Slowing down=not checking email...

Has it been 10 days already!? In fact, this is a good sign.

So I'm back in Pokuase, having taken a gyil (xylophone) lesson and tried my unshakeable a-- at west African dance last Wednesday; visited the Thursday bead market in Kofuridua (a name I cannot pronounce for the life of me), and being "kidnapped" by Reverend Freeman Okupe who preyed on my small bladder, and tempted me with a clean bathroom. He then led me through the gigantic, maze-like food market, reminiscent of a souk, introducing me to half of his family members who were merchants there; took me in a shared taxi to a funeral in the next town, where I met the chief and had to shake hands with all the elders sitting in the front rows; and finally took me to his church where we jumped the line to see his bishop, who pronounced an energetic blessing on me and my journey. Rev. Freeman then put me on a tro-tro to Bonsu, where I almost had to sit in front of a large basket of dried fish, which he and the driver and three other men spent 15 minutes tying and squishing into the back of the van.



And I arrived (after a few more adventures that I won't bore you) at the Bunso Arboretum, to be told by Charles, one of the tour guides, or should I say, the tour guide for the day, that I should wait till the next day for a private tour, and stay at their guesthouse instead. I was thrilled, because I had wanted to but just couldn't get through on the phone. But when we got to the top of the hill, we (me and the very helpful security guard Isaac) were told by the caretaker that "everything's been taken away". Whatever that meant. It was the end of a long day, and I was mad.

As I was debating whether to skip this arboretum (did I mention it's 4:30 p.m. by now?) and head straight to Kumasi to see Ben, Liesel, from Canberra, Australia, who's been travelling for the past 5 weeks--showed up. After much deliberation and phone calls to guesthouses, we ended up at the caretaker's village, which, lo and behold, was the location of Cocoa Research Center, an attempt at eco-tourism that was only partly funded, and hence, in spite of the electric sockets and compact fluorescent lightbulbs, we relied on kerosene lamps. But we did happen to run into Ama, who lives now in Kentucky with her husband, but who has returned this summer, bringing her teenage daughter for the first time. Ama and her husband had built a primary school there. She and Liesel started to talk about tennis with great passion. They exchanged phone numbers and I believe they will be attending the Australian Open together next year.

Liesel and the myriad mysterious mosquito-like bites


Um, all this was on Thursday...and I haven't even mentioned the dinner--which for $1 GHC, was probably the best I've had.

Did see the arboretum on Friday, disappointed that they didn't really have a butterfly sanctuary. Then it was off to big city Kumasi to see Ben!

(Preview: Friday-Tuesday. Ben-yippee! Kumasi-cloth shopping. Tailoring. Met probably the only female bike mechanic in Ghana! Otherwise, a "normal" life where Ben ran around with his yellow bag, and passed out at the end of the night. Except we now take malaria pills and often applied DEET together. Romance restored!)

A xylophone (gyil) lesson

I now remember why I decided I can't keep journals. One is always behind! So many observations and thoughts, so little time. But no matter-this is not a journal, right?

Today, I took a xylophone (gyil) lesson from master Bernard Woma, who runs the Dagara Music Center. He told me today that he showed the two little Obama girls how to play drums etc when their parents were out on business during their recent visit to Accra. Two degrees of separation. Thank you very much.

(Lecture mode). The gyil is a 14-key instrument that uses a pentatonic scale. I love how the key combinations are referred to: an octave is brother & sister; "fourths" as uncle; "thirds" as nieces; and neighboring keys as friends. Go read the rest on Wikipedia.

Of course, I was only able to do simple rhythms, but it was a glaring reminder of how much my mind wanders. Of course the moment it does, I lose track of either the key or the beat. It's the odd combination of getting your body to feel the music and become rhythmic, while at the same time maintaining enough attention and thinking far enough ahead to not miss the key and know what one's supposed to do. I guess I just haven't built up enough muscle memory in the short hour. (But I did earn my blisters). Plus, he is very good and I just want to listen to and watch him play.

