I’m catching up a bit here. I’m trying to write a little each day, but it doesn’t always turn into a post.  I’m discovering how much I really like to put my thoughts and observations on “paper.”  At the very least it helps me keep the important stuff stuck in my brain.

This day was dedicated to visiting a couple of universities.  The University of Ghana, Legon was the first, where we met the dean of the business school, Professor Kwame Domfeh.  He spent quite a while with us talking about the school, its growth and diversity.  His assessment of the Ghanaian economic development resonates with a lot of other stuff I’ve been observing:  it’s slow, but coming back.  Long term bullish, but government needs to start helping, not hindering.  One of the things we discussed later in the orientation with Tralance Addy, the Executive Director of SEED, is how can we find ways of engaging the government, warts and all, and get support for kicking the economy up a few gears.  He pointed out that if we start from the point of “no one wakes up in the morning trying” to do a bad job, it opens a much more positive and productive discussion.  Maybe some good advice for U.S. politics, too.

With the Dean of Business School. Emmanuel Kitcher – Associate Director of SEED West Africa, Jim Bratnober, Corinne Augustine, Clinton Etheridge, Professor Domfeh – Dean, Robert Mayberry, Kweku Fleming

The next stop was Ashesi University.  This school is tucked up in the hills above Accra in a town called Berekusu.  It was inspiring.  Started in a tiny building in downtown Accra in 2002, its focus is on training ethical leaders for Africa’s future.  Over 95% of graduates stay on the continent.   Donations are key to keeping  scholarships going.  The donor wall has every single contributor’s name – whether they gave $10M or $10. However, they have only just admitted their first student from the local village.  The quality of education at the primary and secondary levels vary widely, and in this area there is some distance to make up.  We met the  Provost, Dr. Marcia Grant, an extraordinarily dedicated woman who has founded several tertiary schools in parts of Africa.  She invited me back to sit in and perhaps present to one of their classes later.

Photos below are courtesy of Clinton Etheridge.

Looking up at Ashesi University College Main Hall

The courtyard and Commencement amphitheatre at Ashesi

Dr. Marcia Grant, Kweku Fleming, Corinne Augustine, Jim Bratnober, Flora Ofosuhene, and Robert Mayberry at Ashesi

Then … music!  The evening “orientation” was a visit to a jazz club called +233 (Ghana country code)   The ambience was wonderful, outdoors under the stars.  The bassman was great – you could land an airplane on that 6-string fretboard.  They played everything from jazz to Congolese, high life, hip life, and many more I haven’t heard of, with a little Motown thrown in besides. The whole group was tight.  The keyboard/synth guy was fantastic.  He brought up a different parts of the horn, wind, or string sections seamlessly.  I’m getting some songs from these genres now.  They sound fun to play, so I’ll give it a shot.  Here are a few pictures and a video that doesn’t begin to do them justice.  Apologies for the audio quality here.  My little camera tried, but that was a big sound.

I will find out their name and fill it in. They are superb

Guitar and bass… smooth

To market, to market.  Last Thursday we went to two street markets:  Makola and Ablobloshi in downtown Accra.  These are market stall affairs, although a lot of folks can’t afford or don’t have seniority for a stall and line the streets with some fruit, fabric, used clothing, etc.  You can find a lot of stuff there.  I won’t say “everything,” as I would in Hong Kong or Shanghai, because a lot is just difficult to find here.  There are a lot of imports, many of them from China.  The long years of military rule and consequent plundering of businesses has really hollowed out their manufacturing sector.  They (and SEED!) are working to bring it back, but it’s slow.

True to SEED form, in addition to familiarizing us with the area, this was a working field trip.  We were given the task of interviewing 2 or 3 vendors at each of the 2 markets.  We were to engage them and ask about their business – how they started it, a day in the life, what happens to leftovers at the end of the day (for food sellers), and how they got their financing.  The last one is a doozy, and deserves a little sidebar to share some of our learning from Peace Corps training.

