Say What? Coughed up a Hair Ball?

A couple of interesting anecdotes on our recent trip ...

After a busy time in the far north of Senegal, we prepared to make our journey home, a long drive back to Dakar.   This would take several hours, so we set off fairly early to get a jump with a required stop at a nearby town.

Only we didn't get very far in the beginning.  In fact, we didn't get anywhere, as the truck wouldn't start.  We have a vehicle there in Senegal that is owned by our Andando Foundation, a rugged four wheel drive Mistubishi crew cab similar to a Hylux.   It has been a model of reliability, but not in this instance.

 

There were no jumper cables, of course, so we had to push start the rig, with mixed results.  We finally got it started with the help of Boubou, our Andando colleague who was with traveling with us, and a couple of bystanders. 

But after that episode, it was running rough, spewing out smoke and rumbling and shaking and not inspiring confidence.   We didn't have a lot of choice, so we set off on the long trip across miles and miles of African outback.  Not the best scenario.

We made it to our first stop and decided on the way that we would not turn off the vehicle because it very likely may not start again, and depending on where we might be, we might not be able to push start it.

One unfortunate fact of life on Senegalese roads is that they don't have traffic signals or any kind of traffic control methods other than speed bumps.  Tons of 'em, all up and down the road.  Even in the middle of nowhere.  I must admit, it does keep vehicles from going too fast, but otherwise, speed bumps are a pain in the rear (literally).  These speed bumps have earned the name "sleeping policemen" in Senegal for good reason. 

So as we slowed down and rolled over these numerous speed bumps the vehicle would threaten to stall out each time.  It was tricky as the truck was still running very rough.  

Lo and behold, as we entered one small village - it happened - the rig stalled and shut off while going over a speed bump.   There was a momentary feeling of panic, but there was still enough forward momentum to pop the clutch, and the rig jerked and lurched and bounced and came back to life.   Whew!

And a funny thing happened, it started running fine again!  Within five minutes we realized ... all of a sudden it was running in top form!  What?  Oh well ... we weren't going to complain.  

As we sped along, we gained confidence that all was well with the engine after all.  It's funny, when you have hours to spend driving you find things to talk about and we wondered what exactly was going on with the engine of the truck.

I came to the conclusion that the truck had "coughed up a hair ball" and was now feeling better.   Boubou pondered that statement for a minute and said "Hunh?"

I will presume that most English speaking people will understand what that means.  It's a figure of speech.  Imagine having to explain this to someone from a different culture, one where cats are not very common. 

"So cats lick themselves a lot ... a hair ball can form in their stomach ... eventually they cough it up ... they feel better."  

Boubou looks at me sideways "yeah, right ..."   He was slightly appalled.   I don't expect him to use that phrase in a sentence any time soon.  

A Truly American Hamburger experience in San Louis Senegal 

We continue on our way and it's soon afternoon, and we are getting a little hungry, with a long way to go.  There is a city coming up soon with some possible options for food.  The only concern is that we still don't want to shut the rig down for fear it may not start again.  

Boubou remembers that there is a hamburger shop in San Louis where we could get a take out.  Bear in mind that this is a rare concept in Senegal.  You normally take about two hours to have a meal, and they cook everything fresh and they take their time ...!

So even at the potential burger stop, we would have to wait for up to thirty minutes while they cook some hamburgers.  Hey, this is a different culture, no "fast food" here!  Actually, they think half an hour is fast ...

So we hatch an idea - let's call them on Boubou's cell phone and order ahead!  Genius!  This could work!  Then we pull in, keep the rig running, the burgers will be ready and we carry on!  Dude!

The amusing conversation runs something like this:

Boubou:  "Hello, is this King Burger?"

Other: "No"

BB: "I thought I called King Burger?"

Other: "No, this is not King Burger"

BB: "Hmmm, isn't this such-and-such phone number?"

Other: "Yes"

BB: "But it's not King Burger?"

Other: "No"  (not offering much help here!)

BB: "Then, ... who is this?"

Other:  "This is Nice Burger"

BB: "Nice Burger?  What happened to King Burger?"

Other:  "There is no King Burger, only Nice Burger"

BB: "Wait, what?  Really? ... hey, anyway, can we order three super premium bonus loaded jumbo cheese burgers with everything ... oh and some fries?  We'll be there in twenty minutes"

Other: "Okay"

 

So we roll up to the burger shop and leave the rig running and get our burgers "take out" and eat them in the car - dripping cheese and ketchup all over ourselves, but generally enjoying the experience.   Almost like being at home.   But this is a very unusual thing to do in Senegal.  I'm amazed we pulled it off. 