But people, I have a video of the two of us playing together. Given the internet speeds here, it will have to wait till I return to Boston. And I hope to take another lesson next week when I come back. I can definitely get addicted.

I then stayed around and met this beautiful young woman who has been dancing for the past 14 years, and was the instructor of the African dance workshop later in the afternoon. I couldn't stay away and joined in the group of college students from West Virginia U. You can imagine how we looked, especially to the villagers who gathered to watch. Certainly a good way to work off the banku and fufu!

Day 2.5 --What time is it and why should I care?

I'm in Pokuase, about an hour north of Accra. They are expanding the highway to Kumasi, which means the majority of the road from Accra to here is dirt roads with serious potholes the size of pigs.

Here to conduct workshops on the nature of science for elementary school teachers. And hopefully get a few of them to agree to run Science Clubs as an after school program. Will also make connections at the University of Ghana to see if we can get some faculty and students to help us in the future.

Was planning on staying here 2 days, may be longer.

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Books started: 3
Books finished:0
Rishi Reddi's Karma and other short stories
Luscious characters who's skin you can crawl under (and a few who make your skin crawl). Reddi can access the main chracters' emotional depths through a short turn of phrase here, a pause in thought there. The stories are like very good chocolates. You really want to devour the whole box in one go, but at the same time want to savour each one and make the experience last forever. Good thing is that short stories, unlike their cocoa delicacies, can in fact be experienced again. I'm definitely bringing this one back with me.

Gregg Easterbrook's Paradox of Progress. I'm glad I picked this off the street. Need I say more? Well, I mean I agree with him that it's an annoying fact of human nature and modern life that we are not more appreciative of what we truly have, since as he argues, when compared to 2-3 generations ago, the trendline on almost all counts from stuff to health outcomes to have been positive. And though he seems a bit out of touch, he does spend a chapter on those in poverty. On the other hand, I'm 3/4 of the way through and still waiting for something insightful, waiting for his lecturing to end. (not that I don't agree that being more thankful and forgiving would increase one's perception of happiness). His factoids are useful, but even I'm not convinced...This book makes me realize that I can be a journalist--have a pet theory, find a few factoids or research papers to prove your point, make a recommendation (and some bucks) and walk away. (Seriously, I really only have respect for investigative journalists).

Larry Rosenberg's Breath by Breath. My x attempt or, continued quest (to put it in a Buddhist, non-judgmental way) at understanding and practicing meditation to calm my mind, and to learn to be and be aware. So far so good. Always good to be reminded that it's not always about getting there. Which is how I want this trip to be. I have a guidebook, but I need not visit every place, need not, as Gregg Easterbrook suggests, have the Anxiety of Choice. Yes, I am well aware that picking which resort to visit, whether I should switch from visiting the coast to the lake, are luxurious choices that are highly incongruent with what I'm actually seeing. (I did stay in a crummy hotel when I was in Accra, though they did very kindly send a staff to pick me up at the airport. I truly loved taking the tro-tros. Kind of like the minivans in Hong Kong, except they stop anywhere along the way to pick up passengers and the doors are usually precarious. But they drive just as fast...But if you know me, you know I love taking public transportation of all sorts. I just read about some retired englishman who is trying to set a record in riding different types of transports--including wheelchairs and fire lifts. That's clearly not for me.

(Oh. For those who can't live without an answer--the only reason I need to know that time is that I need to take my malaria pills daily. I'm not on a schedule...until I need to catch my first long distance bus!)

24 hours before take-off

Wow. By this time tomorrow night, I will be on a plane to London. Thank goodness for frequent flier miles and, my procrastination which forced me to fly business class. Yes, poor me! But hey, this is my FIRST time flying business class. Ever. Too bad I'm not a drinker. But I'm certainly looking forward to the comfy sleeping arrangement!

I was all stressed out about having to finish grants and what not before I go, but since I have a 5 hour lay-over in London prior to my seven-hour flight to Accra, well, I, um, will be working. I cannot be expected to go cold turkey, can I??