The Lost Earring

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.)

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 Ghana where the Volta River 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 Volta River.  

Note the earrings

When your driveway is a river

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. 

The dam is an earth/rock/concrete dam similar to the dam at Lucky Peak Reservoir.

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.  

Tafi Atome is the location of a government protected monkey preserve.  The Ghana guide book calls it a monkey sanctuary.  There are four bands of mona (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.)  

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.  

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.     

Note the missing earring

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 Wli Falls and hiked into the falls.  (I have described the falls before.  See the blog entry dated 19 June 2010.)  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 Ghana 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.

We returned to Accra 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.

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 Accra 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. 

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 Ghana.   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 America, 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. 

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.

Mercy three weeks ago

I also described how tomato plant #3, Charity (dried seed from a Ghana tomato) had fewer blossoms but early fruit.

Charity three weeks ago

Justice was replaced with Hope from the dried seed of a Ghana tomato.  

Here is a current picture of Hope.  

Hope

There are three blossoms that opened this week.  We have performed our manual pollination ritual for these blossoms “hoping” for a bounteous harvest.

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 Ghana.  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. 

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.  

Mercy today

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. 

Hope

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. 

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. 

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.  

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. 

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 Ghana 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 . . . . . .

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.

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 Ghana 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 Ghana.  But who’s counting?

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.

And here is a photo of my thermometer in action this past week.

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. 

Here are some closing photos of the beautiful children of Ghana.  There is no need for a government campaign promoting beautiful children in this country.  They are all beautiful. 

Students at Tafi Atome