We made it to Dakar that evening in one piece and concluded our trip the next day.  Just in time to have another previously mentioned bizarre airplane trip home. 

   

What? Another Crisis on an Airplane?

I was just hoping for a quiet flight home 

So we're leaving Dakar Senegal in West Africa, and I just want to have a peaceful flight home.  You might recall that on the way over, there was a very disruptive event in New York, when they threw a guy off our plane after we had already left the gate.  It was wild.  See this link airplane "incident".

After the typical pushing and shoving and mayhem loading the plane, we are ready to go.  I should point out that Senegalese people are not very good at queuing up, they cut in line and throw elbows and are not polite when it comes to standing in line.  Otherwise, they are generally nice and fun loving, but not when boarding a plane. 

The flight was leaving late at night, and was not on time.  No surprise here.  "Developing countries" have a challenge when it comes to efficiency and staying on track.  It was the first leg of a journey from Dakar to Paris to Salt Lake City to Portland.  Sounds grueling and it was.

Things take a turn for the worse

So we take off and get up in the air and level off. Then something highly unusual happens. 

I was sitting in the bulkhead seat - the front row of seats up against the bathroom or other wall -  and so I had lots of legroom.  In fact it was a pretty big space, bigger than usual. 

There was a big Senegalese guy in the next row back and he stands up and grabs his pillow.  He moves up to the bulkhead space in front of our row and proceeds to lay down on the floor and appears to be going to sleep!

I even got a picture of the guy

 
"Hey," I say "You can't lay here and go to sleep!"  But he ignores me and probably didn't speak English.  He was a big guy probably around 6' 3" and seemed to be around fifty years old.  My guess is that he doesn't fly very much and was simply tired and wanted to lay down and go to bed.  

It wasn't long before the flight attendant comes by and is rather surprised to find this guy on the floor.   "Hello sir," she says, "you cannot lay here on the floor!"  

But he waves her off, "I'm good, don't worry about me".  Of course, I'm paraphrasing but I could get the gist of what he was saying.  She persists in shaking him, as he is already drowsy and dropping off to sleep.  

"Sir!  You cannot sleep here!"  she says, and again he waves her off and rolls over.   

He responds "Everything is fine, don't worry about me, I'm just gonna sleep here..."  The flight attendant is getting concerned that this guy will not cooperate.  She gets on the intercom and calls a couple more reinforcements.  They also try to urge him to get up and go back to his seat.  He is not having it. 

One of the flight attendants is worried that there is something wrong with the guy, like he is having a heart attack or something.  Is he okay?  Is he ill?  Why is he laying here?  One of the flight attendants takes his pulse. 

I have been watching this whole thing since it is right at my feet.  In fact the guy is kicking me as he rolls around.   I can see that he just wants to sleep and is not going to move. 

They continue to try to get this guy to move.  There are two or three of them tugging on him and trying to get him out of the space, which is also right in front of the exit door.  In fact he reaches up and grabs the big lever that opens the door, and they freak out.
"Don't touch that!"

This has been going on for a while at this point, and it is obvious this guy doesn't want to move.  He is too big for them to drag him back to his seat.  This whole thing is rather annoying. 

Mademoiselle, you HAVE to move 

His original seat was in the center aisle, one that has four seats across.  They hatch a plan - if we can get the other passengers to move, then maybe he will lay down in the row of seats.  Only there is one French lady who doesn't want to move.  She objects, "I paid for this seat and I want to stay here!" They eventually tell her "You have to move!"  She reluctantly gets reassigned to a different seat.  

Surprisingly, they convince the guy laying on the floor to move back to his row where he can lay down.  This has been going on for at least half an hour.  So he goes back and unfortunately he is so big that his feet stick out into the aisle.  

Pretty soon there is an announcement over the loudspeaker asking if there is a doctor on the plane.  They are still concerned that this guy is having a medical issue.  I am very dubious.  He is yanking their chain.  He just wants to sleep and they are making a big fuss.  

So this doctor comes up and starts running a bunch of medical tests on him, and this goes on for quite some time.  They have the paddles out and ... blood pressure devices, digital EKG thing ... well, I was amazed at how much medical equipment they have on a plane! 

