Amble on dude!

Hmmmmm -- don't mind the weather here

It was April last year when I dragged my weary butt off the that flying sausage they call a plane and gleefully reunited with family and friends in Canada. In short order I was enjoying my cozy home and busy with a new job and life. I had successfully unplugged from the messy business of supporting emergency medical intervention with MSF in Africa and found my way back into the Corporate world in the beautiful city of Victoria. Yehaa!!! sort of - more on that later.

I was offered a position working with Amazon and hastily threw in my hat honored to be given the opportunity to work with such an amazing organization. While I had (and generally have) taken issue with the ills of rampant consumerism, there is a social benefit argument that becomes crystal clear when you see the look of gratitude on the face of a single Mother when the Pampers show up the next morning saving her from a trip to Walmart with a sick baby in tow. I get that.

It was also an opportunity to work with some exceptionally talented and dedicated people. Long days and nights threatened to capsize our efforts though the team remained resilient and rose to every challenge presented. I wish the ops team continued success and again thank them for the honor of allowing me to lead that exceptionally talented and dedicated team.



At the same time I had the opportunity to spend a bunch of time with my father. We learned that his time would be coming to an end shortly and set about making the most of the time remaining. What followed was lots of meaningful and at times deeply sad conversations. More often though, we shared numerous belly laughs usually at his expense. It was a day to day kind of thing and he joked about his reluctance to buy green bananas gven the somewhat tenuous hold he had on the days ahead.

Early in life I figured out how to make my Dad laugh and remember one night shortly before his death, making him laugh so hard one I thought it would end him. That would have been unfortunate, and Mom mad -- but what a way to go hey? Laughing to the end. He survived the joke - but just barely. 😊

There is that age old adage or perhaps custom of "paying respect" and I saw that up close as folks travelled from far and wide to do so and talk about how he touched their lives. My Father was the antithesis of a boastful man -- meaning that I got to finally hear the stories about his integrity, honestly and many accomplishments. At the celebration of life, his long time friend also named John talked about his work and put it succcinctly. He was the only guy in the boardroom who would say out loud "what the fuck are you guys thinking!"

Yup that was my Dad. But so too was he that man that loved my mother madly for 54 years. It was a love for the ages inspiring in it's conviction and heart warming in it's tenderness. What a lovely life he lived. Should I become half the man my father was, I'll be satisfied that my own life has been well lived. From the first time read this poem below - I knew it would be the words I would recall as he passed;

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, 
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, 
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum 
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. 

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead 
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, 
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, 
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. 

He was my North, my South, my East and West, 
My working week and my Sunday rest, 
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; 
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. 

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; 
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; 
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; 
For nothing now can ever come to any good. 

W H Auden

As 2019 came to a close, "Content in Canada" would hardly describe my reality. Reuniting with friends and family was wonderful and despite the 180 KGs of stuff I brought back from Africa, I somehow left half my soul in Africa and now thought it best that I go back and retrieve it. I was restless.

WE charity asked me if I would like to join their team working in Kenya and I quickly accepted. My new role will be in operations and leadership in the realm of development work. Very close to my heart indeed!. I intend to share my thoughts on this in the blogs ahead so if interested I'd be honored if you were to follow along.





So with that decided, I tidied up the house splashing a bit of paint around and wiped the counters. My new friend Chris rented the house and I hope he and the girls enjoy as much as I have over the last year.

Pictured along side is my new accomodations where I'll spend about half my time. It's within the park so surrounded by the best of Africa. More on this later, but I definately don't mind the weather here!!!!

Returning to my tent after work this week, that's the Massai Mara sprawling deliciously into the distance

Thanks for reading......Layno!!!

The Final Amble

It's not my bike????

 

The most northern point of Lake Victoria and the beginning of the Nile

Note the Jacaranda planted as a farewell

That little island at the tail end of lake Victoria above marks the official beginning of the Mighty Nile river. I happened to be in Jinja Uganda last month gazing upon yet another breath-takingly spectacular African view. I found myself once again sincerely grateful for being given the opportunity in life to see so many cool things including this mighty river at it's headwaters in Uganda, the mouth in Egypt and few places in between. I also counted my blessings for being given the opportunity to work with MSF for the past four years -- an organization that indeed is making a difference in the lives of so many. It also marks the time where I must part with the team I have worked closely with over the past years and learned so much. Together - we accomplished a great deal of which we are justifiably proud.

