Our team of 5 coaches is split across a pair of 3-bedroom apartments.  Think:  dorms.  I guess that’s apropos, given that we’re working on behalf of Stanford University.  It is a bit … interesting to have a group of 50- and 60-somethings in this sort of living situation.  To their credit, Stanford is working hard to improve things in this regard.  Parts of it do work quite well. In particular, we’ve gotten a bit creative with the food situation.  We have pooled our per diems and hired an excellent chef.  Dinners are wonderful, and we don’t have to do the dishes!  Most important, we get to “talk shop” every night for a couple of hours and help each other address the issues facing our cohort companies.  That is priceless.

Of course, someone has to do the shopping.  Each fortnight, the job of planning meals and shopping passes to a different coach.  My turn comes up Sunday, so I started the transition from the last coach.  Prices in retail shops are high and it’s difficult to stretch the cedis.  The open markets here are another story, however.  These are bustling affairs with all kinds of goods laid out – scrap metal to garlic, used shoes to snails.  I love these places.  When I’d hit a new town in Asia, I would always try to go to the market.  These are the best spots to get the feel of the city.  Vendors are always friendly as they call you over to look at their wares.  The bartering between locals is as enlightening as it is entertaining – although I never have a clue what they are saying.  Tony, our main driver, and our great chef Mark offered to help us in our shopping spree.  So two locals with two obronis in tow, we set out for Agbogbloshi Market to get some good deals on produce.

Foreigners in Ghana (particularly white people) are generally thought to be rich.  As is the case in most countries where bartering is prevalent, outlanders are generally charged higher prices.  You can negotiate to improve it, but the “floor” is always higher than for the locals.  Being very clever folks, we decided to let Mark do the negotiating.  Unfortunately, he had these clueless expats drafting behind, which made his job harder.  Once we figured this out, we tried to drift away and act nonchalant.  Too late.  He was “made,” and the word went out up and down the stalls.

Buying gari (cassava flour). Sala is the woman on the right, carrying our produce. It was only half full at this time. She…was…amazing

All shapes and sizes. Pineapples here are goooood!

Let’s put this in perspective.  We got a huge load of fruits of vegetables for a fraction of what one would pay at Whole Foods or even Costco.  In the thrill of negotiation, sometimes it’s easy to forget who you are and where you are.  Relatively speaking, we are very rich.  Wringing every last pesewa out of the deal might do wonders for your competitive instincts, but maybe it costs you in other ways.

Fish market at Tema next weekend.  Piles of dead fish on the shore.  Shorter shelf life, more aroma, better stealth.  This is gonna be good!

This gentleman wore a smock that said “Market Leader,” and took great pleasure in whacking all the tro-tros (minivan buses) with a switch and a nightstick. He wanted to make sure we were there to buy, not gawk. After we resolved it, he indicated that we should pay him (for something, I suppose). I gave him my change. He forcefully indicated that it wasn’t enough. I gave him more. Did I mention he had a nightstick?

…the bicyclist passing me said as I walked home from the neaby mini-mart.  Startled, I stammered out “fine” to this stranger’s receding back.  “Obroni” is the Twi word for “white man” or “foreigner.”  It’s not really about color though.  Many of the folks returning home from a life in America are obroni – at least for a while.  Sometimes it’s part of a greeting – not like “étranger” in France or “gaijin” in Japan.  Needless to say, I stand out here just as I did in Japan.  In France it was only slightly less obvious, but as soon as I’d open my mouth, the game was up.

Friendliness is rampant in Accra. Walking to lunch or home from work, strangers often greet each other in passing.  I like this.  I’m still working on “hello” in the local language.  My Twi consists of about 5 expressions, and folks patiently teach me new ones.  I always try to learn how to say “thank you” in the local language when traveling.  It helps break down barriers, often because it is unexpected. The “howdy thing,” my kids call it, cringing.  I’m still mastering “Thank y’all” from the American Deep South.

There is a clever thing folks do when shaking hands.  As your hands slide away after the shake, you catch the tips of each others’ middle fingers and do a finger snap against your thumbs.  The description sounds complex, but it’s really straightforward and sounds cool when it works.  It does take a bit of practice, however.  My hit rate is only about 50%.  We were informed that when someone slides their hand away slowly, they aren’t being weird.  They’re just trying to see about doing the “snap!”  Yet another one of those nice, laid back Ghanaian things.

We come into this world as we leave it:  alone.  Along the way we make friends, we love, we give, and we get. Over here, with so many people, I can’t say I’m alone.  I’ve made new friends, I’m trying to give, and I’ve been welcomed like never before.

But the other half of my heart, the part I can’t live without, is 7000 miles away. She’s patiently waiting for my return, taking on all the handyman stuff I did and more.  She supported me in starting this crazy adventure.  Now she lifts me up from afar when I need it.  She is my heroine.

We’ve never been apart this long.  Even with all my HP globetrotting,  since I met Linda at the start of my junior year in college, the longest we’ve been apart in 36 years, 5 months:  2 weeks.

I love you my darling.  Happy Valentine’s Day.

…goes flowing like a river

…is money

…passes

…’s a’wastin’

One thing is sure:  it means something different to each of us. Most cultures have their own ways of using it, valuing it, or respecting it.  In America, we’re punctual but often “stylishly late.”   And the waiter better be there with our glass of water before our butts hit the chair.  In Japan, I’d arrive 5 minutes early and apologize for being late.  Mexicans have manaña.  For Ghanaians, it flows.  Tomorrow will come.