Keep in mind that Fiona is also on this flight, only we're not sitting together.  She is about five rows up on the opposite side of the plane, on the other side of the bathroom dividers.  Other than hearing some commotion, she is unaware that all this is going on.  I make my way up to her seat and mention this whole thing.  She turns around and looks and is really surprised to see a doctor, several flight attendants, and a whole bunch of medical equipment laying out.

After what seemed like 45 minutes, the doctor says "I can't find anything wrong with this guy.  I recommend we let him sleep."

The doctor wanders off.  The guy sleeps for the rest of the flight. 

I just want to have a normal airplane trip one of these days. 

She Says: "We Want to Escape from Poverty"

During our trip to Podor in Senegal we visited a group of ladies with whom we had made Micro Loans

The Local Street Market near Podor

Question:  What is a Micro Loan?  

Answer:  A very small amount of money made available as a cash loan (with no interest) to enable the borrower to engage in activity to boost their income.  In almost all cases the amount is less than $100.

Part of the efforts of our non-profit Andando Foundation are directed toward economic assistance, allowing those in West Africa a chance to have access to capital in the form of Micro Loans.  

These tiny cash loans, averaging $60, are used by the recipient to start a small business or otherwise actively pursue the opportunity to turn this small amount into something larger.  They are almost always fully repaid, with a paid back rate of around 98%.

Here are some stories of how the money is used:

We had a meeting with a group of ladies who had received Micro Loans from Andando.  Many of them shared their stories of progress and success. 

1.  One of the ladies who got a micro loan used the money to make ice cream.  Not the conventional kind like we think of, but a mixture of fruit from the Baobab tree (called Monkey Bread), combined with water and sugar and then frozen.  

It's quite delicious and fairly simple to make.  Understand that this lady had no money or resource of any kind to buy the ingredients, including sugar and little plastic bags used to make single servings to sell.   Her loan was for $50, part of which she also used to rent a small freezer space from a nearby shop.  

Over time - a few months - she developed a clientele.  It's really hot and dry there, so people liked being able to buy a small portion of this "ice cream" for a few pennies.  She eventually turned her $50 loan into $290, for a profit (after she repaid the loan) of $240!

2.  Another lady bought and raised a sheep, which gave birth to a lamb, and she fed them both with special feed to get them ready for the annual "feast" or meal celebration, not unlike our Thanksgiving.  She sold them both for a tidy profit of over $200.

We asked her if she was able to make good use of this money, and she motioned toward a young child, who was handicapped.  She was able to buy medicine and clothes (the child can't walk and wears out clothing by crawling around on hands and knees).  She took the girl to a doctor and paid her medical bills.  Talk about life changing. 

3.  A third lady we spoke with was probably the most entrepreneurial and had used her $45 loan money to buy seed to grow rice.  She planted on her local small farm patch where she grew and cared for the rice, and eventually harvested thirty 50 lb bags of rice.  She borrowed a local donkey cart to transport the rice to her house.

She sold all the rice one bag at a time from her home, as local people came to buy from her.  Because the rice was locally grown and very good, she sold out (she kept some seed for next year).  

She made over $300.  That is more money than she has ever made.

She was very pleased with results and thanked Andando for the help.  Now that her loan is paid back, someone else in the community can borrow the money as the loans revolve in order to give everyone a chance.  

She concluded her remarks by saying: "We want to escape from Poverty.  We will work hard.  Our whole community will benefit".  

These encouraging stories illustrate a key principle of how Andando is operated - a little bit of money goes a long way.  You don't have to spend vast amounts of money to make a big difference, indeed the opposite is often true. And we don't have a lot of overhead, in fact very little.  We like to keep things efficient and productive. 

It doesn't take a lot of money to change someone's life.  

A Brilliant Concert - in the middle of nowhere

Drive for Several Hours and What do you find?  A Full-on Rock concert

Following our numerous activities in Keur Soce and making our way up to Podor in the north of Senegal, West Africa, we had some more work to do.  However, we found time to actually enjoy ourselves with a concert there on the banks of the Senegal River.

There is a nice hotel where we stay in Podor, which is quite a surprise considering the remoteness of the village.  It's a long way from anywhere.  

But we knew in advance that there was going to be a concert there, actually a music festival that would last for over three days.   And we were able to watch the first days events from the rooftop of our hotel. 

The star of the show (and native son of Podor) is Baaba Maal, a world famous musician and singer.  His picture is at the top of this blog post.  He might not be well known in America, but he is very famous world wide.  His influence is considerable and when he shows up here at his hometown, things get busy and exciting. 

