The small random things

It is the small random things that catch me by surprise.

I was down the way, helping Gershon water his tomato plants one afternoon. I thank him dearly for his patience, but for all of his instruction, I never quite mastered ‘even distribution of water from a bucket.’ I can effectively pummel four or five plants per throw. (They droop under the pressure. Gershon now waters in the morning.) After about an hour with the bucket, he borrowed the hose from a neighbor. I had been watering a nice (gentle) spray over all of the tomatoes when I saw a kid on the path with a remote control car. A commercial gas truck, actually. I thought of my yellow truck at home, with the big fat tires. Even it would have some problems conquering the terrain. I watched this toy in awe--It was the most responsive car I’ve ever seen. The kid was directing his remote like a steering wheel, working the antenna in the direction he wanted the car to go. It was so tight and exact. I hadn’t seen any remote control cars in Ghana, much less here in Woe. Batteries are expensive. The sand and dirt would fill the gear work. I stood there with my hose watering, curious and amazed, wanting a car for myself, watching him play. I have been open and ready for everything here: Ghanaian time (which, for the record, puts Puerto Rican time to shame), speaking Ewe, thatched roofs, chickens, akple and kenkey. And I realize mid-fascination: the remote wasn’t really metallic, shinny, or straight.

The gas truck--the most responsive remote control car ever--was a shaped aluminum tethered to a stick. Welcome to Brie’s culture shock.


A few thoughts for the record:

If I had a dollar for every time someone has proposed to me, I would have seven dollars.

Sweeping sand, although tedious, is actually a worthwhile chore.

If you scare a frog while walking to the bathroom, despite the many attempts by the frog, it will not be able to jump ‘through’ the fence.

Never underestimate the joy and convenience of perforated toilet paper.

If you are afraid of bugs: Why Ghana?

When being introduced to a group of children, I am always surprised at who I’ll meet. Last Tuesday: Etso, Etse, Mode, Kofi, Besa, Doris and Fred.

The Yevu-Recognition Phenomena: I am convinced the critical distance for Yevu recognition is somewhere around a ½ mile. That is the point at which a child can identify a yevu, yell “yevu yevu” repeatedly to get their attention, fail to see the waves of response, and continue, with even more energy and determination, their calls for being noticed. A “yevu, yevu” will escalate, moving from a simple yell and wave to a full arm sweep, jumping up and down, and/or running back and forth in the sand. Note: If the children would just run forward, they would move within the critical recognition distance and see the responding waves, saving quite a bit of time, energy, and possible frustration.

Humidity can, and will, seal an unused envelope. (Huh. Who knew?) :)


Today, riding the tro-tro was like being on a ride at Disneyland.

Jessica and I were heading back from Keta. We were ushered into our vehicle (not “Ratty”, “Mr. Toad”, or “Weasel”, but “God Saves”. Yes, “God Saves”. I guess some of these tro-tros need all the help they can get) by a lovely attendant (the mate who sits by the door and collects money). There was theme music playing (Celine Dion, of course. Tro-tro music is Celine, Peter Gabriel, or Christian rock. I would say the music was “blasting” except that the bass speaker was blown so it was the high shrill hiss of the treble piercing our ears). Wilson, the mate, welcomed us aboard, and we started on our journey. We passed the Keta market (nice and slow, so as not to miss the waves and nods from the merchants) and turned towards the main road. There were a few bumps in the road (magnified of course by the ’fantastic’ shocks of the tro-tro) starting the initial buildup of the ride. Characters were introduced (we picked up about 8 other passengers). Friendly animals sang along the roadside (goats, goats, goats) There was conflict (the mate didn’t have enough change), and a villain (we stopped for change, and the man helping us, evidently a friend of the mate, pulled him out of the tro-tro as we were leaving, wrestling the him to the ground, laughing. It was only after the driver took off after him with a switch that he let go and ran.) Lots of bumps and jolts (lots of bumps and jolts). High speed turns (in the middle of Woe, the road bends sharply and curves back again--it’s pretty tight, there are lots of people, and in a tro-tro going 70mph, it counts as an adrenaline rush). And the gradual slowing with a jolted stop (this translates to: Brie was glad the ride was over. --She had contemplated the consequences of puking out the window, if she could get it open, puking in the tro-tro, or trying to convey the immediate need to pull over to the driver: right hand over mouth, left hand in the air?-- Brie was glad the ride was over. She sat in the sand for a while, breathing deeply, fighting the nausea. Brie was thankful it was cool and there was a breeze.) Not quite the “wildest ride in the wilderness”, but it was close.