Saturday, June 19, 2010

16 June 2010







Girls in Ghana learn at an early age how to carry loads on their heads.  

ONCE IN A LIFETIME started last Friday.  Marsha and I have read about it/heard about its coming every day since we arrived in Africa.  It’s on most of the billboards in Ghana.  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. 

Thirty two teams from all over the world are in South Africa 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 South Africa.  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. 

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 Idaho 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 USAEngland match (1 to 1 draw), all of the GhanaSerbia match (1 to 0 win for Ghana) and all of the BrazilNorth Korea match (2 to 0 win for Brazil.)    

I’m trying to understand the appeal of this sport.  Everyone, I mean EVERYONE, in Africa 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. 

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. 

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. 

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)    

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. 

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 United States but the distance has not diminished my patriotism.  My red, white, and blue reservoir is overflowing.  When the USA team scored against England 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!

 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 Volta region is in the eastern part of Ghana, about four hours distance by car.  It is named for the Volta River.  In the early sixties the United States government built a hydroelectric dam on the Volta River, creating the world’s largest man made reservoir.   I have been told that the hydroelectric dam produces all of the electricity for Ghana 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 Ghana to appreciate its size.  

On Wednesday we drove to the town of Ho, the largest community in the Volta region, and then out toward the Ghana/Togo border to the village of Kpetoe Agotime.     The villages in this vicinity were settled centuries ago by the Ewe people, a minority tribe in Ghana.  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.  
 

One of the men in the group explained to us that the Ewes were the first weavers in West Africa and the Ashantis (the dominant tribe) captured some of the Ewe weavers and made the captured weavers teach the techniques to the Ashantis.  The current Kente cloth that is synonymous with Ghana is attributed to the Ashantis.   But the Ewes claim that it originated with them.


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 village of Wli Agorviefe 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.)



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.  







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.  

In a previous blog I mentioned the orphanages of Ghana.  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 Ghana?  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 Ghana.  I cannot speak accurately of this situation. 

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 Africa, 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.   


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. 

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.  





 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 Africa 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. 

I will be going to Korle Bu this week.  I’m finally licensed in Ghana.  The ENT 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. 


 


 


Saturday, June 5, 2010

3 June 2010

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.

 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.

 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.


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. 



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.

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.

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.

I must be getting desperate for ideas when the best I can do is cockroaches and the weather. What else can I report?


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.

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.


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.


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.

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.

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.

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.