He invites several other musicians to perform during the festival, among them Orchestra Baobab, other international stars, and some local talent that he is helping to develop.  It's an amazing event, with top quality sound and lights, and is probably 250 miles from the nearest city of any size.

The event started on Friday night, not long after we arrived in town. There were a bunch of speeches and other ceremony.  One of our favorite things was the fancy boat races on the river.  And there was a flag ceremony and dancers and all kinds of entertainment.

Eventually the opening ceremony concluded and they prepared for the music to start.  Only it didn't start on time.  In fact, it was really late, like super late, like "what the heck is taking so long?"  Hey, this is Africa, time is not that important to these guys.  The music that was supposed to start at 10:00 ... started at 2:00 AM!  Yikes!

At least we were semi-prepared for this and had taken a nap earlier in the evening.  But four hours late is hard to adjust to.  The Africans seemed to take it in stride.   Once it started it was a lot of fun.  

The next night was the same, even with some effort to start earlier.  Of course, by the time they finish it's 5:00 am, and everyone goes home to sleep.  

By the third night of this, we are getting used to it, and it's the night for the headliner Baaba Maal to do his show.  He is an amazing musician and performer, and the show was wild and wonderful.  At one point they even brought out a couple of horses to present to him.  They were right in front of the stage!

 The fans go completely nuts for him, and by the end of the hour and a half session, it's like a riot going on, people throwing chairs and stampeding the stage!  Dude!  

There were a couple different venues, with acts performing all night long.  You have to catch up on your sleep during the day if you can, or not at all if you're busy.   When we left there, we were "plenty tired" in African parlance.

Don't Drive At Night! Danger! And a Little History on the Banks of the Senegal River

Covering a lot of Ground in Senegal - not always easy 

This is a Fort in the village of Podor, where are spending three days on the banks of the Senegal River 

After our frenetic pace of activity in Keur Soce, we set out for a trip to the north of Senegal with a destination of Podor, a remote village on the Senegal River.  It's a long way, several hundred miles, so we scheduled a stop in the middle in the city of Saint Louis (pronounced San Luwee).

The timing of this trip was not the best, as we encountered the tail end of the annual pilgrimage to a holy ground for Senegalese, in a place called Touba.  You may recall, the guy that went nuts on the plane was originally headed to that place, only he didn't get there on our flight ...!

Leaving Keur Soce and heading north, we made good time until we hit the traffic of all the vehicles heading to and from Touba.  It was intense, with every kind of imaginable vehicle carrying way too many people.  It was downright dangerous - for example, the way a loaded dump truck was barreling down the road with 85 people stuffed in the back. 

Blinded by the Light ...

It took us a lot longer to get to Saint Louis than we thought.  Eventually the sun went down, and one of the worst things in Senegal is driving at night.  It's treacherous.  The drivers here - when they see an oncoming car or truck or bus - blast you with their brights at the worst possible time.  Instead of dipping their brights, the turn them on when they see another car.  It's incredibly dangerous.  You can never tell when they're going to blast you, often within the last 100 yards and it's blinding, so you can't hardly see the road (which often has no lines painted on it).  Scary and nerve racking. 

But we made it to our hotel in Saint Louis, a really nice place on a spit of land between the mouth of the Senegal River and the sea.  Although it was a dark night, we've been here before and knew it was next to the ocean, and of course you could hear the waves.  After a lovely dinner outside on the patio, we fell into a blissful sleep.   

In the morning we were rewarded with sunny warm weather.  We enjoyed a cup of coffee on the veranda with nice flowers all around the grounds and birds chirping, it's a real nice setting.  We made our way back up the peninsula, passing innumerable brightly colored fishing boats and tons of activity with the fishermen returning from their all night excursions out into the ocean.  

This is where the majority of Senegal's fresh fish comes from, and they eat of lot of fish here.  The fishing and harvest operation is quite a thing to see in-and-of itself. 

Then we hit the open road to complete the trip to Podor.  In the past on this trip, it could take hours and hours, with rough roads and bad weather; it's hard to make good time.  However, they have just completed a new road all the way from Saint Louis to Podor, and it's marvelous.  I should say "We completed a road" because it was built by Americans, or at least designed and paid for.  It's a terrific road with smooth surfaces, even curves, nice shoulders, seductive slopes (wait! am I describing a woman here?  sorry ...) 
But it's maybe the best road in the country.  I spoke to a British guy later who described it as "unbelievable"!