I’m sitting in a café a little ways from the SEED center.  My colleague and I thought we’d get some take out for lunch.  Something different from the expat-favored Deli France – which is a great place to get some good, familiar fare, but the only thing local is the staff.  I’ve long since sent her back to the center where she had to catch a one o’clock meeting, promising I’d bring back the take out.  When we ordered, I knew it was futile to explain that we really needed the food quickly because we had meetings.  But I had to try.  45 minutes later, it looks like something might be happening…

Many Ghanaians get frustrated by this too.  The man across the restaurant has long since finished his grilled fish (he came in well after me, but okay) and is now on his cell phone arguing with a business associate about how unacceptable it is that he’s late for the meeting.  I’ve overheard quite a few boss/employee or client/supplier conversations that were similarly heated.  So it varies, but the needle is more towards the “it’ll happen when it happens” end.

I related this aspect to a very close relative of mine – how we’d been trained that it’s not uncommon for your contact to be over an hour late.  That you’d call to check and they’d say they were almost there and traffic was bad – but they hadn’t yet left the house.  She informed me very matter-of-factly that I should get them to change because it was an impediment to business.  Maybe so, but that’s a tall order for just me.

I’m not sure there is a “best” way.  I’m learning more about this way every day.  The idea of flow is very compelling to me.  We wrote down our personal and professional objectives during one of our training sessions.  The top of my list was “learn patience.”  It’ll be a stretch. My Ghanaian friends laugh and tell me I’ve come to the right place.  Linda, you’ve never made me late once in 36 years, yet you put up with my pacing around before an outing.  Maybe I’ll fret a bit less.  And kids, you can stop smirking right now.

I sure am hungry.

We had a fun-filled, action-packed time last week.  The cohort of companies from the first round of SEED descended upon the center for an immersion session.  This is about 5 days of non-stop education by visiting Stanford professors.  It was a great opportunity for me to meet the folks we’ll be coaching for the next few months.  Most encouraging was discovering that, for the most part, I still got my chops.  A year and a half out to pasture didn’t rust them beyond recognition.  I’m back – or well on the way there.

Coaches, staff, and the entire SEED cohort in front of the Stanford SEED Center

We held several breakout sessions that were facilitated by the coaches.  These involved taking the topics presented and applying them in the real world situations that these CEOs face.  For example, after parts of the marketing presentation given by Sidhar Narayanan, we worked through the 4 P’s and came up with statements for each and an overall marketing strategy for a particular company.  It gave these leaders an opportunity to spend some time away from the office to focus on these absolutely critical items, which are never urgent enough to usurp the crisis of the day.  I benefited by getting some refreshers and practice.

I rediscovered the joy of leading a productive group session.  Bringing total strangers together and working a big problem to a sound solution is very energizing.  I’m still learning to bridge the cultural gap, but once we got the group rolling, it was less like pulling teeth and more like coaxing a river to flow around or over the big rocks.

A perk I didn’t anticipate:  as a SEED coach, I get intensive sessions with these great Stanford GSB professors without having to pay tuition!  And they are gifted.  Both Sidhar and Jesper Sørensen were excellent.  Jesper taught strategy and organizational design in a very engaging interactive set of sessions.  During my stay, I’ll get the benefit of 3 more intensive sessions spaced out every 2 months.

Professor Jesper Sorensen and the SEED cohort working through Strategy and Organizational Design

Professor Sidhar Narayanan lecturing to the SEED cohort on Marketing strategy

Then … PARTY!  As this was the last of the set of 4 sessions for the first cohort, Stanford put on a Commencement celebration:  red carpet, photographers, press event, music, dinner, the whole shebang.  They really did it well – a great way to end a week of hard work.  Then I got my first weekend off in 3 weeks.  It’s all been an exciting, enjoyable blur, but the down time was needed for recharging.  We’ll decide our company matchups this week.  Then the fun really begins.

Tralance Addy, Emmanuel Kitcher, Housessories CEO Nwamaka Okoye and CMO Nkemjika Nwobi presentation of plaque

My dinner companions: Graco Engineering CEO Nii-Oblitey Commey, his wife and father

My first African shirt, in the SEED pattern. The color? Why Cardinal of course!

In Boise, it’s around 30 degrees F, relative humidity averaging between 40 and 60 percent (when it’s not snowing).  In Accra, it’s 90 degrees F, RH between 50 and 80 percent.  My body got acclimated to the Boise cold, and now here I am.  Personal moisture is my constant companion.  The good news is that this isn’t the hot season.  That really hits in March.

As part of this journey, I’m trying to be a little better to my body.  So every morning (almost.  Let’s not get carried away) I douse myself in DEET and head to the little gym on the roof.  Twenty minutes of good treadmill aerobics  then on to the universal machine.  The DEET’s pretty much washed away halfway through.  Fortunately, by that time I’m so gross that the mosquitos won’t come near me.  While the jury is still out on cardio and physique benefits, I can proudly say that I start to sweat quicker and much, much more.

My mornings on the roof are really nice, though.  Just me and the crows and the construction workers on the high rise going in next door.  Here’s a little video tour around my parapet.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGy9CYq6_Bc

Sorry about all the misfires on this.  I’m trying to find a way for you to watch the video and be able to use the full screen button.  YouTube to the rescue!

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.