The story of  "It's not my bike"  came early in my African ambling adventure. A small lad of 5 or 6 years of age came into my yard after leaning his bike against the gate. He walked in and we  chatted about this and that for a bit until he decided it was time to go on to something more interesting than talking with this Mzee (old guy). And as he left, we had - what I think is the funniest exchange.

"Don't forget your bike" I said as he started to walk away without it ...

"Oh -- It's not my bike" said the boy"

"Yes" I said - "but you brought it here so you should take it away"

"I told you" said the boy again - more emphatically "it's not my bike!!"

"I understand that" I said again patiently " but you brought it so please take it with you"

He looked at me puzzled "Mister -- don't you get it -- it's not my Bike!!" and he stomped off shaking his head and muttering at the mjinga mzungu Mzee (Crazy old white man)


Well that story doesn't segue perfectly into my next point other than to illustrate that from different points in life be that places, age, experience -- we all have different perspectives. And that has been my African experience. There are a gazillion and 22 (my father's expression) aspects of Kenyan culture that I often fail to understand and appreciate at first blush. With time perspective and patience -- I now understand a bit better. I've said this before -- but have to say it again. It's a very different culture than my own and I'm so grateful to have had this wonderful adventure and opportunity to appreciate other perspectives.

Jake turns one!!

My friend's little guy turned 1 in December and we celebrated in grand style. With Jake rocking a cool outfit and trying desperately to reach the pedals of this wicked machine, we celebrated wishing him a very happy number Uno!!

For those of you familiar with the story  -- many thanks to you for your donations - they have been appreciated and continue to make life a bit easier for Jake and his Mom. Should you want to part with a little more - please send to me by e-interact to laynemahon@live.com. I'll make sure it's well spent.

Thanks for reading ...Layno!!!

Ghana and a "much too close" look at the Slave Trade

It's easier not to think about it really

 

One of the big draws for me on this adventure was to better understand the origins of the Trans- Atlantic Slave Trade. Barry was well on board with this historical "Journey of  Discovery" so we planned on visiting both Elmina and Cape Coast Castles which were more aptly referred to as "warehouses" for slaves bound for the West Indies and America mostly. Ahhh the new world!!!

I suspect the Portuguese who got the "Slave trade" ball rolling didn't intend that to be the case. From trinkets and muskets to people is a big leap but that's what happened. But before we start getting too indignant about the Europeans it's worth taking a moment to recognize that this was a really good way for Africans to get rid of the unwanted Africans. I'm sure President Trump would do the same with the Democrats if the opportunity was presented.

Firstly, the castles are remarkably well preserved. It's a surprising fact given the amount of time that has passed and that the ocean is at the doorsteps and constantly pounding on the door. Second - it's such an utterly beautiful setting it's hard to imagine the ugly truths that haunts humanity and became all too clear as we explore these two castles.

Here are some numbers: while records are hard to find and verify it's generally agreed that 12 million slaves left Africa on ships built for that purpose. Now that does seem like a lot given the population of Africa at the time and various other realities.

BUT - this went on for over 300 years. In our modern era of zip zip this and that - we can barely conceive of something continuing for that amount of time. The Portuguese did it for 100 years and then the Dutch another 200 after that....so 12 million is a possibility.






Now - how many slaves were actually brought to the "warehouses" to be shipped and didn't live past the warehousing and storage phase? This part is even more foggy as estimates of 2/10 to 5/10 didn't live long enough to put a foot on soil in the West. So that means that between 24 million and 60 million Africans were taken from the dark continent to feed the worlds' never ending maniacal lust for productivity through the ownership of others.


So those are some of the numbers but let me say - that when you see it, smell it, feel it -- it makes the numbers meaningless compared to the moments of clarity when you connect with the absolute suffering inflicted on these people.

A thousand slaves were kept at Cape Coast at any given time for up to 3 months. Standing room only. Most horrifying were the consequences of those who dared challenges the guards or refused to be raped.They were simply put in a room (shown here on the left) with out food, water, light or ventilation. They died quickly and then were simply pushed into the sea beyond.


It was in imagining this and standing in the very space that I was overwhelmed. They didn't die all at once of course - so you sat amongst the dead waiting and hoping to expire sooner rather than later all the while wondering what you did to deserve such a horrible fate.




As mentioned - the experience is very real  - so real in fact that at Cape Coast as you stand in the mens' dungeon, you stand on about 10 centimeters of ground and pounded human remains, feces, food scraps and so on.

In the picture on the right with yours truly is the famous "door of no return". The slaves were funneled down long dark and narrow corridors to this door where they boarded a ship to either die at sea, at the merciless hands of their new owners or the diseases of the new world for which they were completely unprepared.