Especially when compared to the other roads (often bad, sometimes terrible).  Anyway, we got through with a lot of driving, even at night, and reached our ultimate destination of Podor.   It's a town/village of around 10,000 people on the banks of the mighty Senegal River.  I say mighty because it's a major river through a dry region and forms the border between Mauritania, Mali, and Senegal.   It's a big river, big enough to have river boats you can sleep on make the trip up from Saint Louis. 

A floating platform in the middle of the Senegal River, with Mauritania on the other side

We will be here for three days, with a focus on Andando activities and programs, and a concert festival put on by Baaba Maal, a world famous musician who was born here.  More on that later.

This is a view from the roof top deck of our hotel with the village of Podor in the background

The Hotel here in Podor is surprisingly nice, recently updated to standards far above some of the other accommodations.   







The history of Podor goes way back, with a fort built here by the French in 1780 (shown at the top of this blog post).  It's such a remote place, hard to imagine soldiers coming up the river three hundred miles to establish an outpost here.  
There are no soldiers in the fort now  ... time passes  ...  I'm just sayin'

How Do You Fix A Broken Lock in Senegal? With A Welder!

It's Been a Very Busy Time in Senegal So Far

I'll get to the welding part in a minute ...

After I arrived on the disrupted flight from New York, Fiona and I immediately set out for Keur Soce, the village area where we do our work for Andando. 

It's a long trip and not easy, five hours, into the interior of the country.   We have a rig in Senegal for our organization, so we could go as we pleased, without having to depend on public transportation or rented vehicles, etc. 

We got there around 4:00 in the afternoon, and went to visit one of our gardens, with a new solar well system in the village of Keur Niene Serere.  It was a proud moment to see this new garden in full bloom with dozens of ladies working hard watering and tending to the vegetables.  

 

These gardens are life changing for the village ladies.  Not only do they now have an abundance and variety of healthy vegetables to eat and feed their family, they have a surplus they can sell to augment their minimal income.  It's a win-win.  

 

Unfortunately, that night while preparing for bed, the front door lock broke.  It's a metal door and it has a pretty cheap lock.  These Chinese made African locks are weird and crummy, and even on a good day, they don't work very well.  We never got the thing to work, so we finally had to go to bed without a very secure door.  

This is the Base House that we Built in Keur Soce 

 

The next morning was busy preparing for a school supply distribution of textbooks, backpacks, pencils, workbooks and other supplies.  Even with all hands on deck, this took a while, there are over 250 students that we support at one of the many schools we work with.

 

The rest of the day was consumed with a team meeting with our staff and visiting some more of the gardens we have established - they are generally working extremely well (with a few challenges).  

Around midday we went to a somewhat distant location to investigate a future potential solar well garden.  

 

Late afternoon for lunch with one of the local families. In the evening we went to the nearby "city" of Kaolack, for a new lock (to replace the faulty one on the front door of our base house), some plumbing parts, more school supplies, dinner, and internet access. 

The next day was supposed to be a short day with an early departure for a long trip to the north of the country.  We went to deliver the supplies we had prepared to the school and it was a blast!  A lot of joy involved!  I could write an entire blog post about that experience. 

 

We met with our staff one last time and then back to the base house to load up for departure up north.  

 

As we finished and were preparing to leave, the door lock again "malfunctioned".  The key got stuck and the whole thing fell apart. Frankly, it was a worthless piece of garbage and indeed was already a replacement for one that had failed earlier. But with proper foresight we had bought a new one (of much better quality).  We had to hold up our departure so we could install the new one and secure the house.   

Unfortunately, the old lock was welded to the metal door.  It was not fixable after several attempts to repair it, and it had to come off.  The conversation went something like this:

"How do you replace this lock on the door, it's welded in place?"

- "You have to take it to a welder"

"You mean he comes out here to fix it?

- "No, you have to take it to him"

"How do you take this to a welder?"

- "You remove the door from the hinges, and you take the entire door down to the welder and he will weld on the new lock.  Then you come back and install the door back in place"

"This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of"

But since we had a long way to go, and were burning daylight, we did exactly that and put the door in the back of the truck and went down to the local welder in the village.  He knew precisely what to do (like something he does every day), and soon we were back in business. 

I was highly skeptical of the whole thing, but the door went back into place very nicely and we started up the rig and off we went to the north of Senegal! 

Next stop Saint Louis (Senegal) and Podor. 

Stop! Stop the Plane! This One Needs to Be Put Off the Plane!

(Sorry, I was unable to upload some pictures for this story, words only, but I think it might stand by itself!)