The extended family holds a very strong bond in Ghana and much of Africa.  “Strong bond” is a drastic understatement.  Extended family is THE support structure here.  Government is… “preoccupied,” and infrastructure is dodgy if you have any urgent needs.  This has other consequences, too..  Here, the helping hand extends to finances.  If your relative or close friend approaches you for money, you can’t refuse.  Can’t.  To do so more than a few times means that you are going to get cut out of things.

This necessary (in this culture and poverty level) and generous practice takes a particular toll on small businesses.  If a relative sees you making money, buying stuff, or even having a stall that is well-stocked with inventory and has an important need, they may well ask for a loan which probably won’t be repaid, at least not directly.  This often hits businesses just when they are starting to grow and keeps them stagnant.  Hence, folks are not only unwilling to share information, but go to great lengths to hide it even (or especially) from their loved ones.  But as regards our interviews , who in the world wants to tell a total stranger – a foreigner –  how they get their money?  This is also a serious obstacle for us as coaches to overcome.  We have a very critical need to see the REAL financial statements, etc.

Back to the market.  This place was bustling.  Foot traffic, cars, and motorcycles were all around.  The gutters are about a foot wide and 2 feet deep, so you have to nimbly hop back and forth to avoid getting creamed.  It all works quite efficiently, but I’m a long way from understanding the pattern.  As a tall man, I have a deathly fear of umbrellas.  Not of using them, but getting abused by them.  The pointy parts are all at my eye level.  Now try bobbing and weaving as 3 or 4 young ladies come at you with stacks of shirts, water sachets, eggs, you name it, all balanced on their heads.  Fortunately, they know what they’re doing, enough to make up for my clumsiness. But I fear it’s only a matter of time before I upset the applecart, so to speak.

I interviewed a shirt seller, a produce vendor, and a mother-daughter team selling herbal medicines.  Oh, and I got blown off by a couple of others.  The shirt seller was my first and I hadn’t really adapted my approach.  She was sort of willing to talk and echoed a sentiment I heard from many:  business is bad, and it’s been bad for about 5 years.  The global economic slowdown left its mark, and hasn’t yet relented for these folks.  Her shirts came from China and Italy where her sister is on the road working with suppliers.

The ladies selling food were great.  If I understood correctly, they are a team of mom and at least 2 grown daughters working the place.  In addition to produce, they had a big bowl tasty looking little blue crabs climbing over each other trying to escape.  These required a 5 AM trek to the waterfront a few miles away and back to set up and be open by 7.  At the end of the day, the leftovers went into their own cookpots or the trash.  They were very engaging and we got to joke around a bit.  I bought tomatoes and garlic which, it turns out, we already had tons of back at the apartment.  But then, you can never have too much garlic.

The herbal ladies were similarly helpful.  They had loads of stuff I didn’t recognize.  I asked what they were.  That was a futile gesture because the explanations meant nothing to me.  It appeared that herbal medicine sales are doing well.  They had to rebuild after a fire about a year ago took out all the stalls in that particular area.  They did it and are thriving.  That speaks volumes about the entrepreneurial spirit here.

We found out later that for each category of merchandise, there is a “king” or a “queen” who calls the shots for the group.  If someone is pricing too low, or moves in to the market without their say-so, they encourage them to try another approach.  Next time I’ll seek those folks out and try to get their perspectives on Ghanaian small businesses.

No pictures from this part of the trip, but clearly I’ve made up for it with my verbosity!  I will not be taking a whole lot of photos of the local folks.  Here you must ask before snapping one.  There is a great sensitivity about people exploiting poverty by photographing people in need and then making money off it in the west.  Think of how we might feel if some foreigner just started shooting pictures of us  in a market or a park with our children.

