coolpix+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zumKY2tc45ebSea9xMO0M-xLBibVCL2262RO2v2E1GXFn4rJwNLTGd1A-VlNkj88VvwWK_T1QMBDKPfMvaS-yKWIpZkPT2OceRRORGjpegrW36Lmjh4hVmEpb5bmOyK6g6cGlFyfa4s/s320/Mid+Dec+pictures+Coolpix+008.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
This is the same decoration last Tuesday.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfD10BbK4PPgvuqPDE7sGGCTukJbXHhrUVRAyl_lqx8-MadbK88fUrHXRjzSzeNpTNwilnA5CtO-4qz9nArwv4rUzFb2td04kHFMCq-2YFxLbRafSV1CassArLCh7fm9ZqDEV5E5jSn0w/s1600/Koolpix+photos+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfD10BbK4PPgvuqPDE7sGGCTukJbXHhrUVRAyl_lqx8-MadbK88fUrHXRjzSzeNpTNwilnA5CtO-4qz9nArwv4rUzFb2td04kHFMCq-2YFxLbRafSV1CassArLCh7fm9ZqDEV5E5jSn0w/s320/Koolpix+photos+012.JPG" width="281" /></a></div><br />
The metal support for the branches is all that is left standing. The grass is scorched ten feet peripherally around the base. I do not know if the fire was intentional but I bet it was quite a sight.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>We might have some new construction starting in the neighborhood. I have previously described the empty lot we can see looking out our kitchen window. I showed pictures of it shortly after our arrival (blog entry dated 7 Feb 2010) with all of the cattle that would graze across it every two or three days. I then described the concrete and cinderblock fence/wall installed around the periphery, presumably to keep the cattle out. (blog entry dated <st1:date day="8" month="5" year="2010">8 May 2010</st1:date>.) Last week a second fence was erected outside of the concrete/cinderblock enclosure.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9S0DTIpH1aSY_FR_JwWyNl3Hsptc-6YjjcnWvb9gJKizS4KE8s9xrysGvF4O7i9045qDrkBkfCfMkCWULKQVQ8iD51vChwudRJPaV28_YRsM_MsS2YuDw59Dishr3iveHm8AGk7DqE4/s1600/Nikon+D-70+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9S0DTIpH1aSY_FR_JwWyNl3Hsptc-6YjjcnWvb9gJKizS4KE8s9xrysGvF4O7i9045qDrkBkfCfMkCWULKQVQ8iD51vChwudRJPaV28_YRsM_MsS2YuDw59Dishr3iveHm8AGk7DqE4/s320/Nikon+D-70+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It consisted of 3 x 3 framing and ¼ inch plywood. In the two weeks prior to the installation of this second enclosure we noticed a lot of garbage being dumped onto the site.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLNvmAsxPtUhflSWEe5FfCyNVRdyxWvaVOZ6UdJdZm1mQYzoAs9mpXryVEnKlHk2f_-KtY5nM5KARkoVNG33D9vMwkfcnU7YqgMK2YRh3GbYrHexdb3daLUNkZLH3HR9hoLNAWnitii4/s1600/Christmas+D70+pictures+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLNvmAsxPtUhflSWEe5FfCyNVRdyxWvaVOZ6UdJdZm1mQYzoAs9mpXryVEnKlHk2f_-KtY5nM5KARkoVNG33D9vMwkfcnU7YqgMK2YRh3GbYrHexdb3daLUNkZLH3HR9hoLNAWnitii4/s320/Christmas+D70+pictures+022.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The big trucks would come in and dump their load and then we would watch people rummaging through the garbage hauling off anything that could be used. It was sad to see the garbage and even sadder to see the rummaging. Based upon our previous experience with construction projects I doubt that we will see any construction activity for months. Hopefully the second fence will prevent more garbage activity. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I mentioned the harmattan in my last entry when I posted the picture of the red/orange haze at sunrise on Christmas day. Note the difference in the two pictures above that were taken about two weeks apart. The haziness is due to the harmattan, a yearly phenomenon when the sand of the <st1:place>Sahara</st1:place> is blown southwest over the continent toward the <st1:place>Atlantic Ocean</st1:place>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHYOmyFYK5BDraKPL7_djx46DLpScmRV3wSnk_RrHHTH5yr_ykGLm4R3BEyCfcB3fe1Csz6Z_NKnSyz_JG0TVe8Unc1qW-2HaX7OjIuU4wmDDv6Sy1MD72PeLLhligRf_YInoFwZqpkU/s1600/Harmattan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHYOmyFYK5BDraKPL7_djx46DLpScmRV3wSnk_RrHHTH5yr_ykGLm4R3BEyCfcB3fe1Csz6Z_NKnSyz_JG0TVe8Unc1qW-2HaX7OjIuU4wmDDv6Sy1MD72PeLLhligRf_YInoFwZqpkU/s320/Harmattan.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NASA photograph of sand blowing over West Africa.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>This annual phenomenon begins in Nov/Dec and continues for several months. The sky was gray/brown when we arrived a year ago in January and did not turn blue until April. In 1999 Marsha and I were in <st1:place><st1:city>Luxor</st1:city>, <st1:country-region>Egypt</st1:country-region></st1:place>, and our guide described this yearly sandstorm. She indicated that the winds deposit up to six inches of sand each year in <st1:city><st1:place>Luxor</st1:place></st1:city>. I didn’t believe her then. Now I do. Fortunately we are far enough away from the <st1:place>Sahara</st1:place> that the sand, at our location, is high in the atmosphere and doesn’t accumulate six inches on the ground. It does, however, leave a very fine red/brown residue on the car every two to three days. Where does the sand go? Does it all fall into the <st1:place>Atlantic</st1:place>? I don’t know. Could this be the real reason for global warming? Or does this answer the question of where does the sand on beaches come from?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have mentioned before the frequent highway accidents involving trucks. In the past month we have had two near miss accidents. The first one was on our way home from Tema. We were in our car sitting at the light waiting to go over the Tema highway overpass. We were in the outside lane of two lanes with a raised concrete median separating us from two lanes of oncoming traffic. While waiting for the light to change a truck came over the overpass toward us, obviously out of control. The truck jumped up over the median and crashed head on into three cars in the lane to our left, stopping within ten feet of us. We could see the wide eyes of the truck driver as his truck came to a stop in the midst of these cars. The sound of the collision was not the sound heard on TV or in the movies. It was much lower pitched, like cardboard boxes exploding. The driver of one of the cars slumped over his steering wheel obviously injured by the impact. It all happened in a few seconds. It was very unnerving. We scooted around the carnage and drove home, grateful to have been preserved. The second near miss occurred on the <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> highway just outside of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. We were traveling about 50 km/hour behind an eighteen wheeler. It was a flatbed with a heavy load tied down and covered with tarps. We heard a loud bang which seemed to come from the front of our car, toward the right front fender. We couldn’t determine a source for the noise. Within seconds we noticed the truck in front of us starting to wobble and then veer toward the right. The truck went onto the shoulder of the road and flipped on its side. It continued on its side for 30 km until it came to a stop, making a loud grinding noise and pushing up a cloud of dirt and dust. Once again, this entire accident took only seconds to happen. We never did see a brake light come on. I am grateful that the truck went to the right and not across the median into the oncoming traffic. Christopher was in the front seat of the car and had been taking photos of scenery. He quickly took this picture.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSKaV65IdUlmU8OJtErdfxcx-p6Pl3xTCKyPBDZrFQFTBvDv8uvYWp534vJP7nD0PXOcAeS0YX0oY2FkZfLIFbmaHXkfEH_TRNwvwNJWJmOoLtf8wB1xfiwYvKcCJZCMwVoiIN8LHJDU/s1600/Christopher+pictures+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSKaV65IdUlmU8OJtErdfxcx-p6Pl3xTCKyPBDZrFQFTBvDv8uvYWp534vJP7nD0PXOcAeS0YX0oY2FkZfLIFbmaHXkfEH_TRNwvwNJWJmOoLtf8wB1xfiwYvKcCJZCMwVoiIN8LHJDU/s320/Christopher+pictures+030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me describe a less disturbing incident. I mentioned in November that the bats had returned to the trees on <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Avenue</st1:address></st1:street>. About three weeks ago I was coming up Independence and stopped at the Independence Ave/Achimota Highway intersection right next to 37 Military Hospital. This is the same intersection where I had the disturbing experience last May trying to take a video of the vendors (see blog entry dated <st1:date day="8" month="5" year="2010">8 May 2010</st1:date>.) I had come to a stop and was leaning against the driver side window looking up at all of the bats hanging from the tree branches. I heard some shouting outside the car but ignored it and continued looking at the trees. The shouting continued and came closer and closer to my car. I didn’t look around because I knew I wasn’t doing anything inappropriate, like photographing the vendors. The shouting continued. I tried to see from my periphery why everyone was shouting. I noticed that they were yelling at me and pointing to my side of the car. I then noticed something bobbing up and down slightly toward the back window on the driver’s side. When I turned to my left to look at it I came face to face with a bat, obviously dead, strung up by one leg and held by a young man with a full grin on his face. The young man was bobbing the bat up and down for me to look at. I didn’t know if he wanted me to put my window down and touch the bat, or if he wanted me to purchase it for dinner. The bat was beautiful. It was about 14 inches across, a sable brown color with a streak of gray/black down its back. Its fur appeared to be soft like cashmere. I am sure it would have been very soft to touch. I acknowledged the display by giving the bat vendor two thumbs up. He grinned even wider. And then all of the other shouting vendors broke into grins. I guess they wanted to show the inquisitive white guy who was looking up into the bat trees what a bat actually looked like up close. Or maybe they had bets on whether I would buy it and were pleased to see, predictably, that I wasn’t interested in it for dinner. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In late November I had reason to sit in a patient waiting room at <st1:place><st1:placetype>Ridge</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Hospital</st1:placetype></st1:place> for an hour. I was accompanying an elderly Ghanaian to an ophthalmologist to see if cataract surgery was an option for treatment of his diminished vision. We had arrived at <st1:time hour="8" minute="0">8:00 a.m.</st1:time> along with forty or fifty other patients. We were all crowded together in a small room waiting for our turn. A small television set was in the center of the wall we were facing. It was showing programs from a local station. I could not understand most of the programs. However, one program was very understandable and quite informative. It was ten minutes of instruction for an upcoming local election. It was mostly visual with very little audio. I didn’t recognize the district, I assume it was in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>, but the program listed all of the candidates running for election. It showed a picture of each of the candidates, a picture of his or her name, and then a symbol representing, I assume, either his or her political party or some kind of an emblem of identification. Some of the symbols were animals. One was a red chicken. Some were geometric designs. One was a star, one was a pentagon. There were about ten individuals. The ballot was then shown listing all of the candidates and their symbols. The camera very slowly panned the ballot from the top to the bottom, showing each candidate’s name and each candidate’s symbol. A box adjacent to each candidate was noticeable on the right side of the ballot. The program then demonstrated how a person would vote by putting black ink on his or her right thumb and placing his/her inked thumb in the box of his/her candidate of choice. The thumbprint had to be entirely inside the box. The program demonstrated how ballots with thumb prints outside of the box would be rejected. The program ended by showing an individual holding up his inked thumb and smiling. I am sure that this election demonstration was repeated many times during the day and night.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was fascinated by this television program. Think about it for a minute. When you and I vote we obtain a ballot by showing our identification and signing our name. We then look at the ballot listing all of the candidates and read the names and choose the one we want to vote for. And then we read each of the legislative issues being considered and decide either yes or no to support the issue. How do you hold elections when a large percentage of the people voting cannot read or cannot sign his or her name? You do it the way I just described. And you demonstrate it on television (everyone has TV) for weeks ahead of the election. Very ingenious. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By the way, I found out about the red rooster party. This is a billboard with a red rooster candidate from a previous election.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYbN-2EznbOiNR8fu7nQ6X6B_xGSp8MCGxinE0K4qR7dgx8x2uFaT1ANVD93udPGyYPWG8quYv__U9yl-xMR9FXNsRmsvvHkESns5JY0uypz8nNkLLHUpwqLt2Wi9uaq8mM2Re3fC0nc/s1600/Garrett+photos+D70+056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYbN-2EznbOiNR8fu7nQ6X6B_xGSp8MCGxinE0K4qR7dgx8x2uFaT1ANVD93udPGyYPWG8quYv__U9yl-xMR9FXNsRmsvvHkESns5JY0uypz8nNkLLHUpwqLt2Wi9uaq8mM2Re3fC0nc/s320/Garrett+photos+D70+056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I also discovered the red rooster party slogan: “Backward never. Forward forever.” I think someone needs to come up with an ingenious slogan for our two political parties. Maybe one of them (you choose which party) could use as its slogan: “First fix the blame.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Here are a few fun photos. I have described the kapok trees in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. They are huge, standing above the other trees like Manhatten skyscrapers. This is what they look like when cut and loaded on a logging truck.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTyO2IjBczhHNoL3dmluAqEk_70RrW77kFLKj8tJEMRP4qTOXSccBFopFH9_RLPWUqx8ae3zCsZE28vHfNAx6Sf3bwueixwn7gJk6NqRu_Y4fLkc1ZkI1YOU3A1zBKkwB302a4AydaIQ/s1600/Garrett+photos+D70+052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTyO2IjBczhHNoL3dmluAqEk_70RrW77kFLKj8tJEMRP4qTOXSccBFopFH9_RLPWUqx8ae3zCsZE28vHfNAx6Sf3bwueixwn7gJk6NqRu_Y4fLkc1ZkI1YOU3A1zBKkwB302a4AydaIQ/s320/Garrett+photos+D70+052.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><br />
It is unnerving to see one of these coming toward you knowing the number of trucks on the highway with brakes that are waiting to fail. Each time we see a large truck approaching, especially a truck carrying a tree the size of a tennis court, we take a deep breath and look to which direction we would have to go should the truck cross into our lane out of control.<br />
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The next photo is one of the current orange harvest.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksUMOu8kq4ecchroHXXStn5YDIf-GS1KYC0ordXP9tlKHu3BK8eDmyIreU5jUHDGBR9zLITKqfAYLy1XEiNRq_jkOzl5KI7flpeT6jTPsuJjqSt9StvIkpHfk50O1_kbD6W_gsKJ_BK0/s1600/P1030842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksUMOu8kq4ecchroHXXStn5YDIf-GS1KYC0ordXP9tlKHu3BK8eDmyIreU5jUHDGBR9zLITKqfAYLy1XEiNRq_jkOzl5KI7flpeT6jTPsuJjqSt9StvIkpHfk50O1_kbD6W_gsKJ_BK0/s320/P1030842.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
These piles of oranges are along the sides of the roads waiting to be loaded and transported into the towns/cities. It is easy to see why we can buy oranges for Ghc 1 per dozen (about sixty eight cents.) <br />
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This third photo is a display of women's hats for sale.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxxg0TzyGAnZRtjnUdattbzK8vIiTCu8D-S_5SRlhdfL3RMUwv3TrSiNmAISXgq7tdXT56yAEDef_y39MjqTI8kV2Cda7XJvTl8qftPgF149o9Akuy-NuSEmjHnItdOhDbuZXFi8izDSc/s1600/mid+December+coolpix+photos+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxxg0TzyGAnZRtjnUdattbzK8vIiTCu8D-S_5SRlhdfL3RMUwv3TrSiNmAISXgq7tdXT56yAEDef_y39MjqTI8kV2Cda7XJvTl8qftPgF149o9Akuy-NuSEmjHnItdOhDbuZXFi8izDSc/s320/mid+December+coolpix+photos+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Isn’t this a beautiful display of hats that would have been popular in the <st1:country-region><st1:place>US</st1:place></st1:country-region> about half a century ago? When you see one of these hats on a Ghanaian woman you can see why such beauty never goes out of African style.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRT3I3Km1NEsDrpNIdVd6eyHJK5YrATkOxHfW8yzbekOBFcpNRU-Y3SUCTjAI4e6oyBzN5q6adY41q2ICA6g5FuJdnsVdnkEzHNMyqOFtGvtJO_SOxUN-uotUYjQOvEOvuZU70ZvK2u14/s1600/P1030956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRT3I3Km1NEsDrpNIdVd6eyHJK5YrATkOxHfW8yzbekOBFcpNRU-Y3SUCTjAI4e6oyBzN5q6adY41q2ICA6g5FuJdnsVdnkEzHNMyqOFtGvtJO_SOxUN-uotUYjQOvEOvuZU70ZvK2u14/s320/P1030956.JPG" width="289" /></a></div><br />
Ghanaian women make any item of clothing look beautiful.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDl6crLzcWKk3nZzrRMJRJ7nFgRBrKkuPgIUKbD6oEQBX_MsRP-q1jPnqv87fQ1d4ABIk00qTzhjsWOmoT8E5uB7LrmK7IH3KnmlMeP_jJih95mjBSPLKM7sW3eRHWoLiDjxSBcIgndN4/s1600/P1030942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDl6crLzcWKk3nZzrRMJRJ7nFgRBrKkuPgIUKbD6oEQBX_MsRP-q1jPnqv87fQ1d4ABIk00qTzhjsWOmoT8E5uB7LrmK7IH3KnmlMeP_jJih95mjBSPLKM7sW3eRHWoLiDjxSBcIgndN4/s320/P1030942.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">Last item. What’s in the news? This week’s article comes from alert reader Kevin Page and is entitled “Cure for Malaria Discovered in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>.” You can click on the article to see it magnified. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrN9PQuC6lcbR7SuYRROOkvsQNb7WE0WS39RCv9ojThLwXR4rBrAgwDO8jZFPJyCgcC-TZV1gR1erKLpLTrlIX_7JEkUFklxSom4VMILTu6ASls0d-zl1bn7xBPpsUB3sDtPCnacqD9ag/s1600/malaria+cure+Oct+2010+newspaper+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrN9PQuC6lcbR7SuYRROOkvsQNb7WE0WS39RCv9ojThLwXR4rBrAgwDO8jZFPJyCgcC-TZV1gR1erKLpLTrlIX_7JEkUFklxSom4VMILTu6ASls0d-zl1bn7xBPpsUB3sDtPCnacqD9ag/s200/malaria+cure+Oct+2010+newspaper+001.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">The article gives details about two entrepreneurial women, “Mrs. Lily Amoa . . . [who owns] the Kiddy Centre, a nursery school” and “Mrs. Bade Nkwankpa . . . a lawyer/pharmacist by profession and a pastor” and their startling discovery of Chanca Piedra “a small, erect weed-like herb that grows 30-40 centimetres in height and . . . spreads freely like a weed.” The article relates the fact that Mrs. Nkwankpa had been ill with malaria and had been advised by a friend to drink some tea made from the Chanca Piedra plant that was growing in Mrs. Nkwankpa’s yard. She did so and in three days was cured from her malaria. She even went to the hospital to confirm she was well and the doctors there “certified that all malaria parasites were flushed out of her system.” Flushed? Is that what it takes to cure malaria? Maybe Drano would work. Based upon this experience the two women “read widely about the plant and at the end of the day sent the result of their findings to the Nogouchi Memorial Institute for Medical Research, <st1:place><st1:placetype>University</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Ghana</st1:placename></st1:place>, Legon, where the efficacy of the Chanca Piedra plant was certified through a series of scientific tests.” Isn't it commendable that these two women spent an <u>entire day</u> researching this finding? The best part of the article is the list of secondary medical benefits from the plant. “The Chanca Piedra has been identified as potently effective to reduce excessive cholesterol in the human body, lower blood pressure, reduce blood sugar, expel stones and support kidney in its functions. In addition, Chanca Piedra has also been known through scientific tests as having the potency to increase urination, relieve serious pains, clear obstructions, kill viruses, aid digestion and reduce inflammation. Other diseases that a well-prepared Chanca Piedra can combat include killing bacteria, preventing mutation, reducing fever, expelling worms and it can be conveniently used as a mild laxative.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There you go. Scientific journalism doesn’t get any better. I would suggest buying stock in whatever pharmaceutical company starts making this Wonder Drug available to mankind. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In one week we will have been in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> for a year. I would like to say that our time here has passed quickly. But it hasn’t. It seems like we have been here forever. It has been a challenge. But it has also been very rewarding. Many of our initial fears and concerns have faded. We are not worried about our safety. The traffic doesn’t create as many heart palpitations as it did in the beginning (except for the trucks coming at us with a load of kapok trees.) It doesn’t seem as unbearably hot as it did in the beginning. The food is better as we have learned how and where to shop. Our living accommodations are more comfortable, not that much has changed in the apartment but because we have become accustomed to the shortcomings. (Having a dryer installed in the apartment has made things a lot better.) The best part, as I have mentioned so many times, is the people of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. They are kind, loving, sincere, friendly, and helpful. They have made our stay worthwhile. And the children. Oh, the children. They are the most beautiful children we have seen anywhere in the world. We have to continually suppress our impulse to gather them up and bring them home with us.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I will write the next entry about the wonderful month we have had with Christopher and Garrett. A Month of Sons.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div></div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-83877543955344150052010-12-26T14:30:00.000-08:002011-01-16T22:54:10.472-08:00Christmas in GhanaSome photos and comments about our Christmas in Ghana. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinn325gVos80YKZiPAot7IUF0v9EigX0p4bMPvhkWRXPLpD-gsFfGDoMNZHh0XWdO09mVhdtOI-4lpwun8v9rHBdi4ibC3FSGKCcyPiPV2SsDS56w0ZrIWRotKPdeEEkPqosv0qU02NNA/s1600/Christmas+photos+Coolpix+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinn325gVos80YKZiPAot7IUF0v9EigX0p4bMPvhkWRXPLpD-gsFfGDoMNZHh0XWdO09mVhdtOI-4lpwun8v9rHBdi4ibC3FSGKCcyPiPV2SsDS56w0ZrIWRotKPdeEEkPqosv0qU02NNA/s400/Christmas+photos+Coolpix+022.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Christopher joined us for the holidays.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAXidCLNdSoRSPSNzDJ-QomuZtl0b0CHV4hrW5MbD4Ah1uhw4mB1j4e1_JPelWTdj1Hmq43wYFsaUO0Nd-dzHSaX2Ti46Nq6a3xZp-tJwRC12SC1i7HDc0SCb062ahIyhPH8fKM_vrcU/s1600/Mid+Dec+pictures+Coolpix+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAXidCLNdSoRSPSNzDJ-QomuZtl0b0CHV4hrW5MbD4Ah1uhw4mB1j4e1_JPelWTdj1Hmq43wYFsaUO0Nd-dzHSaX2Ti46Nq6a3xZp-tJwRC12SC1i7HDc0SCb062ahIyhPH8fKM_vrcU/s400/Mid+Dec+pictures+Coolpix+010.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>This tree reminds me of the one in Dr. Seuss' <u>How The Grinch Stole Christmas.</u> At night the vertical strands of flashing lights on the upper one half of the tree make it appear to have illuminated ants running down the surface. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSpdRXLBEWHJcN6U6cEKNLLMXm_YPgi9o5gHscwX7UDRO7dpleoOaAZzUD2Vf2pEosqt636xHpogMTuDOUT_QS4th8RJv_tP76XNFoTSG_vt1-v4yfcu40XM22Wq89ocHhFj7YwlfELI/s1600/Christopher+pictures+096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSpdRXLBEWHJcN6U6cEKNLLMXm_YPgi9o5gHscwX7UDRO7dpleoOaAZzUD2Vf2pEosqt636xHpogMTuDOUT_QS4th8RJv_tP76XNFoTSG_vt1-v4yfcu40XM22Wq89ocHhFj7YwlfELI/s400/Christopher+pictures+096.JPG" width="282" /></a></div>All dressed up for the holidays.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyyQIVX-Nl5KoQ9jQfBoabo_jgH9IrBqwJ1gGoeX2xYMh-BtdQLsP0-Fh8EcoETx7YvXIpDs46n2o1vRZ_S9VXpOyPdmw0YZFsUNR5-5BF-dQXRrR4q4u_dXLdY0Njh9wMTQfRah5wtFk/s1600/Christmas+photos+Coolpix+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyyQIVX-Nl5KoQ9jQfBoabo_jgH9IrBqwJ1gGoeX2xYMh-BtdQLsP0-Fh8EcoETx7YvXIpDs46n2o1vRZ_S9VXpOyPdmw0YZFsUNR5-5BF-dQXRrR4q4u_dXLdY0Njh9wMTQfRah5wtFk/s400/Christmas+photos+Coolpix+029.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Christmas shopping.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZAkMuKe0ViDPPYuuu1AkcZcC7GZVpeCAU3sspFord3dPiio2begLYJ9NiVsmnwG8rZsJ_KWMzW_wPSzyCOaEsQRlRHzHHsgSH_0vGSVLGBFaZ-Kk0TEM11OECAwuEmemaoYO1fD6uMo/s1600/Christopher+pictures+061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZAkMuKe0ViDPPYuuu1AkcZcC7GZVpeCAU3sspFord3dPiio2begLYJ9NiVsmnwG8rZsJ_KWMzW_wPSzyCOaEsQRlRHzHHsgSH_0vGSVLGBFaZ-Kk0TEM11OECAwuEmemaoYO1fD6uMo/s400/Christopher+pictures+061.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Last minute gift ideas. Note the white curb.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidpBV_fjA6qT5ZOno5JmN5BEBW1NaekLUyng7ppSM6CFoxcTvTpI5DUNAbhAMSHR3Lavu8HQ7hYbsOure6HTYRofkdLvuBsDIBousOJKfHVKq0nis20EtBqNcImrEpE63kaYDAWcVu9sE/s1600/Christopher+pictures+064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidpBV_fjA6qT5ZOno5JmN5BEBW1NaekLUyng7ppSM6CFoxcTvTpI5DUNAbhAMSHR3Lavu8HQ7hYbsOure6HTYRofkdLvuBsDIBousOJKfHVKq0nis20EtBqNcImrEpE63kaYDAWcVu9sE/s400/Christopher+pictures+064.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Accra's idea of a White Christmas. All of the curbs along Independence Avenue were painted white during the week before Christmas. Oops. Looks like the painters were a little sloppy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4hm2MHuYtZc2gkzlKugHNzil7jr2vRFb00LIHRPakGwocjovU23GJ0WNpFFRkcX8l59duruaVuTbVexPP2u9sgwjxUmsisdyeml8cqnCk5CH6QwFdO52nWv5k3I3TsCv9HGAkZ5LkpA/s1600/Christmas+photos+Coolpix+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4hm2MHuYtZc2gkzlKugHNzil7jr2vRFb00LIHRPakGwocjovU23GJ0WNpFFRkcX8l59duruaVuTbVexPP2u9sgwjxUmsisdyeml8cqnCk5CH6QwFdO52nWv5k3I3TsCv9HGAkZ5LkpA/s400/Christmas+photos+Coolpix+025.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Note the holiday hours. (click on the picture if needed.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgysG647xU8QVjn6bn4P6Av5Hkf-ERb0QT7_Z2apFhdCYIQYjnQMRCQRfuH-z3u8E2KdYKBDEGWqOMZadbloy3b19O8FKSIcBy5X5j6Os5x3u03DU6fOMj7wip8bq67Dcm1mT-6FLhLbsw/s1600/Christmas+photos+Coolpix+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgysG647xU8QVjn6bn4P6Av5Hkf-ERb0QT7_Z2apFhdCYIQYjnQMRCQRfuH-z3u8E2KdYKBDEGWqOMZadbloy3b19O8FKSIcBy5X5j6Os5x3u03DU6fOMj7wip8bq67Dcm1mT-6FLhLbsw/s320/Christmas+photos+Coolpix+028.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Christmas dinner. The chicken doesn't get more fresh than this.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1j1t-fFoBMMgqwmzPGocqxBDx5tSSCiXfTvPNGwI8zmPp968wA3qZhkFYVVzmqMAZNtZH9fYHj3tiNeRaf5qPyh8fFF0G0sgCCHVTuDkQAIh0hr80NGpAiNBolYaF_RtNpN0eS_X6Xs/s1600/Christmas+Marsha+cam+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1j1t-fFoBMMgqwmzPGocqxBDx5tSSCiXfTvPNGwI8zmPp968wA3qZhkFYVVzmqMAZNtZH9fYHj3tiNeRaf5qPyh8fFF0G0sgCCHVTuDkQAIh0hr80NGpAiNBolYaF_RtNpN0eS_X6Xs/s400/Christmas+Marsha+cam+019.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Goat doesn't get any fresher, either. The goats are tied at the roadside for sale. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7F3pmlRlUD-YRZTTVgjrtgqi3UygVGKUd2_HyT3mIA47i8rFi09iXJ-qvzfuNyjrEj3onQ79O4vpa9dmvV1QFVbyygKDswgYh6WtYLQApDv9xu_4s7ZQFPMPIgvrEpndeZsKFQJ8l0g/s1600/Christopher+pictures+137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7F3pmlRlUD-YRZTTVgjrtgqi3UygVGKUd2_HyT3mIA47i8rFi09iXJ-qvzfuNyjrEj3onQ79O4vpa9dmvV1QFVbyygKDswgYh6WtYLQApDv9xu_4s7ZQFPMPIgvrEpndeZsKFQJ8l0g/s400/Christopher+pictures+137.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">More goats for dinner. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMU0Wlge25-MP1Ay3vG67hDUjfN1s_q5NDnrfiY-8gyV8jnGkvgkqz22cYKteogaETIrhDUAMGpO6lZj2kdlo_7sjsm6SspV_1IamOCcvSK0YPp6teDDp6SAKdW2SFzy31lNWJ44fPwKo/s1600/Christmas+D70+pictures+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMU0Wlge25-MP1Ay3vG67hDUjfN1s_q5NDnrfiY-8gyV8jnGkvgkqz22cYKteogaETIrhDUAMGpO6lZj2kdlo_7sjsm6SspV_1IamOCcvSK0YPp6teDDp6SAKdW2SFzy31lNWJ44fPwKo/s400/Christmas+D70+pictures+027.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sunrise Christmas morning. The red/orange haze is the harmattan. I will explain it in my next entry. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxXD6FxCwZUYGeygvk-yDfknwEtToWGZrXAO88bVQVd2V7Z5iXoAYKKV0LoSlypB9e54cPkxwRvcSfzZb598L4VjF9pYaG38hBVcVrNVilRLONfVjv17KQoJTKZZAOs13juQesCo82BI/s1600/Marsha+Christmas+photos+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxXD6FxCwZUYGeygvk-yDfknwEtToWGZrXAO88bVQVd2V7Z5iXoAYKKV0LoSlypB9e54cPkxwRvcSfzZb598L4VjF9pYaG38hBVcVrNVilRLONfVjv17KQoJTKZZAOs13juQesCo82BI/s400/Marsha+Christmas+photos+005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Christmas brunch at the Ghana Accra mission home with the senior missionaries and area presidency/wives. No goat. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigw1ykXbQLxvDHKi10V8TOlh0D8RagnezoO3OwiFxy50PlblUQxXxOZ0j7iP5ivHQKv3YPvVKSdbaUYQdtZfa57K1wrRyI_j6VSKxsde-kJpUnzJh_ZPaksLxidG220v2wU9PpQbpwWD4/s1600/Marsha+Christmas+photos+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigw1ykXbQLxvDHKi10V8TOlh0D8RagnezoO3OwiFxy50PlblUQxXxOZ0j7iP5ivHQKv3YPvVKSdbaUYQdtZfa57K1wrRyI_j6VSKxsde-kJpUnzJh_ZPaksLxidG220v2wU9PpQbpwWD4/s400/Marsha+Christmas+photos+028.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> Good food and good company.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2MSfOYRtgRsC1yNc0igfndfyysQNYofHsQO2U1SWSnaX9wut9hnKwMX4nkcNRxjR4JiS1ybAeu0du0liOx7OYkSOpkUylIla85QUCgHduTe6tqE2gl7LtUDmADuTuekGb3TM_lcsA7eQ/s1600/Christmas+D70+pictures+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2MSfOYRtgRsC1yNc0igfndfyysQNYofHsQO2U1SWSnaX9wut9hnKwMX4nkcNRxjR4JiS1ybAeu0du0liOx7OYkSOpkUylIla85QUCgHduTe6tqE2gl7LtUDmADuTuekGb3TM_lcsA7eQ/s400/Christmas+D70+pictures+040.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here we are taking a Christmas day swim. We are lounging around the pool, enjoying the heat and talking about our dear friends and family. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrM2TRtDw_iwlLjCM73S8AB-u9RY7nQRJCyUTyYkaZmWQtMhexHGB7AFBER14EJRcrB02tgJqs3GWlpXTfj3bGp2B6h2OVUdzwN89K3SMgodjgu331MR_jMjHXZcGyuwFZr8FEheEqggs/s1600/Christmas+D70+pictures+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrM2TRtDw_iwlLjCM73S8AB-u9RY7nQRJCyUTyYkaZmWQtMhexHGB7AFBER14EJRcrB02tgJqs3GWlpXTfj3bGp2B6h2OVUdzwN89K3SMgodjgu331MR_jMjHXZcGyuwFZr8FEheEqggs/s400/Christmas+D70+pictures+041.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">AND WISHING YOU WERE HERE! Holiday greetings from Ghana. We send our love. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-57746754703122502602010-12-05T15:40:00.000-08:002010-12-05T22:24:22.996-08:005 December 2010<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGaDtF5ZjtBRhJfzZ5IPGN3lxRhi_GtNjJZGxEsPkDWUU6Me4NLc1B4qEjDdN1FGX7iBrXZYDRU8T7aU2LmqARSLawwE6ajiudkAyfMgwW7F9pY9n3JqFPFmK7YFOcvIvV9-iAXKPUIo/s1600/Marsha+cam+Sep+2010+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGaDtF5ZjtBRhJfzZ5IPGN3lxRhi_GtNjJZGxEsPkDWUU6Me4NLc1B4qEjDdN1FGX7iBrXZYDRU8T7aU2LmqARSLawwE6ajiudkAyfMgwW7F9pY9n3JqFPFmK7YFOcvIvV9-iAXKPUIo/s200/Marsha+cam+Sep+2010+014.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Ghana Tomato Project is done. Here is the final report: Justice died early, Mercy produced a lot of blossoms but very few tomatoes, Charity (never faileth) produced tomatoes but they were tasteless, and Hope fizzled. We’ve decided to grow a flower garden instead. Here are pictures of what is growing to date. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KqVakHrZ7aMojD9LZlmflrRaeMNlVJy4bMqgBkABJPwXWGEg7BfnmeKi7jpevCewzj9jM2sqAw5jHwB0s8enYUM03LIBoSp6gU_jGvWpbC2_F73Ki8q3Yzjt8AN40yhBMb09N-xa3Is/s1600/Marsha+cam+Dec+photos+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KqVakHrZ7aMojD9LZlmflrRaeMNlVJy4bMqgBkABJPwXWGEg7BfnmeKi7jpevCewzj9jM2sqAw5jHwB0s8enYUM03LIBoSp6gU_jGvWpbC2_F73Ki8q3Yzjt8AN40yhBMb09N-xa3Is/s320/Marsha+cam+Dec+photos+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic_sKJVSpWoC6ckT1g9ZgY3ITPzv0qnAWW5Bzq94TNWegljIO1YR00_7gFn2ItriU-Mh8CccISgXersX3vUQ6tO2s18CQERD1YzzFuLsNjDElG2AGQlN8_SIYxYNZjiGlNf1LfYpAbhvc/s1600/Marsha+cam+Dec+photos+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic_sKJVSpWoC6ckT1g9ZgY3ITPzv0qnAWW5Bzq94TNWegljIO1YR00_7gFn2ItriU-Mh8CccISgXersX3vUQ6tO2s18CQERD1YzzFuLsNjDElG2AGQlN8_SIYxYNZjiGlNf1LfYpAbhvc/s320/Marsha+cam+Dec+photos+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ETMMuTlJE3f6w2EFVqaIjPXDI-53_L_jW-SMIsymi47pg1B3RpjYKvhNXNKM8l4Ovw88OjoVjJgtRTZBjJyGoWwTgwLHUvkIHeWbDqSZVxC6KVsh1UFEuhStFYvz5U4zWf56b726uwE/s1600/D70+Dec+photos+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ETMMuTlJE3f6w2EFVqaIjPXDI-53_L_jW-SMIsymi47pg1B3RpjYKvhNXNKM8l4Ovw88OjoVjJgtRTZBjJyGoWwTgwLHUvkIHeWbDqSZVxC6KVsh1UFEuhStFYvz5U4zWf56b726uwE/s320/D70+Dec+photos+006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRsCroQwGFo6hpDqH0bqTbAXIUrfTHztQt65OBcx82ZwNkgwEb1ILPGMzWvj2uVQMtMVULukFzMvxpIpaW0Nbag1S8IqcMdoXK4IqKf23rzLsv0aW4y1T3JfdEYgfa4RQ-FRW1WsZV3Y/s1600/Marsha+cam+Dec+photos+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRsCroQwGFo6hpDqH0bqTbAXIUrfTHztQt65OBcx82ZwNkgwEb1ILPGMzWvj2uVQMtMVULukFzMvxpIpaW0Nbag1S8IqcMdoXK4IqKf23rzLsv0aW4y1T3JfdEYgfa4RQ-FRW1WsZV3Y/s320/Marsha+cam+Dec+photos+005.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The shrub is an orange blossom bush. It is from the orange blossom bush alongside our stairwell that blossoms every 3 – 4 weeks and gives us two days of olfactory bliss. I doubt this one planted in the pot will mature enough to blossom during the remaining time we have here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was driving down <st1:city><st1:place>Independence</st1:place></st1:city> yesterday morning and was slowed by this group of people marching down the avenue.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSZoSooma8SQ3qt1kfdAF1h_ir6b9apU89oO8lhTxC6Hpcxb2-Zr9UOabI67FIPGyXK_0brcR8YOHd44uLtPFUK0OugcLn435XX9FOWnhEMnjKkz674w5Pk-C8haJ68pauTyhSXzdqFyI/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSZoSooma8SQ3qt1kfdAF1h_ir6b9apU89oO8lhTxC6Hpcxb2-Zr9UOabI67FIPGyXK_0brcR8YOHd44uLtPFUK0OugcLn435XX9FOWnhEMnjKkz674w5Pk-C8haJ68pauTyhSXzdqFyI/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">They carried picket signs and were chanting/singing. I fully expected to discover that they were upset about some perceived social injustice and wanted to demonstrate their support for a solution. I was delighted to see, once close enough to read their signs, that they were demonstrating their support for an organization that was advocating prevention of violence to women. I wish I would have had the convenience to take more photos. And I wish I could have audiotaped their chanting/singing. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is a photograph (compliments of Google, I’ve not been able to get a personal picture) of our current Most Favorite Bird in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMXzVvir0BG3UYwex_WvLniSDUxGc644QO4lx8rJOWNAKhWTcv8xH-5waMbe4w63aoGvLQnzpCtkylAcFxCzck1uv7T61UhEmb2Di5R3Cums8xAW5HxrThdPg_dB3wryYdBCz8kpZ6rkE/s1600/Gray+headed+kingfisher+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMXzVvir0BG3UYwex_WvLniSDUxGc644QO4lx8rJOWNAKhWTcv8xH-5waMbe4w63aoGvLQnzpCtkylAcFxCzck1uv7T61UhEmb2Di5R3Cums8xAW5HxrThdPg_dB3wryYdBCz8kpZ6rkE/s200/Gray+headed+kingfisher+photo.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">This is the gray headed kingfisher. We have seen this bird three times, now, each time near the swimming pool. It is as beautiful as the Google picture shows. The bird’s wings are various shades of turquoise and his/her beak is red/orange. Twice, the bird has flown from a tree branch on one side of the pool to the surface of the water, touching the surface briefly, I’m assuming to catch a bug, and then up into the branch of a tree on the opposite side. I have tried to get a photograph but the bird has flown away too quickly to get a camera, get it turned on, and get the picture taken. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is a picture of another bird. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2yRPLzB_cy7dnCLvHRtu4RR3nK0jPNhNdVb6kA8_gA6zOeITTFgkhpjC5IVhynjHpIIGjybJiyPfPyeNm_YjLJ0DhdfxZwxDfwkYBed6xTD6mFgjDW_g3DfDB4fMLwsrGldL6LqDXSrc/s1600/D70+Dec+photos+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2yRPLzB_cy7dnCLvHRtu4RR3nK0jPNhNdVb6kA8_gA6zOeITTFgkhpjC5IVhynjHpIIGjybJiyPfPyeNm_YjLJ0DhdfxZwxDfwkYBed6xTD6mFgjDW_g3DfDB4fMLwsrGldL6LqDXSrc/s320/D70+Dec+photos+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was able to take this photo while this bird was having a meal of palm berries. The bird was very content to sit and eat while I took photographs. The bird looks like a hawk with its curved beak. I have not been able to determine its species.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On the first Monday of each month the medical service at the US Embassy hosts a <st1:stockticker>CME</st1:stockticker> program for local physicians. I have attended most of the presentations this past year. Fifteen to twenty Ghanaian physicians usually attend along with three to five non Ghanaian physicians. The Embassy physician in charge plays a <st1:stockticker>CME</st1:stockticker> presentation that has been prerecorded, usually a month or two earlier, from somewhere in the <st1:country-region><st1:place>US</st1:place></st1:country-region>. After the presentation he or she leads a discussion on the topic presented. Some times the topics are relevant and there is an informative discussion. Other times there is a significant disconnect between the topic and its relevance to medical practice in Africa, such as the presentation last summer on the workup and treatment of pediatric meningitis in the USA but no mention of malaria, which is the number one pediatric <st1:stockticker>CNS</st1:stockticker> infectious disease in Africa. The topic in November was treatment of evenomations (dangerous snake/spider/insect etc. bites) presented by an ER physician from <st1:city><st1:place>Chicago</st1:place></st1:city>. Think about this topic for a minute. You can immediately imagine the disconnect. The Ghanaian physicians did not seem too interested in learning about dangerous North American spiders/snakes/insects and were obviously disappointed that the lecturer, in describing dangerous snakes, did not mention the African black mamba, a snake that can grow to 14 feet in length, can raise it’s head three to four feet off the ground, can strike from 10 feet away, can travel at speeds up to 12 mph, and has venom so potent it has been known to kill giraffes. It makes the diamondback rattler look harmless. (We don’t have black mambas here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>; we have a cousin, however, the green mamba, a smaller snake which is not as dangerous as the black mamba and is usually not as feared, except by Marsha who is fearful of anything snakelike.) The Ghanaian physicians also unanimously disagreed with the Chicago ER doctor’s description of the “deadly” black African scorpion, which, in reality is the Emperor Scorpion a rather ferocious looking critter but actually quite harmless, so harmless that there is a growing market here in Ghana dealing with the illegal exportation of these scorpions to pet stores around the world. So much for November's CME. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We had a wonderful Thanksgiving week. Dan and Joyce Jones came to <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> to visit us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArEhZzx1XnNUbYc4fDkzNQTncYnjJjml2jPuSTv-i8sUbuSvN1qArxHLqFulauYNZ8zWrjb6DeN30zsycKaLeZ22kOWtgsRcEmlZ32uXyafbMbAO9xGh2tEOeLtwT3W6DQZfpUzB-t70/s1600/DRM+koolpix+Nov+photos+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArEhZzx1XnNUbYc4fDkzNQTncYnjJjml2jPuSTv-i8sUbuSvN1qArxHLqFulauYNZ8zWrjb6DeN30zsycKaLeZ22kOWtgsRcEmlZ32uXyafbMbAO9xGh2tEOeLtwT3W6DQZfpUzB-t70/s320/DRM+koolpix+Nov+photos+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Can you believe that? It is indeed true friendship when someone will skip a traditional American Thanksgiving celebration and travel a great distance (approximately 7,500 air miles) to spend a week in an impoverished, uncomfortably hot country. But they did it. It was a tremendous boost to us. We cherished each day with them. We tried to show them the best of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> (hard to do) and minimized the worst (harder to do.) We spent four days in and around <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>, including a visit one day to a village school near Dodowa</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuqirwWFjFb42QwRt8I401QScNW9YwCXvZf4fxKhMp-BrlGYyh-dcOYZptuB6NiLX-ce4JAolHBjtnVqZwQG9X0iXR_HxgzFvkXUBMuzTi8twLWTK3OnoH3M1NP9wtlbO2KI3x8O2i5UQ/s1600/IMG_0465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuqirwWFjFb42QwRt8I401QScNW9YwCXvZf4fxKhMp-BrlGYyh-dcOYZptuB6NiLX-ce4JAolHBjtnVqZwQG9X0iXR_HxgzFvkXUBMuzTi8twLWTK3OnoH3M1NP9wtlbO2KI3x8O2i5UQ/s320/IMG_0465.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooBKYy1U-fPzReW7SVPE8_FVmjkR1j-6BrPiYtzIoSh3ilpjLHG5v_wwaJm4_GVdE9mDdK4BNXeIfdITTcRfTCKf-c5MKL95i2G3pmgpqyI8tcBrT2072atStoR3qRpPDu8uut3bnEsA/s1600/Marsha+November+pictures+092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooBKYy1U-fPzReW7SVPE8_FVmjkR1j-6BrPiYtzIoSh3ilpjLHG5v_wwaJm4_GVdE9mDdK4BNXeIfdITTcRfTCKf-c5MKL95i2G3pmgpqyI8tcBrT2072atStoR3qRpPDu8uut3bnEsA/s320/Marsha+November+pictures+092.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">and then two days in <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place>. I’ve mentioned <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> before. When you are in <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> you can almost imagine you are in <st1:state><st1:place>Hawaii</st1:place></st1:state> as you look through the palm trees at the sandy beaches and the rolling surf. You just have to ignore what is behind you (poverty) and disregard the garbage and the goats in front of you. It takes a little imagination but it usually works. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We walked the beach the second morning,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2TIKv9LGH8vyWXylG3RKZBDzuWSNAsoGhHZcO4ifQtvmKts-oNcGZFcT3KIO57MvA-aPTC4l0SGOFfbUP_geil7wTbG6kVdQYcJXMcIaZ9zWx6wwLFL61iQ_rpp4XNQbwWbWhg4WfOs/s1600/November+D70+pictures+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2TIKv9LGH8vyWXylG3RKZBDzuWSNAsoGhHZcO4ifQtvmKts-oNcGZFcT3KIO57MvA-aPTC4l0SGOFfbUP_geil7wTbG6kVdQYcJXMcIaZ9zWx6wwLFL61iQ_rpp4XNQbwWbWhg4WfOs/s320/November+D70+pictures+041.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">enjoying it for about fifteen minutes until we each were so soaked with sweat that we might as well have gone swimming in the ocean.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8cvBg1nz37epbOGjoJZFVGUHBsHr8UVqJBJEyt8bK5PMARSju4Xy96Dv2LvS-R9ZQUlyBdZcLCBHSAhBFB1xVQ3IojjFdVvW8XM-7pBL0iilz7wJEiNInZJDjwRlwj7hhTxJHXzDK_rc/s1600/November+D70+pictures+059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8cvBg1nz37epbOGjoJZFVGUHBsHr8UVqJBJEyt8bK5PMARSju4Xy96Dv2LvS-R9ZQUlyBdZcLCBHSAhBFB1xVQ3IojjFdVvW8XM-7pBL0iilz7wJEiNInZJDjwRlwj7hhTxJHXzDK_rc/s320/November+D70+pictures+059.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A second shower was needed to face the remainder of the day. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is hard to do it but we are trying to get into the Christmas spirit. Most of the merchants have had decorations up for two weeks. The mall has some outside decorations, including this set of reindeer anchored to the edge of the building. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh36g6r0StxFu4NBVgOv3LRk8dqaa_GLoOIqD1SBUERTF5QslDuLtdKSs8g59PXeK9OjjF_e70RKQ-o1PT-qj_3kxKd13jrzlRDw_-URbk9E6VwwxDvtcmWCjlNVEZxCeAtObuW2aNtYss/s1600/Dec+photos+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh36g6r0StxFu4NBVgOv3LRk8dqaa_GLoOIqD1SBUERTF5QslDuLtdKSs8g59PXeK9OjjF_e70RKQ-o1PT-qj_3kxKd13jrzlRDw_-URbk9E6VwwxDvtcmWCjlNVEZxCeAtObuW2aNtYss/s320/Dec+photos+010.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The cinder blocks add such a lovely touch to the display. Christmas carols are played on the overhead. I wonder what pops into a Ghanaian’s imagination when he/she hears Bing Crosby singing “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas?” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The bats are back. And the mangos are back. I think we are as excited about the mangos as we are about the bats. We’ve been watching the bats in the overhead sky each evening this week and have thought that the numbers of bats are diminished compared to last January when we first noticed them and saw the sky darkened by their presence. On Friday night we drove down <st1:street><st1:address>Kanda High Road</st1:address></st1:street> at <st1:time hour="18" minute="0">6:00 p.m.</st1:time> and discovered that the majority of bats were flying west from their trees and not north over our flat. That is why we have been seeing such fewer numbers. The sky over Kanda High Road was filled with bats. I wonder if they will change their flight patterns as the season progresses and return to a northward direction in January. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have heard it said, and it is probably an exaggeration, that when a tornado strikes <st1:state><st1:place>Texas</st1:place></st1:state> there is always a trailer court destroyed. Some will say that this <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> truism is an exaggeration, as well: when there is a traffic accident in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> there is always a light post destroyed. It is uncanny, however, as evidenced by these photos, the number of light posts that get taken out by single car accidents. It is as if the drivers, when they know they are about to crash, focus on hitting the closest light post.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBYnY_MC88y3DrTyfaoiAIws-EPcLmlxV5Bh7Tv3q2bb_Iuaz1bwaPtZgyHewVBQ6Ci-XlQPb7KcREFEYJD-EFrtsT586ZHQYdravaLug1c1-PPds5baiGDI1z9m6LTGIfGFCGORlJjY/s1600/DRM+coolpix+Sep+Oct+2010+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBYnY_MC88y3DrTyfaoiAIws-EPcLmlxV5Bh7Tv3q2bb_Iuaz1bwaPtZgyHewVBQ6Ci-XlQPb7KcREFEYJD-EFrtsT586ZHQYdravaLug1c1-PPds5baiGDI1z9m6LTGIfGFCGORlJjY/s320/DRM+coolpix+Sep+Oct+2010+008.JPG" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the damaged light post</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnkIR70gaJDlL1-jHqTRbfe2aUhPPwQoE8xjR3kIOazqyLFUMHiC58JmN2jomSAcmZwGFHhK-BhN1PXHVM6vsYcWvfpoGbWdrAlMfie_BsW2B5YXXwM79MuF7Q5gDGtuxQ3cRhU1P635k/s1600/Marsha+Dec+photos+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnkIR70gaJDlL1-jHqTRbfe2aUhPPwQoE8xjR3kIOazqyLFUMHiC58JmN2jomSAcmZwGFHhK-BhN1PXHVM6vsYcWvfpoGbWdrAlMfie_BsW2B5YXXwM79MuF7Q5gDGtuxQ3cRhU1P635k/s320/Marsha+Dec+photos+022.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ditto.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">This is a photograph of a new apartment complex that is being finished. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtcK1eAMKq75TQOwVFVBRcz4mS0p8NE6ae4EHXvwaTdMY2URJNPDdFzhfpo5rX34cbNzQ0BSm0Ej8dtxtgKCwIn6XJtbcs7DYdL487UOFRNXtKG4D7bAy_zNPpJLpHUAAwnF1dj8FTkg/s1600/First+sunday+Dec+D70+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtcK1eAMKq75TQOwVFVBRcz4mS0p8NE6ae4EHXvwaTdMY2URJNPDdFzhfpo5rX34cbNzQ0BSm0Ej8dtxtgKCwIn6XJtbcs7DYdL487UOFRNXtKG4D7bAy_zNPpJLpHUAAwnF1dj8FTkg/s320/First+sunday+Dec+D70+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is about 500 meters from our flat. Marsha and I look at this complex on our morning walks. And we drive by it on our way home. We think it is probably the only construction project in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> that has actually moved along quickly from start to finish. When we arrived last January the four buildings were two stories in height. The additional floors have been added during our time, the exterior has been finished, as well as the interior, and the landscaping has been put in. People are moving in. It is a very nice looking apartment complex. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you look carefully at the picture of the complex you will notice that the penthouse suite has a hot tub on the deck. I have pondered this luxury for the weeks since observing its careful hoisting by crane to the penthouse and its placement on the patio. (All four of the penthouse suites have hot tubs.) As I stood and took this picture this week I had to wipe sweat off of the back of my neck and my hands were wet from sweat. My clothes were sticking to me. At the time of taking the picture the thought of running out from the bedroom and jumping into a hot tub did not seem very appealing. In fact, I cannot remember a day since we’ve arrived that I’ve wanted to take a hot shower, let alone jump into a hot tub. I’m usually looking for the air conditioner or fan. I have decided that there are certain businesses that probably do not do well in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. I am sure that hot tub dealers do not do very well here. And I suspect tanning booth dealers struggle as well. I just cannot see a big demand for either product. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I will end with What’s in the News? The topic for this week’s blog entry is “wandering goats” taken from a news article brought to me by Kevin Page.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpxoeA5UDUVEztKDb-dACslmzQ3xHfODxZd7mZ9svUm5O_hoRU7kxzIbT6eXVQh5w-H8Cu_w6OIt7zB-0fgy05nK-BEU9myEGEBPCGMqEvWanHK2cV-1qEHazYIyCwob5p3w2NySi6mo/s1600/goat+article+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpxoeA5UDUVEztKDb-dACslmzQ3xHfODxZd7mZ9svUm5O_hoRU7kxzIbT6eXVQh5w-H8Cu_w6OIt7zB-0fgy05nK-BEU9myEGEBPCGMqEvWanHK2cV-1qEHazYIyCwob5p3w2NySi6mo/s320/goat+article+001.jpg" width="88" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">This piece of astute reporting describes a certain woman, Florence Wireponwa, being fined for the killing of a goat that belonged to her neighbor, a certain Shaiba Musah. According to the article the goat “found its way into the house of <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> who claims it had poured out the soup she was preparing.” What, poured out the soup? Such an amazing goat! You would think that if this goat came into your kitchen and did such a thing you would probably take the goat on the road demonstrating the goat’s impressive dexterity. But no, what did <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> do instead? She “killed the animal, cut it into pieces, and smoked it for consumption.” Such action seems to me very logical treatment for an intruding goat. I probably would have done the same thing. (On second thought, I doubt I would have killed this goat for consumption. Goat is the number two meat consumed here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>, second to chicken. I’ve eaten goat. You only have to take one bite and you say “yup, that’s goat alright.” I didn’t want a second bite.) She obviously did not get the job done quickly enough because the neighbor then “entered her house and recognized the goat was his.” A disagreement ensued. So this little case of a wandering goat went to court for a judgement. I am sure that there are laws on the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> books delineating the protection afforded wandering goats. Probably something described in Latin terms like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ipso facto goato</i>. <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> was fined Ghc 120 and ordered to pay the neighbor Ghc 80 in compensation. Poor <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city>. She lost her soup and a potential meal of goat, and then had to pay money to a neighbor who couldn’t keep his goat in check. Doesn’t sound right, does it? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is our twelfth month in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. We are enjoying ourselves. We awaken each morning with the birds singing and the sun shining. Not a bad way to wake up in December. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We have not determined a way to get Christmas cards out this year. We will send our holiday greetings via the blog and pledge a card to all next season when we are home. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Merry Christmas. We wish you the best during this special time of the year when we remember the birth of our Savior Jesus Christ.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8X2ZPsVnwVjwPJlPHMw-kCnvGZQtOHAsGNjpLG7kVL5i9ySVtTARyVWeTcuqw3TS84_abo1iJpExrFaTu0kaX_fhbfSd829LPkto7fY_0d4JyPn8NdMUDEJRo_SIz9RHdMokV5kgO5GY/s1600/The+Newborn+painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8X2ZPsVnwVjwPJlPHMw-kCnvGZQtOHAsGNjpLG7kVL5i9ySVtTARyVWeTcuqw3TS84_abo1iJpExrFaTu0kaX_fhbfSd829LPkto7fY_0d4JyPn8NdMUDEJRo_SIz9RHdMokV5kgO5GY/s400/The+Newborn+painting.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Un Flambeau, Jeannette, Isabelle</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-44854362792237825462010-11-15T05:08:00.000-08:002010-11-20T22:54:10.010-08:0015 November 2010<div class="MsoNormal">Levell (pronounced “level”) is a Taysec employee. Taysec is the company that built and manages our apartment complex. Levell is the gardener/grounds keeper. He washes our car twice a week. He greets us every morning when we leave for work. He always has a smile and a wave.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnC3NNa9JvVka4HKr7_hvIovygMJRkTP6zEkc4qTUWUspoMgdZjxOE_HQ1BlaZJOuowTK0ztxjzatCnLRLQUV4dZkwYUbrvWbJJfR1AN9s3fn5NUY9Ov8UM7jweUdhQm-qnIc2HTBg3dQ/s1600/Nov+2010+pictures+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnC3NNa9JvVka4HKr7_hvIovygMJRkTP6zEkc4qTUWUspoMgdZjxOE_HQ1BlaZJOuowTK0ztxjzatCnLRLQUV4dZkwYUbrvWbJJfR1AN9s3fn5NUY9Ov8UM7jweUdhQm-qnIc2HTBg3dQ/s320/Nov+2010+pictures+013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">For months Marsha and I have fantasized that when we finish here in July we will bring Levell to the states with us, employ him as a gardener/grounds keeper/car washer, assist him in going to school and then return him to Ghana in several years, educated and ready for a family. Seems logical, doesn’t it? Everyone wins. We get an outstanding house employee and Levell gets an education. Well, we made one wrong assumption while formulating this plan. We assumed that Levell is single and probably 18 – 25 years old. Last week we asked Levell about his family, thinking he might tell us about his parents and siblings. Instead he told us about his wife, Cecelia, and their three children. Levell is 39 years old! You could have knocked us both over with a feather. I didn’t believe him. He doesn’t look older than 25. The next day he brought us photographs of his family. I still can’t believe he’s 39 years old. I think we’ll have to abandon our plan. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We’ve had a busy week taking care of a North American missionary working in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Togo</st1:place></st1:country-region> (the country immediately east of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>.) </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRB2oSSENDLs3Gs1yDXOx79ggbT49_JezLIGerv1afJHkH2IROkz4sICjIUZZXlsfDFOwrWiG3yBWn8rxXTxbvNUZMn7VODrKQMdAynr5jkqAB_bDxcS_VVRYeXxY0hOe0XA-kQ7bkyY/s1600/africa_pol98.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRB2oSSENDLs3Gs1yDXOx79ggbT49_JezLIGerv1afJHkH2IROkz4sICjIUZZXlsfDFOwrWiG3yBWn8rxXTxbvNUZMn7VODrKQMdAynr5jkqAB_bDxcS_VVRYeXxY0hOe0XA-kQ7bkyY/s320/africa_pol98.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Togo is the pale pink country to the right of Ghana.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">I was contacted on the 20<sup>th</sup> of October and advised that this missionary had slipped on wet concrete and fallen on his head. He had a brief loss of consciousness. I had him observed for 24 hours to make sure he did not develop symptoms/signs of an acute brain injury. He did not. Last Thursday (13 days after the injury) I was notified that he had developed nausea and vomiting. Nausea and vomiting are not uncommon complaints among our missionaries who have to deal with contaminated water/food on a daily basis. I wasn’t too concerned about it. I gave my usual advice for treatment. After four days he had not improved. I had him hospitalized in <st1:city><st1:place>Lome</st1:place></st1:city>. On the second day in the hospital I received a call indicating that he was very ill and had to be “evacuated to the states urgently.” I was told that he had undergone a head CT which was abnormal. I was given no other details. Thinking he had developed a subdural hematoma I arranged for land transportation to bring him to <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> where I could have him evaluated and treated. He arrived at my office at <st1:time hour="18" minute="0">6:00 p.m.</st1:time> on Wednesday. Surprisingly he did not look ill. I reviewed his CT scan and could see immediately that there was no evidence of an acute/subacute bleed. Instead there were multiple defects in the tissue of the brain on the right side. I had never seen anything like this before. I shared the films with the neurosurgeons at Korle Bu and they were all concerned about possible infections or tumors. We did an MR scan on Thursday which ruled out tumors. But none of the physicians (three neurosurgeons and two radiologists) could definitively tell me what the lesions were. They were all still concerned about infection. I arranged for this young man to return to the states. Marsha and I took him to the airport, with CT scan and MR scan in hand, on Friday night. I hope I get feedback on his workup. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We had another cockroach encounter this past week. Fortunately, it was not up close and personal as the others have been. We didn’t have to smash this one. We were at Mama Mia’s with the Froerers getting ready to order dinner. Mama Mia’s has become our favorite restaurant. They serve a variety of pizza, all of which are delicious, and a few other Italian dishes. It has outdoor seating under umbrellas. Nice atmosphere. It would be perfect if they could guarantee no mosquitoes. We were seated right next to the kitchen with a glass wall between us and the cook who was preparing the pizzas. We were entertained watching the cook roll out the dough and toss it by hand. There were about five clear Tupperware lids standing up from the counter top leaning against the inside of the glass wall. While watching the cook we all noticed a cockroach in the space between one of the lids and the glass wall. I’ve described these insects before. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-SBpEhP6ayQOAsAPiTRs8H1Qjky49fN4hjbffTmdzGCo8fkgEpPMLBoxgJP3x9qqhvXLHVm6YP9dXBOV-zYG8vdl1KcEoDz4841uz3EWPx59UJecitauO-ukGLMeW4hcPMwWfjN6EQo/s1600/May+2010+DRM+Nikon+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-SBpEhP6ayQOAsAPiTRs8H1Qjky49fN4hjbffTmdzGCo8fkgEpPMLBoxgJP3x9qqhvXLHVm6YP9dXBOV-zYG8vdl1KcEoDz4841uz3EWPx59UJecitauO-ukGLMeW4hcPMwWfjN6EQo/s320/May+2010+DRM+Nikon+009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">They are dark brown and appear to have a shell. They are about two inches in length with another two inches of antenna. They are frightening when you encounter them for the first time. We all watched the bug. He seemed to be content. We all watched the cook preparing the food. If the cook knew the cockroach was less than two feet from his food he sure didn’t seem to be bothered by it. I quickly searched the menu. In a country where a favorite delicacy is fish head soup, and all of the fish head (<st1:stockticker>ALL</st1:stockticker> OF IT including the eyes, the mouth, the gills, the brain, the lips) is eaten I thought for a moment that maybe Mama Mia’s had a Ghanaian specialty pizza: Pepperoni, black olive, and cockroach. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Waiter, we would like to order a large pepperoni, black olive, and cockroach pizza, with extra cockroach, please.” Ugh. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Earlier this year I wrote an entry about Rebecca Tetteh (21 Feb 2010.) </div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKzkvrqR3H2s54kti27fv36xHkcfaJS4-EAVXP7W77z_e0vez-DpL2XyqxjqBzFHpb4uQVK74KHDwrsMj5iYRCmYbQJHtANUrO-z5S8gslxnuAzcPlRyANUnmXSVGIRjHHJR2WtYSW7o/s1600/Marsha+camera+Nov+2010+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKzkvrqR3H2s54kti27fv36xHkcfaJS4-EAVXP7W77z_e0vez-DpL2XyqxjqBzFHpb4uQVK74KHDwrsMj5iYRCmYbQJHtANUrO-z5S8gslxnuAzcPlRyANUnmXSVGIRjHHJR2WtYSW7o/s320/Marsha+camera+Nov+2010+040.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rebecca, Roseline, Michael</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We continue to look for options to improve Rebecca’s ambulation. She was born with bilateral hip dysplasia and bilateral club feet. The feet have been repaired. Rebecca walks with crutches. She has been seen by two orthopedic surgeons who have not offered surgical options for her hips at her present age. For the past three months Rebecca has been seeing a physical therapist who is teaching Rebecca and her mother how to strengthen Rebecca’s hips/back/trunk. Two weeks ago Marsha and I drove Rebecca and her mother, Roseline, and her brother, Michael, to Nsawam to have Rebecca’s shoes and crutches repaired. While we were standing with other customers at the service counter the technician behind the counter asked Rebecca for her crutches. Rebecca gave the crutches to her mother and then Rebecca proceeded to walk the eight feet to the counter. Her walk was very labored, but she did it! It gives us hope that the current physical therapy might allow Rebecca to eventually discard the crutches. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On our way back from Nsawam we encountered the worst rain storm of our lives. For thirty minutes the rain came down so heavily that we could not see with the wipers working at the fastest speed. All of the traffic slowed way down or stopped. In many places the road disappeared with a river of water running over the surface. At one point we had to drive about two kilometers of dirt road. We had red rivers of water flowing through mud holes as deep as the wheel wells. We each thought “this is how cars get washed away in rain storms.” Marsha decided that had we been washed away she would have tried to save Michael and that I would have had to save Rebecca. A bit melodramatic, perhaps, but at the moment it seemed a possible necessity.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want to describe another humorous encounter this week. I wish I could have captured this on video. I was driving north on <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Ave</st1:address></st1:street> toward the apartment in very slow moving traffic. We were inching along in front of the <st1:place><st1:placename>Empty</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Palace</st1:placetype></st1:place>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7FY1Suq9TKR3X5-6OoyUil3hRtXOURoSSf8MDJ0ABhTEKpsopM33rlDKyZ3mSEygfoIwbBB06L9nug8atEMcYUdi_tVKOcXtMpJqGMFdVhJ8O-rikQn2SCCSU8c1a1mKb_KlgEIHZDkw/s1600/August+14+pxs+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7FY1Suq9TKR3X5-6OoyUil3hRtXOURoSSf8MDJ0ABhTEKpsopM33rlDKyZ3mSEygfoIwbBB06L9nug8atEMcYUdi_tVKOcXtMpJqGMFdVhJ8O-rikQn2SCCSU8c1a1mKb_KlgEIHZDkw/s320/August+14+pxs+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">(This is a government building that looks like a large stool, built by the Chinese but never occupied by the Ghanaian government.) I noticed a yellow van that looked like a small school bus across the median in the opposite lane coming toward me. The van pulled out of its lane of traffic into a bus stop area. About fifteen little children, probably 2 to 3 years old poured out of the bus. They were all dressed in school uniforms – dark brown trousers or skirts with orange tops. The children ran onto the grass in front of the empty palace and started chasing each other around like puppies. I couldn’t hear them but I’m sure they were all giggling. They played for half a minute, and then, as if on cue, all of them stopped and dropped their drawers and urinated. The boys had their pants down to their ankles and were proudly peeing, as little boys do, and the girls had their panties down to their ankles and were squatting like little puppies. They finished in ten seconds or less, pulled up their drawers, and piled back onto the bus. All of this happened while I was inching along in traffic. Hmmm. Had it been adults I would have been disgusted. Instead I was entertained. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is a great picture. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-V-U86VpVv_8Lns-YjFFB5sEAcij3B2NIsz-3_Ufb352CMEnqEZhUgDTSSMcCVCoFm02L1xO1wpUHmVyJaDQoSiwDrAPz9dR-Z_Z3pcT6cNtGuTyrWg4OmTnP0BcaV8gJvyleNBsfII0/s1600/Nov+pictures+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-V-U86VpVv_8Lns-YjFFB5sEAcij3B2NIsz-3_Ufb352CMEnqEZhUgDTSSMcCVCoFm02L1xO1wpUHmVyJaDQoSiwDrAPz9dR-Z_Z3pcT6cNtGuTyrWg4OmTnP0BcaV8gJvyleNBsfII0/s320/Nov+pictures+011.JPG" width="221" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Marsha and I were walking the neighborhood early morning last week when we noticed this woman sitting on the curb crocheting. She appeared to be making some kind of a top. It is the first time we have encountered a Ghanaian using yarn. We stopped and talked with her. She knew enough English to carry on a limited conversation. She gets her yarn at Makola Market. She likes to crochet. She likes bright colors. She was very kind to let us take her picture. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here are some photos taken while driving. It is always interesting to see the sights. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-zzRcsdXQ7Xc5Im8f-gyF0DXeck0hTrs9NReDLhK8kKXz6xQtKLhQR1rSV8UVu2uFhAGRP4yg5NbFR9s-jvsnpH7xRSJFUVdw-D-iIrrAmhOMAmmwtdNzFC0Z3tUzKsRET1U37nD5m8/s1600/Nov+pictures+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-zzRcsdXQ7Xc5Im8f-gyF0DXeck0hTrs9NReDLhK8kKXz6xQtKLhQR1rSV8UVu2uFhAGRP4yg5NbFR9s-jvsnpH7xRSJFUVdw-D-iIrrAmhOMAmmwtdNzFC0Z3tUzKsRET1U37nD5m8/s320/Nov+pictures+004.JPG" width="284" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><st1:city><st1:place>This Toyota</st1:place></st1:city> truck had the license plate tied on with string. It was flopping all over the place, soon to be roadside litter, I'm sure.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXi2jcEkjTZGh7Dp8XSoRW2uFFX1j4R1xhiTW2mCxGOrtWc9SGQDGCKLKiZGsn00o2Or6GYpLM_DohxLODFq2KZ6aC-socEeaRHqF5BXl8Q8Mq8KoIs6uV-ADAdIOJT0aZeZHWwJqYSiE/s1600/Nov+pictures+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXi2jcEkjTZGh7Dp8XSoRW2uFFX1j4R1xhiTW2mCxGOrtWc9SGQDGCKLKiZGsn00o2Or6GYpLM_DohxLODFq2KZ6aC-socEeaRHqF5BXl8Q8Mq8KoIs6uV-ADAdIOJT0aZeZHWwJqYSiE/s320/Nov+pictures+006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Looks like one stop shopping for all of your medical needs, with three clinics to serve you. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want to write something about palm trees. I have spent my entire adult life misinformed about palm trees. I can probably blame it on Disneyland/Disney World or the <st1:place><st1:placename>Polynesian</st1:placename> <st1:placename>Cultural</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Center</st1:placetype></st1:place>. I distinctly remember being told that there are only two kinds of palm trees: coconut palms and date palms. That is wrong. There are more than two. Google “palm trees." You will have over four million hits. It is hard to decide where to start researching the hundreds of varieties of palm trees. Here is one web site <a href="http://www.palm-trees.org/">www.palm-trees.org</a> that features a different palm tree each month. It’s something you might consider viewing about the middle of January when the snow is becoming a real nuisance. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here are some of the palm trees that are either within our apartment complex or within a quarter mile of the complex. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6LqLU4hZORmkfQCdZkj4E6jV7HQTLgCCFuozR81A6S1a9FEHiAfzFrR4gYcbLCK_h4OCsnZWjDIHs8Tun4m513I_mmlsy7dvySuXKLiG6bRI6E76Hkf2BcJSIwzFK88rIQ6NBMohF2Dk/s1600/Palm+trees+001.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6LqLU4hZORmkfQCdZkj4E6jV7HQTLgCCFuozR81A6S1a9FEHiAfzFrR4gYcbLCK_h4OCsnZWjDIHs8Tun4m513I_mmlsy7dvySuXKLiG6bRI6E76Hkf2BcJSIwzFK88rIQ6NBMohF2Dk/s320/Palm+trees+001.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">These are coconut palms. They are tall. The bark is smooth. These are the ones that come to mind when someone says "palm trees." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Sv71-y-os2eAxR8qU1oO7XdYJZ0MmdEoY2wI6rWOjQg27BprYm1J-ljSuyOlTW9_4N86_rRcrl4d37Ora-tXJygUODEk8_0MGujKH2q9ak_CdM6s4ly5rGmTfRWAoU-UvvG2-VobCrM/s1600/End+of+Oct+photos+035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Sv71-y-os2eAxR8qU1oO7XdYJZ0MmdEoY2wI6rWOjQg27BprYm1J-ljSuyOlTW9_4N86_rRcrl4d37Ora-tXJygUODEk8_0MGujKH2q9ak_CdM6s4ly5rGmTfRWAoU-UvvG2-VobCrM/s320/End+of+Oct+photos+035.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a date palm. Date palms are shorter than coconut palms with a bark that is more rough. It appears to me that date palms have two different kinds of palm fronds. The first is similar to the coconut palm with fronds that arch out and down when mature. The second is demonstrated in this picture. The fronds are more erect and remain upright until they wither and die. When the wind blows these fronds make a sound like large sheets of plywood rubbing against each other. <br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a plam tree that produces a red berry. The trunk is very small. Palm oil (unhealthy cooking oil that I am sure is labelled by the American Heart Association as off limits) is made from the berries. The oil is red, just like the berries, and thick. It is used for frying foods. It is sold in 5 and 10 gallon containers in the stores and along the roadsides. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Hqz_lWdUYhltoelR_Vf7-dYrqa_xJIbGrIQQvM2bZlKrnYwFBz3J12A0RhtX2eceQgZ71twwAR-PA-ibRWKlBe72iwEmSozn6fofl_DOatenhqIixSy69k_yObXYT6eyLWqaUFHA4Ms/s1600/End+of+Oct+photos+034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Hqz_lWdUYhltoelR_Vf7-dYrqa_xJIbGrIQQvM2bZlKrnYwFBz3J12A0RhtX2eceQgZ71twwAR-PA-ibRWKlBe72iwEmSozn6fofl_DOatenhqIixSy69k_yObXYT6eyLWqaUFHA4Ms/s320/End+of+Oct+photos+034.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I do not know what type of palm tree this one is. It is adjacent to the swimming pool. It is taller than the date palms but not as tall as a coconut palm. It has rough bark. It must be some kind of a decorative palm.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">These large palms are outside the complex. They, too, must be decorative palms. The trunks are very large. The bark is very smooth. I cannot ascertain if they produce fruit. <br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is my favorite. It is a fan palm. This one is outside our window. It is fascinating to watch an individual frond unfurl in the center at the same time that one at the bottom withers and dies. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Why this discourse on palm trees? I think I’ve discovered the reason for the slow/faulty internet in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. It’s the palm trees. It is very common while walking around the neighborhood to see the overhead communication wires disappearing into foliage. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNpICF9gA5amH4wvlpDH__tIzr31YcTachqmlwNHMnyOTIjQTQK86fQGA_fLPvDG61O_P-713jIRiANq_3pUQTh5H2h55tQH4Fu4UIpvRe4qArpzUG2AIpOY0DJ_xxSIzRTR7kd4KV4iI/s1600/Nov+pictures+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNpICF9gA5amH4wvlpDH__tIzr31YcTachqmlwNHMnyOTIjQTQK86fQGA_fLPvDG61O_P-713jIRiANq_3pUQTh5H2h55tQH4Fu4UIpvRe4qArpzUG2AIpOY0DJ_xxSIzRTR7kd4KV4iI/s320/Nov+pictures+013.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The deciduous trees are not dangerous to the lines because the branches usually remain attached to the tree and do not fall off. Palm trees, however, drop their lower branches on an ongoing basis. Some of these branches are very heavy. Over the space of two months I watched through our kitchen window a palm slowly take down the communication line into the office behind our complex. The dead branches continued to weigh down on the line until it was almost to the ground. When it finally went down someone removed the dead palm branches and restored the line.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, now you know all about palm trees. If you have slow/faulty internet at your home or office look around to see if it’s the palm trees. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have decided to start a new blog feature: What’s In The News? If you are a Dave Barry fan (the writer who used to publish a weekly humor column for the Miami Herald, see www.davebarry.com) you will recall that Dave would often introduce the topic for his column with a sentence like this: the subject for this week’s column is “blah blah blah” (something relevant to the times such as tree hugging in Idaho) and thanks to alert reader “blah blah blah” (a name) who sent in this article on the subject which appeared in “blah blah blah” (the newspaper.) Dave Barry would then describe the article, often quoting from it. The articles were usually hilarious (such as the lengthy description of a government study where frozen turkeys were shot into airplane jet engines to assess the damage that fowl in flight can cause to airplanes – this was before the <st1:place>Hudson River</st1:place> incident.) Kevin and Pam Page</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSHVrp9KO6Mkw74z5x5sX3KXQz0C1-zMPo6kSwNbS-swcNLs2qWwrM-bfkZMQYKDopWESZhZemgujQoDQWqu0iGVqwNfmn8PO-H3VY6dPZsc6sdM0KxC1-1XVhsToU0V9NFwBYjOlWvw/s1600/Busua+beach+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSHVrp9KO6Mkw74z5x5sX3KXQz0C1-zMPo6kSwNbS-swcNLs2qWwrM-bfkZMQYKDopWESZhZemgujQoDQWqu0iGVqwNfmn8PO-H3VY6dPZsc6sdM0KxC1-1XVhsToU0V9NFwBYjOlWvw/s200/Busua+beach+001.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">are the missionary couple assigned to be in charge of Public Affairs for the church in <st1:place>West Africa</st1:place>. As part of their responsibility they have to read all of the local newspapers to know what is current interest in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Kevin frequently clips articles of interest and gives them to me. Some are medical related.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here are the four major newspapers in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JO4zOcW9dtlRIg0dh2PBHIQIvwS1X3SRFMbgfkHRguHwNI5qJLowycsLuQV2wHtI98pmo0CqoyJdSibK0zfeBJBEoETzMmDqpzrPXk4tELn4QANiM7OQcPASHs_PWRFYp0pTnahey_U/s1600/August+Nikon+photos+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JO4zOcW9dtlRIg0dh2PBHIQIvwS1X3SRFMbgfkHRguHwNI5qJLowycsLuQV2wHtI98pmo0CqoyJdSibK0zfeBJBEoETzMmDqpzrPXk4tELn4QANiM7OQcPASHs_PWRFYp0pTnahey_U/s200/August+Nikon+photos+008.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqqYWn_JTglHm4hUBr4PDvd8pgzakgbm3HSd7ZKHU3HEkNNlHdJHB7TLwI3k7nBPkLGPk6g7VTXbPCOc81L8LI2tAy_bitN2yw5NTFGjH4W25HC_oid8m3shjdyg5Bw4dEgJPx768QZ0U/s1600/DRM+cam+Sep+Oct+2010+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqqYWn_JTglHm4hUBr4PDvd8pgzakgbm3HSd7ZKHU3HEkNNlHdJHB7TLwI3k7nBPkLGPk6g7VTXbPCOc81L8LI2tAy_bitN2yw5NTFGjH4W25HC_oid8m3shjdyg5Bw4dEgJPx768QZ0U/s200/DRM+cam+Sep+Oct+2010+004.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">You can immediately tell that we are dealing with journalism of the highest National Enquirer standards.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is my first entry: What’s In The News? The topic for this week’s blog is a snake in <st1:city><st1:place>Kumasi</st1:place></st1:city> who turned into a woman, sent in by alert reader Kevin Page who found this in <u>The Daily Guide</u>. As described in this riveting report an eyewitness with the name Adelaide Yeboah (aka “Ama Ataa”), the wife of a church pastor, heard shouting outside her home and went out to investigate. Quoting the article, Mrs. Yeboah discovered “. . to her surprise . . an extremely large black cobra crawling slowly in front of the church.” The snake then crawled into a culvert. The crowd poured hot water into the culvert. Quoting the article, again, “a wretched – looking woman emerged from the culvert to the utter shock of the multitude that had gathered there.” The article then goes on to describe the interview with the snake woman, with “visible burns on the body,” who stated “she was a native of Mampong, who is married to one <st1:city><st1:place>Lawrence</st1:place></st1:city> and has two children and that she came to <st1:city><st1:place>Kumasi</st1:place></st1:city> for business.” So much for <st1:city><st1:place>Kumasi</st1:place></st1:city> hospitality. I bet this woman won’t come back to <st1:city><st1:place>Kumasi</st1:place></st1:city> and do her snake thing again. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have copied this article in case someone wants to know more details. Click on the photo to enlarge it. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn10vvsO_xm3zxQxX_OpCcl7ilc9RVjxP9w8ARlZc2o-a5WLt6EOTevW1x5pd3US2wj5JgQUdi1Sud2vn39durTv2P5rhh1RXa5KD7LnKYX1Fj79vTsZK9EsmVxIQsHEAQQi8et9tpuJ4/s1600/Snake+girl+article+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn10vvsO_xm3zxQxX_OpCcl7ilc9RVjxP9w8ARlZc2o-a5WLt6EOTevW1x5pd3US2wj5JgQUdi1Sud2vn39durTv2P5rhh1RXa5KD7LnKYX1Fj79vTsZK9EsmVxIQsHEAQQi8et9tpuJ4/s200/Snake+girl+article+001.jpg" width="64" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>Last item: I was with Marsha at Woodin on Saturday. Woodin is an upscale fabric store in Osu, the Rodeo Drive of Accra. Most of the time the store is pretty quiet with customers, men and women, looking over the displays and tables of fabric. Saturday was different. When we entered the store we noticed a group of native women dressed in their brightly colored dresses and matching elaborate headwraps. There were probably 8 – 10 of them. They were spread out through the store but were jabbering back and forth in their native tongue. They were serious about the fabric shopping. Some of them had large stacks of fabric selected. Marsha and I moved around the store trying to be unobtrusive but it was very difficult not to watch these serious Ghanaian fabric shoppers. They were all so beautiful. After ten minutes in the store the front door opened and, as Marsha described later, another group of similarly dressed women “exploded” into the store. It looked like a reunion. The groups acknowledged each other with verbal greetings, bowing to each other, and embracing. And then they got down to business. They surrounded the tables examining the fabric, excitedly talking to each other, and holding up the fabric to each other. I found it even more difficult not to stare at these women. They were a visual delight in all of their brightly colored outfits. We stayed in the store for another fifteen minutes, paid for our fabric, and left. A bus was parked in front. We’ll probably never know who they were (Marsha is sure they were professional dressmakers in Accra at a convention) but they provided a half an hour of entertainment.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a closing photo. It was taken on the bridge over the Tema highway. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<o:p>Quick update on the Ghana tomato project: Hope is gone</o:p>. I’ll give more details with the next entry. My fingers are tired from typing. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-51837124506043431352010-10-31T16:46:00.000-07:002010-11-10T10:44:28.772-08:00Ghana 2010 CensusIt’s been pretty quiet the past two weeks. No lost earring. We have been busy, however; there is just nothing exciting to report. So what can I say about another two weeks in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>? <br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is the flag of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. If you ask a bunch of Ghanaians there is general agreement that the red is to represent the blood shed by those who fought against colonial rule, the yellow is to represent the abundant natural resources (gold) of the land, and the green is to represent the country’s rich vegetation. There is disagreement what the black star is to stand for. According to the official <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> website, GhanaWeb.com, “the five pointed lone star . . . is the symbol of African emancipation and unity in the struggle against colonialism.” (This is a quote from Mrs. Theodosia Salome Okoh, who designed the flag. She is the Betsy Ross of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>.) In a couple of paragraphs I will give you my interpretation of the colors and the black star. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me share two <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> experiences that were new to us. Because we’ve lived here ten months one would think that we have seen it all. But that’s not the case. These two experiences made us pause and say, “Wow, that’s new!” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The first experience occurred two weeks ago on Sunday. As we were driving down <st1:street><st1:address>Burma Camp Road</st1:address></st1:street> to church we heard a loud siren. Sirens are common here but they are not the usual stop-everything-look-around-hold-your-ears sirens like they are at home. They are less annoying. And most of the time ignored. But this one on Sunday sounded like it meant business. As we looked toward the approaching sound we could see cars moving out of the way and then we visualized an honest to goodness fire truck coming towards us. It was a hook and ladder fire truck, the kind with a driver in front, a long center and then a second driver at the rear. We were amazed. Amazed to see such a modern vehicle here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. And amazed because the fire truck appeared to be actually responding to a fire. We both immediately questioned to which fire was this truck responding? There is always smoke in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. Always. You can’t go anywhere without seeing a pile of something on fire. We discussed the difficulty these firemen were going to have if they would be looking for smoke to determine the location of the fire. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The second experience occurred this past week. It was very gratifying. It was so gratifying that I wanted to get out of the car and congratulate the participants. It happened at the <st1:street><st1:address>Tetteh Quarshie Circle</st1:address></st1:street>. (The only true cloverleaf exchange in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>.) Marsha and I had been in Tema and decided to stop at the Accra Mall on the way home and get groceries. We were heading west on the Tema highway and took the offramp at the <st1:street><st1:address>Tetteh Quarshie Circle</st1:address></st1:street> to head south on <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Road</st1:address></st1:street>. We then took the offramp to head east on the Tema highway. This turned us toward the mall exit. We then maneuvered into the right hand lane to take the offramp to the mall. The offramp for the mall is a double lane. The traffic was moving very slowly. In true Ghanaian driving fashion the two proper lanes of exit traffic had been doubled to four lanes with a lane on the shoulder of the road (on our right) and a lane hugging the two center lanes (on our left) creating four lanes trying to squeeze into two lanes. This is not a big deal. Four lanes crowding into two lanes actually works most of the time without a lot of driver consternation. The problem was the fifth and sixth lanes of taxis to our left who would bypass the proper lanes of traffic, drive to the head of the congestion and then try to squeeze in at the last moment. The fifth and sixth lanes made for extremely crowded and slow moving traffic. As we approached the actual exit with the six lanes of bunched up cars we noticed that there were traffic police standing at the offramp. They were actually stopping the taxis in lanes five and six and making them get out of the added lanes and continue straight on the highway. Most of the taxis stayed in the added lanes thinking that the police would eventually look away and they would still be able to continue and squeeze in. But the police stood their ground, and yelled, and pounded on the car hoods, and made all of the drivers move on. I wanted to jump out and thank the police. It is the first time that we have actually seen traffic rules enforced. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I forgot to mention in my last blog entry that Marsha and I participated in the Ghana 2010 Census. A census taker knocked on our door about <st1:time hour="19" minute="0">7:00 p.m.</st1:time> three weeks ago and asked us to participate in the census. He had an official shirt, an official ID badge, and an official notebook with the census questions. We invited him into our living room and sat with him as he asked us 14 pages of questions. He spent about 45 minutes with us. He was very polite. He spoke all of the local languages, English and French. He recorded most of our responses by writing them out longhand. He did not appear to have a computer friendly response sheet such as one with circles that can be filled in with a number 2 pencil and then read with a scanning machine. There were a few questions where we had multiple answers to choose from and he would pencil the number of the choice into blank boxes. I imagine there will be a large contingency of workers who will transcribe the answers into a data entry type format for computers to summarize the results. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Most of the questions were standard census questions: when and where were you born, how long have you lived at this address, what is the level of your education, are your married, are your parents alive, what are the ages of your children, what is your occupation? Etc. The last two pages focused on the dwelling in which the responders lived. The census taker was kind enough to let me make of copy of those two pages. There were 15 questions. I have scanned these two pages and posted them here but they are not readable. Click on the photos to enlarge them. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5AdJ2tsXXLHXbo1e2i2aHvxIjSkna2Funudv64ACSZHPs4P_zcPSVh1jH_AmQa-SOfEHv5Ts0Scb4t7AZ2PZmf1NZRny1egxV6VmDSXHydkgzAnN8Iuw8MumqCiQU_UT2sCOrz3iwXo/s1600/Ghana+2010+Census+1+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5AdJ2tsXXLHXbo1e2i2aHvxIjSkna2Funudv64ACSZHPs4P_zcPSVh1jH_AmQa-SOfEHv5Ts0Scb4t7AZ2PZmf1NZRny1egxV6VmDSXHydkgzAnN8Iuw8MumqCiQU_UT2sCOrz3iwXo/s320/Ghana+2010+Census+1+001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here are some of the questions. What is the main material of the outer walls of this dwelling? (Answers include mud bricks/earth, wood, metal sheet/slate/asbestos, bamboo, palm leaves.) How many rooms does this household occupy? Specify. (Count living, dining, bedrooms but not bathrooms, toilet & kitchen.) How many of the rooms are used for sleeping? Specify. Does the household share this sleeping room with other households.? Yes or no? What is the main source of drinking water for the household? (Answers include pipe-borne inside dwelling, pipe-borne outside dwelling, public tap, protected well, rain water, tanker supply, river/stream, pond/lake/dam/canal.) What is the main source of cooking fuel for this household? (Answers include none/no cooking, wood, gas, electricity, kerosene, charcoal, crop residue, saw dust, animal waste.) What type of toilet facility is usually used by the household? (Answers include no facility, W.C. [water closet = toilet], pit latrine, KVIP [I don’t know what this is], bucket/pan, public toilet.) Do you share this toilet facility with other households? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ponder these questions, for a while, if you ever find yourself thinking your house just isn’t quite as nice as you think it should be. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Back to the flag. Here is my explanation of the colors and the black star. I’m sure Mrs. Okoh was inspired to choose the three colors of red, yellow and green for the original <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> flag. But I’m convinced after driving in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> for the past ten months that red, yellow, and green do not stand for the blood, gold and vegetation of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I think the colors stand for three major cellular phone providers who are determined to paint everything in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> red, yellow, or green. This first picture is an example of the red/yellow/green cell phone “kiosks” that are everywhere. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhIti8kBzAojT62hz8p1oiAoVUp_aJ-kzwFr2btqh-0cS6nAbHCC3yW2E0Ue5DajWgZ63OkC6SMo9chggaifPLPoLugRFyAE6ZNBeeedZUPLoY9uNoJIg1qNs6aH8TfMBL9yAoBecag0/s1600/Halloween+pictures+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhIti8kBzAojT62hz8p1oiAoVUp_aJ-kzwFr2btqh-0cS6nAbHCC3yW2E0Ue5DajWgZ63OkC6SMo9chggaifPLPoLugRFyAE6ZNBeeedZUPLoY9uNoJIg1qNs6aH8TfMBL9yAoBecag0/s320/Halloween+pictures+023.JPG" width="288" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">These kiosks handle all of the day to day business of the cell phone owners. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5NnjgUtWjtyTkEUcnwfGViO3sHL68OzDxKpJBdT3Y68RqZVCFg94FCEKkUmz-nIb_FRLgju8oc0rcPU2sFFcvv_xiEtCzXCpFXrtk8sWSCKg8wIGVrg3D3mmg5OWsS7x87im5C6U8eTQ/s1600/End+of+Oct+photos+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5NnjgUtWjtyTkEUcnwfGViO3sHL68OzDxKpJBdT3Y68RqZVCFg94FCEKkUmz-nIb_FRLgju8oc0rcPU2sFFcvv_xiEtCzXCpFXrtk8sWSCKg8wIGVrg3D3mmg5OWsS7x87im5C6U8eTQ/s200/End+of+Oct+photos+010.JPG" width="181" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The second picture is a little blurred but you can see all of the colors of the flag in this one picture. Note, also, the unfortunate style of wearing pants demonstrated by the young man talking to the vendor. I think you can see the same three colors in his underwear.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next three pictures show examples of the advertising. The red is Vodaphone, the yellow is <st1:stockticker>MTN</st1:stockticker>, and the green is Glo. Advertisements for these three providers are everywhere. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0mC3soGLeEx_ANb1rVpEwq9SNzaKShFNGI-yPYQdAihdAUuYLley2aCIjXABQPOzuPdCsTtDa8zDXo-GFCktl8NtfKde7DJuX9SdtwV_2089Na8TsOATvc2vGIrWaey8fnUQhsNpojjU/s1600/End+of+Oct+photos+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0mC3soGLeEx_ANb1rVpEwq9SNzaKShFNGI-yPYQdAihdAUuYLley2aCIjXABQPOzuPdCsTtDa8zDXo-GFCktl8NtfKde7DJuX9SdtwV_2089Na8TsOATvc2vGIrWaey8fnUQhsNpojjU/s200/End+of+Oct+photos+012.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vodafone</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8UPFZ3KHv7brlsra8_akOLC4d0DFG3Ouu2cK5eFWgsNGuhfZ4LRkwWPRvNuRdb3Yo6Nubk0fXaeddg2CQKAz9LLd0q_stGugC80NZhK8mrjCr9y6DyQN4BUaZypBLuDo0DZjIVw8U7_Y/s1600/September+DRM+camera+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8UPFZ3KHv7brlsra8_akOLC4d0DFG3Ouu2cK5eFWgsNGuhfZ4LRkwWPRvNuRdb3Yo6Nubk0fXaeddg2CQKAz9LLd0q_stGugC80NZhK8mrjCr9y6DyQN4BUaZypBLuDo0DZjIVw8U7_Y/s200/September+DRM+camera+019.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MTN</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoF5MVJGIvxyQNpm7TNZwmIEGj4CTtatBcbZz8bAmuK2Vo3Y4JbhCKcBsfGPo4t-y_FKIkDGwt40MIOen-q8tNZBT8GTqmMucB_W02TJWR2VGrOd7aqTuXVf7QNlz6suRUjK1_c7ApstA/s1600/Halloween+pictures+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoF5MVJGIvxyQNpm7TNZwmIEGj4CTtatBcbZz8bAmuK2Vo3Y4JbhCKcBsfGPo4t-y_FKIkDGwt40MIOen-q8tNZBT8GTqmMucB_W02TJWR2VGrOd7aqTuXVf7QNlz6suRUjK1_c7ApstA/s200/Halloween+pictures+018.JPG" width="167" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GLO</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">It is not an exaggeration to say, when driving through any part of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>, either in the cities or in the villages, that a majority of the buildings are painted red, yellow, or green. A lot of paint representing the colors of the flag has been spread around <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. OK. So what does the black star stand for? Many Ghanaians say it stands for the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> football team (that beat the <st1:country-region><st1:place>USA</st1:place></st1:country-region> in the last World Cup.) Mark Stubbs told us that it stands for the potholes of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I tend to agree with Mark. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here’s a picture I took while driving through Adabraka. Click on it to enlarge it and look at the line "Dealers in: . . . . . "</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUUHbq3mAiZWzxjoy8Yvb5-UkdHVSsJoN6iLNWWEo7x9kks5KlOBBSkUVsuwlTCf718q1mkNEqmIqr_3YsjvcvwI727w-XemtTKnxUl0RYPtkx6nDDnTvhfl1hMvF3FgTvJzL_Z9enRs/s1600/Thursday+9+Sep+photos+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUUHbq3mAiZWzxjoy8Yvb5-UkdHVSsJoN6iLNWWEo7x9kks5KlOBBSkUVsuwlTCf718q1mkNEqmIqr_3YsjvcvwI727w-XemtTKnxUl0RYPtkx6nDDnTvhfl1hMvF3FgTvJzL_Z9enRs/s400/Thursday+9+Sep+photos+021.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I can understand the general water pumps, and the water filters, but I just don’t know what they are offering when they advertise “lawn movers.” Do customers actually come in and request machines to move lawns? Somebody obviously didn't edit this business banner before printing it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here’s another photo taken during our travels. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45AjjyhZ_vbRI70TJj2VsHvwrIYCDMu9KPi3xWLr3tnG5bqpMyIPbGPIE07F_oj7GPfElGt5wAhkL8IrzuuMyrCZbVmIjtvt6mOS1aoS4tIgEpv8yD-aXRvhB0mfuHV84oel_Is_lYvI/s1600/Oct+mid+pictures+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45AjjyhZ_vbRI70TJj2VsHvwrIYCDMu9KPi3xWLr3tnG5bqpMyIPbGPIE07F_oj7GPfElGt5wAhkL8IrzuuMyrCZbVmIjtvt6mOS1aoS4tIgEpv8yD-aXRvhB0mfuHV84oel_Is_lYvI/s320/Oct+mid+pictures+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In driving around <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> it is not uncommon to see buildings with instructions hand painted on the outside “remove before ___<u>date</u>___ by order of the AMA [Accra municipal authority].” There are obviously no zoning laws and no permits required in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> to start a roadside business. Anyone can put up a shack and start selling. But there seems to be a heavy handed government authority that drives around and tells certain businesses to disappear (the ones that probably haven’t paid the appropriate bribes.) The instruction in this photograph is unique. Does the municipal authority really want this fence to be removed? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have described before the fruit that is so abundant and inexpensive. Here are some photos of our favorite fruit stand.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht05fcxoJj2Y8Jhrk8UdzgFHO11HwSYwO35OqqKlx4Fn6i3uWAAfWFLQoAzpepxl0Qd790jTt-8X9wsb2v_QgFakRap_hH8cgnmRlOqeDXD0vUirsu_pwtU4JuT3Fu_EQNrFl7XeCVJqE/s1600/August+2010+pics+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht05fcxoJj2Y8Jhrk8UdzgFHO11HwSYwO35OqqKlx4Fn6i3uWAAfWFLQoAzpepxl0Qd790jTt-8X9wsb2v_QgFakRap_hH8cgnmRlOqeDXD0vUirsu_pwtU4JuT3Fu_EQNrFl7XeCVJqE/s320/August+2010+pics+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruth</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjTIFCEN8Z3ebdPYGPxbZZtlVhiMRQ-2s3GGYcjZgT7mGJAQc2OIKaVI-KAaE4VgGAhB04srXm1qP3fy_bmIAxfv9nblz2iiw-tzm9H2sGBdN5dR0xQkw1biAxmce57dcmCB8V7IuRMM/s1600/August+2010+pics+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjTIFCEN8Z3ebdPYGPxbZZtlVhiMRQ-2s3GGYcjZgT7mGJAQc2OIKaVI-KAaE4VgGAhB04srXm1qP3fy_bmIAxfv9nblz2iiw-tzm9H2sGBdN5dR0xQkw1biAxmce57dcmCB8V7IuRMM/s320/August+2010+pics+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paulina</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rqvP65EsgmKOGOSDMb4Bo9wi5xuz6ZYnDkU-s04rIeZXaEQB2A8ofdPyWJEmgDFP140UIuIkIwka0Q5dxhhP50jmnqeQ6EdDWjmj7_NvIcWKyOzOoQvKjfTdkJQTh2g6NeQ4i28TPxw/s1600/August+2010+pics+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rqvP65EsgmKOGOSDMb4Bo9wi5xuz6ZYnDkU-s04rIeZXaEQB2A8ofdPyWJEmgDFP140UIuIkIwka0Q5dxhhP50jmnqeQ6EdDWjmj7_NvIcWKyOzOoQvKjfTdkJQTh2g6NeQ4i28TPxw/s320/August+2010+pics+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ruth owns and/or runs the fruit stand with her sister Paulina. We love both of them. It is hard to believe this but Ruth indicates that the best of the fruit season is yet to come. I’ll take her word for it but I don't feel we are currently in a fruit famine. We have been without mangos since June but Ruth says they will be back by December. Here are pictures of fruit in abundance. The first is a picture of bananas on the tree. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_CfUy-RYDgqVrSmuWFrtEtormCcsE7vN95qexHL3BBbP_phYAegVEdIaCHCiNtE7ly5Rzqdvo3saTmfBJ-txcdR7i2wbxHb8B5YVQNRwN3ee29d-bSwuRTP-9KWRtitULJuD1BxnJA0/s1600/P1030073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_CfUy-RYDgqVrSmuWFrtEtormCcsE7vN95qexHL3BBbP_phYAegVEdIaCHCiNtE7ly5Rzqdvo3saTmfBJ-txcdR7i2wbxHb8B5YVQNRwN3ee29d-bSwuRTP-9KWRtitULJuD1BxnJA0/s320/P1030073.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The second is a picture of papayas almost ready for harvest.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDx06wULygu0zaQ8W85d9iYsEa_MbQr1pGniYhwW9vNFbGVeTv4lOd66y-Ei9sWHCMYvtTby7QS6Lyuw5y3EIi156DikmXlAjYT2gSjw8j5WM_Iyo1jnp6mKKKxD3Sia_1WnMDcQYGHkw/s1600/P1030072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDx06wULygu0zaQ8W85d9iYsEa_MbQr1pGniYhwW9vNFbGVeTv4lOd66y-Ei9sWHCMYvtTby7QS6Lyuw5y3EIi156DikmXlAjYT2gSjw8j5WM_Iyo1jnp6mKKKxD3Sia_1WnMDcQYGHkw/s320/P1030072.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By the way papayas are spelled paw-paws and pronounced po-pos. We enjoy a po-po every day. And here is a picture of a mango tree with immature fruit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmVRB9PXyJRs8QDTfvoSBHF8TmM3CAs4ZNQsi8O_BHfaFNMaMIsBSXA208Bo0ENajiFgjdMxz9FLU2FK58e6J85I9OjF46IpU0KM5ed_p41k01RKyKYoWT7mDBSVbaccH6q94qsrjngFA/s1600/End+of+Oct+photos+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmVRB9PXyJRs8QDTfvoSBHF8TmM3CAs4ZNQsi8O_BHfaFNMaMIsBSXA208Bo0ENajiFgjdMxz9FLU2FK58e6J85I9OjF46IpU0KM5ed_p41k01RKyKYoWT7mDBSVbaccH6q94qsrjngFA/s320/End+of+Oct+photos+030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We can’t wait until December until the mangos come into season. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Last item: hubcaps are a big item here. Most of the cars on the road have hubcaps instead of sport wheels. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXFy9WyCDk7NvBa0fmnXctZQK2lVlTaXr7HdFBe05ODEYcBLfPABjtRcRbwXz_ZUte3af138qA4fdgOzhbN-F8rPCWtZe5WX-RX-XCEUdLnEyONRAJTYGylKrH68_yNJYHKtEu0ghocaA/s1600/September+DRM+camera+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXFy9WyCDk7NvBa0fmnXctZQK2lVlTaXr7HdFBe05ODEYcBLfPABjtRcRbwXz_ZUte3af138qA4fdgOzhbN-F8rPCWtZe5WX-RX-XCEUdLnEyONRAJTYGylKrH68_yNJYHKtEu0ghocaA/s320/September+DRM+camera+008.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Car with hubcaps</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6TWxzZcZMtoLzFKIcZdMVP7pwPlFa5wVyTR9N9zBt0Mdvmf0otl5UB6x3y1afkd5QGxBwFqCraW02kL7aEBc5PHc91DWooIs5MFLqojJjzxQa5IwaRI5litvgmRI_sve1rdzh3qJxWcM/s1600/September+DRM+camera+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6TWxzZcZMtoLzFKIcZdMVP7pwPlFa5wVyTR9N9zBt0Mdvmf0otl5UB6x3y1afkd5QGxBwFqCraW02kL7aEBc5PHc91DWooIs5MFLqojJjzxQa5IwaRI5litvgmRI_sve1rdzh3qJxWcM/s320/September+DRM+camera+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Car without hubcaps</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFxcJ-74ZtT3eokC0gRfNEgKNT5k9z_fZ4oVTxpq1NxxTKUiQyPFoW-xMle5h3TFdlthU9BXz4fxjxvc3iVTvwbNvaiArIquLk_OD8u__FI91-xVUIZOfdi3sr-Alp7XE0_-OwIHz7Ok/s1600/Marsha's+camera+March+2010+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFxcJ-74ZtT3eokC0gRfNEgKNT5k9z_fZ4oVTxpq1NxxTKUiQyPFoW-xMle5h3TFdlthU9BXz4fxjxvc3iVTvwbNvaiArIquLk_OD8u__FI91-xVUIZOfdi3sr-Alp7XE0_-OwIHz7Ok/s200/Marsha's+camera+March+2010+030.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Some of the hubcaps are pretty fancy like this one which reminds me of the axle cutting blades seen in the famous <u>Ben Hur</u> chariot race between Charlston Heston (driving the white horses) and the bad Roman guy (driving the black horses.) The blades were intended to cut through the opponent’s wheels. I hope they don’t have the same function here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Here’s another picture to demonstrate just how big the hubcap business is. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSnAlnmLqO6_BCra1BaqC4E-r7WBbSZIMqONvmtqhh7jbFtGHjvuX1pL-otE3UBMgqmpjTInovz3Jx2Zwq5r3UOw0YubqOF2RXLhrMooAzdmdKGIkn-yPv5sn6rQyKh28U7rS5SGfHpw/s1600/Sep+photos+DRM+Nikon+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSnAlnmLqO6_BCra1BaqC4E-r7WBbSZIMqONvmtqhh7jbFtGHjvuX1pL-otE3UBMgqmpjTInovz3Jx2Zwq5r3UOw0YubqOF2RXLhrMooAzdmdKGIkn-yPv5sn6rQyKh28U7rS5SGfHpw/s320/Sep+photos+DRM+Nikon+004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So now I’m going to share a photo of something that has piqued my curiosity for weeks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbxF0aUW49PQgJYh7vHK6PXxTzKL_aVeUdMSCMuAz-2TTEXvvz-h7RZFrgxbBmuLcG0uzXuxAvS9AbYrcE6nFOnvjHv6lcmnkgL9Esk3T5t9BuOnMNmYzzu2DMkBOtjBPb_QPo2DMoXyo/s1600/End+of+Oct+photos+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbxF0aUW49PQgJYh7vHK6PXxTzKL_aVeUdMSCMuAz-2TTEXvvz-h7RZFrgxbBmuLcG0uzXuxAvS9AbYrcE6nFOnvjHv6lcmnkgL9Esk3T5t9BuOnMNmYzzu2DMkBOtjBPb_QPo2DMoXyo/s320/End+of+Oct+photos+021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What is it that I can see on this hubcap? Well, with close inspection it is nothing more than another Practical Solution to Make Living in Ghana Easier (remember the new list I started two blogs ago with the method of drying zip lock bags?) This is another example of Ghanaian ingenuity. It is a wire tire holding the hubcap onto the rim. It is much easier to see upon close inspection. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zVXxvR4Ee_bf0y1PHSoPXS3qAIuzGvxE4pHw5IaZU7w6iYKM-t2nuHMXYFPGrtA7CB7ludYfhiSnKirsIwxz8zwtNesatrVPhSes_7Bf9ZeACD7SfoD1Uu5wcGcX0O90MvSVOXloixs/s1600/Thursday+9+Sep+photos+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zVXxvR4Ee_bf0y1PHSoPXS3qAIuzGvxE4pHw5IaZU7w6iYKM-t2nuHMXYFPGrtA7CB7ludYfhiSnKirsIwxz8zwtNesatrVPhSes_7Bf9ZeACD7SfoD1Uu5wcGcX0O90MvSVOXloixs/s320/Thursday+9+Sep+photos+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the wire tie</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>(It was pretty tough getting this close up picture of the hubcap being held on with a wire tie. I had to hang out my car door to take the photo. I'm sure the onlookers thought it was normal behavior for a white person to hang out his car door inspecting the wheel of a parked car.) So, just like the zip lock bag solution keep in mind this remedy when you have trouble keeping your hubcaps on. (Can you imagine the racket that occurs when a hub cap comes off a wheel turning at high rpm and the hub cap is held onto the rim with a single plastic wire tie?)</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">In celebration of November election week I will close with this photo which, undoubtedly, was inspired by President Obama’s visit last year to <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60FeOUthfmNbkeUx4YshEwicUL7NvinvfC_6wbsuBavpi2X5HOOUh2aS-BzzpZuc_OgD_S9nf19OadlTofbNaIVWmm4wJh7RfgqJdPtrAqXKJBg-Qn3Hoxs88S-trCpyOy7HFgoNkA5c/s1600/mid+Oct+pictures+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60FeOUthfmNbkeUx4YshEwicUL7NvinvfC_6wbsuBavpi2X5HOOUh2aS-BzzpZuc_OgD_S9nf19OadlTofbNaIVWmm4wJh7RfgqJdPtrAqXKJBg-Qn3Hoxs88S-trCpyOy7HFgoNkA5c/s400/mid+Oct+pictures+004.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Don’t forget to vote on Tuesday. <o:p></o:p></div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-81998186642416837302010-10-16T15:20:00.000-07:002010-10-27T22:53:35.807-07:00The Lost Earring<div class="MsoNormal">I had intended to post a blog entry last Saturday but instead spent the day, with Marsha, retrieving a lost earring. Here’s what happened. (If this starts sounding like a BORING travelogue just skip ahead to the update on the Ghana Tomato Project.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On Tuesday of last week (5 Oct) Marsha and I and three other missionary couples drove to the Volta Region. This is the part of eastern <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> where the <st1:place><st1:placename>Volta</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>River</st1:placetype></st1:place> was dammed in the 1960’s creating the world’s largest man made lake (reservoir.) The area around the lake is beautiful with rolling hills, lush vegetation, and innumerable Kodak Moment villages. It is about a two hour drive from Accra to the region of the dam and reservoir. Before checking into the Volta Hotel we took a boat ride on the <st1:place><st1:placename>Volta</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>River</st1:placetype></st1:place>. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojdQ9P_nHLOfDBOmjndHEyJMHpfQskvkuOv8T-mzXNkPz5z8BDUlNBgIjG2-rcGi1kFmsSkAwmPoTXRgefpJwHH3TQ3iVlse-qeWPUBjM7LqypkKyKOhdZNPqnviGgDE2-rBG02a-7m0/s1600/P1020956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojdQ9P_nHLOfDBOmjndHEyJMHpfQskvkuOv8T-mzXNkPz5z8BDUlNBgIjG2-rcGi1kFmsSkAwmPoTXRgefpJwHH3TQ3iVlse-qeWPUBjM7LqypkKyKOhdZNPqnviGgDE2-rBG02a-7m0/s400/P1020956.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the earrings</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJEGF4Q2iO1GNaxa_T47xYGropeQcPQzxMqZLd9oFrVxznNo0RfbUmWSD80RW2YVxObYc2zdQrvCU83rAKxSQqZmDWnKsLep-PByYAm2AVLxTYUuaINY26cz9NrMIpqHayFXntdJIixE/s1600/P1020941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJEGF4Q2iO1GNaxa_T47xYGropeQcPQzxMqZLd9oFrVxznNo0RfbUmWSD80RW2YVxObYc2zdQrvCU83rAKxSQqZmDWnKsLep-PByYAm2AVLxTYUuaINY26cz9NrMIpqHayFXntdJIixE/s400/P1020941.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When your driveway is a river</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">After the ride we checked in to the hotel and spent the remaining hour of daylight walking the hotel grounds. The Volta Hotel overlooks the dam. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8C8c-pcbwcrSZ7nuH3H1M2wKg9MRaCO_coI_5i2Cdrp4SscqpFSy5OYCkrqtlJapDd7VVvDUHmBxPD52Ct-0scuyU7KbxU8CMborilFJacnQF4Yd03YtkrqbmeM-H2OFkBH7_Svec6CU/s1600/Oct+Nikon+pcs+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8C8c-pcbwcrSZ7nuH3H1M2wKg9MRaCO_coI_5i2Cdrp4SscqpFSy5OYCkrqtlJapDd7VVvDUHmBxPD52Ct-0scuyU7KbxU8CMborilFJacnQF4Yd03YtkrqbmeM-H2OFkBH7_Svec6CU/s400/Oct+Nikon+pcs+007.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">The dam is an earth/rock/concrete dam similar to the dam at Lucky Peak Reservoir.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On Wednesday morning we drove to Tafi Atome, about a two and a half hour drive from the hotel up the east side of the reservoir. This is the road to Tafi Atome. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvdqKQG7BzIGRRHmp69nSKHWeMn5WEZpwLae3Lsx6BZKfmKe2XOW-mzoAAuqKBJ7CfSnx8zockvSBxI8ZySrZHgF2BEqvbmCkJRWonhSf5EtsOM7bM0vLvXu-QZZE_UZWc3GShqXdssZI/s1600/Marsha+pictures+Oct+2010+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvdqKQG7BzIGRRHmp69nSKHWeMn5WEZpwLae3Lsx6BZKfmKe2XOW-mzoAAuqKBJ7CfSnx8zockvSBxI8ZySrZHgF2BEqvbmCkJRWonhSf5EtsOM7bM0vLvXu-QZZE_UZWc3GShqXdssZI/s400/Marsha+pictures+Oct+2010+003.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEielvSqrIcYCkKWcVTDjOt0K6a2MV6e5vCJPzPu7sYJVodeXtMgjFm9E9NQsORo8aLh9bVCdi4cgxS6QEsfBDUkeoDFXcTXrIczToPCfNIdD6ij8al7UINgwlzpSDSU_Us381RH2BblEQc/s1600/Marsha+pictures+Oct+2010+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEielvSqrIcYCkKWcVTDjOt0K6a2MV6e5vCJPzPu7sYJVodeXtMgjFm9E9NQsORo8aLh9bVCdi4cgxS6QEsfBDUkeoDFXcTXrIczToPCfNIdD6ij8al7UINgwlzpSDSU_Us381RH2BblEQc/s200/Marsha+pictures+Oct+2010+001.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Tafi Atome is the location of a government protected monkey preserve. The <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> guide book calls it a monkey sanctuary. There are four bands of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mona</i> (species) monkeys in the preserve. Each band contains about 90 monkeys. The monkeys have been protected by law for about 15 years and the community has used this protection as a tourist attraction to generate compensation for the lost income of not being able to hunt/kill the monkeys. After payment of an entrance fee the guide takes you on a trail into the preserve and starts “calling” in the monkeys. It doesn’t take very long. (Pavlov would be proud of this training. The guide makes a whistling noise and the monkeys come swinging through the trees. I’m sure they salivate when they hear the whistling.) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0PRzT8_rOv9K5H5ZlEFffHNGV0EMUfev9HgQf25T34T5UdXlIafKdKH64sqv1B_gN3IXS8rd8_hCPRJwJcbiebJJX6T2kUQKRSkkM_1mm1D86dNmKBTj3GOVZDDyDUWr806CG-PY73jI/s1600/P1020993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0PRzT8_rOv9K5H5ZlEFffHNGV0EMUfev9HgQf25T34T5UdXlIafKdKH64sqv1B_gN3IXS8rd8_hCPRJwJcbiebJJX6T2kUQKRSkkM_1mm1D86dNmKBTj3GOVZDDyDUWr806CG-PY73jI/s400/P1020993.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">The monkeys are very polite. You hold a banana in your hand with about an inch of it exposed. The monkeys will peal the banana for that inch and eat it. You then push up another inch of the banana and the monkey will peal and eat. You repeat the process until the banana is gone. If you stand too far from the monkeys for them to reach down from the branches and get the bananas the bold ones will actually jump onto your arm and eat while sitting on your arm. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLPoNTi2D-cUaNuJgwAqkgISRDl7QeasgOv9p0TexhvHb0bnhTZVREKOcPIOQjmANXXsV56w5oHbwrkPCpcMn-NTjYfVvQ906SH3tEEuQcZDM2ltsa71dEprz_5Xdx2l8oG6bRIIYB6cM/s1600/P1030003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLPoNTi2D-cUaNuJgwAqkgISRDl7QeasgOv9p0TexhvHb0bnhTZVREKOcPIOQjmANXXsV56w5oHbwrkPCpcMn-NTjYfVvQ906SH3tEEuQcZDM2ltsa71dEprz_5Xdx2l8oG6bRIIYB6cM/s400/P1030003.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">We were all feeding bananas in turn, and taking photographs. When it came to Marsha’s turn she held her banana expecting a monkey to politely jump onto her arm and eat. Instead two monkeys from behind us, and from quite a distance up in the trees, jumped onto her head. Simultaneous with Marsha starting to scream the guide told her to hold still and not panic. The monkeys quickly went from her head down to her hand and ate the banana. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbjB1c2WshLoVccBNsxdZJJP3zJHmysz3CWTmdtTA3Y1aO72WOX7uaVyMegQ8wXcucgO_DTly3TcsLhZycm2WjtwaPiRLiSEJOAcGRxGih1eVgoff48mX8N7nA5yCoRb6kPJjJU9bU3k/s1600/P1020998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbjB1c2WshLoVccBNsxdZJJP3zJHmysz3CWTmdtTA3Y1aO72WOX7uaVyMegQ8wXcucgO_DTly3TcsLhZycm2WjtwaPiRLiSEJOAcGRxGih1eVgoff48mX8N7nA5yCoRb6kPJjJU9bU3k/s400/P1020998.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the missing earring</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNk46FKWBhuIiPlzOwMJ4o0SPfrdBAkp3Kzs_qv2DNBnEMV9K3ftXRyzraL-pIZHKKCspK2ZioNN4ZD6ubI9BYDtYhwDLqebm0vv7MyY4JeqAxrXSMalboUUwRxQCevUHZ0Ky54YD5CQg/s1600/P1030042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNk46FKWBhuIiPlzOwMJ4o0SPfrdBAkp3Kzs_qv2DNBnEMV9K3ftXRyzraL-pIZHKKCspK2ZioNN4ZD6ubI9BYDtYhwDLqebm0vv7MyY4JeqAxrXSMalboUUwRxQCevUHZ0Ky54YD5CQg/s200/P1030042.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">We spent about 30 minutes feeding the monkeys and walking out of the jungle. We then spent another 30 minutes at the “gift shop” and visiting with the children at the school adjacent to the monkey preserve. We left Tafi Atome and drove to <st1:place><st1:placename>Wli</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Falls</st1:placetype></st1:place> and hiked into the falls. (I have described the falls before. See the blog entry dated <st1:date day="19" month="6" year="2010">19 June 2010</st1:date>.) In the car on our way back from the falls to the hotel Marsha noted her left earring was missing. We tried to reconstruct the day to think of where she might have lost it. She was upset because she had brought very few earrings to <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> and these were her favorite ones. And the most expensive ones. We searched the car. We asked among the missionary couples. We all concluded that she probably lost the earring at the time she had the monkeys on her head. At dinner that night we all sat around the table and joked about monkeys that were thieves. We envisioned monkeys sitting around on the branches planning their earring attacks – distract the humans by eating bananas and then steal the bright earrings. We concluded that they must be adolescent gang members. Probably the Mona Earring Gang. We could possibly find the thief if we had all the monkeys stand in a police line up and looked for the “pirate” monkey wearing one earring. Maybe he would have a patch over one eye. We all laughed about it except Marsha.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We returned to <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> on Thursday. On Friday we looked at the pictures of our trip and made a startling discovery. Can you see the earring in this picture of the monkeys? You might need to click on the picture and enlarge it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMFqW9IauuhJCE73sErYkSY1Jt5uGILDLHscNofns6PxNysMDeNQRXtMIUkcm2tzAJcZJFxhSpzC9xJ7fRGru0ShwEKcSMKQDK27155qw-3ks5-_nYnwbVPlN3n-IjEAlIZ95Kf2l6wZ0/s1600/P1030009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMFqW9IauuhJCE73sErYkSY1Jt5uGILDLHscNofns6PxNysMDeNQRXtMIUkcm2tzAJcZJFxhSpzC9xJ7fRGru0ShwEKcSMKQDK27155qw-3ks5-_nYnwbVPlN3n-IjEAlIZ95Kf2l6wZ0/s400/P1030009.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">The earring is visible in the jungle soil. After discovering this Marsha immediately called the guide and explained the loss of her earring along the trail. She asked him to go out onto the trail where we had been three days earlier and look for the earring. We both thought that the request would probably be ignored. But the guide called back in less than ten minutes and indicated he had found the earring. We told him we would be there on Saturday. We drove up to Tafi Atome on Saturday and gratefully retrieved the earring. We returned to <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> pleased with the success of the trip. Marsha had her favorite earrings. And we had experienced another incident demonstrating the goodness of the Ghanaian people. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I mentioned this incident to the doctors and nurses at Korle Bu when I was there two days ago. I was surprised that most of them had not heard of the monkey preserve. But then Ghanaians probably don’t read guide books on <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. And most of them don’t have the means to make an eight hour trip for a purely recreational activity. And why would a Ghanaian travel such a distance to see something he or she has been raised with? How many Idahoans would make an eight hour round trip to see horses in a horse preserve? Anyway, the doctors and nurses seemed interested in hearing about our experience at the preserve. I described how the monkeys would delicately peel and eat the bananas held out to them. And I demonstrated how one could hold out one’s arm and the monkeys would jump onto the arm and eat the banana. I described how Marsha is petite with blond hair and how the monkeys surprisingly jumped from the trees onto her head. I jokingly said “she must have looked like a large banana.” Everyone started laughing and wouldn’t stop. I was surprised. I didn’t think it was funny enough to double over with laughter. One of them asked if I had actually described my wife as looking like a banana. I said “yes.” And they laughed again. Obviously I must have hit their banana funny bone. Or maybe describing someone as a banana is the ultimate Ghanaian slur, equivalent to perhaps describing someone as a potato in <st1:country-region><st1:place>America</st1:place></st1:country-region>, and they couldn’t believe this American doctor would describe his wife in such terms. They laughed until some of them had tears. Here is a picture of the exam room where I was standing when I uttered this killer line. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCaCwf4EmUsM0-5nDDR85EItXA7c95tK1UEEYr8B6Q3sHtaKONMNus41a25Go1liH95-j2mroDNpSONZwCFu7J1Si37zFbUkvbJVOwXOh-gPT6ryW7ga31itO7qmVTr1KJON4WWcwzQY/s1600/Oct+DRM+photos+057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCaCwf4EmUsM0-5nDDR85EItXA7c95tK1UEEYr8B6Q3sHtaKONMNus41a25Go1liH95-j2mroDNpSONZwCFu7J1Si37zFbUkvbJVOwXOh-gPT6ryW7ga31itO7qmVTr1KJON4WWcwzQY/s320/Oct+DRM+photos+057.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s time to update the Ghana Tomato Project. I currently have two tomato plants alive, Mercy (kind of) and Hope. As you recall Justice (American seed) died early before it had produced a single blossom. Mercy (American seed) produced a plethora (I love that word) of blossoms. I last reported my frustration with Mercy producing lots of blossoms but only one fruit.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbjsJc6zfkar55eb-066SnKj-ogtB4Kn86lUFutDViHbtsqQfisKcQRrbrha4SrKTH_K8OnIXVtlZQLZw07LpDL7CLAByM55m86FaT5SC6UHzH5HhPemYVZHWIwVGuFNAvKEBOLr9fm6U/s1600/Marsha+cam+Sep+2010+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbjsJc6zfkar55eb-066SnKj-ogtB4Kn86lUFutDViHbtsqQfisKcQRrbrha4SrKTH_K8OnIXVtlZQLZw07LpDL7CLAByM55m86FaT5SC6UHzH5HhPemYVZHWIwVGuFNAvKEBOLr9fm6U/s320/Marsha+cam+Sep+2010+015.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mercy three weeks ago</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I also described how tomato plant #3, Charity (dried seed from a <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> tomato) had fewer blossoms but early fruit.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoVJr7zzrjyMpFo8kfX-gHEJVKmUiMt50Gyj0yJ2sNUZo_uiotRWentd0l5Do8fKD7nejW0xKRV0f8KGOgAR_tL3ROtGvuSeZxX_J3hIZET6Ln5WzdweYaohVcMrpOdMNmzqRohTj91M/s1600/Marsha+sep+pixs+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoVJr7zzrjyMpFo8kfX-gHEJVKmUiMt50Gyj0yJ2sNUZo_uiotRWentd0l5Do8fKD7nejW0xKRV0f8KGOgAR_tL3ROtGvuSeZxX_J3hIZET6Ln5WzdweYaohVcMrpOdMNmzqRohTj91M/s320/Marsha+sep+pixs+014.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charity three weeks ago</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Justice was replaced with Hope from the dried seed of a <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> tomato. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is a current picture of Hope. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1yZx1TR2GsXtINjULnw5IzOR8eMXLA72vsBERR3Yx21QPx_ZytB-654ibuMWk44f6zORjTGjXFgeB-yvGCv5nWwammyjArIz35u7Z4DcQsXbfxU-jxBKkd646abYG7Xz-HW2lotyDI_8/s1600/P1030116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1yZx1TR2GsXtINjULnw5IzOR8eMXLA72vsBERR3Yx21QPx_ZytB-654ibuMWk44f6zORjTGjXFgeB-yvGCv5nWwammyjArIz35u7Z4DcQsXbfxU-jxBKkd646abYG7Xz-HW2lotyDI_8/s320/P1030116.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hope</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There are three blossoms that opened this week. We have performed our manual pollination ritual for these blossoms “hoping” for a bounteous harvest. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">About three weeks ago we harvested the single tomato from Mercy and loved it. It was probably the best tasting tomato we’ve had here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. We were disappointed that Charity, despite quickly forming a tomato on its first blossoms, produced only one tomato. We were more than disappointed when we harvested it. It was tasteless. It was worse than tasteless. We couldn’t finish eating it. I removed Charity and have not replaced it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At the time I removed Charity I was ready to remove Mercy but noticed two small tomatoes forming. So I left Mercy in her pot with two green tomatoes that have been on the vine for three weeks now but haven’t hinted at turning red. I question whether Mercy is alive enough to promote the final maturation. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-wBaTEvfzh-wSsjc_xnIS7q4V_xK5mJg1LNoL037YSDxUfv2QFSrx5e2B6_Xz2biLC3A-DrA5CKPnRlicyc73BHIMa1-NzCf4OgYQTUsJtSjroUWWZ6DGaVv-uG9vuA60ilaO9-a5Lk/s1600/P1030115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-wBaTEvfzh-wSsjc_xnIS7q4V_xK5mJg1LNoL037YSDxUfv2QFSrx5e2B6_Xz2biLC3A-DrA5CKPnRlicyc73BHIMa1-NzCf4OgYQTUsJtSjroUWWZ6DGaVv-uG9vuA60ilaO9-a5Lk/s400/P1030115.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mercy today</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">It is all down to Hope, now. When I last described the tomato project I indicated that if Hope does not prove to be bounteous I’m going to replace her with a shrub. It appears that nature heard my threat. Notice in this picture the growth of leaves coming from the home made tomato cage supporting Hope. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_TMXeUdOl1Af6CBJ54IRe81cGd5CbhNjKfTEH9Kxej1ZQDYfFBf8OZ3vuxyWnYtuudggv76Og_DXEG6KyYT16h5AewJC2FcDrxeuuSKmo6F-X-nTvsqrEXlKy9DIo8t5nO8er5Qu2X28/s1600/P1030117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_TMXeUdOl1Af6CBJ54IRe81cGd5CbhNjKfTEH9Kxej1ZQDYfFBf8OZ3vuxyWnYtuudggv76Og_DXEG6KyYT16h5AewJC2FcDrxeuuSKmo6F-X-nTvsqrEXlKy9DIo8t5nO8er5Qu2X28/s400/P1030117.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hope</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">One of the dead branches I used to make the cage is now sprouting branches and leaves. It is growing very well. So, if I have to give up Hope I’ll have my shrub already in place and thriving. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want to share another endearing Ghanaian phrase. Actually it isn’t a phrase but two terms of affection we frequently hear. Many Ghanaians we come into contact with refer to me as “Daddy” (pronounced “daaw-dee”, equal emphasis on syllables) and to Marsha as “Mom” (pronounced “mum.”) Ebenezer Otoo in the office never calls me on the phone without beginning his conversation with “how’s Mom.” The guards at the apartment greet Marsha with “good morning, Mom.” The beggars on the street will greet us with Daddy and Mom. The checkers in the store will similarly greet us. The Ghanaian missionaries frequently call us the same. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We were with President and Sister Froerer on Thursday and drove to a little crafts market called the Wild Gecko. Marsha and I have been there enough times that the employees recognize us. I have come to know one of the employees Mary by name and always chat with her when there. As President Froerer and I walked around the periphery of the store we encountered Mary. I greeted her. She replied with “hello, Daddy.” We exchanged pleasantries. President Froerer then asked her that if I were Daddy what would he be? She politely replied “Grandpa.” He was not amused. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have described the insane motorcyclists before. They are reckless. Shortly after we arrived in Ghana and had experienced the motorcyclists I told Marsha that some time during our stay here we would witness a motorcycle accident. Two days ago I came upon a motorcycle accident shortly after it happened. Fortunately, Marsha was not with me. It was at a busy intersection. It was gruesome with two riders obviously dead and a motorcycle spread out in pieces along twenty meters of the road. I did not stop. There was no medical assistance I could have rendered. And we have been emphatically told that if we get involved in such accidents that we will be caught in a situation where we might become financially responsible for the damages and the burial of the victims. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I wish the government would crack down on the reckless motorcycle drivers. The drivers of all sizes of motorcycles, from scooters to large road bikes, who frequently do not have helmets, who go through intersections without stopping, who weave in and out of lanes of traffic, who drive on sidewalks and who drive into the oncoming lanes of traffic until the very last moment and then dart back into the proper lane. They are dangerous, to themselves and to the drivers of motorized vehicles who are always having to watch out for the motorcyclists. There needs to be a tough government campaign to modify this method of travel. At least make them wear helmets and obey traffic signs/signals. And while they are at it the government needs to have a tough campaign to stop public urination. It is disgusting. When we were coming back from retrieving Marsha’s earring on Saturday we passed a tro-tro stopped along the side of the road and all of the passengers, both men and women (there must have been a dozen), were off the side of the road urinating. Interesting rest stop. I’ve become accustomed to a lot of disturbing images here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> but public urination is not one of them. And there needs to be a campaign against littering. And there needs to be a campaign against . . . . . . </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yikes, you’d think I’m upset. I am. Last night we were almost to our apartment on a two lane residential road and we had a tro-tro come at us in our lane expecting us to move over. There was not a place for me to move to so we came to a standstill facing each other. He was motioning us to move out of his way. I was wanting to give him an American hand signal frequently used in such situations but because I’m a missionary I didn’t. We sat there waiting, staring each other down until his lane of traffic started moving and he could pull into it. Idiot drivers. I was upset all evening.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This has been a hasty blog entry. Sorry. We will be very busy next week and if I don’t get something posted today it will be another seven days. Another week would be too much time between posts. I have so many things I want to describe. I need to find time to get to them. I need to explain how the journalists for the three major newspapers here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> must have attended the National Enquirer School of Journalism. I need to give tribute to Dr. Seuss with White Eggs and Ham. I need to get together my pictures for a Gates of Ghana photo essay. I need to do an entry on automobiles, hubcaps and wire ties. And I’ve finally discovered why the internet is so slow. It’s the palm trees. Oh, so many topics and so little time. By the way, we are now on the downhill side of our time here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. But who’s counting? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Closing item. I’ve had some inquiries about the Elle & Vire French Butter thermometer I described in my last entry. Here is a close up photo of what you need to purchase if you are interested in acquiring a French butter thermometer. You can choose salted or unsalted.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMiqQJ-di0ls9J9C4rm3_jkdFz_jU6BV9za6_TbjnkIwvhykPOQFS9qAjmOmO1qrxb3X70ou4SeDnrE2bnKVQeQC8CdXmXe0ppyBELxd45y0XbScrDQczKFx8CmSt999P6lH-OoRtdkU/s1600/DRM+cam+Sep+Oct+2010+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMiqQJ-di0ls9J9C4rm3_jkdFz_jU6BV9za6_TbjnkIwvhykPOQFS9qAjmOmO1qrxb3X70ou4SeDnrE2bnKVQeQC8CdXmXe0ppyBELxd45y0XbScrDQczKFx8CmSt999P6lH-OoRtdkU/s320/DRM+cam+Sep+Oct+2010+009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">And here is a photo of my thermometer in action this past week.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSVPL9vD_WLbK4_qallgylZjjUG36eKRAge2XFwhuXaSYHIWdQykTKGiR2GAZPQXgk2PQVWVmz9ZOYq_NcD4nwUSI3UfZGvQbhl8ewUQVtx-wF7B4EPLRsBLckYHpk_M5SqVoWsO5aUM/s1600/Oct+DRM+photos+039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSVPL9vD_WLbK4_qallgylZjjUG36eKRAge2XFwhuXaSYHIWdQykTKGiR2GAZPQXgk2PQVWVmz9ZOYq_NcD4nwUSI3UfZGvQbhl8ewUQVtx-wF7B4EPLRsBLckYHpk_M5SqVoWsO5aUM/s320/Oct+DRM+photos+039.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is easy to read the temperature. It is Hot degrees approaching Really Hot. (The butter has lost its shape and starting to form the yellow oil of Really Hot degrees.) No sweat yet on the counter top. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here are some closing photos of the beautiful children of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. There is no need for a government campaign promoting beautiful children in this country. They are all beautiful. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQkOip2hu-_Iyt7LQlYa5Q_s7HhUiHSHxEGS5U4zsz9e3pmu_DiV7mW543_66rDcBK-OZXen3ksOJyuM4BNWyIlkPxyICkdm0sdsPyAeQJTlj1GkSSgxqxAZL27BoGkHzxF9gGfFqXkM/s1600/P1030058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQkOip2hu-_Iyt7LQlYa5Q_s7HhUiHSHxEGS5U4zsz9e3pmu_DiV7mW543_66rDcBK-OZXen3ksOJyuM4BNWyIlkPxyICkdm0sdsPyAeQJTlj1GkSSgxqxAZL27BoGkHzxF9gGfFqXkM/s400/P1030058.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Students at Tafi Atome</td></tr>
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</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-1752188225788243942010-09-26T08:59:00.001-07:002011-10-04T21:40:25.572-07:00Saturday 25 Sep 2010<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkxsfEtBA92yKgsR0tf8j1CH_i1wAHoGfCVjvy6P8dJtAv3KeJLjjMgFsym96tbK7QEVTZUHHolABqqJ1sgFiPkJULYBhVoWG9R0dAdrhPiXZCcdvFtJS85ZF_TEKbn5WQnEUoBBDc_kk/s1600/September+DRM+camera+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkxsfEtBA92yKgsR0tf8j1CH_i1wAHoGfCVjvy6P8dJtAv3KeJLjjMgFsym96tbK7QEVTZUHHolABqqJ1sgFiPkJULYBhVoWG9R0dAdrhPiXZCcdvFtJS85ZF_TEKbn5WQnEUoBBDc_kk/s400/September+DRM+camera+023.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a mid day photo of the fishing boats off the <st1:place><st1:placetype>beach</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Jamestown</st1:placename></st1:place> in downtown <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. The fishermen have been out for the morning, have returned, and have anchored their boats for the day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEugBVsDAYPu4eNeaZoXqQgk2-08cRQM0EaZdzwvbwmCU70oe3hhDMe1UHDX8W0qXbXHS_UDCS_U-xmF6_8XTT5vuw_eL5Ut0rhaxankc3Q1yLV3NrzYsk0qI7x91OfPSx-BMQdMmmliw/s1600/September+DRM+camera+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEugBVsDAYPu4eNeaZoXqQgk2-08cRQM0EaZdzwvbwmCU70oe3hhDMe1UHDX8W0qXbXHS_UDCS_U-xmF6_8XTT5vuw_eL5Ut0rhaxankc3Q1yLV3NrzYsk0qI7x91OfPSx-BMQdMmmliw/s400/September+DRM+camera+024.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a street vendor selling the morning’s catch. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was wrong. I reported in my <st1:date day="28" month="8" year="2010">28 August 2010</st1:date> blog posting that the bats were back. They were here for only three days/nights and then they left. Obviously, something wasn’t right for them. I noticed on their first day that they were darting in and out of the trees but not landing. Perhaps the dense vegetation of the rainy season has made it difficult for them to secure hanging places on the branches. We’ll keep watching for them.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We have had some of our most beautiful weather the past three weeks. The morning mist has diminished. The temperatures have been truly tropical, 80 - 85 degrees each day. The breezes have been refreshing. And the sky has been blue, not the gray that was so discouraging our first few months here. It is slowly getting warmer. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A week ago I stood next to Daniel Kabason, one of the Ghanaian office employees, in the lobby and told him how much I was enjoying this beautiful September weather. He didn’t seem to think that my excitement warranted a response, which is not surprising as I have found most Africans have little interest in the weather, but he must have felt obligated to try and make small talk so he asked “What is September weather like where you come from?” Well, I wasn’t going to let that question go unanswered. Americans are always interested in the weather. I started into the excitement of September in the <st1:place>Rocky Mountains</st1:place> describing with great animation how the leaves of the trees were changing colors, the night time temperatures were cooling, the day time warmth was waning, and the breezes were hinting of coming winter. I told him that the best way to describe the weather was “crisp.” He looked at me for a moment, obviously trying to understand my animated description, and slowly asked “What do you mean by crisp?” I didn’t have an answer for him. How does one explain “crisp” to someone who has never been out of 95% humidity? Crisp doesn’t happen here in <st1:place>West Africa</st1:place>. Soggy does, but not crisp. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In that same 28 August blog posting I commented on our neighbor’s tree that dropped all of its leaves in a three day period. I posted a picture showing the bare branches. This next picture, taken two weeks later, shows the same tree in full foliage. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfU_-kw7oNqxd9HYFMjT0yuQ6V1_h5rYynVWlBPUzlsQ8Xq9YZxYzHimu5_8cpuSQnGN5pD2dUyzVtopa3O8LIG0pw74W1tKRdPURgkCRtYuevBpN6NiL6QrmoUujY1cgpiDQKzuhJihQ/s1600/Thursday+9+Sep+photos+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfU_-kw7oNqxd9HYFMjT0yuQ6V1_h5rYynVWlBPUzlsQ8Xq9YZxYzHimu5_8cpuSQnGN5pD2dUyzVtopa3O8LIG0pw74W1tKRdPURgkCRtYuevBpN6NiL6QrmoUujY1cgpiDQKzuhJihQ/s320/Thursday+9+Sep+photos+013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Note all of the leaves. I vaguely remember something from biology that in the fall when the temperatures start cooling the sap (nutrition) of the tree pulls back from the branches toward the trunk which results in the falling of the leaves, and then after a dormant winter and the warming of the temperatures the sap moves back out to the branches bringing nutrition for the new leaves. It is amazing that this tree in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> has adapted to the environment in that its fall/winter cycle is just two weeks. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I mentioned that the temperatures are warming. In the past two weeks the pleasant afternoons have become hot. Our drive home from the office to the apartment is sticky again. The night time temperatures require keeping the bedroom air conditioner running. I need to share an observation I have made about the difficulty of determining the temperature in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. You are probably asking yourself why is he even bringing up such a simple task? Everyone knows that when you want to determine the temperature you simply look at a thermometer. Or you check the temperature gauge on the dashboard in your car. Or you look at a bank reader board. Or you watch/listen to the weatherman on the morning/evening news. Or you glance at your wrist watch if it is one of those fancy ones that tells time and in addition does everything else we were taught to do in elementary school (like add, subtract, calculate interest, list the time zones of the world, determine latitude and longitude, and give the current temperature.) Well, it’s not quite that easy here in Accra. First, there are very few thermometers. You can’t find them for sale in stores. I have not seen one available for sale on the street. We do not have a temperature gauge in our car. I have concluded, based upon this astute observation, that thermometers are available for sale only in places where there is a fluctuation in temperature. In such places it is wise to have a thermometer to determine, when you look out the window in the morning, if it is appropriate to wear your coat or your swimming suit. No such need in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. After nine months here, including the “cooler” months of the rainy season, I can assure you that a swimming suit could easily be appropriate attire for the expected temperature of the day. That easily explains the lack of availability of thermometers for sale. Not much of a buyers’ market here. There are no reader boards on the banks. In addition to not letting you know what the stock market is doing the banks are obviously not interested in letting you know how hot it is outside. I have yet to see a weather report on the local TV stations, but I must admit that I have not watched the local stations enough to know if there is such a thing as a weatherman. And I do not have a fancy watch that tells me the current temperature. So, what is a guy to do if he wants to know just exactly how hot it is? Let me tell you my current method. I have carefully and scientifically researched this and can vouch for its accuracy. It is called the <b>Elle & Vi</b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">re French Butter Thermometer </b>method of determining the temperature. This photo shows my thermometer in action. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrcqRESGsrctL_cGCRr8miR7Dv5n7NF6IY19PW9pQT5PemCoO9-rV9fAsQ8EVLbjNQ6B10zR_HYavskle2EcAflOsXvvsC8122I69qTxvGMVOUQ0M64LPeL2LgSBOFEMiVp0N3Zp3Jnv8/s1600/001+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrcqRESGsrctL_cGCRr8miR7Dv5n7NF6IY19PW9pQT5PemCoO9-rV9fAsQ8EVLbjNQ6B10zR_HYavskle2EcAflOsXvvsC8122I69qTxvGMVOUQ0M64LPeL2LgSBOFEMiVp0N3Zp3Jnv8/s200/001+(2).JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is how the thermometer works. Leave the Elle & Vire French Butter out of the refrigerator in a bowel. If after an appropriate time, such as an hour, it is soft but still formed it is Comfortable degrees. If the butter is soft but has lost its shape then it is Hot degrees. If it is liquid and has the appearance of yellow oil then it is Really Hot degrees. You know it is Miserably Hot degrees when you lean over to check the butter, you see that it is yellow oil, and the sweat off your face drops onto the countertop. I have found this method of telling the temperature very accurate. The above photo clearly demonstrates that it is Comfortable approaching Hot. And, by the way, in researching this method I have also come to appreciate the wonderful taste of French butter (without the sweat.) The French really do know how to make their butter. And how to use it. For more than thermometers. (Didn’t Julia Child once say that if what you are cooking doesn’t taste right simply add more butter? French butter. If she didn’t say that I’m sure she thought it.) When we leave <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> one of the things I will miss the most is the wonderful French butter – for cooking, that is. I won’t need it as a thermometer. I will also miss the Ghanaian industrial strength toilets. But, I don’t think I will talk about them here. That is a topic for another blog posting. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have discovered another item to add to the LGU (List of Ghana Unexplainables.) This is a statue with an associated word display located on the road along the ocean from downtown <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> toward Korle Bu. This is a picture of it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNnsqQErmgJ8zJT2zs2YRmU-4zvsCmNRky-43HeTPKLMLwAa7dyhrpuoccnpGfdZQ3MlcCc9tNs9GMJcjSdz8Brrlghd5KExsjRE3wQ20viuDQTgnzKae55IutkweBvHPVNhl5FJPVtE/s1600/Thursday+9+Sep+photos+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNnsqQErmgJ8zJT2zs2YRmU-4zvsCmNRky-43HeTPKLMLwAa7dyhrpuoccnpGfdZQ3MlcCc9tNs9GMJcjSdz8Brrlghd5KExsjRE3wQ20viuDQTgnzKae55IutkweBvHPVNhl5FJPVtE/s400/Thursday+9+Sep+photos+019.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have asked four Ghanaians to explain the statue and display and none of them can do it. Two doctors at Korle Bu called it the “dog” statue. They were standing together when I asked about the statue. They both laughed when I called it the “golden calf” statue. They said it was not a calf, but a dog. It often has a scarf around its neck. Both of them thought it had been built by descendents of the Ga tribe who were the original inhabitants of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. They thought that the statue had some religious significance but did not know any details. They had no idea what the scarf means. And neither of them could tell me what the word display means. It is in a language neither of them can read. The other two Ghanaians I asked did not have an explanation either. So, unless someone reading this blog can give me an explanation I am putting this item on the LGU.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Speaking of lists I have been considering, for a while, to start a new list of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> experiences, something along the line of Practical Lessons Learned in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana that Make Living Here Easier. (I definitely need a better name than that.) </st1:place></st1:country-region> Anyone who has lived here will immediately understand. Examples on the list include: always take a cooler when you go to the store or any item that is cold, such as French butter, is not cold when you get home, do not try to peel a mango (I’ll explain in a future blog posting), and, despite wanting to be a courteous driver, do not stop at an intersection to allow a car to pass in front of you. (I hate to admit it but I’m almost to the point of adding: don’t try to grow tomatoes in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>.) The reason I talk about this topic is because Marsha and I learned a truly Ghanaian practical lesson this past week. It is one that has made our life easier. It is so obvious that when I saw it demonstrated I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand and exclaimed, “Why didn’t I think of that?” Here is a photograph to demonstrate.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7BLKi8uX7Qs25-IEuum1l5WOX6zr4WIUmO3HJSt-D6p6uJoYrdw9q38o-LixDEZDTaX_Iyfg3-eCfoH6_OhNBMyD32TPBalCieV-bImAJ2N4UsQ79oXzT2xjF0tO59BsMkNRFZHGEghg/s1600/Mid+sep+photos+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7BLKi8uX7Qs25-IEuum1l5WOX6zr4WIUmO3HJSt-D6p6uJoYrdw9q38o-LixDEZDTaX_Iyfg3-eCfoH6_OhNBMyD32TPBalCieV-bImAJ2N4UsQ79oXzT2xjF0tO59BsMkNRFZHGEghg/s200/Mid+sep+photos+002.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Now, if you are looking at this photo and thinking “That looks like a bunch of zip lock bags stuck on the wall” you are completely correct. It is not an example of Ghanaian modern art. (That would require empty water sachets.) It is a method of drying zip lock bags. Simply take the zip lock bag, once carefully washed and rinsed inside and out, shake off the excess water, place the wet bag on the wall and open the zip lock an inch or so. The bag adheses (I’m sure “adheses” is a word despite spell checker telling me right now it’s not) to the wall and dries over the ensuing hours. Of course, it is obvious that one needs to place the bags on a wall covered with ceramic tile, as evident in the picture. And it is equally obvious that the temperature inside the kitchen has to be warm enough to dry the bags. (Check your Elle & Vire French Butter thermometer.) Keep this suggestion in mind the next time you wash your zip lock bags. If you ever read about this practical hint for homemakers in Martha Stewart’s <u>Modern Living</u> remember where you first heard it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me get serious for a moment. Marsha and I have come to love many aspects of our lives here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. We love the tropical climate. Despite the heat being oppressive at times, it is also therapeutic. We have minimal aches and pains. There is very little need for skin moisturizer. I don’t have nose bleeds. We love the trees, the flowering vegetation, and the birds. We love some of the food, especially the fruit. And we love the people. I cannot imagine any nation of people more kind and friendly than Ghanaians. I might poke fun at some of what we encounter among them each day but it is not done in a mean way. It is an attempt to provide a humorous explanation for these encounters. (Ghanaian Car Weaving, for example. See blog dated <st1:date day="2" month="7" year="2010">2 July 2010</st1:date>.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want to share two recent experiences. There is humor in each but more meaning to the experience than what makes us laugh. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The first involves an incident while shopping at Max Mart. We were standing in one of the aisles looking at spices and I noticed at the end of the aisle a young woman with four girls. The woman appeared to be in her twenties and all of the girls appeared to be eight to ten years old. I don’t think they were a family. The girls appeared to be friends rather than siblings. They were very pretty. Each of them was wearing a long, brightly colored dress. Some had head scarves. My first impression was that they were on their way to a party. As Marsha looked over the items on the shelves I turned my head to observe the group. I smiled at them, and the girls giggled. They whispered among themselves. Then two of then, one dressed in pink, with close cropped hair and bright earrings, and another in turquoise with a matching head wrap, walked by me, grinned and said “Good afternoon.” I replied “Good afternoon ladies. Both of you are very pretty today.” This made them giggle as they walked by. They disappeared at the end of the aisle. Within minutes they were back at the beginning of the aisle with the other two girls and the older woman. Once again the group of girls talked in whispers among themselves. The older woman appeared to be seriously shopping and was oblivious to, or purposefully ignoring, the whispering of the girls. The two girls, one in pink and one in turquoise, again walked by and giggled. I thought that we had perhaps started a game. Marsha and I moved on to the vegetables and stopped. As I stood holding the shopping cart these two girls walked up to me and indicated they wanted to talk to me. They wanted to whisper something. I bent down and the girl in pink asked “Where are the chocolates?” I walked the two of them over to a small display of chocolates. They asked “Which is good chocolate?” I pointed to what I thought would be a good choice. I noticed the girl in turquoise had a crumpled one cedi note in her hand. Most of the chocolates were three to seven cedis. I went back to the vegetables. As Marsha and I moved on from the vegetables the two girls appeared again and wanted to help push the cart. I tried to explain to them that I didn’t need help. They indicated they needed to whisper something to me. The girl in pink asked “Can you buy chocolate?” Without thinking, perhaps charmed by their innocence and knowing what they wanted, I walked them back to the chocolate display, picked out a chocolate bar, took them up front and purchased it. They giggled and smiled. I gave them the chocolate. The cashier appeared confused so I explained that I was buying the chocolate for my two new friends. The cashier continued to look confused. The girls, with the chocolate in hand, disappeared from the store. I did not see the other girls and the older woman in the store.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">I thought about this brief encounter for a few minutes. Had I just been scammed? Possibly. Would I allow it to happen again? Probably. I doubt the girls would have approached a Ghanaian and tried the same tactics. Was I upset? Not a bit. I considered it another unique Ghanaian experience.. For the cost of a chocolate bar, I had given two girls (possibly four girls, and the older woman, or I’d like to think, perhaps, all of the kids at a party) a moment to giggle and smile. And to enjoy some chocolate that they obviously didn’t have the resources to purchase. Would this have happened at home in the States? No. The girls would have probably shoplifted the chocolate. Or I would have been arrested for child molestation. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next experience happened last week on the highway to Tema. The windshield wiper blade on the passenger side of our car broke two weeks ago. Part of the rubber blade tore off producing a black spaghetti strand that flopped back and forth over our windshield each time the wipers were turned on. We were pulling up to the <st1:street><st1:address>Tema Highway</st1:address></st1:street> toll booths. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9L-DDj-81LwJEUALk8KaXnOZJWcvHfnuusKql_nOHSEDbnKj05m7sUim-2wALn2dZMQmTMYkpAtuuZHs3pgOXzdFkp5asR6NvfdlG5lazEUfLAWtMOL2s-ESwFUQU5ZXU8e1VDEXxkI/s1600/Marsha+sep+pixs+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9L-DDj-81LwJEUALk8KaXnOZJWcvHfnuusKql_nOHSEDbnKj05m7sUim-2wALn2dZMQmTMYkpAtuuZHs3pgOXzdFkp5asR6NvfdlG5lazEUfLAWtMOL2s-ESwFUQU5ZXU8e1VDEXxkI/s200/Marsha+sep+pixs+007.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">As the cars inched along one of the vendors, an outgoing entrepreneurial Shuck's Auto Supply type young man carrying jumper cables, steering wheel covers, and wiper blades approached us and noticed our damaged wiper blade. He pointed to it and then to his replacement blades. I shook my head “no,” not wanting to be slowed in getting through the booths. He wasn’t about to take that for an answer. He walked right alongside our moving car, picked up our wiper, and demonstrated with much satisfaction the broken blade, pointing to it as if to say “You thought you could ignore this? I noticed it. You can’t fool me.” He then smiled. Marsha rolled down her window and asked the price. Ten cedis. I asked him if he could change the blades quickly. By this time we were at the booth. I paid our toll. He followed us through the booth and motioned us to the side of the road. We pulled over to the side and he changed the blades in about one minute, making a few adjustments to the metal parts of the blades with his built in pliers – his teeth. He really did a good job. Marsha and I were both impressed. We chuckled at how quickly he had noticed the broken blade, had seized upon the opportunity, and had convinced us to do business with him. I paid him and was just about to compliment him on his business technique when he proceeded to take the money, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">drop the old blades right on the road</b>, and walk away. What was humorous became aggravating. It was very irritating to see him drop the used blades and walk away. Why do Ghanaians think they can drop everything on the ground? Aargh. I wanted to shout at him to pick up his trash. Ghanaians seriously need a generation of mean mothers to teach their children to pick up after themselves.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have had several email queries regarding my facial injury described in the blog dated <st1:date day="2" month="7" year="2010">2 July 2010</st1:date>. I am disappointed to report that I didn’t have a larvae growing in my face. I did have some kind of bite, however, that took six weeks to heal. It has left me with some discoloration and a slight pucker to the skin at the site of injury. Unfortunately, it is under my jaw line enough that it is difficult to see. Too bad. I was hoping for something visually disfiguring enough that it would prompt my grandchildren, when sitting on my lap, to inquire of its origin. To which I would respond with great animation, “Let me tell you about when I lived in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>. It was very dangerous there. Lots of animals want to eat you. One day . . . . . . . "</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEeFCgy6E0QGyJByhZiTIGwjwhg1nvj28pwxE_eVxIFdW36NwvnwoMbmOjSO67Muu4QiayQRGBDx6W4r0Q_SuRrqNQGvEEnk4yPhK42ubo-wcE8-m_ASQLw4X8RvDvostysZNdkRGozU/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEeFCgy6E0QGyJByhZiTIGwjwhg1nvj28pwxE_eVxIFdW36NwvnwoMbmOjSO67Muu4QiayQRGBDx6W4r0Q_SuRrqNQGvEEnk4yPhK42ubo-wcE8-m_ASQLw4X8RvDvostysZNdkRGozU/s320/004.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FRIENDS</td></tr>
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</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-74040431782738012042010-09-11T02:53:00.000-07:002010-09-11T15:00:40.557-07:002010 All Africa Helping Hands Day<div class="MsoNormal">I have wanted to post these photographs for two weeks. These are pictures taken at the church’s 4<sup>th</sup> annual All Africa Helping Hands Day, <st1:date day="21" month="7" year="2010">21 July 2010</st1:date>. This is an example of community service, Africa Style. There were a little over 11,000 members of the church who participated in the Africa West area. I do not have photos or statistics for the other areas of <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw-f1L9iQFBsYPV8hdXYW3gNsKxpf-0VOLSD20Bg7yETHTJE57IVOw67feCY8rFRHHjbR2Jx9l3a2iMEjiJi-J2Slyf9Nr9MsGUYPxDB65xfAKVjKJKpAlwa6q7uO66SDx4YV_pPl-D8Y/s1600/All+Africa+2010-+Sierra+Leone+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw-f1L9iQFBsYPV8hdXYW3gNsKxpf-0VOLSD20Bg7yETHTJE57IVOw67feCY8rFRHHjbR2Jx9l3a2iMEjiJi-J2Slyf9Nr9MsGUYPxDB65xfAKVjKJKpAlwa6q7uO66SDx4YV_pPl-D8Y/s400/All+Africa+2010-+Sierra+Leone+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cleaning the road side in Sierra Leone</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCNSoF-ToAFNQ0xXkbi4T2m-bWbN1AOMebioMVh2Mt85RJbBL5j5JGVUDCuDci8WaMbtni50TS1SdQR1XNbqO5clt0oVXygE5ZlqmYizBctCcccz-4RDmOB_-RiSPD3DRfgaomRBPUfas/s1600/All+Africa+2010-+Nsit+Ubium+Nigeria+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCNSoF-ToAFNQ0xXkbi4T2m-bWbN1AOMebioMVh2Mt85RJbBL5j5JGVUDCuDci8WaMbtni50TS1SdQR1XNbqO5clt0oVXygE5ZlqmYizBctCcccz-4RDmOB_-RiSPD3DRfgaomRBPUfas/s400/All+Africa+2010-+Nsit+Ubium+Nigeria+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cleaning a walk path in Nsit Ubium, Nigeria</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXFslJ1mK7zBpyUJe8Puo2g4L6qOSFXFYQ1g_9Uk66nq3Xsn901_RyCs3ZTGzgYIWdM4-JPqJvdcTBTYM32CuiJ4WjBn5lGwFZMfPtrJvm3ji71VBeWAW41h-QD6GG8Hth0ZdTu2YZ9eM/s1600/All+Africa+2010-+Abeokuta+Nigeria+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXFslJ1mK7zBpyUJe8Puo2g4L6qOSFXFYQ1g_9Uk66nq3Xsn901_RyCs3ZTGzgYIWdM4-JPqJvdcTBTYM32CuiJ4WjBn5lGwFZMfPtrJvm3ji71VBeWAW41h-QD6GG8Hth0ZdTu2YZ9eM/s400/All+Africa+2010-+Abeokuta+Nigeria+1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clearing the community water source, Abeokuta, Nigeria</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDeIqmEk_MG18Ls6OaeWsrJJHkKMBUs28CuBSFQphJSiWPnY1Kzw_j_iw3MGEMq458nd1K2CR5RH8PTu5oRwv0js8gY-_dYsJuc0dId2r-KvZE_j3UequDKOUY7nUr-xlQfg9S6L7b_1I/s1600/All+Africa+2010-+Tema-+TESHIE+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDeIqmEk_MG18Ls6OaeWsrJJHkKMBUs28CuBSFQphJSiWPnY1Kzw_j_iw3MGEMq458nd1K2CR5RH8PTu5oRwv0js8gY-_dYsJuc0dId2r-KvZE_j3UequDKOUY7nUr-xlQfg9S6L7b_1I/s400/All+Africa+2010-+Tema-+TESHIE+4.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cleaning the beach near Tema, Ghana</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0MLobQztX22gPih1dvcNMnul1Ydkq1l4_zVrAODAUw8ME75I7G2XsP5UQw4fyQbfOw4HPzQA5DUvaQJLecNRxBltbwf9Q5UUd__8i3srTryyeIm5GltMAEPHbOpAm3tKp8r0crorsyo/s1600/All+Africa+2010-+Adenta+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0MLobQztX22gPih1dvcNMnul1Ydkq1l4_zVrAODAUw8ME75I7G2XsP5UQw4fyQbfOw4HPzQA5DUvaQJLecNRxBltbwf9Q5UUd__8i3srTryyeIm5GltMAEPHbOpAm3tKp8r0crorsyo/s400/All+Africa+2010-+Adenta+3.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clearing the gutters in Adenta, Ghana</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3OMjjJeWTfIXU29OvW-MTqTeqtZvzF4yjvnEIMfBz2T9QRczsPQ_4IakuT6npICmd-LbSk8SHlMGtZ9uAd0bCEO2IVgSuKQV2q2S7VQzNufkNn3PzUOGCb7p91fNQtKiCdrKiTEMy324/s1600/All+Africa-+Best+Picture!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3OMjjJeWTfIXU29OvW-MTqTeqtZvzF4yjvnEIMfBz2T9QRczsPQ_4IakuT6npICmd-LbSk8SHlMGtZ9uAd0bCEO2IVgSuKQV2q2S7VQzNufkNn3PzUOGCb7p91fNQtKiCdrKiTEMy324/s400/All+Africa-+Best+Picture!.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Painting the curbs in Accra</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1N9nkr5TIVKE_Zj9FEeqDP1fukW7wRem5qX5XmEkC0hrJ0unCyxrkOQiGZ33T4Q-8A3H1nH3qWx5CMBgRt7cb4xmgnoFlyBgRh9cHGoU1BvN_oSJTmbjqcVglLiJbEuHFTyJLzgD2dE/s1600/All+Africa+2010-+Abeokuta+Nigeria+6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1N9nkr5TIVKE_Zj9FEeqDP1fukW7wRem5qX5XmEkC0hrJ0unCyxrkOQiGZ33T4Q-8A3H1nH3qWx5CMBgRt7cb4xmgnoFlyBgRh9cHGoU1BvN_oSJTmbjqcVglLiJbEuHFTyJLzgD2dE/s400/All+Africa+2010-+Abeokuta+Nigeria+6.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HELPING HANDS!</td></tr>
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<div>I do not have any comments to make. The pictures say it all. <br />