It's a terrible chapter in human history, perhaps the worst given both the sheer numbers and the complete absence of humanity in our treatment of one another. We should never forget what we are capable of....

Thnaks for reading...... Layno!!!

Exploring a Tropical Paradise: Ghana 1

Ooooo ........ Oooooo ....... Orabi, Orabi.

 

"It was how much Barry" ????!!!! I asked with combination of shock and amusement. From Barry: "well when I booked I thought that price was for several nights". Ha!!!! So to make up for a couple nights in what was a very nice hotel with fabulous staff (Thank you Davida for your exceptional service at the  Accra City hotel) Barry booked a couple cabins on the beach perfectly situated in the middle of nowhere. More on that later.

Very well accommodated in our super swanky hotel, (where we eventually had to part with a kidney each to pay the bill), we set out to explore Accra and see what there was to see in this beautiful city of about 4 million people. Gratefully Ghana speaks English and both of us were able to abandon our high school french and the accompanying  verbal assault we had perpetrated on so many REAL French speakers. 

Independence square was a must see completed in 1961 and a real cause for celebration as it was in so many countries on the dark continent. It was time for the colonial rulers to hit the bricks.







Museums were a bust for the most part although in fairness we arrived weeks ahead of a major super fancy museum opening in Accra. The issue of African historically significant artifacts being repatriated after their theft is pretty interesting stuff.  There is a significant movement going on throughout Africa - it's  past time for this to happen. Further review of the history of Accra abandoned to Wikipedia we hit one of the biggest markets in Africa. The Makola market!! In case you're wondering, the orange things are called garden eggs and are a yellow Eggplant or Aubergine.


As we stood and peered in through the entrance we both literally took a breath before diving into the swirling mass of bodies, strange and pungent smells, a cacophony of yells and laughter crashes bangs and all manner of sounds. It was hot and humid as we worked our way through a market where we were clearly not welcome. In addition to the evil eye, we received an earful from numerous vendors particularly when we pulled out the camera for a quick shot here and there. You had to super sleuth is... you know pretend you're reading a message and then snap a couple. That said - it was a great expedience and glad we jumped in for a swim in one of the world's busiest places. Wow!!!










Ok - let me share the story of Barry's triumph. After selling our kidneys to pay for the lovely Accra City Hotel we arrived at a place west along the Ghanian coast. Almost as far as Cape Coast, it was  a collection of little huts in the middle of a fishing village. We had our own little huts and think we paid about $20 USD each. i would have paid that just to get away from Barry's snoring to be honest... 😜

A couple cover picnic tables were a perfect place to set a cold beer as we sat and enjoyed the sounds of the ocean rather than the previous assault of Makola market. It was as relaxing a place as I could imagine and we were both grateful for the chance to recuperate after so hard travelling.


The staff were very accommodating, Mary particularly so as she cooked up wonderful dinners of fresh fish no surprisingly plentiful in this little coastal village. It was absolutely delicious and she was a delight.







On one of the mornings we watched as they prepared to bring a fishing boat onto the beach. I was really curious about how this could be done noting the absence of modern equipment anywhere in sight. How the fuck?

So here it is .. after lightening the Jesus Aye by removing nets and any other bits and bytes, they leverage it up onto logs and then pull it up the beach. Seriously can you believe that!!!! I definitely couldn't so when they jokingly waved me over to help I quickly shed my flippy floppies and shirt and raced over spectacularly clad in my short shorts conspicuously white against the back drop of my black brothers. 100 of us then heaved together as a series of drums urged us on ..... all the while singing Ooooo ... Ooooo.... . Orabie Orabie!!!!  Ahhhh a fine thing indeed as we later high fived and laughed together.

Ghana is in the green zone - that lush tropical belt across the middle of the African continent where things grow thick and furious in a humid greenhouse like atmosphere that is much better suited to plants than people.

It's here that the Kakum National park is able to give the perfect experience to those who enjoy the wonderful experience of being up close and personal with all these growey bits. The park boasts a 500 meter tree top walkway some 70m above the tropical forest floor.








 I have to admit that I enjoyed it more than I expected as we not only climbed about but also listened intently to the guide who explained the various trees, their historical significance and modern uses.

Barry quickly looks away as the woman on his right breaks into a few  tunes from the musical Oaklahoma

Thanks to Barry for all his arranging and camaraderie

and thanks for reading ......... Layno!!!