After our day of chasing immigration documents and talking to lawyers for work and residence permits, we had a great night out at Cahaya in the East Legon area near Accra.  I’ve decided to make DEET my new cologne fragrance.  The mosquitos are plentiful, and while most don’t carry malaria and I’m taking medications, they strongly advise wearing it especially evening through morning.  “No vaccination (or pill) is 100% effective,” the nurse solemnly told me.  Besides, they itch like hell.  After dousing, we went out for a great night under the stars.  Samuel, the owner, told me this is his side business.  His day job is regional sales rep for Dell.  Pretty nice side business.

The next morning, bright and early, we set off for Cape Coast.  The folks in Palo Alto had been concerned about us being out late the night before with this trip upcoming and the jam-packed schedule we have.  We thought it was so sweet that they’d be worried in this way.  But we insisted we were big boys and girls and could handle it.  Besides, we could always sleep on the 3 hour bus ride, right?

Well, there’s a reason a 90 mile trip takes 3 hours.  In this case, the road was in reasonable shape with some traffic.  The kicker was the method of flow control.  Villages line the coast road at frequent intervals.  As you enter and exit each (and random points within), they have sets of 5 huge speed bumps  (“sleeping policemen”) that will pop your teeth out.  I had chosen the seat with leg room –right over the rear axle – so dozing wasn’t in the cards.  Maybe there are things more important in life than leg room.

Gonna Take You Higher

It was an amazing trip.  The first stop was Kakum National Park in the rain forest.  The nature walk is beautiful, interesting,  and leads to the “canopy walk.”  They have a series of 8 rope bridges tied to the highest trees.  These are suspended about 40m above ground, so you truly are at the top of the rain forest canopy.  Very exhilarating.  The guide noted that it “is extremely safe.  In the eight years after construction, we haven’t lost anyone.”  I kept thinking, “yet.”

Left to right: Kweku Fleming, Clinton Etheridge, Corinne Augustine, Robert Mayberry, Guy in Dorky (But Functional) Hat, Melissa Nsiah

The bridges are anchored to common trees, zig-zagging over the canopy

Canopy walk bridge, view from down under

Foreground to rear: Kweku Fleming sprinting, Robert Mayberry, and off in the distance, Melissa Nsiah

One bridge links to another at a tree and a tiny platform. The only way down is over.

Here’s how they anchor the bridge. No sweat

This tree is about 70 years old

To my fellow ‘Lizards and fans

Cape Coast

From there, on to Cape Coast, a bustling city in the central region.  This was the terminus for our trip.

A street scene on the bridge in Cape Coast

Left to right: Kweku Fleming, me, Robert Mayberry, Melissa Nsiah, Clinton Etheridge, and Corinne Augustine

Never Again

It is the site of two major castles – Cape Coast and Elmina.  We toured the latter, which was the last place in Africa where slaves would be imprisoned before being loaded onto ships to the New World.  In the same vein as now-preserved prisons like Auschwitz, the peaceful settings, architecture and overall sights belie the absolute horror and atrocities that went on there.  The guide showed us the dungeons for male and female slaves.  A room smaller than our family room housed 150 women.  No place to take care of personal needs, except on the floor where they had to sleep.  And on and on.  From there, it only got worse on the slave ships.

I was impacted just as I was on that day years ago when we walked through a gate under the sign “Arbeit Macht Frei” (Work Makes You Free) and on to the gas chambers and ovens.  Why do we keep doing this over and over?  At the end of the Elmina tour, guests are asked to take a moment of silence which we end by saying, “Never again.”

Ato, our guide, locked us in the cells… but we knew we would get out.

Prison cells in Elmina Castle. The one on the right was for misbehaving guards. They had ventilation and meals until they slept it off. On the left was for slaves condemned to death. No food, no water, no ventilation.

Looking south over the moat to the sea

Looking north up the moat

A disconcerting, Escher-like view

The last place in Africa the slaves saw. The door is very narrow and low to discourage escape

Never again.

Well, I made it.  Touched down last Saturday evening, and pretty much breezed through.  The apartment is great, the staff is attentive to all our needs.  They make us feel like royalty, even though we really haven’t done anything towards the mission yet – unless you count training and getting here in one piece.  The Ghanaians are a very polite, welcoming people.  After all they’ve been through over the years of colonialization, slave trade, dictatorship and resultant poverty, they are more charitable than I could ever be.