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</div></div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-59563684560129427872010-08-29T01:20:00.000-07:002010-09-02T23:14:32.621-07:0028 August 2010<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iUUDRRUnwuyKLeXvsjHhcHmOULgY3sd3FBopKjXEeG17BIezMTE8tTudB3UMEANROzWnWAnEyXvGl6H69zifgETpyQgAMMaDcFgJYw87i1uXgxMsq3iczbV1nb1Vp2dRltE9MQcLkV0/s1600/August+14+pxs+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iUUDRRUnwuyKLeXvsjHhcHmOULgY3sd3FBopKjXEeG17BIezMTE8tTudB3UMEANROzWnWAnEyXvGl6H69zifgETpyQgAMMaDcFgJYw87i1uXgxMsq3iczbV1nb1Vp2dRltE9MQcLkV0/s400/August+14+pxs+008.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamestown, 14 Aug 2010</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Good news. The bats are back! We noticed them yesterday afternoon as we were coming up <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Ave.</st1:address></st1:street> They were flying around the trees at 37 Military Hospital. There were hundreds of them. They were circling the trees, darting in and out of the branches, as if they had just arrived home from a long trip and were checking out the place to make sure nothing had changed. As it started getting dark that evening they made their way north for a night of feeding. It is nice to have them back. Eat those mosquitoes!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I need to correct an error that I have made twice in previous blogs. I have mistakenly labeled the turkey vultures that are common here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> as buzzards. Sorry. They are not buzzards. According to my research there are no buzzards in <st1:place>West Africa</st1:place>. They are in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> but more to the south and east of us. Until recently I’ve not been able to get a close up photo of these birds to see the turkey vulture’s distinctive head and neck. This is a picture of a turkey vulture from Google photos. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXbX_Cwe2kUovJrva4DEqQzf3-RyZWiFwnQDqb4DfnCqhD6KLwb4AqGvjOtZZQzl-fdwt1IDeJfxqucTExw3XcMGPV8uOvN5P6jO3DN5CvT6-bHNp_jZi74K5tzcRqRPUEvpY7DQtflM/s1600/Turkey+vulture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXbX_Cwe2kUovJrva4DEqQzf3-RyZWiFwnQDqb4DfnCqhD6KLwb4AqGvjOtZZQzl-fdwt1IDeJfxqucTExw3XcMGPV8uOvN5P6jO3DN5CvT6-bHNp_jZi74K5tzcRqRPUEvpY7DQtflM/s200/Turkey+vulture.jpg" width="135" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">These are the birds that we see sitting on the tops of buildings and on lamp posts (the ones I have mistakenly called buzzards.) They are also the birds that I have described as always circling overhead (the ones I have appropriately identified as turkey vultures.) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In my last blog I described the sounds of three of our morning birds. Subsequent to writing that blog I’ve been able to finally visualize the Wolf Whistle Bird. It is a very indistinct appearing bird slightly smaller than a robin with the neutral colors of a sparrow. I was able to see one in the morning light well enough to identify it with the wake up sound we hear daily. John Thueson sent an audio of this bird he had recorded when he and his wife lived in this apartment three years ago. I will see if I can figure out how to attach an audio file to a blog. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Marsha and I identified another morning bird this week. We heard it and saw it as we were leaving the apartment. It has a staccato type sound, like a machine gun with a lisp – cha/cha/cha/cha/cha/cha/ in a descending musical scale. The total sound is less than two seconds. It looks like a woodpecker with a similar beak but a slightly smaller body. Marsha and I have decided to call it the Machine Gun Bird. Our favorite bird, the Bubble Up Bird, must be gone. We have not heard it since I described it two weeks ago.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-VsZ4q0K8-Sgprcjgkt1jRMfOEZ-U1ourV0091T1c18YjNu98f-taFCGQena44nFA6NyVRjEhU94zKBKrXapD70N7sRVNUv3SXMWQd1neAwN9PLJ95lWRKdY55Y-ecgHnIzMmqROA_g/s1600/August+Nikon+photos+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-VsZ4q0K8-Sgprcjgkt1jRMfOEZ-U1ourV0091T1c18YjNu98f-taFCGQena44nFA6NyVRjEhU94zKBKrXapD70N7sRVNUv3SXMWQd1neAwN9PLJ95lWRKdY55Y-ecgHnIzMmqROA_g/s400/August+Nikon+photos+009.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For four days the Orange Blossom shrub outside our front steps has been blooming. It does this about every six to eight weeks. When it blossoms it is an aromatic festival. The Queen of Fragrance has arrived. Unfortunately it only blossoms for four or five days and then fades. It is very fragrant today. When one steps outside of the apartment into the warm, moist heat of the morning, and the Orange Blossom shrub is in bloom, it is easy to imagine stepping up to the front desk at a spa/sauna and asking “may I just sit here for a while and enjoy the warmth and the smell?” The scent of the shrub reminds me of the syringa at home. Marsha thinks it smells like a lilac bush.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh02AacXXn-0Md56sEgrRR14IoHhkiZKtWjmyjsuxQrb77RdoPA0mBV8GYgAzO0gt_ZVC_ziihkXhZHfIkoHdY34MZUhQLZZow-o_0OwxmFsWTvSbcCR4p3DFTdQSIiX3PEHKxQyw-6H70/s1600/28+Aug+photos+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh02AacXXn-0Md56sEgrRR14IoHhkiZKtWjmyjsuxQrb77RdoPA0mBV8GYgAzO0gt_ZVC_ziihkXhZHfIkoHdY34MZUhQLZZow-o_0OwxmFsWTvSbcCR4p3DFTdQSIiX3PEHKxQyw-6H70/s400/28+Aug+photos+001.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a photo of a large tree growing in the adjacent compound that hangs over the fence onto our apartment parking lot. It is visible off our back patio. On Tuesday this week we pulled into the apartment complex entry. While waiting for the guards to open the gate, a wind came up and blew a shower of leaves from this tree onto the parking lot. It instantaneously covered the parking lot. Not a big deal, one would say, but it seems unusual that this tree is actually dropping leaves while it is hot. Does this tree think that fall is on its way? Some of the other deciduous trees are losing a few leaves but none are turning <st1:place>New England</st1:place> yellow and dropping all their leaves like this one. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIxyJWCYAuHS07bZpbuSxxHIMcbRafwM_oamYV_XhxM2x_KOazXr4qhg5MDwPg_FNLMppBLXRZenuDGpFnql9DZzxXeAo-2QxP4dkjm9GhrSnYU4WaRJAqH6NN83IbrvzRJuH7rM_pIxU/s1600/MGM+cam+Jun+10+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIxyJWCYAuHS07bZpbuSxxHIMcbRafwM_oamYV_XhxM2x_KOazXr4qhg5MDwPg_FNLMppBLXRZenuDGpFnql9DZzxXeAo-2QxP4dkjm9GhrSnYU4WaRJAqH6NN83IbrvzRJuH7rM_pIxU/s200/MGM+cam+Jun+10+006.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> I’ve been meaning to include this photo in a blog for several months but keep forgetting. This is a close up of the fan palm outside our living room window after a rain storm. Notice the cup formation of the bottom branch as it attaches to the trunk and the water contained in the cup. This branch filled in one rainstorm. The water remained in the branch until the next day. Nice thing to remember if you are ever stranded in a jungle, all the water is bad, you are thirsty, and it has just rained. Look for the bottom branches of a fan palm. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Most of the time the sky is pretty homogenous here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. For the past two weeks the mornings have been misty with an overall gray appearance. By afternoon the gray lifts and the sun shines through. The sky becomes completely blue. When we arrived last winter I noticed the brown haze appearance of the sky due to the harmattan (the sand that blows from the <st1:place>Sahara</st1:place> for several months winter). It was the same every day for three months. When the rainy season started in June the sky became a darker gray, but still it had a monotonous appearance. I am sure that the lack of mountains promotes this uniform and unchanging weather pattern. Marsha took a photograph of this cloud pattern a week ago. For an hour or so the dark clouds rolled by, large and tumbling, just like what we see in the spring and fall seasons at home. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdckC1FcDE2k39fFc3dXp7i4cKJxuNIXNTm6Vp5ZhgyC02RQ8kMEoYSxOsUhuwKvl17PcVonKHlLWODtUOACAXIxc2qc5IPSbdgY7L7JlqjdH0AIEZJkKFDYio5u1WdQXhX5yMo-URw1E/s1600/Marsha+end+of+Aug+photos+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdckC1FcDE2k39fFc3dXp7i4cKJxuNIXNTm6Vp5ZhgyC02RQ8kMEoYSxOsUhuwKvl17PcVonKHlLWODtUOACAXIxc2qc5IPSbdgY7L7JlqjdH0AIEZJkKFDYio5u1WdQXhX5yMo-URw1E/s400/Marsha+end+of+Aug+photos+003.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have been asked about the progress of the Ghana Tomato Project. Let me provide an update. As you recall in May I planted two pots of tomatoes from seeds packaged in the <st1:country-region><st1:place>USA</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I named the plants Justice and Mercy. Both struggled in June due to the intense raining. I had to work hard just to keep them from being washed away. Justice died in early July. At the time I recognized that Justice was not going to survive I planted a third tomato, one from the seeds obtained from a tomato we had purchased here. I figured an <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> tomato might genetically be more suited for this climate. I named this third tomato Charity, because everyone knows, “charity never faileth.” (1 Cor 13:8.) Into the end of July and the first part of August Mercy showed great promise producing 30 – 40 blossoms. But of that large number of blossoms only one has matured into a tomato fruit. Can I say something profound about Mercy making a big show but producing minimal fruit? No. I can simply say, based upon field results, that American tomato seeds should stay in <st1:country-region><st1:place>America</st1:place></st1:country-region>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Charity, the plant started from the seeds of an African tomato has already produced six blossoms and one tomato fruit. It looks quite promising.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBkpE7FiucYhVM11WlK4m8F2Ty5Zpw-gYt34FxKnJ8ctAkauRcSi__9zOL6dKLiZmJJ9TUh3o7xaqEatmVvQmyKOpsdGLVE0QE1TTX8aGLrxg2UtV0AUhX_ATwz_ay4od_P3mnxaDZjiI/s1600/28+Aug+photos+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBkpE7FiucYhVM11WlK4m8F2Ty5Zpw-gYt34FxKnJ8ctAkauRcSi__9zOL6dKLiZmJJ9TUh3o7xaqEatmVvQmyKOpsdGLVE0QE1TTX8aGLrxg2UtV0AUhX_ATwz_ay4od_P3mnxaDZjiI/s320/28+Aug+photos+005.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is probably just the seeds but we have also discovered something else that might be important to a tomato harvest here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. (I wish I had known this when Mercy was covered with blossoms.) Despite tomatoes supposedly being self pollinators we have learned that they sometimes need help to produce fruit. They need a tomato midwife. Internet research has outlined options on pollination assistance when there are no pollinating insects around (like bees, of which there are none in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>). These are the suggestions: gently shake the blossoms, buzz the base of the blossoms with an electric toothbrush or shaver, place a fan on the blossoms, or paint the blossoms with a soft paintbrush. Because Marsha is an artist we are following the paintbrush method. We feel kind of silly sneaking up on the plants and surreptitiously painting the pointy thing in the center of the blossom to get the pollen from the tip of the pointy thing to its base. We’ve been hoping that no one has been watching us. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the pot from which I took Justice I have planted a fourth tomato, another one from dried African tomato seeds. I am calling this fourth plant Hope. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitCi2EWS5S9sKgLHqeQ3ZOJjDmkDmAm83-vIgoETlz_PaVbwCr04rPmOLEFsMrv3DNcrwCq6F4ywr3b28BVhcXNAuMj1GIav7ZF4avwLG6ssZZ59xMtdjc5ugLGfcj9d955TAu_Ufj-7A/s1600/28+Aug+photos+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitCi2EWS5S9sKgLHqeQ3ZOJjDmkDmAm83-vIgoETlz_PaVbwCr04rPmOLEFsMrv3DNcrwCq6F4ywr3b28BVhcXNAuMj1GIav7ZF4avwLG6ssZZ59xMtdjc5ugLGfcj9d955TAu_Ufj-7A/s320/28+Aug+photos+006.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If the African seeds and paintbrush midwifery don’t produce a bumper crop I’m going to give up hope and plant some kind of prolific shrub that grows like a weed, maybe an Orange Blossom shrub. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Our garden hasn’t been a total failure. I planted peas in May. We have had one crop. This is a photograph of the three spoonfuls of peas we each had from our first crop.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf14y7RqsFabdqhCQOo-mBHEO3JCYryn-QvwQDXeULKLeWD0qUhNkq3d4rGSvzDfpYrpsW9AU_rPrgPQ-pMYx1kRabjQvwTRl2vkOEYjspMglNGt9QHOkdeIq7IaRtaz4fLgPrQbz8MVc/s1600/Busua+July+2010+128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf14y7RqsFabdqhCQOo-mBHEO3JCYryn-QvwQDXeULKLeWD0qUhNkq3d4rGSvzDfpYrpsW9AU_rPrgPQ-pMYx1kRabjQvwTRl2vkOEYjspMglNGt9QHOkdeIq7IaRtaz4fLgPrQbz8MVc/s200/Busua+July+2010+128.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">The peas are a lot easier to grow. We haven’t had to get down on our knees to paintbrush their blossoms. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Marsha has hinted that I spend too much blog time describing what we see when we are driving the streets in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. (i.e. the photo in my last blog of the motorcyclist with a tire around his waist.) She thinks it is probably boring to readers. She’s probably right. From now on I will limit each blog to only one road item. This is my Road Item for the week.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1be-6sVnXL2NhSBF5hoiVAiB9APwtGaoKo37LCtxLjPF9-IRla8H77stRz_lsasXsuodz4FNj9FfzK16-_PYN32fcor3MAkbQ5vTv0aSJQLJLmKSuPeMFWoF5MGue1819i_ZWVBMfdQ/s1600/mid+Aug+photos+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1be-6sVnXL2NhSBF5hoiVAiB9APwtGaoKo37LCtxLjPF9-IRla8H77stRz_lsasXsuodz4FNj9FfzK16-_PYN32fcor3MAkbQ5vTv0aSJQLJLmKSuPeMFWoF5MGue1819i_ZWVBMfdQ/s320/mid+Aug+photos+002.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As we approached this vehicle I could see that its brake lights were not coming on as it slowed for an intersection. That’s not surprising as most vehicles on the road have at least one tail light not working. When we pulled up behind the vehicle and stopped I easily discovered the reason that the tail lights did not work: the car DID NOT HAVE TAIL LIGHTS. The entire light mechanism was missing on each side. And the lights had not been simply disconnected and removed. The wiring to the lights had been cut. I suspect someone wanted those lights more than the owner of the vehicle. Let me interject that one of the senior missionary couples here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> was stopped because their new car did not have two strips of reflective tape on the rear bumper. These strips are not put on by the manufacturer. They are added here. (The photo above distinctly shows the two strips of reflective tape right below the missing tail lights.) This missionary couple had to call one of the church employees to bring reflective tape and apply it to the bumper before the police would allow the car to move on. The police officer obviously thought the missionary’s car was dangerous without its reflective tape on the rear bumper. Ironic, isn’t it, that the Enforcers of Traffic Safety will allow a vehicle without tail lights to be on the streets of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> but a car without reflective tape is considered unsafe. It almost makes the List of Ghana Unexplainables. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Last Monday I took a missionary for an x-ray film. I had arranged for the film on the Friday before. When scheduling the film I asked for the cost. I was told Ghc 55. On Monday we arrived at the imaging facility one half an hour ahead of the scheduled time. As we were standing at the desk to check in I noticed an electronic display behind the desk indicating “Now serving number 27.” I looked around but didn’t see a number dispensing system. When it was my turn to check in with the receptionist I was informed that I needed to first pay for the x-ray film examination before I could check in. (One would think that a simple sign above the check in desk indicating that one had to pay for the examination before checking in would improve the efficiency of the system. Why has no one thought of that?) I confirmed that the price was Ghc 55. We walked over to the finance office and informed the clerk that we needed to pay for the x-ray film examination. We specified the type of examination. He indicated that the cost would be Ghc 80. I told him that we were quoted a price of Ghc 55. He didn’t look concerned at all. He stood up, looked over his counter toward the receptionist and talked to her in local dialect. The receptionist came over and informed us that the charge would be Ghc 80. I asked why instead of the Ghc 55 she had told us five minutes earlier. She said it was because we were “foreigners.” Amazing. How did she know that we were foreigners? I wished she would have asked for my driver’s license. I could have produced my Ghanaian driver’s license but I suspect that a license to drive a car in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> will never prevent a white person from being a “foreigner.” We paid for the film at the new price, checked in with the receptionist, and sat down. We waited about an hour to get the film taken (less time than I had expected to wait.) As we were leaving the waiting room I noticed the electronic display still said “Now serving number 27.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me end with another endearing Ghanaian saying. Several blogs ago I commented upon the Ghanaian phrase “yes, please.” I need to describe another phrase, equally satisfying to hear. It is “you are welcome” (not “you’re welcome,” “<u>y</u>ou <u>a</u>re <u>w</u>el<u>c</u>ome” emphasize each syllable.) When being introduced to someone for the first time a Ghanaian will usually say “you are welcome” instead of “nice to meet you.” When walking into a store you will be greeted with “you are welcome.” At her fruit stand Ruth will greet us with “you are welcome” and say good-by with the same. Ghanaians do not understand very well the giving and receiving of compliments. In either situation they usually say “you are welcome.” This last picture is one of Marsha and Florence. <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> has become our good friend. She spends two hours a week cleaning our apartment and an equal number of hours, or more, sharing our lives. This picture was taken in our apartment at a birthday dinner for <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city>. We fixed her pizza (at her request.) A conversation with <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> will usually produce a number of “you are welcomes.” When I described “yes, please” in my recent blog I indicated that we would be better people if we were quick to use “yes, please.” Add to that suggestion “you are welcome.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjINRnPp3dC13a-088_uWnM4YzxTHK1-hREUhNqvI3mx1m5D2tpN264rwNog1t3CGUpTnyBNKejJl64nlbP6QigFRgEGIOneFTXoGi_tfF-HRtoO_vmIdJPp2anEPn0LaLTjth7h2GFXWo/s1600/Florence+birthday+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjINRnPp3dC13a-088_uWnM4YzxTHK1-hREUhNqvI3mx1m5D2tpN264rwNog1t3CGUpTnyBNKejJl64nlbP6QigFRgEGIOneFTXoGi_tfF-HRtoO_vmIdJPp2anEPn0LaLTjth7h2GFXWo/s400/Florence+birthday+003.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-52152106781699017392010-08-14T16:44:00.000-07:002010-08-17T10:22:03.669-07:0014 August 2010<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixU6hNL8NsPBPpqeoOUP56CwceJKK-XKBvzpsVIWb7ENMbPR89QcaI_1bSiP5MSY1z-ZvLLvg6AH62AhDJlCWTtsl8Fn6Vbi_bS4waSyQafZiUCJs7pD2V2ETAidCoVSqRNm9hr6nNLWw/s1600/Ghana+Aug+2010+DRM+koolpix+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixU6hNL8NsPBPpqeoOUP56CwceJKK-XKBvzpsVIWb7ENMbPR89QcaI_1bSiP5MSY1z-ZvLLvg6AH62AhDJlCWTtsl8Fn6Vbi_bS4waSyQafZiUCJs7pD2V2ETAidCoVSqRNm9hr6nNLWw/s400/Ghana+Aug+2010+DRM+koolpix+021.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">I have to start with this photograph. This is the third time I’ve seen goats on the top of a tro tro. It is the first time that I have had a camera available to take a picture of them. I followed this tro tro for about five kilometers. The goats were very good at balancing with the starting and stopping of the tro tro. I wanted to see how they did with corners but I had to turn before the tro tro had to turn.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8diYzhyPwjvvHqHc6Ki0x9gjBtTTYmNWRDbDJeuvGTE2_-C4NS4B60doSm746fb1DKE3-ZBTLLMv6R0XU09hAGZlGpHnwPIdNLBJRsgq2zpZqCm2SUYZNaqAJFpVndWD1gk-yIpQhSY/s1600/018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8diYzhyPwjvvHqHc6Ki0x9gjBtTTYmNWRDbDJeuvGTE2_-C4NS4B60doSm746fb1DKE3-ZBTLLMv6R0XU09hAGZlGpHnwPIdNLBJRsgq2zpZqCm2SUYZNaqAJFpVndWD1gk-yIpQhSY/s200/018.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">I wrote about Kapok trees last time. Here is another photo. It is hard to describe how big these trees are. I hope you can get an appreciation for the size of the tree from this photo. These are HUGE trees. They truly are the giants of the forest. As I think about them I am puzzled by the fact that I cannot recall seeing any small Kapok trees. Where are the young ones? The large ones dominate the countryside. There must be small ones somewhere. I’ll have to keep looking. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I discovered something last week. If you click on a blog photograph it becomes a separate screen of its own and increases in size. I’m probably the only one that didn't know this. I discovered it after posting my last blog, reading it, looking at the photo of the alligator and thinking the alligator really isn’t very impressive. I clicked on the photograph and voila! The picture grew to a size that allowed me to see more detail of the alligator including its protruding tongue. The alligator is a lot more impressive when enlarged. You might want to go back to the last blog and check out the alligator again.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This photo that is an example of some of the unusual things we see each day as we drive the streets of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-hrGFI98K7bjVABvQennX8cgKU2NiY8Ks-Z3PMmB2Q8NiTIVfyhX8TjL0H7SZl1bh_vnZHzzgXEH3eFHL3kLmscNpmSDSnjIKJP2PsB79O8eQuEXumt8c1toKjqjbH4Ehqn3Qi3oj9Q/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-hrGFI98K7bjVABvQennX8cgKU2NiY8Ks-Z3PMmB2Q8NiTIVfyhX8TjL0H7SZl1bh_vnZHzzgXEH3eFHL3kLmscNpmSDSnjIKJP2PsB79O8eQuEXumt8c1toKjqjbH4Ehqn3Qi3oj9Q/s320/004.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What do you think I should use as a caption for this photo? I’ve got a few ideas. Maybe it could be an advertisement for a government motorcycle safety campaign: <b><i>Never leave home without your safety tire, </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">or, </span><i>When a helmet just isn't enough protection. </i> </b>Maybe it could be an advertisement for a tire company: <b><i>Kwaku’s Tire, the fastest tire repair service in town.</i></b> Maybe it could be a model for the latest in fashion wear: <i> </i><b><i>The mid riff tire look is going to be hot this year.</i></b> From a medical perspective it could be an explanation of why many Ghanaians complain of “waist pains.” (Dr. Stubbs and Dr. Thueson, the two doctors who preceded me will understand.) Any other suggestions?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me share a humorous story. Last Sunday we were looking at pictures of home (we probably shouldn’t be doing this) and found a picture of our German Shepherd dog named Sabrina. If you didn’t know her she was a large dog with perfect Shepherd markings. She was beautiful. Because of her size she could stand at the kitchen work island and eat any food left unprotected. Several times she did this while we stepped out of the kitchen. We would return, notice the food missing, and look at her in an accusing way. She couldn’t look at us. She would divert her eyes and put her head to her side a little, as if to say, “Why are you accusing me, you left the food out in front of me.” We both remembered those incidents as we looked at the picture of her lying on the rug in the kitchen.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Wednesday morning we were a little rushed as we left for work. Marsha had taken several plastic sacks of garbage to the guard station and left them with the guards. We got in the car and pulled out of the apartment complex. As we started down Independence Avenue Marsha realized that she had left her lunch, in a plastic sack, with the sacks of garbage. We quickly turned around and headed back to the apartment. We pulled into the gate and explained to the guards that we had left Marsha’s lunch with the garbage sacks. Did they know where the lunch was? They looked at each other for a moment. One of the guards then went into the guard house and came out with the sack. He had a Sabrina look on his face. He didn’t say anything as he handed the sack to Marsha, looking down with his head turned to the side a little. As we left the apartment complex and again started down Independence Avenue Marsha opened the sack and found, to her dismay, that her lunch had been eaten. We looked at each other, remembered our Sabrina discussion, and laughed all the way to work. (Please don’t take this story wrong. We are not demeaning the guards at all. We love them. We have become good friends with all of them and probably created this encounter by occasionally taking meals out to them. It was the coincidence of looking at the picture of Sabrina, remembering the kitchen experiences, and then seeing it in real life three days later.) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is hard for me to say for sure, this being my first year here, but I think that the rainy season is ending. We have not had a downpour for two weeks now. Things are starting to turn brown. I think it would be more appropriate to describe the current weather as being the official Mist Season. On Wednesday morning (the morning of the mistakenly eaten lunch) Marsha and I noted that there seemed to be a lot more “smog” on our way to work. It turned out that the “smog” was actually fog. It wasn’t a heavy fog, but definitely moisture in the air instead of air pollution. On Thursday I drove out to Korle Bu and couldn’t see the road along the coast line because of the fog. The mornings have been very moist and hazy, reminiscent of mornings in <st1:place><st1:city>Tacoma</st1:city>, <st1:state>WA</st1:state></st1:place>. By afternoon the sun breaks through and burns off the haze. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I regret seeing the rainy season end. I want to post some pictures of the flowers/shrubs/trees that have blossomed since the rain began. These pictures were taken in our apartment complex. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicAj9ExXWGYNFVsd8mj_PLAPHYEG5v5s0KcqGne-6LelU8qOReNlK83uAY480-IBm7tWN1zeOmq8d_AkJAKql-L1XS9NnV-Pq9-tA4AupJTJDhyphenhyphenJR7e2x5IMsd5cIHS-o51MULVao5ZVg/s1600/June+2010+DRM+cam+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicAj9ExXWGYNFVsd8mj_PLAPHYEG5v5s0KcqGne-6LelU8qOReNlK83uAY480-IBm7tWN1zeOmq8d_AkJAKql-L1XS9NnV-Pq9-tA4AupJTJDhyphenhyphenJR7e2x5IMsd5cIHS-o51MULVao5ZVg/s400/June+2010+DRM+cam+011.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiygR3chrwFuNBBk3zajr9MaZjdLLoVafc40W96pUcHj_02FXbEVK9kW0qmbsx82Tp6ay_r-Zm-7TYfHMwpcRTmY2vK-qxZTNXIYljzjuPUf0TiHlSN7CD_ol2AVVZD8QThaTZlCQgqisI/s1600/June+2010+DRM+cam+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiygR3chrwFuNBBk3zajr9MaZjdLLoVafc40W96pUcHj_02FXbEVK9kW0qmbsx82Tp6ay_r-Zm-7TYfHMwpcRTmY2vK-qxZTNXIYljzjuPUf0TiHlSN7CD_ol2AVVZD8QThaTZlCQgqisI/s400/June+2010+DRM+cam+013.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9dCsOJZFtJW62okzocbu8FdPeHonQaKi6QxFlmdE_xSKkeZ0sU_P3jH18on4bM7krYWakNrkNTHr0CCMEq6OXrSYK2LUQCpfT38au7TcCBwoDbzEpT77g50-TDz0en_B8O6n-HCnqf8/s1600/June+2010+DRM+cam+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9dCsOJZFtJW62okzocbu8FdPeHonQaKi6QxFlmdE_xSKkeZ0sU_P3jH18on4bM7krYWakNrkNTHr0CCMEq6OXrSYK2LUQCpfT38au7TcCBwoDbzEpT77g50-TDz0en_B8O6n-HCnqf8/s400/June+2010+DRM+cam+017.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh9thVp5BBOoK0nf9rlg4OFMojM985CbhTANyVg_MWX2-Ry5muH5gQsYn-1YyJBzZxiKiJLRPnpu6j6kcEXAgoGIBVPAvu222hNuLZe13dAbeaQsGjmELRpIBDQfCWll_QSBZ_fC3oYEA/s1600/Ghana+Aug+2010+DRM+koolpix+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh9thVp5BBOoK0nf9rlg4OFMojM985CbhTANyVg_MWX2-Ry5muH5gQsYn-1YyJBzZxiKiJLRPnpu6j6kcEXAgoGIBVPAvu222hNuLZe13dAbeaQsGjmELRpIBDQfCWll_QSBZ_fC3oYEA/s400/Ghana+Aug+2010+DRM+koolpix+008.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">For months I’ve been trying to think of ways to describe the morning birds and their sounds. It’s much more difficult to do than to describe the sites of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I’m going to try.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have noticed three different morning birds with distinct sounds. I do not know their names. I welcome comments from anyone reading this who could give me names for the birds. The first one begins each morning at <st1:time hour="5" minute="0">5:00 a.m.</st1:time> (about an hour before sunrise.) I call this one the Wolf Whistle Bird. Think of the whistle one makes when calling attention to someone beautiful. It is two sounds, short, monosyllabic, the first one increasing in pitch followed by the second one that decreases in pitch. Take these two whistle sounds and reverse them, the first one becoming a decreasing pitch and the second one an increasing pitch. This is the sound of the Wolf Whistle Bird. This bird is a rooster equivalent. It starts exactly at five and goes until six. Sometimes it seems near enough to our bedroom window that I have got up to see if it is on the window ledge. Sometimes the bird seems more distant. I’ve stepped outside and tried to locate this bird but have not been able to positively identify it, because it stops making sounds as the sun comes up and it becomes light enough to see. I think it is a medium sized bird, about the size of a blackbird but more the color of a starling. It sits on a radio tower about twenty yards from my window.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The second bird I call the Bubble Up bird. We heard these same morning sounds in the jungles of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Peru</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Visualize a series of pop bottles, filled with increasing amounts of water, and someone blowing across them successively, making a sound that starts at a medium pitch and goes up the scale about five or six notes. The sound has an echoing hollowness about it, is distinct, and very melodious. It is a sound somewhat like five or six successive keys played on a xylophone. It is quite loud and sounds as if it is coming from a close distance but the bird is in a tall tree about 30 km away. It appears to be a medium sized bird, dark gray to black, with a long set of tail feathers that are perpendicular to its body when it is perched and flat with its body when it is in the air. When the bird flies it has an hourglass appearance with the roundness of the body narrowing to an isthmus then a wide set of tail feathers rounded on the ends, not straight across. The undersides of the wings are white. This bird is not heard each day. We will sometimes go days without hearing it and then it will be audible each morning for days on end.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The third bird is one I call a Duck Imitator. This one is the hardest to hear and to localize. It emits a short quack like sound, one syllable. It is not repetitive. It is not loud. It’s like someone interjecting a comment into a conversation without breaking into the conversation. When one first hears it one thinks it is a mechanically produced sound, like the squeal of the brakes on a passing car. It does not stand out from the other sounds. Once you recognize it, however, it is easy to hear. I have no idea which bird makes this sound. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There is another bird we have recently noticed. It is the size of a robin. I don’t think it makes any sounds. It is a beautiful metallic teal green. But the teal green is only seen when it is flying, and it is best seen if the bird is visualized from above. When it is standing it displays none of its metallic color. We didn’t realize the colorful bird in flight was the same lackluster bird on the ground until we observed one of the birds taking off. We both commented on the color, amazed to see the difference in appearance between the bird on the ground and the bird in flight. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was determined to find the Wolf Whistle Bird this morning and went out on the front porch with the sunrise. I could hear the characteristic sounds but could not see any distinct bird. The sounds were coming from the direction of the radio tower. I went inside. About a half an hour later I went back out on the porch. To my surprise I noted four African Gray Parrots on the radio tower. They are a distinct gray color with red tail feathers. I watched them for a while and two of them flew away. The two that remained made noises, not the Wolf Whistle noises, for about 10 minutes and then flew away. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me describe African Gray Parrots. I don’t have a personal picture of an African Gray Parrot so I’m posting a Google picture here. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8MPUmTJ5mQl9JYFBLT-UL7vuGfLuAa10_oBdfufwf7e6VnqUoMXZYB6BL1YKdidw0XG5Lrdw6VoCbQIAW1q1TAytwPyRbAOLsuGhId-OoByHC0FrhC4TS9MF18UQ5MS6OP4EdLasSZ-8/s1600/399px-Buberel_Gray_parrot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8MPUmTJ5mQl9JYFBLT-UL7vuGfLuAa10_oBdfufwf7e6VnqUoMXZYB6BL1YKdidw0XG5Lrdw6VoCbQIAW1q1TAytwPyRbAOLsuGhId-OoByHC0FrhC4TS9MF18UQ5MS6OP4EdLasSZ-8/s200/399px-Buberel_Gray_parrot.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">I was surprised to see these parrots so close to civilization. I have been under the impression that they lived in the rural/jungle areas of <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>. We occasionally see them for sale along the roadsides. About a month ago there was a man with two of them for sale at an intersection near our apartment.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">African Gray Parrots are very smart. They are supposedly the best in acquiring vocalization capability. They are quick to pick up conversation and repeat it. Byron Smith, the president of the Ghana Accra Mission has an African Gray Parrot in his office. It is in a large cage in the corner. President Smith purchased it on the outskirts of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>, I believe, about a year or so ago. We have been to President Smith’s home/office many times and find the bird very entertaining. I’m pretty sure his name is Petey. He can imitate telephone rings, car warning sounds, sirens on the street, etc. No problem. He will hear these sounds once and immediately imitate them. It takes a little more repetition for him to acquire conversation. He imitates President Smith’s voice perfectly. It is very unnerving to be talking to President Smith in his living room, hear the phone ring, and then the voice “This is President Smith, may I help you?” come from his office while President Smith is standing in front of you. Petey is a young bird and is just learning. He is not very good at speaking on command. He will turn his head and look at you sideways as you stand there saying things to him hoping he will repeat what you are saying. It’s as if he’s trying to figure out who you are and why you don't sound like President Smith. When you get tired of talking to him and start to walk away he’ll utter something totally unpredictable. President Smith, being the good ecclesiastical leader that he is, is teaching Petey to ask the Important Questions every mortal asks: “Where did I come from?” “Why am I here?” “Where am I going?” Because he’s young he sometimes gets his phrases mixed up. So, when you least expect it you’ll hear the Important Questions coming to you in President Smith’s voice, with a few minor changes. “Why did I come from?” or “Where am I here?” or “Why am I going?” It just cracks you up. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Speaking of birds I’m going to put a picture here of a row of buzzards. These were sitting on top of a building near a market in downtown <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. When I came back by the building an hour later they were gone. If you click on the photo you can enlarge it enough to see the buzzards well.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH8K0VyltTSWH7JaN0t3m7zVFI5K6QGzexdqXkf_Rlk14gOiW2puyfJDqcAY6lPuMUskhjzx3nLHoyjFXyO-H1JDJmIq17rE1GE7NaNTv5bRp4nypSmGRAgvcKUignEMgRtkvB_4vYhHU/s1600/August+14+pxs+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH8K0VyltTSWH7JaN0t3m7zVFI5K6QGzexdqXkf_Rlk14gOiW2puyfJDqcAY6lPuMUskhjzx3nLHoyjFXyO-H1JDJmIq17rE1GE7NaNTv5bRp4nypSmGRAgvcKUignEMgRtkvB_4vYhHU/s320/August+14+pxs+004.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I try to think of things to share about life in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> it is easy to recall the experiences we have each day while driving in traffic. A day doesn’t pass that we don’t experience something unusual, such as motorcyclists with tires around their waists. Most of the times these incidents are humorous. Occasionally the experiences are disturbing. Last week we were on our way to the office and we pulled up to an intersection to stop. There was a narrow island to our left separating our lane from a left hand turn lane. There were cars in both lanes waiting for the lights to change. When we stopped we had the usual onslaught of people selling things and the beggars. A blind woman led by a little girl about seven years old worked her way toward our car. As she came to our window the light turned green so I smiled at the seven year old girl and started to pull forward. We immediately saw off our front left fender a little two year old boy sitting on the narrow island between our lane and the turn lane playing in the dirt. He was oblivious to the traffic that was within three feet of him on either side. Marsha gasped, looked at the unprotected little boy, glimpsed back at him as I drove away, and then broke out sobbing. It is such a cruel site to see these children living in these circumstances. This little boy was probably the brother of the girl who was probably the granddaughter of the blind woman. The two children were going to spend the day helping the grandmother with her begging. Disregarding the danger of the situation it is heart wrenching to know that these two children do not have a childhood. They are part of the daily money making responsibilities of a family. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In my last blog I expressed gratitude for the packages, letters, and e-mails from family and friends at home. We appreciate these acts of kindness. It lessens the distance we perceive between our lives at the present and our former lives. Some days that distance is oppressive. Thank you all. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMhwQNHVSx3UH-LG2N0YkdSAJSdlT8XUwN3EXWlwpUyT49hPOno5TQhv8vzWg-z8IGdDhwjBfi3owEAEpZ6EWIFb_nbTh2r4KHyIxx9PqjRZOrGqBNsqCvGKGHR7NvUZNm7wn6JhCljA/s1600/August+14+pxs+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMhwQNHVSx3UH-LG2N0YkdSAJSdlT8XUwN3EXWlwpUyT49hPOno5TQhv8vzWg-z8IGdDhwjBfi3owEAEpZ6EWIFb_nbTh2r4KHyIxx9PqjRZOrGqBNsqCvGKGHR7NvUZNm7wn6JhCljA/s320/August+14+pxs+011.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> This boy was playing some kind of Cat's Cradle with a string on his toe. </div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-58952695060995905272010-07-31T12:22:00.000-07:002010-08-08T00:07:24.799-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRI1xUGkAAUYGkjpQbmpz6i-1Cs4rA2D84GrYwWhvkN-6ZRW3m4kNyrfxqGaXqEJ4CHEA-T4bpBRCEx0psqA_Y09JB5IfpSqN3hYyM1ROMHumq1CiTIYdHYWlIpSLJ2PllPhDLXnL-o0/s1600/Busua+July+2010+049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRI1xUGkAAUYGkjpQbmpz6i-1Cs4rA2D84GrYwWhvkN-6ZRW3m4kNyrfxqGaXqEJ4CHEA-T4bpBRCEx0psqA_Y09JB5IfpSqN3hYyM1ROMHumq1CiTIYdHYWlIpSLJ2PllPhDLXnL-o0/s400/Busua+July+2010+049.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is rare to get a Ghanaian to smile for a picture. This young man let Marsha take his picture several times and actually smiled at her for one of the photos. And he didn’t ask for money. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I mentioned in my last blog the List of Ghana Unexplainables. On Independence Avenue going north, just past the Tema Highway exchange, there is a barricade that forces all traffic one block to the east, then one block to the north, then one block to the west back to Independence Avenue. It is an absurd detour, especially when <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Avenue</st1:address></st1:street> is three lanes of crowded traffic narrowing to two lanes of detour. Visualize going toward <st1:city><st1:place>Boise</st1:place></st1:city> on Chinden and, for no reason, having to turn right at the YMCA intersection then immediately turning left, then left again to get back to Chinden. Anyone who has lived here in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> knows of this barricade. It is unexplainable because there is no reason to have a barricade in this location. There is no road construction within a mile. Some days the barricade is in place and other days it is not. There is no predictability to when it will be in place. It will be up when traffic is heaviest and down when traffic is light, and vice versa. It is obvious it needs to be on the LGU. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Marsha and I were driving up <st1:street><st1:address>Independence Avenue</st1:address></st1:street> last week and I readied my camera to photograph the barricade. I was going to put it in this blog. To my astonishment the barricade was not there. I was disappointed. It obviously can’t be on the LGU now. Too bad. I was ready to designate it number one on the list. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Periodically I have to take care of missionaries with ingrown toenails. Last week Marsha and I traveled with the Petersens, a missionary couple from <st1:state><st1:place>Arizona</st1:place></st1:state>, to <st1:place><st1:placename>Busua</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Beach</st1:placetype></st1:place>, a five hour drive west from <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> toward <st1:country-region><st1:place>Cote d’Ivoire</st1:place></st1:country-region>. After two days at <st1:place><st1:placename>Busua</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Beach</st1:placetype></st1:place> we drove back to <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> and stayed there for two days. While in <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> I treated four missionaries with ingrown toenails. These are pictures of our mobile <st1:stockticker>ENT</st1:stockticker> (Ears, Nose and Toes) van and surgery being performed out of the second seat.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrRsYVKT5m5aPGuXVTknT_L-xa-Zk5e0cKtRLnDNwkxbGTZMmQR2BNrDwT2qOv4eVcDxs_6MtadNTH6o1eb3aZvc7LzPVCN5wuG_Y9R6d6VPxWjXRqoknCr4SMCBcr39mOit2Ne6yw2c/s1600/Busua+July+2010+087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrRsYVKT5m5aPGuXVTknT_L-xa-Zk5e0cKtRLnDNwkxbGTZMmQR2BNrDwT2qOv4eVcDxs_6MtadNTH6o1eb3aZvc7LzPVCN5wuG_Y9R6d6VPxWjXRqoknCr4SMCBcr39mOit2Ne6yw2c/s200/Busua+July+2010+087.