Another unusual moment in travel, and not a particularly good one

     So, I am on  my way to West Africa yesterday, via New York's JFK Airport.  I am waiting for a direct flight to Dakar, Senegal, and we begin to load.  Loading a flight to Dakar is always an adventure, with people pushing and shoving, with too much luggage that won't fit, and they sit in the wrong seat, etc.

     But this flight takes a serious turn to insanity, or at least mayhem.  Once we get on board and finally get everyone in the right seat, and the luggage all stored overhead, they close the cabin door and begin to push back.  We're finally leaving.

     Only we get out on the tarmac and there is a loud noise in the back of the plane, and people start raising their voices.  Suddenly a lady stands up and starts shouting!  "Stop the Plane!  Somebody Help!  We need to get this one off the Plane!"  Everyone turns around the flight attendants start running toward her.  This "one"?

     She continues to shout in a heavy accent, and climbs over the person next to her and jumps into the aisle.  "Stop the Plane.  This man is NOT SAFE!  He needs to be put off the plane!"  She is pointing toward a guy in the window seat. 

     What the heck is going on?  Quickly the flight attendant, a big Senegalese guy, gets on the intercom and talks to the cockpit.  After some investigation, the plane stops moving.  There is great agitation in the rear section of the plane.  Suddenly a guy starts yelling at the flight attendant.  This is getting weird. 

     Everyone on the plane is getting a little nervous.  Okay, that's an understatement, everybody is super nervous.  Eventually a couple of cops come on board, (they somehow were able to sneak on the place) and there is a sky marshal on there, and they head to the commotion.  Things are not getting better here ... 

It Gets Worse!

     They are trying to get this guy off the plane, and he is making a huge disruption and starts yelling his guts out, and he starts fighting and pushing people.  It's very hard for people to sit quietly and ignore this, it's becoming a major scene.  

     It becomes obvious that this guy is drunk or high or both, and he is going crazy!   It's also obvious that they are not going to calm him down and he does need to get put off the plane.  Fortunately the armed personnel are fairly adept at handling this kind of thing and they don't make the mistake of matching his anger, they simply insist that he calm down. 

     This guy is freaking out and yelling "you can't put me off this plane, I paid good money for this seat!  This is an outrage!  Keep your hands off me!  I will not get off the plane.  I want to go to Senegal, and I want to go to Touba! (a city in Senegal)"

     He goes on to scream at the top of his lungs, "Why are the police here?  This is an airplane, and I insist we leave for Senegal!  I have a valid ticket!" Like he would have got on without a valid ticket?   

     Ninety percent of the people on the plane are African, including the crazy guy.  Most of them are fed up.  People around him are getting tired of this and tell him to shut up and calm down.  "Shut up you idiot!  Sit down you - you are stupid moron!"  Needless to say, he does not respond well to this ...

     Gradually we notice that they are pulling the plane back in toward the gate ...

     Eventually the authorities convince him to grab his things and move to the front of the plane so they can "talk to him" - which means they are going to throw him off the flight.  He realizes what is happening and reluctantly starts moving up the aisle, until he gets to my seat.  Then he starts going bonkers again and shouting obscenities and flailing his arms.  Fortunately I don't get hit. 

     Keep in mind that travel these days can be risky, what with the recent attacks in Paris, and plane crashes seemingly all over the place, and all the high alerts issued.  People on the plane are really getting edgy.  We've been sitting in the middle of the tarmac for a long time, and nobody knows what exactly what is going on.  Frankly, I think that many people figured this guy had a bomb.

     So this guy finally goes up to the front of the plane where there are more law enforcement officers and they subdue the guy and toss him off the plane.  The passengers erupt into applause.  But not everyone is feeling very confident.  The lady next to me says she is getting off the plane, she is too freaked out to fly at this point.  She climbs into the aisle.  These people can't stay in their seats!

     Guess what happens when they throw someone off a flight?  They have to remove their checked luggage from the cargo hold.  This takes another half an hour, and by this time, take off is way late.  At least by this time, we're back at the gate.   

     Now they announce their apologies and explain that we will have a late arrival in Dakar ... no kidding?  d'ya think?  Coulda fooled me ... 

     I've traveled a lot, but never had this kind of thing happen before.  They said the disruptive passenger was "involved with alcohol", and  drunk and dangerous and been making threats to other passengers.  Good Riddance!

    "Oh," they said over the intercom, "and thank you for flying Delta!  We hope you have a pleasant flight!"   HA HA HA 



     Made it to Dakar Senegal in one piece, more to follow soon ...

