And thanks for all the fish

First off, happy belated Fourth of July to my American readership!

There hasn't been too much to report in the past week, as we've pretty much just been conducting expert interviews at various Ministries and Departments around Accra, a process which itself is quite interesting and exciting. Contrary to a lot of stereotypes about African bureaucrats sitting around and doing nothing, the Ghanaian civil service seems genuinely busy (and fairly productive) most of the time. There also seems to be a bit more activity with Barack Obama's visit coming up this week. It's kind of insane over here: there are "Welcome Home" billboards for Obama all over Accra--really, all over Ghana, I'm sure--and he's only going to be here for a day and a half! A brief stop for him, but a giant welcoming party for Ghana. Should be interesting.

This past weekend was spent sitting at Kokrobite Beach, a lovely oasis about 30km southwest of Accra, reading Chinua Achebe's No Longer at Ease and "warding off malaria" with gin and tonics (actual quinine tonic, too). A bunch of us stayed at the interestingly named "Big Milly's Backyard", basically a sandy beach resort owned by an English-Ghanaian couple. Turns out Milly wasn't really that big, and we weren't sure if that were her name. I have mixed feelings about these kinds of resorts, especially since I don't particularly like going to places that are teeming with ex-pats, but Big Milly's didn't turn out to be too bad, and the sea breeze (and the smell of it in our bungalow) was certainly worth it.

Saturday night saw us reggaeing-it up with the ex-pats and a bunch of local Rastafarians. It was ... strange, to say the least. The band basically put a reggae rhythm on basically whatever they could cover, whether it be Enrique Iglesias, Paul Simon or even Lynyrd Skynrd's Sweet Home Alabama. Must say that the dancing was a bit odd, but the local children seemed to like our foreign gyrations. And by "like" I mean they were probably afraid of us.

We all went to bed around midnight, but the music lasted until 3am. So basically, we all went to sleep at 3am. Nonetheless, we were up by 6am to try and catch the fishermen as they were launching the boats. Despite the fact that it was Sunday, there were definitely at least a half dozen boats out there, and we caught one as it was being launched. Turns out launching a fishing boat is quite the complex maneuver: there were at least 12 guys pushing this boat on a system of rolling logs and plywood rails that would shift as soon as the rails ran out. Push the boat forward, let it slightly tip over the fulcrum of the log, plant the rear boards up front, position another log up front, push forward, tip over new fulcrum, move rear boards forward, position rear log back up front. And repeat.

Before this whole process started, the fishermen all gathered around their boat, took off their hats and joined in prayer. It was quite a moving, eerily calm sight. And I soon realized why they did that as soon as the boat got into the water. As George from Seinfeld would say:

"The sea was angry that day my friends. Like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli."

The water off Ghana's coast is deceptively treacherous, well known for its rip current. The waves weren't too sizeable, but the rowers and the tiller (who was standing up!) fought like mad to keep the boat from capsizing. I'm not really sure what would happen if someone went overboard. I guess it was a good call not to take up their invitations to join them.

Rest of the morning was spent reading No Longer at Ease. I find it a really engaging read so far, particularly for its depiction of the moral dilemmas faced by educated civil servants torn between their government duties and the pressure of loyalty to one's town and people, the very ones who funded their education. Perhaps there will be a book review in the near future.

After finishing a few chapters, I decided to help the fishermen bring in their nets on the beach. Sadly, there are no photos of me doing this (I couldn't bring the camera because the beach is notorious for muggings), but the people were quite intrigued by my presence and offer to help. Reeling in the nets is a strenuous activity (shoulders still a bit sore; these nets are also battling the rip tide), but everyone takes part: the women, children of various ages and the fishermen themselves. There were at least 25 people reeling in the net I was at. To me, it seemed like a whole lot of effort and not a lot of fish. But the fisherman behind me assured me that it was a good catch (not sure if he was just trying to impress a foreigner). Guess I have a bit to learn about fishing in West Africa. As I left, he asked if I knew Obama. I try to keep those connections on the downlow.