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzM9dhE9nqUiNIlmfVhLNzmuosfmdXcCP2cvl8Vp7vnpuYDLnVjIBANZwtFBNs6elYB8tM2Ad2Ovcsa997CW1tUTznSrvULDoI4Jrq-73nmUedWAGCmehzEOVAMkOSUYRDPA-UE1IYSPo/s1600/Busua+July+2010+094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzM9dhE9nqUiNIlmfVhLNzmuosfmdXcCP2cvl8Vp7vnpuYDLnVjIBANZwtFBNs6elYB8tM2Ad2Ovcsa997CW1tUTznSrvULDoI4Jrq-73nmUedWAGCmehzEOVAMkOSUYRDPA-UE1IYSPo/s200/Busua+July+2010+094.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am going to post a number of pictures taken at <st1:place><st1:placename>Busua</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Beach</st1:placetype></st1:place>. It is a lovely beach. Too bad it is a five hour drive away. July must be off season because there were very few people at the resort. The beach is quite clean. There are no rocks and no coral. One can walk out fifty yards into the water on soft sand. And the shells are plentiful. At the west end of the beach is a fishing village. We had a very enjoyable, relaxing two days. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJL8lzT2VoD1t5OmaPFBrgs-zrdHJQDDa3JblXvFjZ4YwmyDc_IUWWpAND6MOhvr0gbYZKPOddiWmSnZlG0TMi_P2-MxJhu1jPQ6y6n4IxMh_2r_rwF523ikUNSm4ZXddi_y9DZ-A5WgI/s1600/Busua+July+2010+035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJL8lzT2VoD1t5OmaPFBrgs-zrdHJQDDa3JblXvFjZ4YwmyDc_IUWWpAND6MOhvr0gbYZKPOddiWmSnZlG0TMi_P2-MxJhu1jPQ6y6n4IxMh_2r_rwF523ikUNSm4ZXddi_y9DZ-A5WgI/s400/Busua+July+2010+035.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4MHBk7KVmoecsArQYnyuIDVoA9kKFQEeSlvG2ZBnuTcQ8GUi5lqZ07oV8FQrz5zozNxg3dk04PqdNtrCVkttfFN1tFpbynNMl9fyfiy0Vt1wbJ8GatmqknEisuorOUPzyHAaLPwpeHvo/s1600/Busua+July+2010+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4MHBk7KVmoecsArQYnyuIDVoA9kKFQEeSlvG2ZBnuTcQ8GUi5lqZ07oV8FQrz5zozNxg3dk04PqdNtrCVkttfFN1tFpbynNMl9fyfiy0Vt1wbJ8GatmqknEisuorOUPzyHAaLPwpeHvo/s400/Busua+July+2010+041.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvG3Yql3oCk82PkYHThX32ZiixHyetuL33ImNGh8KTlORSntq9w4jKFVOMBOqnpVtKKlVRxR_ahDOch6YG22n8CKeAFqZbAeHHOdZt295jADfSQMyyIXVA6b7ZJH2nxg_7qsCvatdgqug/s1600/Busua+July+2010+073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvG3Yql3oCk82PkYHThX32ZiixHyetuL33ImNGh8KTlORSntq9w4jKFVOMBOqnpVtKKlVRxR_ahDOch6YG22n8CKeAFqZbAeHHOdZt295jADfSQMyyIXVA6b7ZJH2nxg_7qsCvatdgqug/s400/Busua+July+2010+073.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">This was taken from the front porch of our room.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqclAgSXrPPcHRI4N7NN3e3mXTBNNVEzs_4utl3al0BSWua-HnElb_VEKG4lhNWnERGvrO8AfrCckfQQ0bp5ZPud_Q2Vaa8_rB__ABSjeVfTPWixiOgO9ttT4K0Ksyxui1Oy2ajCuE678/s1600/Busua+July+2010+131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqclAgSXrPPcHRI4N7NN3e3mXTBNNVEzs_4utl3al0BSWua-HnElb_VEKG4lhNWnERGvrO8AfrCckfQQ0bp5ZPud_Q2Vaa8_rB__ABSjeVfTPWixiOgO9ttT4K0Ksyxui1Oy2ajCuE678/s400/Busua+July+2010+131.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">As we were leaving <st1:place><st1:placename>Busua</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Beach</st1:placetype></st1:place> we encountered a variation of the self-appointed road tax collectors that are common in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Let me provide background information on the ones we experience in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. There are three traffic rules for intersections in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. Rule #1: if the lights are working obey the lights. Rule #2: if the lights are not working and a police officer is present and is directing traffic obey the police officer. Rule #3: if the lights are not working and there is not a police officer present then there are no rules. In this third situation one will frequently find what I designate as a self-appointed road tax collector, a volunteer just trying to “help out.” This is an enterprising man, most of the time a young man but occasionally an older one, who will move into the middle of the intersection and start directing traffic, at a price. He often has a helper that works with him. As a car proceeds through the intersection according to the volunteer’s direction he, or his helper, will gesture you with hand signals that a payment needs to be made for the assistance. It is a non government road tax. These men get pretty aggressive, to the point of standing in front of you (especially if you are white.) I have been told, but have not seen, that similar volunteers will direct cars through and around water accumulations after a rain and demand payment. On our way out of the Busua Beach Resort we encountered two groups of young men who had filled in a few potholes with dirt and were stopping traffic demanding payment for their work. Pay the road tax or you don’t get to pass. We had to patiently and slowly drive through them as they stood in front of the car trying to stop us and walked along the side of the car slapping at our windows. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We spent Saturday and Sunday at the Elmina Bay Resort. There are only three nice accommodations in the Cape Coast/Elmina area. (May 17 blog: “<st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> is like <st1:state><st1:place>Hawaii</st1:place></st1:state>, just more goats and garbage.”) In May we stayed at the Elmina Beach Resort which was OK, but about 10 years behind on maintenance (such as showers that didn’t work.) The Coconut Grove Resort is a little nicer but still dated. The Elmina Bay Resort is new, in fact two of the nine quadriplexes are still under construction. The rooms are very nice, clean, and comfortable. And they have showers that work. These are the nicest hotel rooms we’ve seen so far in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. We did notice one inconvenience that probably needs to go on the List of Ghana Unexplainables. The shower had hot water but the bathroom sink did not. When I looked under the sink/vanity there was only one water supply line (obviously the cold) and it was split to supply both the hot water faucet and the cold water faucet. Why would you build a bathroom and supply hot water to the shower and not supply the sink which is just three feet away? Unexplainable. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The grounds around the Elmina Bay Resort are new with immature vegetation. The pool is very nice. The beach to the west is like Busua, very clean with gentle breaking waves and a moderate number of small shells. The beach to the east toward the Coconut Grove Resort, however, is rocky with waves that come crashing over the rocks. Here are some photographs.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0jYLpFGxi0f8mIgJZCUIxfAkbsJx2WUqf21yRXMRJ9m1gtZn8keTQY-x5gF-02vGvGCBnnlZ6A-bzUkLK1c4-PxBlSt8Up-sJxaYTNbpnBsSUGmqOdS4YKXz1SxkS_meiGoRcnT0_jE/s1600/Busua+July+2010+103.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0jYLpFGxi0f8mIgJZCUIxfAkbsJx2WUqf21yRXMRJ9m1gtZn8keTQY-x5gF-02vGvGCBnnlZ6A-bzUkLK1c4-PxBlSt8Up-sJxaYTNbpnBsSUGmqOdS4YKXz1SxkS_meiGoRcnT0_jE/s400/Busua+July+2010+103.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p>This was taken from the balcony of our room.</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1NR4PSNsqh3IHNLNv7nYjldfvhE8swr1NXsyPj22zbcCXsXIO9AaId7I8Dt1jz7XRkknMRLyRxcJWMO0e72bDrvrsHj2VIibc8mM2W-XB8sKtXwu8pxe_ZWcdA3emB0fegRCZ8sCxWYo/s1600/Busua+beach+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1NR4PSNsqh3IHNLNv7nYjldfvhE8swr1NXsyPj22zbcCXsXIO9AaId7I8Dt1jz7XRkknMRLyRxcJWMO0e72bDrvrsHj2VIibc8mM2W-XB8sKtXwu8pxe_ZWcdA3emB0fegRCZ8sCxWYo/s400/Busua+beach+011.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX4Z-TB566dBjT-l-NHPDEiYCnbLAoH62sBYGoEJxb5ltWaU-ggePWIIftyGzKd4HS95j7qYgsHdethK0CABX30zPIywRfdPU5TF3BfEsVbwHu5snlD6Vq2OiKmfcr6T_QB1DIiN4hVlE/s1600/Busua+beach+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX4Z-TB566dBjT-l-NHPDEiYCnbLAoH62sBYGoEJxb5ltWaU-ggePWIIftyGzKd4HS95j7qYgsHdethK0CABX30zPIywRfdPU5TF3BfEsVbwHu5snlD6Vq2OiKmfcr6T_QB1DIiN4hVlE/s400/Busua+beach+018.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I need to describe, again, the road between <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> and <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place>. I wrote about it in my May 17 blog. I described the countless numbers of speed bumps. Here is an example of one of them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIH2mHR6YmhlC_DeuB_Fm8rgIFtVYlvVKkGvXs1OtKApuGkS1or9mqWKErIgQYPj76N1TrjKOTYie0MrTuohuVPtRFCXiE0ljhBzzfj_yF7tXqwcj0Cx7wdrJlLICux9OsA0obZysxon4/s1600/Busua+July+2010+124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIH2mHR6YmhlC_DeuB_Fm8rgIFtVYlvVKkGvXs1OtKApuGkS1or9mqWKErIgQYPj76N1TrjKOTYie0MrTuohuVPtRFCXiE0ljhBzzfj_yF7tXqwcj0Cx7wdrJlLICux9OsA0obZysxon4/s200/Busua+July+2010+124.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I will recommend, again, that the country’s motto should be <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>, the <st1:place><st1:placetype>Land</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Speed Bumps</st1:placename></st1:place>, or at least it should be the informal name of the <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> to <st1:place>Cape</st1:place> coast highway. This is also the road that I described as having the Overspeeding Kills signs. Here is an example of the signs. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vxHTaXiSAcGqZBEOXY6Lay_AF3ayRoS-lbfEo0bU6SEcuXgsWOs_vgQ9BCq8TxJqn1s7GMFZFNntAkkVcPXQ79DexQHX0WF3FB4Z4y5n1cBZ9J91bzeeUjIXCm9dFoPn1Fu2qDi7BvA/s1600/Busua+July+2010+127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vxHTaXiSAcGqZBEOXY6Lay_AF3ayRoS-lbfEo0bU6SEcuXgsWOs_vgQ9BCq8TxJqn1s7GMFZFNntAkkVcPXQ79DexQHX0WF3FB4Z4y5n1cBZ9J91bzeeUjIXCm9dFoPn1Fu2qDi7BvA/s200/Busua+July+2010+127.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Two incidents on this last trip made it obvious to me why there is a need for some serious vehicle speed control on this highway. On our way out from Accra to Cape Coast we came across an example of the danger on this road. We were about 15 km from <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> coming up a slight hill when we noted about a dozen vehicles stopped along the right side of the road. All of the passing traffic slowed down. As we drove by the stopped cars we could see off of the shoulder of the road, about 20 meters down into a ravine, at the end of a swath of flattened elephant grass, an upside down vehicle. It appeared to be either a small bus or a tro-tro. We didn’t have time to note details and we didn’t feel it appropriate to stop but we could tell that this vehicle went off the edge of the road at a pretty high rate of speed, took out 20 meters of vegetation and flipped onto its top. I’m sure there must have been fatalities. No one (except us) uses seat belts in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The tro-tros don’t even have them. About an hour and a half later we witnessed a second example of the dangers on this road. We were just outside of Takoradi. As we rounded a bend in the road we came to a second area with a lot of stopped cars. This time it was an accident with a jackknifed 18 wheeler, turned on its side, and by the appearance of the surrounding vegetation, it had slid down the road on its side, the trailer pushing the truck, for 50 meters and then eventually off the edge of the road. I’d like to think this was due to overspeeding but I would bet it more likely to be a consequence of failure of the electric brakes on the trailer. I am appalled at the poor condition of the trucks and truck/trailers that drive the highways here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. There must not be any required inspection service to check for things such as electric brakes. About two weeks ago Marsha and I drove from the MTC in Tema back to <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> at <st1:time hour="22" minute="0">10 p.m.</st1:time> We passed four trucks and truck/trailers on this 20 km of highway that didn’t have marker lights, or didn’t have marker lights or brake lights, or one that didn’t have marker lights and didn’t have headlights. How does a truck like this not attract the attention of police? It is an accident getting ready to happen. I can’t imagine that any of these trucks without marker lights had electric brakes that worked properly. It has now become very scary to us to see one of these big trucks coming towards us on the road knowing that it might not have adequate braking. Maybe there needs to be some new road signs warning about the lethal potential of inadequate electric trailer brakes. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On a lighter note I need to describe the beautiful geography seen along this highway. It is very green (obviously the rainy season). The hills are moderate sized and smoothly rolling for the most part with occasional visible rock outcroppings. It looks much like the hills of central/south <st1:state><st1:place>Missouri</st1:place></st1:state>, except the vegetation is different. The most common trees along the roadside appear to be a locust type tree, moderate in size (10 – 20 feet tall), and growing very close to each other. These have obviously been planted after the road construction was completed. Farther away from the road the trees are much bigger. The tallest trees are the Kapok trees. These are magnificent trees. They dominate the landscape. They grow as individual trees standing alone, looking like sentinels. They can be seen from a long distance away. They have large, straight trunks with horizontal branches that take off from the trunk about 30 – 40 feet up from the base. The dense canopies are magnificent. One looks at this tree and can imagine an entire community of animals living in the canopy. The roots are large and visible at the base of the tree, taking off from the tree 10 – 15 feet from the bottom and extending in many directions, like supporting guy wires for a large tower. I’ll put some pictures here so you can see what I’m describing. The first picture is taken from about 100 yards away. The second tree is in Aburi Gardens and Marsha and I are standing between the roots. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXj4Pw5p1H7MuACKHxc0_ZeWvRryGhXRfRDLB_b4fPwa012eNsVVSsBOXqy_uBEQ33A7KbfDa3um_VZqzGv7KenYHkESmlZunGgCgwIRnLA7hw2BrFSanDc0UznGWocRV00Zfg90kJZA/s1600/Ghana+Feb+2010+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXj4Pw5p1H7MuACKHxc0_ZeWvRryGhXRfRDLB_b4fPwa012eNsVVSsBOXqy_uBEQ33A7KbfDa3um_VZqzGv7KenYHkESmlZunGgCgwIRnLA7hw2BrFSanDc0UznGWocRV00Zfg90kJZA/s400/Ghana+Feb+2010+003.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVajvg3zcsFV_sBkfurGgME-xSkCw60a6m1wh-zmfC1505gyEuQkt5xPsMMLeN7jxcF-yjGUiEyIhyphenhyphentnaAgZerBK4qUkCgE4KyScCr5726YL1pmTE03x9Cbr-mUhTWT0bYudLKPhjhZOM/s1600/Pres+Froerer%27s+pictures+July+2010+068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVajvg3zcsFV_sBkfurGgME-xSkCw60a6m1wh-zmfC1505gyEuQkt5xPsMMLeN7jxcF-yjGUiEyIhyphenhyphentnaAgZerBK4qUkCgE4KyScCr5726YL1pmTE03x9Cbr-mUhTWT0bYudLKPhjhZOM/s200/Pres+Froerer%27s+pictures+July+2010+068.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Other trees, smaller in size, are interspersed among the Kapoks, but they are all dwarfed by the Kapoks. Some of these smaller trees are fruit trees (papaya and mango.) I do not recognize the others. Elephant grass fills in all the areas between the trees. The grass is everywhere. It must be like a weed. It is 6 to 10 feet tall and dense enough that one could not walk through it without having to cut it down. It waves with the breezes like the gentle rolling of a green ocean in the afternoon. The elephant grass grows right up to the edge of the road. On this trip we noticed a lot of men with machetes cutting the elephant grass from the edge of the road back about 10 feet. Each of the men had a machete in one hand and a snake stick in the other. Before cutting into the grass the men would poke into it several times, checking for snakes. Yikes! I hope they get hazard pay for this kind of work. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One last story. I’m sure you’ll think I’m making this up. I really should have President and Sister Froerer tell it. They shared it with us. (Buck and Kathy Froerer are the couple in charge of the <st1:place><st1:placename>Tema</st1:placename> <st1:placename>Missionary</st1:placename> <st1:placename>Training</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Center</st1:placetype></st1:place>.) About two weeks ago one of the guards at the MTC killed an alligator in the parking lot. Yes, you heard what I said. An alligator. An alligator in the parking lot right in front of the building entrance. According to Salasi, a female employee who has worked at the MTC since it opened in 2002, this is the eighth alligator that has been killed at the MTC. They come from a small stream behind the MTC and somehow get into the guarded compound (through the storm drains?) looking for garbage. Salasi said that if the front doors are not closed at night they will come into the building. So much for worrying about cockroaches. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This alligator was a small one, only about four feet in length. The guard was quite pleased with the kill. He was planning on taking it home for his family. “Tastes like chicken.” (That’s what I’m told he said.) Here’s a picture of the guard with the alligator.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9td_kFgl2pqKbkYFDF8Hq8pOiR0rno0rfwYiNhUklwhyphenhyphenpRxC75IOKVfx6LpmCTiuLSHLijJoWTx6CnDlFMYDxSkJHoOD0kMeCSDwyziS8Ypq1opJJ2SkJBzoC5nDgQec9ehMXoNPOyWQ/s1600/Pres+Froerer%27s+pictures+July+2010+087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9td_kFgl2pqKbkYFDF8Hq8pOiR0rno0rfwYiNhUklwhyphenhyphenpRxC75IOKVfx6LpmCTiuLSHLijJoWTx6CnDlFMYDxSkJHoOD0kMeCSDwyziS8Ypq1opJJ2SkJBzoC5nDgQec9ehMXoNPOyWQ/s200/Pres+Froerer%27s+pictures+July+2010+087.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">You will probably look at the picture and say “looks like a lizard” just as I did. But the guard said it was an alligator based upon the position of its feet. It doesn’t look very big at all, but if I were President and Sister Froerer I would probably lie awake at night wondering where in the stream behind the MTC is this little one’s mother or father and whether he or she would come looking for the lost baby. Are the front doors locked? Gunnar told us that when he lived in Florida he was taught that you assume every body of water in Florida has an alligator in it. When Karen Blixen lived in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> (the book <u>Out of </u><st1:place><u>Africa</u></st1:place><u>)</u> she built a pond on her farm and years later had to kill an alligator in the pond. The only body of water that the alligator could have come from was many miles away. These critters are obviously quite resourceful. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Marsha and I want to thank family and friends who have recently sent us packages, letters, and e-mails. It has been like Christmas in July. Thank you very much.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiass1BG7AwFXtKJApvtaflXQzymh6vSX14GDy0nGd493KM99U_YNNp0f0YZJgMQrL13X8gXiMzABKagFUyQ6hpUdWMuo3WCngv9YifVe0Zm1l6E-XEaZ_1NB3Huh8FPK7VkjSSpwm3lPs/s1600/Busua+July+2010+059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiass1BG7AwFXtKJApvtaflXQzymh6vSX14GDy0nGd493KM99U_YNNp0f0YZJgMQrL13X8gXiMzABKagFUyQ6hpUdWMuo3WCngv9YifVe0Zm1l6E-XEaZ_1NB3Huh8FPK7VkjSSpwm3lPs/s400/Busua+July+2010+059.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-37390122234370194772010-07-17T00:53:00.000-07:002010-07-17T03:16:23.464-07:00Mid July 2010<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjPsrlD5GyObVajjK6dwuG29pfGT5SRt_QawzffPbcCBq1CNTOQ5ySmnKkbAlseaQtJJhxkUWaMFaIhF50eJtrqtJ4Bl6YeBIPGd7fXGFTCBXt0EtiaWQpmeuVeSNKYzd6Cve2DrnY-E/s1600/June+2010+MGM+camera+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjPsrlD5GyObVajjK6dwuG29pfGT5SRt_QawzffPbcCBq1CNTOQ5ySmnKkbAlseaQtJJhxkUWaMFaIhF50eJtrqtJ4Bl6YeBIPGd7fXGFTCBXt0EtiaWQpmeuVeSNKYzd6Cve2DrnY-E/s400/June+2010+MGM+camera+037.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">“There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Each of us has a book, or perhaps several books, that we consider our favorite(s). I first read <u>Cry, the Beloved Country</u> in college. Although it was not written with a political purpose the book was required reading in many college contemporary issue classes because of its portrayal of 20<sup>th</sup> century <st1:country-region><st1:place>South Africa</st1:place></st1:country-region> apartheid. I don’t recall the book provoking profound emotions regarding racial inequality or providing any stimulus for social action. I do recall being caught up with the poetic quality of the writing and the vivid descriptions of the landscapes. In my mind I could visualize the beauty of the described African geography. I knew when I finished it I would read it again. And I have. I’ve read it many times, most recently last month. This is the opening line: “There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills.” The above photo captures perfectly the mental image I have carried for over forty years of a lovely road that runs into the hills of Africa. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In case anyone is interested here are four good books about <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>: <u>Cry, the Beloved Country</u>, <u>West With the Night</u>, <u>Out of Africa</u> (resist the temptation to watch the movie instead) and <u>The Poisonwood Bible</u> (the last 100 pages or so are a little weak.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I forgot to mention in my last note that Marsha and I celebrated United States Independence Day at the <st1:country-region><st1:place>US</st1:place></st1:country-region> Ambassador’s home here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Well, it really wasn’t the 4<sup>th</sup> of July. It was the 30<sup>th</sup> of June. We were invited because I’ve come to know the medical staff at the US Embassy and had recently made a special trip to the embassy to see a senior Army officer assigned to the embassy who had an <st1:stockticker>ENT</st1:stockticker> complaint.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwso0wGmMh_NPuU5_BPKPk-4ue0Dmu71vw9hKWAfREXtwihRpAr_8T4Wljnn7vLxieq1c7a3c0Rkw6IMA9gmE-PjGRNC7s5DhO9tZMloTfWksZebRtQWBbr-S-YFkIphKMAlo4WBAd18/s1600/Ambassador+invitation+Jun+2010+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwso0wGmMh_NPuU5_BPKPk-4ue0Dmu71vw9hKWAfREXtwihRpAr_8T4Wljnn7vLxieq1c7a3c0Rkw6IMA9gmE-PjGRNC7s5DhO9tZMloTfWksZebRtQWBbr-S-YFkIphKMAlo4WBAd18/s400/Ambassador+invitation+Jun+2010+001.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">We didn’t have fireworks but we did have American hot dogs and potato salad which had been flown in, I’m sure, at great taxpayer expense. Other food was available, but who would want roast beef, chicken kabobs, or fish when you could have a genuine American hotdog with Ghanaian mustard? I had two hot dogs. Marsha even had one. There were long lines waiting for the gourmet food but no lines for the hot dogs. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The <st1:country-region><st1:place>US</st1:place></st1:country-region> ambassador, Ambassador Teitelbaum, is a short man who looks a lot like Danny DeVito. His wife, Ms. Julianna Lindsey, is equally short, very pregnant, and, thank goodness, doesn’t look like Danny DeVito. The ambassador stood in the receiving line wearing a white panama hat with his chief of staff to his left and the senior military officer for the embassy next to the left. A photographer took pictures of each invitee shaking the ambassador’s hand. Ms. Lindsey did not stand in line. We each had about 20 seconds with the ambassador and then were shuttled on down the line. It’s difficult to say much of anything significant to a US ambassador when you have only twenty seconds and you know he is going to start with something like “I’m glad you could come.” Beyond “thank you for the invitation, we are honored to be here” what do you say? “Nice hat.” “Great house you’ve got here.” “The hot dogs smell great.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The invitations were numbered. Ours was number 871. I suspect there were at least that many people present. Probably three fourths of those present were Ghanaians. (None of them were in the hot dog line.) There were many dignitaries. Marsha and I stood next to Jerry Rawlings, a former president of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>, who took over the government two times by military coup. He’s a bigger man than I had suspected. After the food the Marine Corps presented the colors, Ambassador Teitelbaum gave a speech and the attorney general for Ghana, representing the president of Ghana, gave a response. Both speeches outlined the details of the long and stable relationship between the <st1:country-region><st1:place>United States</st1:place></st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I learned a few things. Here’s some trivia for next time your dinner conversation starts to drag. The <st1:country-region><st1:place>US</st1:place></st1:country-region> is the number two investor in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>, second only to <st1:country-region><st1:place>Great Britain</st1:place></st1:country-region>. This surprised me, because <st1:country-region><st1:place>China</st1:place></st1:country-region> is currently building, and has built, a lot of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> infrastructure. There is a new government complex on Independence Avenue that was built by the Chinese. The government of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> has not moved into it. We call it the <st1:place><st1:placename>Empty</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Palace</st1:placetype></st1:place>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJ09HVW7A8l54y4jdRQtdBLHLfmw4j5vv0jP0WKr1_9X-C0zJ2MFfEf4-P9QNwdsEQceGHdTvFFuB8g4aDFkDF8vitWUHCQboGRK_0UzapcMwgPgcdgSoPUkQoGbe7IFnJRjMw2QBuUg/s1600/DRM+July+2010+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJ09HVW7A8l54y4jdRQtdBLHLfmw4j5vv0jP0WKr1_9X-C0zJ2MFfEf4-P9QNwdsEQceGHdTvFFuB8g4aDFkDF8vitWUHCQboGRK_0UzapcMwgPgcdgSoPUkQoGbe7IFnJRjMw2QBuUg/s200/DRM+July+2010+004.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">There are over 20,000 students from <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> studying in the <st1:country-region><st1:place>US</st1:place></st1:country-region>. There are approximately 2000 students from the <st1:country-region><st1:place>US</st1:place></st1:country-region> studying in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. When the Peace Corps was organized in the 1960’s its first project was in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The Peace Corps has been here on a continuous basis since then, almost fifty years. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As Marsha and I were enjoying our food one of the ambassador’s two dogs (a large black dog similar in build to a German Shepherd but with floppy ears) made a break from his handlers and headed for the gourmet food. He was able to successfully snatch some chicken before being caught and pulled back to his place of assignment. For a few moments, while running free, he caused a lot of commotion. All of the Ghanaians were shrieking, especially the women, fearful of this animal. Marsha wanted to pet him. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would like to show some pictures of the ambassador’s party but here’s why I can’t. Note the red sign.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwzbVnoMU6-bM9BbUOQdh8fwe7GHFlMt5mCF7igjNzIhaVfrQa3tDAKNHuYpprZDEHHGWn5ypd2z-bT2eDp_7Xc0owrrQqPyd1Nyc7qTE9uG1mYZT1OO6riJdK88Ma6vgnvUuE0EXXK5A/s1600/Marsha+camera+July+2010+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwzbVnoMU6-bM9BbUOQdh8fwe7GHFlMt5mCF7igjNzIhaVfrQa3tDAKNHuYpprZDEHHGWn5ypd2z-bT2eDp_7Xc0owrrQqPyd1Nyc7qTE9uG1mYZT1OO6riJdK88Ma6vgnvUuE0EXXK5A/s320/Marsha+camera+July+2010+022.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>Here’s an update on the Ghana Tomato Project. Our two tomatoes Justice and Mercy have been growing for two months. There must be some profound cosmic meaning to this but Mercy is starting to bloom this week and Justice is dying. Something is chewing away at Justice’s main stem at the base. About one half of the circumference is gone. We can’t see any evidence of what is doing it. I’m tempted to spray Mercy with permethrin (a real potent bug killer) but I’ve got a hunch that anything that can kill all insects on contact is probably not a good ingredient in tomatoes for human consumption. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCqG2tnyx0tLy0tNsCMo7hUbUS6WtG2qoXltIliCeOOFQAb26sdPnlH_Ishv1IBw57lIe6GqmJsWg5hLmTwqEzK7_4XrwY-Atc7QTJOvYkH1Pp3pUa2x_dJHd_QWfKV7vjO1Ntjm1NCg/s1600/DRM+July+2010+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCqG2tnyx0tLy0tNsCMo7hUbUS6WtG2qoXltIliCeOOFQAb26sdPnlH_Ishv1IBw57lIe6GqmJsWg5hLmTwqEzK7_4XrwY-Atc7QTJOvYkH1Pp3pUa2x_dJHd_QWfKV7vjO1Ntjm1NCg/s320/DRM+July+2010+022.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>Here’s a picture of our peas. They seem to be doing well and are starting to blossom. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMGWY2D_Emgn23zCrIm8ZXHgduBym4b0BArOUa93ik1phDACzBaaJFkoNc2becAsoOqXWitAgBesFcJFUeaegO7NbTuhNTgvOg4ZsC2GpdTgBvKk1JtpvvbAro4oydTp97QelYhNe4-aE/s1600/DRM+July+2010+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMGWY2D_Emgn23zCrIm8ZXHgduBym4b0BArOUa93ik1phDACzBaaJFkoNc2becAsoOqXWitAgBesFcJFUeaegO7NbTuhNTgvOg4ZsC2GpdTgBvKk1JtpvvbAro4oydTp97QelYhNe4-aE/s320/DRM+July+2010+020.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>I am going to start a List of Ghana Unexplainables. Here’s the first subject. This is a picture of the entrance to the pool a month ago. The bougainvillea covered the entrance.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjClDNqH24YUXJEYfuMiQxeomWrh0juHyP63EtV5O7DhtRcn0EG2d20wdd9m5n4cFgf5Rc220xL6MTmUyJ3ESPhpi5P9IbLqLHkDTCyQ1r7yk-y00gS4CXdNDLwTMhyphenhyphenslijjtKDY6Pk7g/s1600/Marsha+cam+May+2010+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjClDNqH24YUXJEYfuMiQxeomWrh0juHyP63EtV5O7DhtRcn0EG2d20wdd9m5n4cFgf5Rc220xL6MTmUyJ3ESPhpi5P9IbLqLHkDTCyQ1r7yk-y00gS4CXdNDLwTMhyphenhyphenslijjtKDY6Pk7g/s200/Marsha+cam+May+2010+025.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The second picture was taken four days ago.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2ipboks4ykAfxy9bSqQkyk8eC4asMXu0Kyw9AIyEnJHgIa1BxrDT1kYgj1vq3f4Kpuroimg4ffupgSpLC7nbERCsRERLfC8bybQbAesvtOpiuaou4b-ADOznaxApf_aqntTzi7AeKhM/s1600/DRM+July+2010+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2ipboks4ykAfxy9bSqQkyk8eC4asMXu0Kyw9AIyEnJHgIa1BxrDT1kYgj1vq3f4Kpuroimg4ffupgSpLC7nbERCsRERLfC8bybQbAesvtOpiuaou4b-ADOznaxApf_aqntTzi7AeKhM/s200/DRM+July+2010+019.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know that some of the exterior surfaces around the complex are being painted but I cannot explain why the beautiful fuchsia bougainvillea had to be completely removed. The grounds crew did not save any of it. Just chopped it all down, cut it up and stacked it for disposal. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Maybe it was national“Trim the Hedges Day” and I missed the memo. On the same day that the bougainvillea was taken out we drove to the MTC in Tema and noted that the trees in the median were being “trimmed.” This is too bad. With the beginning of the rain everything has turned green. The trees on the Tema highway median have all thickened and become very beautiful. The first picture is what they looked like before their haircuts.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA9e5z27qpYSCkP3CV-my65Se6px-sDuEeVsuuTn9eC96OVow_Y2gUQY5013tQRA1Qyecfzly8HsExpeZkMIjweS6Cr3V9FZEbbRqTlGovYgBd-SkLKyTbDiislckTlmMYEiv0xegJ1-g/s1600/DRM+July+2010+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA9e5z27qpYSCkP3CV-my65Se6px-sDuEeVsuuTn9eC96OVow_Y2gUQY5013tQRA1Qyecfzly8HsExpeZkMIjweS6Cr3V9FZEbbRqTlGovYgBd-SkLKyTbDiislckTlmMYEiv0xegJ1-g/s200/DRM+July+2010+014.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"> The second picture has a lot of blur but you can see what they look like without any green. No one can explain why they are being trimmed. Therefore, the List of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> Unexplainables. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD45q2eT44dx-iWTgkVv4P-qfO3nE6mayuEU9ncT6brAwMG-wDJGzqq5fhVNyKRcR5Fi6wgSJUJU01Lfus5rjNCd25pWm8OcA71pCOB1lQp4ZZDmkFu_iaSBtXF5LcfC1vTRz6omHsdmo/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD45q2eT44dx-iWTgkVv4P-qfO3nE6mayuEU9ncT6brAwMG-wDJGzqq5fhVNyKRcR5Fi6wgSJUJU01Lfus5rjNCd25pWm8OcA71pCOB1lQp4ZZDmkFu_iaSBtXF5LcfC1vTRz6omHsdmo/s200/008.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">This second item belongs on the List of Ghana Unexplainables as well. It is a picture taken on the Achimoto highway just as you enter the <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> city limits. I have asked several people what the “Accra Girls” means. No one can explain it. I am afraid to ask what the "Pig Farm” means. I don’t think that this picture should be included in a <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> travel guide. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgriMcLjCvoh3Nv7McGpiI3yqg2r969Dnny5t3iT2avSO0ZVl3Zd710ZSRmbwsLepBNdY18H-Z2hlSkTQIIbm7UdklKGTmn_kFcbhozj4y8GTVkCPEtVBOREEBIpMsm09-2dKxIzB-MPLg/s1600/June+pictures+2010+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgriMcLjCvoh3Nv7McGpiI3yqg2r969Dnny5t3iT2avSO0ZVl3Zd710ZSRmbwsLepBNdY18H-Z2hlSkTQIIbm7UdklKGTmn_kFcbhozj4y8GTVkCPEtVBOREEBIpMsm09-2dKxIzB-MPLg/s320/June+pictures+2010+002.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
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</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t have anything to say this week about the World Cup. I was impressed with how quickly the Ghanaians lost interest in the tournament once <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> was eliminated. It happened over night. It was like a three ring travelling circus had been in town for several weeks and left. Everyone had been to the circus so no one needed to talk about it any more. I asked several people at work who they might be cheering for in the final match between the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Netherlands</st1:place></st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region><st1:place>Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The response was mixed between the two teams. One employee asked who was in the match. He didn’t know. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Last item: I’ve come to really love this commonly heard Ghanaian phrase. “Yes, please.” We hear it all the time. It is a greeting. One of the maids working here in the apartment complex when greeted with a “good morning” always responds with “yes, please.” It is used as a request. At her fruit stand Ruth will watch us as we look over the fruit and, at the moment she knows we are ready to order, will prompt our order by saying “yes, please.” I hear it most frequently in conversation when the person to whom I’m talking doesn’t understand my questions. I occasionally go out to talk to the guards at the apartment complex gate. Some of them understand me and we have meaningful talks. But some just don’t understand me and are not about to interrupt our conversation by indicating they do not understand. “Do you think it might rain?” “Yes, please.” It looks like its going to be a hot day, what do you think.?” “Yes, please.” “How is your family?” “Yes, please.” “Do you think the Dow Jones will break 12,000 today?” “Yes, please.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Think how simple and easy human relationships would be if we were all quick to use “yes, please.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We took this picture last week. We asked this little girl’s mother if we could take the girl’s picture. It took several tries before the little girl would look at us. She reminded us of our granddaughter Ava. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtASnnvRNkrU2b1oh9huCSfNT_6F_kyNsugzgJFVGTW3-p0eQz8fuVuWDcAt_mHdSz-S9B4yUiVwqzT-e6h3doEjhK2Db9aWXU7cQGXT6t2DgB2YMm7w0Z3hwD2iDt2aDfpNSX8TQu_I/s1600/Marsha+camera+July+2010+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtASnnvRNkrU2b1oh9huCSfNT_6F_kyNsugzgJFVGTW3-p0eQz8fuVuWDcAt_mHdSz-S9B4yUiVwqzT-e6h3doEjhK2Db9aWXU7cQGXT6t2DgB2YMm7w0Z3hwD2iDt2aDfpNSX8TQu_I/s400/Marsha+camera+July+2010+021.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Yes, please."</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-31011448733852944082010-07-02T05:16:00.000-07:002011-10-04T09:10:17.139-07:001 July 2010<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho04Nv199uAJGqkOm-wi6j6hYWNoS0arGwKGD5NAXjlc0E835sJ_miCzYIhPNvHg9lAjM983wvayU0EXNmZt0tNcEWNMmAwyARJwKjQtjX7XFGPZxBN_EeJCYAnxh7iSdobKLyAUa5MmU/s1600/June+pictures+2010+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho04Nv199uAJGqkOm-wi6j6hYWNoS0arGwKGD5NAXjlc0E835sJ_miCzYIhPNvHg9lAjM983wvayU0EXNmZt0tNcEWNMmAwyARJwKjQtjX7XFGPZxBN_EeJCYAnxh7iSdobKLyAUa5MmU/s320/June+pictures+2010+001.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">This woman walked through the traffic which had slowed near the 37<sup>th</sup> Hospital tro-tro station. She had a shopping bag in her right hand and was holding her daughter with her left hand. She had her baby on her back. And she had a suitcase on her head. She was obviously going somewhere on a trip. Gives new meaning to Carry On Luggage, doesn’t it? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I jokingly tell people that when you live in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> you become part of the food chain. I am now a believer. I woke up last Thursday and noticed that my left cheek along my jaw line was sore. I couldn’t see anything so I didn’t think much about it. It felt tender when I shaved. By mid day I noticed that I had welts along the jaw line toward my chin and a lot of itching. I still couldn’t see much in the mirror. I started putting hydrocortisone cream on the welts. By Friday morning I had more swelling and the beginnings of an area of central necrosis (tissue death.) It’s pretty obvious that something chewed on my cheek Wednesday night. I have now developed a central area of hard swelling that is very painful. I asked one of the African doctors I know what he thought about my “bite”. He was not very impressed and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say “you’re worried about that little weeney bite???” I’ve done my medical reading. I’m sure I’ve got a Tumbu fly larva growing in my cheek. We’ll know in 10 – 12 days when the larva matures and can be extracted from the wound. If it’s not a Tumbu fly larva then it must have been some aggressive flesh eating spider. This is what my "little weeney bite" looks like after a week. It is very uncomfortable. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAxFCve3lmyYvbRwnDyTJlimCq8QPz778MhE3ndyeQnNAPcvIjhxUGkpQTP0ViCHv58HQ-ERG4q1AAdhIBsT5FdJiu6tQpDa-cV-BvketpiOY2AvzEZW6Qo2FBAyNfYpOqwdQeQ_O7z7Q/s1600/065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAxFCve3lmyYvbRwnDyTJlimCq8QPz778MhE3ndyeQnNAPcvIjhxUGkpQTP0ViCHv58HQ-ERG4q1AAdhIBsT5FdJiu6tQpDa-cV-BvketpiOY2AvzEZW6Qo2FBAyNfYpOqwdQeQ_O7z7Q/s200/065.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Speaking of the food chain in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>, being consumed by others is not limited to animals. It also exists in the plant kingdom. This next picture is a little hard to see but it is a kapok tree with a parasite tree wrapped around the outside. We saw this near Wli falls. Our guide indicated that the parasite tree is called a “blackberry tree” (that’s what it sounded like to me) and it grows on the outside of the kapok tree, wrapping around it and eventually cutting off the kapok’s nutrition, killing the tree. The outside of the kapok tree remains intact and provides structural support to the parasite tree. The parasite tree then grows supported by, but not competing with, the kapok tree. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YbNETHFCY-n26k6ISuTeGMmt4WsjeX8hEF0AzaCM332ImHqnhaKkpj7nShpdU_j_WHqpma-aBsD9CmQqr8F8jPuS4zfWktAVI8Yd4oN2eMST20ySlJZAfmTn5JvoLp6YJqNvzCx4Puk/s1600/June+2010+MGM+camera+054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YbNETHFCY-n26k6ISuTeGMmt4WsjeX8hEF0AzaCM332ImHqnhaKkpj7nShpdU_j_WHqpma-aBsD9CmQqr8F8jPuS4zfWktAVI8Yd4oN2eMST20ySlJZAfmTn5JvoLp6YJqNvzCx4Puk/s200/June+2010+MGM+camera+054.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Last Thursday I spent a half day at Korle Bu in the <st1:stockticker>ENT</st1:stockticker> clinic. It was a little slow because I think everyone, including myself, didn’t really know how it would work out. I met many of the staff, most of the faculty and one of the residents – way too many names to remember. The female nurses/staff are called either “sister” or “auntie.” (Does one graduate from sister to auntie with age or experience? I don’t know.) I couldn’t catch what they called the nursing students who seemed to be everywhere. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have described the Korle Bu facility before. The clinic is on the second floor of a building built by the British at the close of WWI. It doesn’t appear to have been remodeled since its construction. To get to the <st1:stockticker>ENT</st1:stockticker> clinic one walks up a front set of stairs and turns to either side to an outside waiting room, covered but open to the air on three sides. There is a small enclosed financial office. (Remember, you pay before being seen.) There is a portable reception desk at the end of the waiting room near two doors that lead to hallways with five examination rooms per hallway. The examination rooms are small and cramped with a patient, a doctor, a nurse and several nursing students. The examination chairs are straight back sitting chairs. The examination lamps are bare bulbs on goose necks. The doctors use head mirrors with bands so worn that they are covered with duct tape. The clinic had an operating microscope but I struggled to get it working. It really needs a lot of lubricant. The joints grind with movement. I am not discouraged, though. The staff make up for their facility/equipment limitations by the enthusiasm for their work and their willingness to learn. This is a picture of Dr. Kitcher, the department chief, on my right, and Dr. Jangu, the faculty member that I am to train in otology this next year, on my left. Dr. Jangu will be in charge of teaching otology when I leave in a year. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKUqJsHyYALhi52-synTP0DckhGF1SMFfD0u2TLRjx1cxZu7bg_qj6cmr6JB8a7R1cf7vhEIRfTXH96l7stUegS01t2HS1-l4c83gUO6LFNFNv_G_QgbQGPragTx22U-1ffNaAgFV3pYo/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKUqJsHyYALhi52-synTP0DckhGF1SMFfD0u2TLRjx1cxZu7bg_qj6cmr6JB8a7R1cf7vhEIRfTXH96l7stUegS01t2HS1-l4c83gUO6LFNFNv_G_QgbQGPragTx22U-1ffNaAgFV3pYo/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