On The Way To Africa - Back in the air after a spell at home

Raising the Flag at a school project in Keur Soce, Senegal.  We built a couple of large classrooms earlier this year, something they've never had before. 

   

On the road again 

     It’s been a while since I put up a blog post.  Of course that would indicate that we haven’t been traveling quite as much as we did earlier.  In fact, this recent stretch is the longest we’ve been “home” all year (not including a couple overnight trips out of town to Newport or Bend or Portland).  But generally when I am blogging, it’s coming from a foreign country.
     
     So that brings us to the present moment, where I am sitting at JFK Airport in New York City on the way to Senegal, West Africa.  When I arrive there late tomorrow, I will join Fiona, who has been there for eleven days so far.  We both return together on Dec 9th.   

     Interesting to mention that I will join Fiona there, as we recently celebrated our 40th Anniversary - but we were not together!  She had already departed for Senegal, and I was home in Oregon.  Knowing that the big day would find us apart, we celebrated with a three day trip to Bend before she left.  

     Another interesting thing to point out:  On the way to the airport early this moring in Oregon, it was 19 degrees (-7C).  It’s been really cold in Oregon for a week.  And now I will soon be in Senegal where it’s currently about 91 degrees (32C).  That’s a radical switch from 19 degrees to 91 degrees.  Makes it hard to pack when you’re used to wearing layers of warm clothing, and yet in West Africa it’s shorts and t-shirt weather. 

     On the way home we fly through Paris.  In fact, Fiona flew through there on her way over.  Right now Europe is in a high alert stage, for obvious reasons.  Maybe not the best time to travel, but ... when is the best time?  There is always something going on somewhere.  If everyone canceled their trips when bad stuff happens, then the enemy wins.  You have to press on. 
     Besides, it's not like we're unfamiliar with travel misadventures: Getting arrested, train wrecks, bombs going off, nearly flying off a cliff in a car, stranded penniless, you know, stuff like that.  

     Senegal is a peaceful and stable country (unlike some of the neighboring places - just last week there was a vicious attack at a hotel in Mali, which is right next door).  But by and large, we are safe there and we have a lot of connections and relationships, and we have friends there and a place of our own in the village.  

     In fact, that’s a big part of why we go there, we are trying to make a difference in the lives of the people there by providing clean water, gardens with fresh food, health services and medicine - along with micro loans for business and school improvements and training. The list goes on and on with the variety of projects in the area where we work. 

     In short, we are trying to give them health and hope.  We want to help improve their quality of life, give them pride and dignity and opportunity.  And make it sustainable, to they can keep improving their lives.  We have seen positive results from these activities.  Most Americans would be shocked to see how little they have and how hard life can be there.  

     It takes a fair amount of travel to go over there and oversee the efforts.  We have been blessed with the resources and support to enable us to do this. A little bit goes a long way in Senegal, we can make some real impact without a ton of money.  But again it takes a lot of time and planning and hard work.  We go way out in the boonies, far from the bigger cities. That’s where they need to most help.  The word Andando means “walking together” in the local language of Senegal.  That’s what we’re trying to do, walk together and offer our help. 

     I will keep this blog up to date on our whereabouts and activities - although it’s one of those places without good internet service!  Updates might be a bit sparse and spotty, but I guess that means we’re busy ... 
     

     

The Guy on the Boat in Phnom Penh

A Statue in the Village

 

People and Things are not always what they seem, you have to keep an open mind 

At first I didn't want to talk to him, he seemed "unusual" and a little too loud.  He was also a know-it-all and had too much to say about everything.  Plus he was rather effeminate and wore a lot of jewelry and rings and such.

I tried to avoid him, and just paid attention to my own thing, my own family, and the all the wonderful things there were to see. There were only a few of us on this half-day trip, and this guy was obviously Southeast Asian, but dressed too hip to be a Cambodian.  He was traveling with an elderly lady, who turned out to be his mother.

This particular day we were in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, and it was a "silk cruise", an inexpensive excursion by boat and horse cart to an island where they make silk.  The weather was hot and humid as always but taking a boat on the Mekong River at least kept the air moving and the temperature a few degrees cooler.

The guy was talking a lot and did not talk softly, like so many in this part of the world.  He was wearing a Fedora and was very comfortable and informal.  He drew attention to himself.  He seemed to be around 40 years old, but that's a guess.

We had the chance to take a lot of pictures along the hour-long boat ride and we came to what they said was an  island, but I think that was more of a figure of speech, because it appeared to be somehow connected to the mainland.  We disembarked on a muddy beach, no dock or pier; and struggled up the bank to a small road.