No matter how many times I do it, going through customs always gives me the heebie jeebies.  I don’t do anything illegal (I think).  But sometimes, I’m  just not sure.  The guy started asking a bunch of questions.  Nothing to really get alarmed about, but quite a few, whilst staring at the 4 huge suitcases and backpack bulging at the seams.  I told him I am working with Stanford SEED, coaching companies to transform and grow.  He immediately smiled and proudly said, “I have a business!”  He’s the owner of Tasty Catering, and wanted to know how to get into the program.  Ice broken.   I now have a friend in the Customs and Immigration Department.

Most of the people have two or more businesses.  The entrepreneurial spirit is very strong throughout Ghana.  For example, Melissa, who’s been guiding us, or more accurately, wrangling this 10-legged critter around West Africa, has a couple:  Managing Director of a family run hotel, co-owner of Valley Fresh water company, and her work with SEED.  These are all very hands-on enterprises.  Being the person at the top generally means continual training and reinforcement of some basic work procedures all the way up and down the organization.

I’ve got just a couple of pictures of the apartment for this post.  There will be more as I get caught up.  The first few days were focused on getting settled, finding proper stores, the mall, and getting the proper documents in order.  The trip to FIMS, the Foreigner Identification Management System, was such a pleasant field trip for the team.  This was where we got our foreign identity cards.  Think DMV with a lot more smiling and courtesy.  They are big on fingerprint scans here, just like at the airport.  All ten fingers, and a bonus index finger scan for kicks.  My favorite was labeled “Living Detector.”  The lights turned green for me, and since I got out of there with my card, I must be living!

What I saw when I walked in. Except the laptops, which had to go up first. Priorities, you know.

Nice bed, spacious living area. Blank walls. I’ll get right on that.

The bathroom. You can pretty much guess what’s inside. That’s me behind the flash in the mirror.

My bags are packed, I’m ready to go.

Not so sure about ready, but primed.  Much of my time has been oriented towards being ready for what’s in front of me.  The most straightforward part is the packing.  “Straightforward” is not the same as “simple,” however.  Friends and family know me as an anal retentive traveler.  The prospect of 9 months away from my big pile of stuff gets me just a wee bit antsy.

I did a lot of business travel in my career, but those were 1-2 week stints.  If I didn’t have it, I’d only be uncomfortable for a fortnight.  Backpack, roller bag, passport, and we’re off.  I’ve never packed this much in my life.  The guidance was “stuff you need, but probably can’t get in Ghana.”  OK.  At 56 you need more (and less) stuff than at 26.  I also didn’t play music then.  Some will argue that this is still true.  One year+ of retirement got me going on lots of different instruments.

Linda  rolls her eyes at the inventory:  disassembled bass (cheap), midi things, cables, speakers, harmonicas and kazoo.  Still undecided about the jaw harp.  Oh, and the gargantuan laptop to make it all work.  She’s right.  I have lost my mind.

“Matlock” was a very popular TV show in the 90’s starring Andy Griffith.  I rarely watched it so that’s why, when I heard about the “Matlock Effect,” it stuck with me.  The syndrome is as follows:  you watch the show maybe once a year.  Then EVERY time you watch it (i.e. the next year) it’s ALWAYS the same episode.

I left my appendix in Maryland during Thanksgiving 2011.  Not as romantic as Tony Bennett crooning about San Francisco, but dramatic nonetheless.  After all the kerfuffle my thought was, “well, I don’t have to worry about that useless thing anymore.”  Then I watched Dr. Oz today – the first time in about a year.  He’s doing a thing on appendices and how they are actually very important, saving up good bacteria for times when, say, eating a diet of foreign foods wipes out the other good stuff in your gut.  Hmm…timing is everything.  I hop on the plane this Friday.