It was raining lightly on Friday morning. We thought we’d wait for it to stop before we left the apartment to walk to the car to go to work. The rain picked up. So we waited. An hour later we were still waiting for the rain to stop. I stood in our front doorway looking at our balcony. I couldn’t step off onto the balcony because there was a pool of water on the balcony and I didn’t have galoshes. It made me remember my predecessor’s (Dr. Mark Stubbs) recommendation that I bring shoes that can “get wet.” I thought he meant shoes that could tolerate walking across pavement when it is raining, not wading through pools. The rain eventually slowed enough that we could tip toe across the balcony to the steps and get on our way.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While I was standing in the doorway watching this downpour I took some pictures of my garden. I need to first show a picture of my tomatoes with their new cages.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhurp0cxLM_Qtn_QCi1PVP2o21664JtKSLJJZ9ybJp1zVUrDzHPnGwcXQ8ZodMShJdeq0pComf5gigzIECC96Vg_PqaIHUBM19uVasBAuEaouLl_ZEFov_4p6taQA1YRgMONkBwM6aZiQs/s1600/Garden+pixs+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhurp0cxLM_Qtn_QCi1PVP2o21664JtKSLJJZ9ybJp1zVUrDzHPnGwcXQ8ZodMShJdeq0pComf5gigzIECC96Vg_PqaIHUBM19uVasBAuEaouLl_ZEFov_4p6taQA1YRgMONkBwM6aZiQs/s320/Garden+pixs+006.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
I made the cages two weeks ago of tree branches and string. Pretty clever, huh? The second picture is my tomatoes with their rain gear on. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip8smqG09709EevfFH0bmJRkolaRc9l5WHQ3Vn6XJwez1jLMtdQbw8eOZ8gzN7JPJyhiLsHqkgUZ9BogUm4T2hG2Uj_5inmIkIwGcgr45gswD5jO_fjuvrdgQhnlFHBg5aZ5IQTAp9Bmg/s1600/Garden+pixs+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip8smqG09709EevfFH0bmJRkolaRc9l5WHQ3Vn6XJwez1jLMtdQbw8eOZ8gzN7JPJyhiLsHqkgUZ9BogUm4T2hG2Uj_5inmIkIwGcgr45gswD5jO_fjuvrdgQhnlFHBg5aZ5IQTAp9Bmg/s320/Garden+pixs+003.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A couple of follow up comments on the World Cup. If you didn’t know it already, <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> beat the <st1:country-region><st1:place>USA</st1:place></st1:country-region> on Saturday. Probably ho hum information for most Americans. Not for the Ghanaians. The victory is immense. Everyone is talking about it. It represents the little country beating the world power, despite the fact that in reality the <st1:country-region><st1:place>USA</st1:place></st1:country-region> is not a team to be feared in international soccer competition. It’s not like <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> beat <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region>. One of the guards here at the apartment complex tried to extend his condolences to us for the <st1:country-region><st1:place>USA</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s loss but he couldn’t express it in English. Each time he tried he would get part way into a sentence, stop, think about what he was trying to say, grin and then blurt out “<st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> won!” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have decided that my last blog was inaccurate when I tried to describe the intense EXCITEMENT of soccer, I mean football. I feel it would be more proper to describe the emotion of the game as intense ANTICIPATION. There is a lot of heart racing waiting for the favorite team to score a goal. It’s a lot like deep sea fishing – each time you cast out your line you know that you are going to catch a huge salmon. Your heart begins to race with anticipation. When you reel in your line with nothing on it you are only briefly disappointed. You immediately cast out the line again knowing that you are definitely going to catch the big one this next time. The World Cup matches are the same emotion. Each time the team brings the ball into scoring position you know that they are going to score. When they don’t you know that they will do it the next time they have possession. I wonder how many soccer fans fish for salmon. It would be an interesting study. Not really.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was disappointed last Friday night watching <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region> play <st1:country-region><st1:place>Portugal</st1:place></st1:country-region>. In case you don’t know (and you would have to be an alien from another planet to not know) <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region> is considered the best soccer team in the world, or maybe the universe. They are the New York Yankees of the soccer world. In fact I understand that their motto is the same as the Yankees: <span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">melhor o dinheiro pode comprar equipe</span></span> (that’s Portuguese for “the best team money can buy.”) When <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region> plays there is always a lot of hype. Just like the Yankees. The sports channel carrying the World Cup here in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> advertised this match between <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region><st1:place>Portugal</st1:place></st1:country-region> as “the best of the first round, don’t miss it.” Marsha and I didn’t miss it. It sounded like it would be a good Friday night date. We settled onto the couch at the beginning of the match and could immediately feel the intense ANTICIPATION of the game. The ball went back and forth many, many times. Each time <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region> had the ball we knew that they would score. Ninety four minutes later, when the match ended 0 – 0, we decided perhaps we should have played Nertz for two hours instead. Or gone salmon fishing. What a disappointment. I must admit, however, I really love the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region> team. Who wouldn’t love a team that has a goalkeeper named Julio Cesar, and stars that are so good they go by single names such as Lucio, Josue, Nilmar, Robinho and Kaka (he was red carded in the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Portugal</st1:place></st1:country-region> match – bad boy)? And get this, they are coached by a man named Dunga. Not Mr. Dunga, just Dunga. (I am going to suppress any impulse to make a comment about the names Kaka and Dunga. It would not be appropriate to laugh at the best soccer team in the universe.) It would be hilarious if <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region> had a little guy with pointed ears named Yoda. Think of the fear they could provoke in their opponents. "Just use The Force, Luke, I mean Lucio." I think the Yankees need to follow the example of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region> and let their Super Stars (the $$$$$ players) wear uniforms with single names on their backs such as AROD and DEREK. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I fear that I am giving you the wrong impression that Marsha and I sit in front of the TV, or play Nertz, or go salmon fishing, all the time. We don’t. We actually watched only the first 20 minutes of the Brazil-Portugal match and then did other things, periodically checking the score, which obviously didn’t change. We will be cheering for <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> this coming Friday in their match against <st1:country-region><st1:place>Uruguay</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I will be wearing this hat while cheering for the Black Stars.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqYXz4yvPOEedhCX8R3n2AaS_m1rL4l5UXIIVTF7k2tsiYXH1Ee8oTQbryXGz3LzZR8-QNbnwK6lB0v2Ecs1bUlnJfQE0_HvVfsM2F7Kjmov9Yv7Phaq7CxhTLJMpKQJhUICzFe6OkP8/s1600/Marshas+camera+23+Jun+10+026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqYXz4yvPOEedhCX8R3n2AaS_m1rL4l5UXIIVTF7k2tsiYXH1Ee8oTQbryXGz3LzZR8-QNbnwK6lB0v2Ecs1bUlnJfQE0_HvVfsM2F7Kjmov9Yv7Phaq7CxhTLJMpKQJhUICzFe6OkP8/s320/Marshas+camera+23+Jun+10+026.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I mentioned a month ago the availability of fruit – the mangos, the papayas, the pineapples, and the bananas. We do enjoy easy access and affordability of such fruit. We count it as a blessing each day. Right after I made that blog entry Marsha and I were in Shoprite and I noticed they had fresh strawberries and raspberries. The strawberries were Ghc 23 ($15.86) for a medium container and the raspberries were GHc 8 ($5.51) for a small container. We both stared at the strawberries and raspberries. Daily mangos, papayas, pineapples and bananas are wonderful but for us June and July are synonymous with strawberries and raspberries. It’s not summer without strawberry short cake when the strawberries are freshly picked and cooled and the whipping cream is just the perfect texture and temperature, Marie Callender strawberry pies, and homemade vanilla ice cream with fresh raspberries. Yum. Just describing it makes me salivate. We bought the raspberries. Why not, it’s summer isn’t it? We temporarily forgot that every fruit or vegetable you can’t peel or heat to boiling you have to bleach. This is what raspberries look like after soaking in a Clorox solution.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLN7L4l7YNTDs258Rr6_v6Wqz6QrUiuSqHhvl9XIEC2CbHyzFrCqhE5Uphczki_gg4FTSGO_DkaAhCkTQF1cOOC69euKsxA_LfqUfI_wKL9Nv73KW-waduNxm1X04LcHbNlRnooOj3O8/s1600/Marshas+camera+23+Jun+10+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLN7L4l7YNTDs258Rr6_v6Wqz6QrUiuSqHhvl9XIEC2CbHyzFrCqhE5Uphczki_gg4FTSGO_DkaAhCkTQF1cOOC69euKsxA_LfqUfI_wKL9Nv73KW-waduNxm1X04LcHbNlRnooOj3O8/s200/Marshas+camera+23+Jun+10+014.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Despite the raspberries being expensive (24 cents per berry) and Clorox turning them into mushballs we savored each one, eating them, slowly, one by one, letting the flavor magically transport us to a warm summer evening at home, out on the back patio, with a favorite summer dessert. Enjoy your strawberries and raspberries.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve got to close. Anyone who has lived in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> knows that you cannot consider yourself a veteran of the city until you have been to Makola Market. We went to the market for the first time last week. We took <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> (she cleans our apartment weekly; we have become good friends.) It was raining. The sights and the sounds and the smells are overwhelming. The rain amplified the smells. I would try to describe our experience but it is impossible to put it together in words. We needed to purchase two items. <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> guided us through the narrow streets, the cramped stalls, the mass of people, and took us to the first vendor who had exactly what we needed. We stood in the rain and listened to <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> argue prices with the vendor. After a minute of animated argument I produced the exact money to support <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city>’s offer. I showed it to the vendor. He stopped arguing and took it immediately. The second vendor didn’t have exactly what we needed and promised he would have the item in 48 hours. <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> indicated to the vendor she would return in two days and pick up the item. I paid for the item and we returned, once again through the narrow streets, the crowded stalls, and the mass of people to our car. Inside the car I asked <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> if it was safe to have“prepurchased” the second item. She didn’t pause with her response. “Yes, he knows I can find him.” When we got back to the apartment we took our shoes off to clean the red mud and our clothes off to wash them. It had been a surreal experience. Only a video recorder on my shoulder would have been able to capture this experience (and it would have missed the smells.) I don’t know if I can ever put together words to describe it. I think I’ll ask <st1:city><st1:place>Florence</st1:place></st1:city> if she would go back with me sometime and obtain permission to take pictures of the market. Not when it's raining, though.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Last item: we had another experience this week that makes us true Ghanaians. Once again, anyone who has lived here will understand. I’m going to call it Ghanaian Car Weaving, or Motor Macrame. We’ve come across it before, but this was the first time we were in the center of it. Here’s how it works. (You’ll need to visualize this in your mind. Think of an intersection with two streets perpendicular to each other. The street you are on has a stop sign. You are stopped. The street perpendicular to you has crossing traffic without stop signs, and the traffic opposite you has a stop sign. Can you see it in your mind? Add to this mental image narrow two way streets, potholes, and minimal shoulders.) We were the first car at this intersection. We stopped with two cars behind us. One car was opposite us, similarly stopped. Three crossing cars were coming toward the intersection from our left, and two cars were coming from our right. I decided to wait for the cars to my left and right to pass. The driver behind me decided not to wait. He wanted to turn left so he pulled from behind me thinking he could beat the cross traffic. He started into the intersection. At the exact same moment the car opposite me thought he could beat traffic and shoot across the intersection. The initial move in Car Weaving requires that two cars come to a stop facing each other in the middle of an intersection. This is what happened. The car pulling out from behind me and the car opposite came face to face in the intersection and stopped. They started honking their horns. The second move in Car Weaving is to add the opposite sides. You can easily imagine how this happens. The first crossing car to my left pulled up to the stopped cars, and started honking his horn. The first crossing car to my right did the same thing. The crossing cars behind each of them tried to go around the stopped cars by moving into the opposite lane or onto the shoulder only to find their paths blocked. They started honking their horns. And then a third car behind me figured he didn’t want to miss the action so he pulled around me to the right and tried to skirt the intersection, only to find his path blocked. At this moment there were 10 cars in one intersection, all stopped, and honking. Honking must be the antidote for driver stupidity. It took several minutes for the Car Weaving to untangle. We were the first at the intersection and the last to eventually cross it. But what the heck. We had just experienced Ghanaian Car Weaving. People riding the bumper cars at an amusement park pay money for such an experience. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Have a good 4th of July weekend. Wave those flags. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-88174330665053292082010-06-19T09:09:00.000-07:002011-10-04T09:17:26.527-07:0016 June 2010<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Girls in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> learn at an early age how to carry loads on their heads. </span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">ONCE IN A LIFETIME started last Friday. Marsha and I have read about it/heard about its coming every day since we arrived in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>. It’s on most of the billboards in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. It’s in all the media. In case you don’t know what I’m talking about it’s the FIFA World Cup, the Super Bowl equivalent for soccer. Oops, I mean football. Only an American would call it soccer. </span><br />
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</style> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Thirty two teams from all over the world are in <st1:country-region><st1:place>South Africa</st1:place></st1:country-region> for a month competing in the World Cup. The teams are divided into eight groups of four and each team plays the other three teams one time with the best two teams per group advancing to the next level. The matches are being played in ten stadiums throughout <st1:country-region><st1:place>South Africa</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Three or four matches are played daily. The first round of sixteen matches has been completed. A total of sixty four matches will be played. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I can’t help but share some observations about the first week of ONCE IN A LIFETIME. I will probably be scorned for some of my comments, but, remember, these observations come from an <st1:state><st1:place>Idaho</st1:place></st1:state> farm boy who has never purposefully kicked a soccer ball. I don’t think I’ve even sat through a complete soccer game before this week. My observations are based upon watching parts of many of the first sixteen matches, all of the <st1:country-region><st1:place>USA</st1:place></st1:country-region> –<st1:country-region><st1:place>England</st1:place></st1:country-region> match (1 to 1 draw), all of the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> – <st1:country-region><st1:place>Serbia</st1:place></st1:country-region> match (1 to 0 win for <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>) and all of the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region> – <st1:country-region><st1:place>North Korea</st1:place></st1:country-region> match (2 to 0 win for <st1:country-region><st1:place>Brazil</st1:place></st1:country-region>.) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I’m trying to understand the appeal of this sport. Everyone, I mean EVERYONE, in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> is excitedly talking about the matches and watching them. It is a contagious enthusiasm. One cannot hear about the matches on a continuous basis without wanting to watch them. But I don’t quite see the excitement of the sport. It is definitely not Brahma bull riding. The matches are 90 minutes divided into two halves of 45 minutes with a 15 minute intermission. The clock does not stop during play. Additional minutes are added to each half if the referee has had to stop play for things such as injuries. The matches I have watched so far average about 94 minutes total time. So let’s calculate the intense excitement. The first round of sixteen games represents 1504 minutes of played time. The total number of goals scored in these sixteen games is 25. That calculates to a goal every 60.16 minutes. Wow. That’s a lot of yawning time with big pauses between shouts of “SCORE.” Most of the games end in 0 – 0, 1 – 0, 1 - 1 or 2 – 1. The scores are similar to hockey matches, but the brawling during a hockey match makes the hockey game a lot more exciting. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I also don’t understand the "tackling." In one moment a player will trip another one and the commentator will describe it as a “beautiful tackle." I call it a lucky trip. But then the next moment a similar (as it appears to me) event will occur and the referee will whistle a foul, reward a “free kick” or give the tripper a penalty card. I must be missing something here. I can’t see much difference in the two types of tripping. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Speaking of “free kicks” I am amused with the free kicks directly in front of the penalty box/goal. These are not common, thank goodness. The defending team forms a “human wall” with five or so players arm linked together trying to block the kicker’s shot on the goal. It is a show of human bravery standing in front of someone who can kick a ball at you at bodily harm velocity. Most of the time the kicker puts the ball over the heads of the human wall toward the goal. But sometimes the kicker thinks he can thread it through the human wall. When he tries to do so the human wall, by reflex, decides it is more important to protect personal items other than the goal behind them. In unison their hands go down towards their groins. During the South Africa – Uruguay match the broadcasting channel showed a free kick like this in slow motion three times, probably not realizing that the majority of the viewing audience watched the hands of the human wall players not the course of the kicked ball. Maybe soccer teams need to issue cups to those brave players who form the human walls. Either that or the broadcasting stations need to avoid slow motion close ups of such kicks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I have come to like one thing about soccer, oops, football. It is the use of yellow/red cards as penalties for fouls. As all of you are aware when the referee blows his whistle against a player who the referee feels has committed a foul worthy of a penalty, such as aggressive tripping (Ghanaians probably call it “overtripping”) the referee runs toward the offending player with a yellow or red card in his hand pointing it towards the player. It’s as if he is saying “shame on you.” There is no doubt about who the bad boy is. The referee runs right up to him. I like it. It is so much more effective than a foul in American football, where the offending player can quickly blend into the anonymity of the huddle hoping that the fans will not be able to see his number when the referee announces the offense over the speaker system. I also like the concept of two cards and you’re out. In the Algeria – Slovenia match one player from Algeria got his yellow card in four minutes of playing time and his red card ten minutes later. Not only did he have to leave the match but he will not be able to play in the next matches. He’s a real bad boy. Maybe he needs to wear the Cone of Shame for a while. (Watch the movie "Up" to see the effectiveness of the Cone of Shame) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I doubt they will listen to me but I’ve got some World Cup suggestions. I think that FIFA (it stands for the International Federation of Football Associations, in French) needs to watch some American Football Super Bowls and do something about the advertising during World Cup non action time, primarily the 15 minute half time. The advertising needs a lot of improvement. Even though Budweiser is the official beer of the World Cup (what are they not the official beer of?) the quality of its World Cup advertising overall is very weak compared to its advertising on Super Bowl Sunday. The World Cup Budweiser commercials are infrequent and unimaginative. (Maybe they are saving their best for the last game, the CHAMPIONSHIP GAME.) The most frequent advertisement shown this first week is for Coca Cola. It plays during every break, sometimes twice during the same break. I hope it is changed in the near future. Sixty four games of showing it and I definitely will never buy a Coke again. The most creative advertisement so far is one for Champion windshield wiper blades. Think about how hard an advertisement agency had to work to make a World Cup viewing audience interested in windshield wiper blades. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Last comment and then I’ll talk about things more important than soccer. I didn’t anticipate this would happen, but when the American team was introduced on the field and the flag was raised and the Star Spangled Banner was played I spontaneously stood to my feet. I got a real lump in my throat and tears came to my eyes. I wasn’t anticipating that kind of a reaction. It just happened. I might be thousands of miles from the <st1:country-region><st1:place>United States</st1:place></st1:country-region> but the distance has not diminished my patriotism. My red, white, and blue reservoir is overflowing. When the <st1:country-region><st1:place>USA</st1:place></st1:country-region> team scored against <st1:country-region><st1:place>England</st1:place></st1:country-region> I jumped and cheered loudly, almost as much as I do for the BSU Broncos playing in the Fiesta Bowel. Marsha danced and cheered as well. Maybe soccer really is exciting! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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</style>Let me move on to other things. This is a picture of orphanage children on an outing. (I will get back to the kids in a minute.) Marsha and I and President and Sister Froerer drove to the Volta region last week and spent two days seeing sights. The <st1:place>Volta</st1:place> region is in the eastern part of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>, about four hours distance by car. It is named for the <st1:place><st1:placename>Volta</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>River</st1:placetype></st1:place>. In the early sixties the <st1:country-region><st1:place>United States</st1:place></st1:country-region> government built a hydroelectric dam on the <st1:place><st1:placename>Volta</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>River</st1:placetype></st1:place>, creating the world’s largest man made reservoir. I have been told that the hydroelectric dam produces all of the electricity for <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> and for some of the surrounding countries. (I have not researched this fact to confirm it. Sounds pretty good, though.) The reservoir extends over half the north/south length of the country. Look at it on a map of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> to appreciate its size. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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</style>On Wednesday we drove to the town of <st1:city><st1:place>Ho</st1:place></st1:city>, the largest community in the <st1:place>Volta</st1:place> region, and then out toward the Ghana/Togo border to the <st1:place><st1:placetype>village</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Kpetoe Agotime</st1:placename></st1:place>. The villages in this vicinity were settled centuries ago by the Ewe people, a minority tribe in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Kpotoe is described as a weaving village. Many of the families in this village continue the tradition of hand weaving. This is a picture of a young boy, probably 14 – 16 years old, hand weaving on a loom. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinG5WCr4HKdAk1V0LAvb4ABh9V9srqpLyHhdTIeilep2KJw91XfXhnc66J-_9GaLnV5_ho6BbVTVWc1N8W1MrGp_-V8P8xYbkhDi1DWXoOIO8bqJ9RbKvLgouiEOo0lJRWP78P-YHwXCQ/s1600/June+2010+MGM+camera+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinG5WCr4HKdAk1V0LAvb4ABh9V9srqpLyHhdTIeilep2KJw91XfXhnc66J-_9GaLnV5_ho6BbVTVWc1N8W1MrGp_-V8P8xYbkhDi1DWXoOIO8bqJ9RbKvLgouiEOo0lJRWP78P-YHwXCQ/s200/June+2010+MGM+camera+007.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> </span></div><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDelRay%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:smarttagtype name="place" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="country-region" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">One of the men in the group explained to us that the Ewes were the first weavers in <st1:place>West Africa</st1:place> and the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ashantis</st1:place></st1:country-region> (the dominant tribe) captured some of the Ewe weavers and made the captured weavers teach the techniques to the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ashantis</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The current Kente cloth that is synonymous with <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> is attributed to the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ashantis</st1:place></st1:country-region>. But the Ewes claim that it originated with them.</span><br />
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</style>On Thursday we drove to Hohoe. (The ‘h’s” are silent. It is pronounced Oh, Oh-ee.) The Wli waterfalls are east of Hohoe. The falls are described as the number one tourist attraction in the Volta Region. One would anticipate that it would be easy to find the most popular tourist attraction in this region, but in reality, it was difficult. The 25 km road from the Bank of Ghana in Hohoe (the guide book says “turn right at the Bank of Ghana”) to the waterfalls ranged from the standard Ghanaian asphalt/pot hole surface, to red clay with DEEP mudholes (it had rained during the night.) The roadsign advertisements for the falls did not provide help other than point the general direction. We eventually arrived at the <st1:place><st1:placetype>village</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Wli Agorviefe</st1:placename></st1:place> and found the “entrance” to the waterfalls. It sure didn’t look like the number one tourist attraction in the Volta Region. There were a number of vendors selling items. There was a circle of men around a table, under a tree, playing a card game. There was a small building with a portico behind. No one was in the building. A man from the card players eventually walked toward us and invited us to the portico where he welcomed us to the waterfalls. We signed the entry book and paid the entrance fee of Ghc 8 per person. He then called Samuel (pronounced Sam-well) from the card players and introduced him as our guide. (see picture.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqP1EEEXPb0zycQ5gVXH6P03OwH7-AOLivnWikR-UMUaGsqvQInJbcfqVHxnfWQlogcdqqtOymMSRMwXE-aG6aSN7r3tGMvWQyD6QtqVM5wZervI14y4QP0VCB_8aYaF7uPehT2NTE5a4/s1600/June+2010+MGM+camera+124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqP1EEEXPb0zycQ5gVXH6P03OwH7-AOLivnWikR-UMUaGsqvQInJbcfqVHxnfWQlogcdqqtOymMSRMwXE-aG6aSN7r3tGMvWQyD6QtqVM5wZervI14y4QP0VCB_8aYaF7uPehT2NTE5a4/s1600/June+2010+MGM+camera+124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqP1EEEXPb0zycQ5gVXH6P03OwH7-AOLivnWikR-UMUaGsqvQInJbcfqVHxnfWQlogcdqqtOymMSRMwXE-aG6aSN7r3tGMvWQyD6QtqVM5wZervI14y4QP0VCB_8aYaF7uPehT2NTE5a4/s200/June+2010+MGM+camera+124.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Samuel walked with us to the lower waterfall, about 45 minutes through the jungle on a three to four foot wide path. We crossed a small river about nine times on bridges varying from sturdy and well built to rickety and insecure. The waterfall is very beautiful. (see picture.) The guide indicated that the waterfall is 60 meters in height. There is an upper waterfall but we could not go that day because of the previous night’s rain which made the trail dangerous. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgME5gHEA0oupAJXX2OhfWvcG7mfd4b3tQDQE8SFwKnpBTdEp1VLDR9TJYN7Fex00gE8JKzjq78qVNNZEF5ozqTu7pk2TVFYHdMrLpQRyvz327-ehxlLqVnkXt13HPQXQTQ7UELn8r_eUc/s1600/June+2010+MGM+camera+101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgME5gHEA0oupAJXX2OhfWvcG7mfd4b3tQDQE8SFwKnpBTdEp1VLDR9TJYN7Fex00gE8JKzjq78qVNNZEF5ozqTu7pk2TVFYHdMrLpQRyvz327-ehxlLqVnkXt13HPQXQTQ7UELn8r_eUc/s320/June+2010+MGM+camera+101.JPG" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisbYc6DYa2dg7-5JDNYYN8PnDC80Y9FuZn34q9u79LsvM3mV-DLczO537D5G8CRuiKaX7RFC8SesnHww2ABn3BbezrMsAc8hCJUeVbHnbtIW8LuKVlRbUhVaI29AEOnC_AFgkxz_41w7w/s1600/June+2010+MGM+camera+115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisbYc6DYa2dg7-5JDNYYN8PnDC80Y9FuZn34q9u79LsvM3mV-DLczO537D5G8CRuiKaX7RFC8SesnHww2ABn3BbezrMsAc8hCJUeVbHnbtIW8LuKVlRbUhVaI29AEOnC_AFgkxz_41w7w/s200/June+2010+MGM+camera+115.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">On our way down from the waterfall we encountered an orphanage from Hohoe. There were about 50 children and 10 adults. They were on an outing to the falls. Some of the children carried inner tubes for the falls. Some carried food. Some carried water. And some carried cooking/cleaning items. They were excited. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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</style> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">In a previous blog I mentioned the orphanages of <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I don’t understand them very well. Where are the orphanages? Who runs them? Are they private or are they supported by the government? How many are there in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>? What circumstances bring a child into an orphanage? What is the prospect of a child leaving an orphanage prior to adulthood? I don’t know the answers to these questions. I hear rumors of abuse and corruption in the orphanages. But then I hear the same rumors for everything else in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I cannot speak accurately of this situation. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We tend to feel pity for these children of the orphanages. We see them and only think of what is missing, and will be missing, in their lives. We unconsciously believe that because they have so little they must be miserable. But this is a misconception. These children are happy. They enjoy life. All of them laughed and giggled as they passed us. They greeted us with big smiles reflecting their enthusiasm. I noticed one little boy wearing a pair of snow boots. The boots were way too big for him, undoubtedly part of a Goodwill/Deseret Industries shipment of discarded clothing sent to <st1:place>Africa</st1:place>, but he didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t even know that snow boots are not the recommended footwear for an outing to a waterfall. He was on an adventure and oblivious to the inappropriate footwear. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheuYsKqMwmuxqnP9VenpokLRsZj6teLTJAAM-lv6sPXObpy7fX5kp7FBCJtP65VqCLaz2hr9kan2AgBiJ75LoCizVqbbskd9plXni81vNrtmMCzGeqrdrjlPlSYlTwzzy-7fmtKyNJp4/s1600/June+2010+MGM+camera+118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheuYsKqMwmuxqnP9VenpokLRsZj6teLTJAAM-lv6sPXObpy7fX5kp7FBCJtP65VqCLaz2hr9kan2AgBiJ75LoCizVqbbskd9plXni81vNrtmMCzGeqrdrjlPlSYlTwzzy-7fmtKyNJp4/s320/June+2010+MGM+camera+118.JPG" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Marsha took a picture of these girls. For hours afterward, even days, Marsha could not get this image from her mind. She talked about these girls frequently. She wanted to know more about them. What were their ages? Were two of them sisters? She wanted to help them. She even talked about possibly adopting all four of the girls. Reason (Marsha, how old would we be when they are in high school?) has finally overcome emotion (but DelRay, they need us) and Marsha now just looks at the photograph hoping that we will not some day sadly look back at this missed opportunity to make a difference in a child’s life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We are definitely in the “rainy season.” The temperature has become very comfortable, to us. Two nights ago I noticed one of the guards wearing a coat and scarf over his head. It is obviously not comfortable for him. I’ve also noticed some of the deciduous trees are dropping leaves. One might be tricked into thinking that winter is coming. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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</style> </span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3joHzXhfKoZ7nGNatzzdLYZ8_aFQeMjxrwFi3sYMo6bm0OZ6RFy1VRWDL23bn2eqJQesb6asXmBMT2QUsKSqNx0S80oGIYZHJoSs51v2zAqhPcC2zBpWIZU53_P6EDz1fZJG1YpE0Jlc/s1600/June+2010+DRM+cam+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><st1:place></st1:place></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3joHzXhfKoZ7nGNatzzdLYZ8_aFQeMjxrwFi3sYMo6bm0OZ6RFy1VRWDL23bn2eqJQesb6asXmBMT2QUsKSqNx0S80oGIYZHJoSs51v2zAqhPcC2zBpWIZU53_P6EDz1fZJG1YpE0Jlc/s1600/June+2010+DRM+cam+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3joHzXhfKoZ7nGNatzzdLYZ8_aFQeMjxrwFi3sYMo6bm0OZ6RFy1VRWDL23bn2eqJQesb6asXmBMT2QUsKSqNx0S80oGIYZHJoSs51v2zAqhPcC2zBpWIZU53_P6EDz1fZJG1YpE0Jlc/s1600/June+2010+DRM+cam+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><st1:country-region><st1:place></st1:place></st1:country-region><st1:stockticker></st1:stockticker></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> Here is a progress picture of the Ghana Tomato Project. The tomatoes are five weeks old. I added peas to my garden last week. They were out of the ground in four days. I’m going to call them my Chorus of P’s. It’s probably crazy to consider growing peas in <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> but, after all, the "cold" season is the time to grow "cold" vegetables. We’ll see what happens. I’m not having to water my garden because it rains at least once every 24 hours. It is so wet that I’m trying to figure out how to protect the tomatoes from the daily downpour. The soil around the plants has not dried out for two weeks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I will be going to Korle Bu this week. I’m finally licensed in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The <st1:stockticker>ENT</st1:stockticker> department has scheduled a half day of clinic for patients with ear disease. It will be my first opportunity to teach in the department. I’m excited. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
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</div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-25859093853964928972010-06-05T01:15:00.000-07:002011-10-04T08:38:27.872-07:003 June 2010<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXxR2s0-uKRYZ1ORbCD9kjtsopip7s38mB2PyCGZ-Y9N6qMRvxXeiQJ5qHwDbfoIIHsM00_qtTmfbnVnilu3GFYdj1hAFPOPm9h_sgu2NQOZGYaghtX88pABmPRMIHPAXGjF77o8Kae8k/s1600/May+2010+DRM+cam+026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXxR2s0-uKRYZ1ORbCD9kjtsopip7s38mB2PyCGZ-Y9N6qMRvxXeiQJ5qHwDbfoIIHsM00_qtTmfbnVnilu3GFYdj1hAFPOPm9h_sgu2NQOZGYaghtX88pABmPRMIHPAXGjF77o8Kae8k/s200/May+2010+DRM+cam+026.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>It seems to be a truism in life that once you notice something you think is unique you then notice it everywhere. Two weeks ago I wrote a little note about “overspeeding.” I thought it was unique to sign posts on the Accra – Cape Coast highway. It is not unique to that highway. I now see signs about “overspeeding” all the time. Here is a photograph of the back of a truck that had better not be “overspeeding.” It makes you think that this might be a conscientious driver who is concerned about safety. Ha! Fooled you. I doubt it would do any good to try and report him or her to the number on the warning sign. Nothing happens when you call 1801. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuwjgRDYFoq96HRlPg0pZmWaqlTlMW-Y-tJlIHlSLr5NFQgwz1vNAlT930e4U2eTTV4HC1kgdWnCc0oXbuIvJOADxaIZtj9k9H68tSPwN4egazQ7W5KKKIcFK8isFLu5XtQxh_gUnhUk/s1600/Marsha+camera+May+2010+053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuwjgRDYFoq96HRlPg0pZmWaqlTlMW-Y-tJlIHlSLr5NFQgwz1vNAlT930e4U2eTTV4HC1kgdWnCc0oXbuIvJOADxaIZtj9k9H68tSPwN4egazQ7W5KKKIcFK8isFLu5XtQxh_gUnhUk/s200/Marsha+camera+May+2010+053.JPG" width="150" /></a></div> Here’s another photo. I’ve described the abundance of fruit here in Ghana: pineapples, bananas, papayas and mangos. All are grown locally, are plentiful at the fruit stands, and are inexpensive. We eat fruit at least two times a day. It is probably the best part of living here in West Africa. I’m familiar with the plants that produce pineapple and bananas. Travels to Hawaii and the Caribbean have taught me to recognize these plants. But I have not known what to look for with papayas and mangos. About two months ago on a trip to Kumasi our driver pointed out to us the trees that produce papayas. They look like a coconut palm tree, with a smaller diameter trunk, and palm fronds that are very short. From a distance you would look at the tree and think it is a palm that is dying. The fruit grows from the center of the trunk/fronds. Even though they grow year round the best season for papayas, I’ve been told by the fruit stand managers, is August through January. I had not seen a mango tree until last Saturday. We encountered one at a bead business about an hour outside of Accra. The tree is a branching shade like tree, with large leaves and lots of hanging down fruit. This is a picture of Marsha and a mango tree. Welcome to the Garden of Eden. Walk out and pick your dinner. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq7z_2x7bsEI69fCncmdT_4JINet2sbQmE6PWc-EnPe1ehNgoDKi3CXWagNGxC2GryqrV90v51CUbSh3Ihyjq-rPng0nxumgzuzNkm4yDdfmy-v_vFBsg4DOyTidFs-juqfPDh0jTwzGM/s1600/May+DRM+camera+2010+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq7z_2x7bsEI69fCncmdT_4JINet2sbQmE6PWc-EnPe1ehNgoDKi3CXWagNGxC2GryqrV90v51CUbSh3Ihyjq-rPng0nxumgzuzNkm4yDdfmy-v_vFBsg4DOyTidFs-juqfPDh0jTwzGM/s200/May+DRM+camera+2010+003.JPG" width="200" /></a></div> Another photo: this is my tomato garden at three weeks. The tomato on the left is Justice, and the one on the right is Mercy. I’m going to see which yields more tomatoes. <br />
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OK. So what has happened since I wrote last? We had another cockroach encounter. We had been out until about 8 p.m. and returned to our apartment complex in the dark. Being outside in the dark makes Marsha nervous because she is always worried about the critters that emerge when the sun goes down. She knows that having to walk the 40 feet from the car to our stairwell and up two flights of stairs gives us significant exposure to such critters. As we exited the parking lot she pulled very close to me for protection. We approached the stairwell. In the dim light we noticed something shoot across the walkway too fast for identification. I suspect it was one of the stray cats that live around the apartments. Marsha thought it was something much more dangerous. She pulled closer to me. As we turned the corner into the stairwell we both jumped. There was a large frog about half the size of a dinner plate. We couldn’t see it very well because of the dim light. We stepped around it. On the first landing there was another frog. We jumped again. We hurried up the last flight of stairs watching for more frogs. We made it to the door of the apartment and stepped inside, thinking we were past the critter encounters. We turned on the light to the living room and a cockroach was right in front of us. Marsha yelled and I smacked it. We’re getting pretty good at cockroach yelling and smacking. I took a photograph of this one before I disposed of him/her. <br />
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We talked to the complex manager the next day and he gave us some brown jell stuff to put down around the perimeters of the rooms and the thresholds of the front/balcony doors. It is supposed to keep the cockroaches out. I tried to read the label of what we put down but it was in a foreign language that I didn’t recognize. There were a lot of danger emblems on the tube, enough to impress me with the toxicity of the jell. If we come back to the states and our hair has fallen out and we are drooling it’s probably because we’ve been sleeping cockroach free but breathing something that is banned in all English speaking countries. <br />
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We are enjoying the rainy season. There is no pattern nor predictability to the weather now. Sometimes it rains during the day. Sometimes it rains at night. Some days will be cloudy and look like an impending storm. Right now, for instance. As I write this I can look out my office window and see very ominous dark clouds to the northeast. I’ve been watching them for an hour anticipating rain but nothing has happened. The clouds might stay all day or might go away in an instant. It doesn’t rain every day. Some days it will be completely clear with beautiful blue skies. Most of the time the clouds move in from the higher elevation to the north. Just when I think this is a predictable weather pattern the clouds and rain will move in off the ocean. Thunder and lightning are often part of the rain, especially at night, keeping us awake with the light and noise. But some times the rain just quietly slips up on us and catches us unaware. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFZJ01o5YcE8IDl0iLa8uslGOgw5qDjfc9nIy5iR-xK9UVMXw72ayXJHWTGo6V4Fsb9is0xkNSu7bsHotKV5MfY11gvV3e5LVKYa13oUS95tjRwhGCXfn97X8E-05plo7HCoILf-WYINw/s1600/May+2010+DRM+Nikon+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFZJ01o5YcE8IDl0iLa8uslGOgw5qDjfc9nIy5iR-xK9UVMXw72ayXJHWTGo6V4Fsb9is0xkNSu7bsHotKV5MfY11gvV3e5LVKYa13oUS95tjRwhGCXfn97X8E-05plo7HCoILf-WYINw/s200/May+2010+DRM+Nikon+005.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>This is a picture looking outside my office window during a rain that lasted for over an hour. The best part of the rainy season is that the temperature is about 3 - 5 degrees Celsius cooler now. It is very tolerable. The humidity still makes one sweat, but the cooler temperature keeps one from melting.<br />
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I must be getting desperate for ideas when the best I can do is cockroaches and the weather. What else can I report?<br />
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Last Saturday I drove to C&J Hospital at 6:30 in the morning. It was the first time I had driven the streets of Accra at that hour on a Saturday. A lot of things were different. There was less vehicle traffic. Most of the trucks/vans were carrying items or produce, I presume, to the markets. Every empty lot had a soccer game. There were lots of young men playing, and lots of spectators. There were more pedestrians than I would have anticipated for that hour. I have no idea where they were going. Maybe to the markets. Many were dressed up, but not in the black/red clothing that means they are going to a funeral. Maybe they were going to church. I was very impressed with the number of women cleaning the areas around the fronts of their houses and businesses. They were bent over with little hand brooms sweeping the dirt, the pavement, or the concrete. I noticed a man and his daughter on one of the sidewalks. The little girl was about two years old and dressed in a yellow Easter like dress. The man was carrying her in his arms. Both were laughing. He might have been tickling her. Why would I consider this unusual? Two reasons. First, women carry the children here, not men. I posted a picture on a previous blog of a woman carrying a child on her back. It is not unusual to see women carrying children 3 – 4 years old on their backs. To see a man carrying a child was unique. Second: the amount of laughing was also unique. Ghanaians, especially the children, are very happy, but I have not seen this much parent/child interaction before. This father and his daughter were enjoying each other, laughing and giggling. It was a very tender and singular show of affection. <br />
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I’ll close with a bat story. When we were learning our way around Accra we often made a point of knowing our location in reference to the “bat trees.” These are about a dozen LARGE trees on the median and along the sides of Independence Ave at its intersection with the Burma Camp/Achimoto highway. There is a hospital at this intersection. The trunks of these trees are about 6 – 8 feet in diameter and the height of each tree is about 40 – 50 feet. Each tree has large branches that spread out and arch over the base of the tree and extend over the north and south lanes of the road. <br />
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For the first four months we were here we would pass the bat trees on our way to the office in the morning and note the commotion of the bats returning from the night and getting into their upside down sleeping positions. The bats would fly toward and around the branches looking for an open resting place. Multiple bats would group together creating large, black, teardrop appearing masses all over each of the trees. Marsha always accuses me of exaggerating, but I’m not exaggerating in this case when I say that there must have been at least 50,000 bats on the trees. <br />
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This is a picture of the bat trees. Look closely to see the "blobs of bats." On our way home in the afternoon the bats would be pretty quiet without much, if any, movement. If one hadn’t noticed the commotion in the morning one would probably drive by the trees and think nothing of the hanging down blobs of sleeping bats. With the sunset, however, the bats would start leaving the trees and move out for a night of eating (hopefully malaria infested mosquitoes.) These bats would fly to the north right above our apartment. We could stand on the front porch and watch thousands of them go overhead. The process would continue until it was too dark to see. I don’t think my estimate of 50,000 bats was an exaggeration. This mass movement of bats in the evening would be bigger than one could see extending in every direction in the diminishing light. And then the bats would return in the morning.<br />
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I’m sure that many of you have read the Bat Books: Bats in the Barn, Bats at the Beach. One indeed wonders what bats do all night long. Eating insects for twelve hours has to be pretty boring. Maybe they spend the night at the hospital: Bats in the Morgue.<br />
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The reason I describe this bat phenomenon is because the bats are gone. They left last week. Not just a few of them. All of them. And they did it overnight. I wonder where they migrated to. We can’t call the trees at that intersection the “bat trees” anymore. <br />
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Here is a picture given me by John Welling. He took this during the time he and his wife, Cozette, were here. I look at this picture frequently. It is captivating. I hope you agree. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzDih1w-KzRHSxE0eFNKua6RwaaxLe77-O4YjErm2U36JfJDzFOZuPl5e-k-7P-fCDY65Wyic91d6VJMQdtJoUM0k8dXN68PxbCUC-xisCQMyG8pLeYr1DGzOHnTzxLKe6kbom8kyvSQw/s1600/DSCF5339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzDih1w-KzRHSxE0eFNKua6RwaaxLe77-O4YjErm2U36JfJDzFOZuPl5e-k-7P-fCDY65Wyic91d6VJMQdtJoUM0k8dXN68PxbCUC-xisCQMyG8pLeYr1DGzOHnTzxLKe6kbom8kyvSQw/s320/DSCF5339.JPG" /></a></div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-34518392031949405502010-05-24T07:33:00.000-07:002010-05-24T07:33:31.693-07:00Week #18<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoE08gS5JFRk7pkdY4N8fSv2xG4RGOb7U3B4DOFn74PMkF1ojEPkha7MK8eqMN4xaRnspronrVifmsnjxcx0SqbeoUzxyTbjHBjGR_izNZtlQjI7K8S-jP2Xn2iP4Pdl0Yc63jHGXpqlU/s1600/april+2010+OTC+MTC+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoE08gS5JFRk7pkdY4N8fSv2xG4RGOb7U3B4DOFn74PMkF1ojEPkha7MK8eqMN4xaRnspronrVifmsnjxcx0SqbeoUzxyTbjHBjGR_izNZtlQjI7K8S-jP2Xn2iP4Pdl0Yc63jHGXpqlU/s200/april+2010+OTC+MTC+002.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">This is a photo of eggs coming to market. Can you imagine the mess if this vehicle were to be in an accident?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">It was Marsha’s turn to scream this week. She went into the bathroom on Sunday night, turned the light on, and started screaming. I jumped up just as she yelled “it’s not a snake!” I think that was a suggestion as to what kind of weapon to bring. I grabbed the toilet plunger. As I got to the door she was pointing at the corner behind the toilet. It was a cockroach, the second one we’ve had since arriving in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. He was backed into the corner. The cockroach was probably as scared as was Marsha. As I mentioned in one of my first blogs these cockroaches are something to be reckoned with. They are big enough to put saddles on. I bravely stepped forward, with my toilet plunger in hand, and tried smacking him with the plunger part. I couldn’t get him because he was in the corner. So I turned the plunger to the handle and tried poking him with the end. He dodged the end and charged us. As I tried to turn the plunger again Marsha deftly stepped on him with her flipflop. I was so proud of her! It’s amazing how the cockroaches crunch. We disposed him/her down the toilet and inspected the periphery of the bathroom looking for his/her home. We discovered a loosened tile near the base of the bathtub and promptly sprayed bugkiller behind the tile. Take that, you home invader! Marsha has shared the cockroach experience with others this week. It’s interesting how the bug grows in size with each telling. We’re lucky to have survived. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">I had a second encounter with bugs this week. Not an actual encounter, though, just an observation. I was running the stairs for exercise and noted a dragonfly moving very slowly along the periphery of the ground floor. I stopped to observe. It turned out that the dragonfly was not moving on his own. He was dead. He was being carried across the floor by an innumerable company of ants, small enough to barely see one individual ant, but when together they appeared to be a black spot underneath the dragonfly. I watched the progress while I continued running the stairs. During the course of twenty minutes the ants moved the dragonfly about10 feet across the tile floor over to the wall of the building. They moved the dragonfly into an opening at the base of the wall and had to bend his wings to get him under the edge. To bend each wing a number of the ants would crawl up onto the upper edge of the wing and with enough ants on the edge the wing would then slowly bend down while the remainder of the ants moved the body into the opening. The entire procession eventually disappeared into the opening. For all their work I hope the dragonfly was a culinary reward. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUL59l8_P_rabz19wTh8jvcwJHRSohjv4YmCz88mzZoa4NF47K_RIdhddpHPoOdOQ5M7ZTa776n6lvoEEdEupGMr7_57QrFqA7mC9GYDbmF2UheJ4DAYyrl8ixTVQTV7sdg4p1L-o0mA/s1600/May+2010+DRM+cam+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUL59l8_P_rabz19wTh8jvcwJHRSohjv4YmCz88mzZoa4NF47K_RIdhddpHPoOdOQ5M7ZTa776n6lvoEEdEupGMr7_57QrFqA7mC9GYDbmF2UheJ4DAYyrl8ixTVQTV7sdg4p1L-o0mA/s200/May+2010+DRM+cam+024.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> <meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 10" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 10" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDelRay%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a picture of another critter, a gecko inside the laundry room at the MTC. Geckos are good intruders. We don’t scream when we see geckos. They eat bugs. Too bad they aren’t big enough to eat cockroaches. The next picture is one of an outside gecko, about 10 inches long. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">The rainy season started on Monday. The morning was sunshine and heat, the usual <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> weather. At about <st1:time hour="11" minute="0">11 a.m.</st1:time> the clouds rolled in, the wind picked up, and the rain started. It poured. It poured for two hours. All of the gutters filled to overflowing. (I don’t think I’ve described the gutters before. They are concrete. They are deep: 18 – 24 inches, deep enough that if a car drops a wheel into the gutter the car is on its underbelly. We’ve seen cars in this predicament several times.) By two in the afternoon it had stopped and cleared. But the moisture in the air was like a sauna. One could see the humidity as well as feel it. It did the same thing on Tuesday morning and on Thursday. It has rained at night the remainder of the week. It hasn’t rained yet today. One week of rain and everything in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> that was brown is now green. And the temperature is a little less hot. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I indicated in last week’s blog that I thought I would have to thin my tomatoes this week. I didn’t have to thin them. The rain did it for me. Instead I had to salvage the few that weren’t beat into the ground by the rain. I staked them. This is a picture of my poor tomatoes during the rain. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">Last item: Marsha and I had our first experience with a chief. Despite <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> being a democracy there is still a strong tribal tradition in this country. Many day to day activities are regulated by tribal law instead of government law. Every Ghanaian can tell you what tribe he or she is from. They can tell you what language is spoken by their tribe. They can tell you their tribe’s history. They know who their chief is. Many of the tribes continue to have tribal markings: cuts on the face placed in infancy that “mark” which tribe the child is born into. Permission for certain activities such as marriage still have to be approved by the chief. Etc, etc.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The tribal chief came to church today. He arrived with four other men, all wearing tribal dress with the flowing cloth draped over one shoulder and around the waist, the second shoulder bare. One of the escorting men carried a large umbrella shading the chief from the sun. The chief had a gold ring on each hand about the size of a teacup. I wish I could have been closer to see the design. Each ring appeared to be the image of an animal. But I could not get close enough to see the rings clearly. And the chief’s sandals were straight out of a Nieman Marcus catalogue. They were a dark brown with inlaid gold in the straps and a central raised ornament on each sandal that appeared to be made of gold. They definitely were not the sandals worn by the Ghanaians on the street. When the chief left the building his escorts surrounded him, and provided him umbrella protection from the sun. The umbrella was also a Nieman Marcus accessory. You can’t buy one like the chief’s on any street or market here. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Have a good week. This is a picture of five missionaries that arrived yesterday afternoon. They came by the apartment on their way to the MTC. They had missed the Saturday morning session at the MTC where I start their hepatitis B immunizations. I gave them their first shots in our apartment. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1828048819960391863.post-53955891894126478902010-05-17T07:17:00.000-07:002010-05-17T07:17:19.831-07:00Week #17<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZ9v55ioABw6Mx_8CJ-Xs2WTVbeLtjAWTzIco7CnJJ_0pkOhyIB2dk7ZvsQvmZlJ26rdU5sqrjEE9F9ZI9Cav51cd40xTJho3XGfiJznSeznuzk5E6Nz3cMnCyFUZ2nFqhX24G1RNnak/s1600/Marsha+cam+May+2010+036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZ9v55ioABw6Mx_8CJ-Xs2WTVbeLtjAWTzIco7CnJJ_0pkOhyIB2dk7ZvsQvmZlJ26rdU5sqrjEE9F9ZI9Cav51cd40xTJho3XGfiJznSeznuzk5E6Nz3cMnCyFUZ2nFqhX24G1RNnak/s200/Marsha+cam+May+2010+036.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><span id="goog_617248727"></span><span id="goog_617248728"></span><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 10" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 10" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDelRay%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><o:smarttagtype name="PlaceType" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="place" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="country-region" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">I’m going to describe <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> today, but before I start I want to share a few events from this past week. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I planted my garden – two flower pots with tomatoes. The seedlings came up in five days. They are about two inches tall right now. I will have to thin them this week. I don’t know why I’ve waited until May to plant tomatoes. I could have planted them in January. <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> is like a giant Edward’s Greenhouse: the temperature fluctuates less than 10 degrees F from day to night, the daylight is 12 hours long, and the humidity is constant. I’ll keep everyone up to date on the progress of the Ghana Tomato Project. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Here’s a picture of my garden at one week.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Marsha and I went to get our <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> drivers’ licenses on Thursday. The process here puts to shame any inefficiency associated with Ada County Licensing. Give thanks the next time you are in Ada County Licensing if you only have to spend an hour. Marsha and I spent three hours getting our licenses. And it would have been much worse if we hadn’t had Kofi Bolley with us. Kofi is the church employee in charge of vehicles, and, therefore, I suppose by logic, the one in charge of those who drive the vehicles. Kofi did most of the work for us. Thank goodness for Kofi and the Ghc 200 we gave him. We parked outside the licensing building and waited in the car (air conditioner running) while he went inside. We waited about an hour. Kofi returned to the car with forms that needed to be filled out. He filled them out for us, had us sign then, and attached a passport photo to the application. He then took our <st1:state><st1:place>Idaho</st1:place></st1:state> drivers’ licenses and disappeared for about forty five minutes. He came back with a form indicating that we had passed our driving test. Pretty impressive for not having left the car. I suspect some of the Ghc 200 went towards our successful passing the test. We then climbed three flights of stairs and went down a long, narrow hallway to a very cramped office where we signed some forms and wrote our cell phone numbers on the paperwork. The office was so small that only one person at a time could step up to the desk and sign papers. There were many standing outside waiting to go in. Kofi left us again. We waited in the narrow hall for a half an hour and then went to a second office where we placed our right index finger onto some kind of scanner, signed an electronic signature, and had our picture taken. The clerk then produced a “temporary” paper license good for three months. Apparently they can’t make the permanent plasticized licenses on site. Kofi will go back in three months and pick up our “permanent” licenses. Amazing process. And Kofi even gave us back Ghc 10 . What a deal. A driver’s license with change back. But I don’t think I’ll ever complain about US government inefficiency again. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxx67nrH-iZIweJtQymzF_kPkNLz8pGDCJbCiQZEdnuxbOzfI0iiqhpNdNO4kSrCFgVgZrMR9ct3Dy3qy3WwyLRjq9uEtK7JN6CnepZPQxsOyoVE-t0F-MEMYgjNakAR3PTTyqc-pfVVM/s1600/Marsha+cam+May+2010+039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxx67nrH-iZIweJtQymzF_kPkNLz8pGDCJbCiQZEdnuxbOzfI0iiqhpNdNO4kSrCFgVgZrMR9ct3Dy3qy3WwyLRjq9uEtK7JN6CnepZPQxsOyoVE-t0F-MEMYgjNakAR3PTTyqc-pfVVM/s200/Marsha+cam+May+2010+039.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> <meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 10" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 10" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDelRay%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><o:smarttagtype name="State" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="place" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a picture of some flowers that grow in abundance outside our apartment stairs. We don’t know for sure what they are called. They look like the Bird of Paradise flowers of <st1:state><st1:place>Hawaii</st1:place></st1:state>. There are different bunches of these flowers around the apartment grounds, all a little different in color. They are always in bloom.</div><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">We had a very sick missionary this week. He had been experiencing renal colic for about a week and hadn’t called anyone. He called me last Sunday night when he realized he had gone over 24 hours with pain and without any urine production. We sent him to <st1:place><st1:placename>C&J</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Hospital</st1:placetype></st1:place>, one of the smaller hospitals we have used in the past. They didn’t have a urinary catheter (can you believe that) so they sent him on to Korle Bu, the teaching hospital. Unfortunately, this is like sending Daniel to the lions’ den. You really don’t know if Daniel is going to be alive in the morning. The missionary made it to a ward by early morning. He needed a catheter and IV fluids, both of which had to be purchased off site and brought to the ward. He needed IV medications – pain meds and a diuretic, both of which had to be purchased from the pharmacy and brought to the ward. He needed some blood tests, and, yes, you guessed it, he had to go to the lab and pay for them in advance. And, by the way, he had to have his hospital stay paid for in advance. If you can’t pay you can’t come into the hospital. He was seen by a urologist sometime in the early morning. The urologist ordered a CT scan of his abdomen. And you can guess what needed to be done. The scan had to be paid for before it could be scheduled. The contrast dye had to be purchased off site and brought to the radiology department with the patient. And, because he was a white patient with white people helping him, the cost of the CT increased from the first quote of Ghc 240 to Ghc 340. No pay, no scan. I think you can you visualize this situation. It frustrates me beyond description. This place is a conglomeration of buildings spread out over an area of about a square mile. Every time I’ve been there it has been packed with people, in the halls, lying on gurneys, lying outside on the benches, waiting in cars, standing in the streets. It is equivalent to the large teaching hospitals of the <st1:country-region><st1:place>US</st1:place></st1:country-region> but without any of the sophistication of <st1:country-region><st1:place>US</st1:place></st1:country-region> medicine. And it is all based upon a pay as you play model with bribery thrown in for good measure. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The missionary had the CT scan 48 hours after admission. It demonstrated a stone in his left ureter. The urologist, who refused to call me or even come to the ward when I was there, indicated to the missionary that surgical treatment would be needed to remove the stone. I did some quick long distance consulting with Dr. Bill Jones, a urologist from <st1:city><st1:place>Boise</st1:place></st1:city>. I started making arrangements to get this missionary to <st1:place><st1:city>Johannesburg</st1:city>, <st1:country-region>South Africa</st1:country-region></st1:place>. And then the missionary got better. He passed the stone. We paid our charges and got him out of the hospital. It was a tense 96 hours. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Before I get to <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> let me describe another “first.” We’ve seen some buzzards in the past, usually from a distance. They are much less common than the vultures that frequently fly overhead. But today, on the way up Independence Avenue Marsha and I saw two buzzards sitting together on a light post. The light post angled over the road. The birds were sitting out on the very end of the light post, watching the passing traffic, moving their heads with the passing traffic, just as you would expect buzzards to act. They were smaller than I had anticipated. But they had the buzzard pose that is often accentuated in cartoon drawings: narrow shoulders, thin, curved, neck with a small head bent forward surveying all things below. It was exciting to see them that close. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDTp-_LsqgtGai2GnVQxXZAAIHS6JvjsMJNhf1if7pkuCMGVEUrpbb3uNCDDopOCNCBngS93r-pxpM1TquuLSFREd9i8EPGjNtbXG_cD7BMDZPydW0RRk7p9lcmbHvuHrjWQZrAXx0B0/s1600/DSCN2288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDTp-_LsqgtGai2GnVQxXZAAIHS6JvjsMJNhf1if7pkuCMGVEUrpbb3uNCDDopOCNCBngS93r-pxpM1TquuLSFREd9i8EPGjNtbXG_cD7BMDZPydW0RRk7p9lcmbHvuHrjWQZrAXx0B0/s200/DSCN2288.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> <meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 10" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 10" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDelRay%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><o:smarttagtype name="State" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="PlaceType" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="place" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="country-region" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><style>
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</style>Let me describe <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place>. The guidebooks say that <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> is a tourist destination for <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The doctor that I replaced, Mark Stubbs, said that Cape Coast is “like Hawaii except for more goats and more garbage.” I would tend to agree with Mark. There are stretches of the beach with coconut palms lining the shore that look exactly like <st1:state><st1:place>Hawaii</st1:place></st1:state>. The water is even appealing with moderate rolling waves, and narrow, sandy, beaches. But on the other side of the coastal high way is poverty. It is a tourist destination if you only look to one side of your view. This next picture is what you see when you look to the side of the road opposite the coast.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsKMzypI2luq43HTcs7yY2BWuuzdTDyMYXcJ3JyzSeD3C44xGJWZ71F-z4T-kVEff4tAGufA0hynb030FLwKdq4wnQYL08vOscFNsfdSDJ0kk1fccIyqLHoIvDfaVtJNEub5zS2Dkxf6Y/s1600/DSCN2391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsKMzypI2luq43HTcs7yY2BWuuzdTDyMYXcJ3JyzSeD3C44xGJWZ71F-z4T-kVEff4tAGufA0hynb030FLwKdq4wnQYL08vOscFNsfdSDJ0kk1fccIyqLHoIvDfaVtJNEub5zS2Dkxf6Y/s200/DSCN2391.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> <meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 10" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 10" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDelRay%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><o:smarttagtype name="City" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="PlaceType" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="place" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="country-region" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><style>
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</style><st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> is actually two communities about 12 km apart: <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> and Elmina. Both are sites of castles built in the early 17<sup>th</sup> century by Europeans: the British, and the Portuguese. The Dutch built a castle in <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> during the same era. On his visit to <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> last summer President Obama visited the <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Castle</st1:placetype></st1:place>, the oldest of the three castles.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style>Let me interject one thing, here, to show how much the Ghanaians love our president. Just inside the castle wall, at the spot where the guided tours start, there is a marble plaque set into the stone wall. The plaque says “At this spot, on _________ (I don’t remember the date, sometime in July 2009) President Barack Obama unveiled this plaque.” That’s all it says. I’m not making this up. The Ghanaians all take pictures of this plaque. I didn’t take a picture of the Obama plaque. I took a picture of a plaque about 10 feet away. It has been there for many years. It seemed more appropriate. <span id="goog_617248798"></span><span id="goog_617248799"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Back to the castles. All of the castles were built originally as settlements/fortresses but they eventually evolved into prisons used for holding slaves in preparation to being shipped out to various parts of the world. The history of the slave trading is more complicated than I had always imagined, having believed all my life that the Europeans captured the slaves, brought them to the castles in chains, and then took them to overseas destinations, such as the <st1:place>West Indies</st1:place>, where the slaves labored on plantations. Contrary to this notion is the fact that most of the West African slaves were captured by their own countrymen, the dominant tribe, the Ashantes, who brought them roped together to the castles where they traded them to the European merchants for guns and alcohol. Knowing this fact does not diminish, in any way, the pox on humanity for these two hundred years of cruelty, but it does allow me to view the Europeans with less disdain: they were simply businessmen, dealing in a buy/sell market, with the unfortunate commodity being humans. One cannot walk these castles without feeling the morbid history behind the walls, in the corridors, in the dungeons, and at the large gate – the Door of No Return – where the slaves would pass through to be crowded onto the tenders and taken out to the slave ships. I will put in a few pictures here to try and convey the feeling. The first picture is the entrance to the male slave dungeon. This is where the slaves would enter to be kept in captivity until departure. The second picture is the door they would exit. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_xRebvYCC0eDY_nK7pg3wwBQiv-0ioSPSctakmmO_AbCWXmYtmyB0ww-8WsEiubTpE4AwenYF0FKovL_uALKdpRs3LAhw4uIblI1E49P1oWVqAUCl-RhVM9yllw71DTKrrKA4EYuhEg/s1600/DSCN2297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_xRebvYCC0eDY_nK7pg3wwBQiv-0ioSPSctakmmO_AbCWXmYtmyB0ww-8WsEiubTpE4AwenYF0FKovL_uALKdpRs3LAhw4uIblI1E49P1oWVqAUCl-RhVM9yllw71DTKrrKA4EYuhEg/s200/DSCN2297.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style>Marsha says I get a little carried away in my writing. She’s probably right. Let me describe the other “tourist attraction” in <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place>: the <st1:place><st1:placename>Kakum</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>National Park</st1:placetype></st1:place> and its canopy walk. I’ll do this without getting “carried away.” The park is about an hour north of <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place>. It is a true rain forest with a rope bridge canopy walk 350 meters long, suspended 40 meters above the canopy of the forest. The morning we did the walk the sun was shining and the vistas seen from the canopy walk overlooking the forest were stunning. The next two days it rained. It is a rain forest, after all. I’ll put in a few pictures here. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a picture of the Coconut Grove Resort. We did not stay here but we had dinner at the beach side restaurant. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me conclude with some comments on our driving to <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> and back. <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place> is about 120 km from <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. It took an equal amount of time to get out of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city> as it did to drive to <st1:place><st1:placetype>Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Coast</st1:placetype></st1:place>. The traffic is miserable on the west side of <st1:city><st1:place>Accra</st1:place></st1:city>. (We drove out on Friday mid day, which probably didn’t help the traffic mess any.) The road is actually pretty nice. There’s not a lot of potholes. But there is an inordinate number of speed bumps. Each community has speed bumps 20 meters apart all of the distance that the road passes through the community. And there’s a community (village or small town) every 10 – 15 km. These speed bumps are not a single speed bump. There are usually 4 – 8 speed bumps each 5 meters from the next. It makes for a lot of slow down/speed up driving. The speed bumps are to obviously slow down the traffic. There is a second deterrent to speeding. Every 10 km or so there is a bright red roadside sign that says OVERSPEEDING KILLS, (not "speeding kills", but "overspeeding kills") with a smaller sign underneath detailing the deaths: “At this site 6 people died,” or “At this site 32 people died” (I’m not making this up) and then the best one “At this site over 3 people died.” How many over three? Maybe three and a half? Occasionally there are other red signs proclaiming OVERTAKING KILLS. If the speed bumps don’t make you want to slow down I’m sure that the road signs do. Who would want to be memorialized on a road sign? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve decided that <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region> needs a catchy tourist phrase, like <st1:state><st1:place>Illinois</st1:place></st1:state>, the <st1:place><st1:placetype>Land</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Lincoln</st1:placename></st1:place>, or the <st1:country-region><st1:place>United States of America</st1:place></st1:country-region>, the Land of the Free, the Home of the Brave. Maybe they need a catchy motto, like New Hampshire, Live Free or Die. Or maybe something along the lines of Remember Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires. Here’s some suggestions: <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>, the <st1:place><st1:placetype>Land</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Speed Bumps</st1:placename></st1:place>, or <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>, the <st1:place><st1:placetype>Land</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Scary Road Signs</st1:placename></st1:place>. Or Remember Only You Can Prevent Overspeeding. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Have a good week.</div> <br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span id="goog_617248776"></span><span id="goog_617248777"></span> </div>DelRay and Marsha Maughanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292752213249884503noreply@blogger.com2