We made our way to the "factory" where they produce silk all the way from silkworms, to the cocoons, to the silk thread, and finally the finished product.  If you haven't seen silk being made, it's a fascinating process.  It was a modest facility and the young lady began to explain the methods used in producing silk.

At this point the guy began to talk, he spoke pretty good English.  He more-or-less hijacked the conversation and kept interrupting the young woman who was the hostess.  He was not entirely inaccurate, in fact he seemed to know his stuff.  She didn't particularly object, but the rest of us (well, I can at least speak for myself) were rather annoyed - hey, just shut up and let her finish.

Once the modest tour of the production facility concluded they took us to their shop  to (of course) offer us the chance to buy something.  Then the guy really got cranked up and really started spouting all kinds of information, pointing out characteristics of the silk and how it was superior to silk from Thailand - which is where we later learned he was from.

"Look at this thread, it is very fine, Cambodian silk is much finer than Thai silk, and this pattern is very special because it is from the royal family and you simply must buy this one!"  "Here look!  I have one like it!"  He pulled out his phone and showed us a picture of him dressed in a similar outfit.  He went on and on and the hostess didn't seem to mind.  He was knowledgeable and almost transformed into a sales person.  He clearly enjoyed the limelight.

Several of the women started shopping, but I quickly got bored and went and sat down with my son Lewis.   The shopping went on for some time and I could hear the guy talking the whole time. Not knowing much about silk, it looked like pretty high quality and the prices, well ... like everywhere in Southeast Asia, it was a bargain.

 There were several items purchased (a few by my wife Fiona) and the guy spent a bunch of money.  "You won't find this cheaper anywhere in the world!" he claimed.  He was very flamboyant and spent a few hundred dollars buying stuff and continued to pontificate on all matters of silk.

We finally concluded our little factory tour and went for an adventurous horse cart journey around the nearby small village.  It was a lot of fun and very interesting, and quite an eye opener, with some real poverty and stark conditions, sometimes next to a fairly nice house.  It was clear that most people had almost no money, while a few others were obviously relatively affluent.  In fact, that's a common observation anywhere in the world (unless you go to a place where nobody has any money).

We got back on the boat for the return trip.  At this point everyone was more familiar with each other and the guy began to converse with Fiona and Ruby.  He talked for quite a while, but I was busy taking pictures and frankly, I was still stand offish toward him.  I must say he was a pretty happy person with a perpetual smile on his face, and seemed to enjoy every moment.

The trip home was longer than the trip there, and took a little over an hour.  I was just looking around and saw the guy standing by the rail on the other side of the boat.  Who is this guy?  What's he all about?  He was talking to Fiona for quite a while and she had been interested in what he had to say, so he must not have been completely full of gibberish.  He certainly knew about silk.

I decided to approach him.  By this time I was curious.  I thought, ... hey, we're gonna be on this boat for a while, might as well have a chat.  I wandered up next to him and just started making small talk. He told me his mother was ill and he was taking her and a little vacation trip.

He was friendly and I began to ask a few questions, and he was certainly talkative.  It turns out he had an amazing story and frankly, he was a really interesting person, if a little unusual.  You never know what someone's personal story is like ...

I will tell this in chronological order, which is not exactly how it was told.  It was a little more meandering, in bits and pieces.

His name was "Ice" - not his real name, but his adopted identity.  Ice grew up in poverty, born into a poor family in Thailand somewhere near the border of Laos.  He had a very humble and modest childhood, but eventually got a job at a resort in the jungle in the region near his home.  He washed dishes and did landscaping, basic stuff until he got a break and landed a position in the kitchen of the place.

Turns out he had a talent for cooking.  He learned how to cook, and eventually became a chef, and moved around for a while as better jobs opened up to him.  Thailand has some resorts that are quite nice, particularly in the south near the beaches.  He learned English in the resorts and learned about the finer things in life, like silk, and jewelry, and wine.  He eventually decided to move to Bangkok, the largest city in Thailand and a very global city in many ways.

He got a job in one of the best restaurants in the city, and at that point made a decision.  He would open a restaurant of his own in Bangkok.  Turns out he also had a talent for business, and presently opened a second restaurant.  He began to make a lot of money, and also developed his personality and a certain flair.  He became "Ice".

By this time, Ice began to travel, and has been to Europe many times and to New York.  His goal is to open a restaurant in New York.  I became interested in his story about business, and he and I got excited talking about business.  It was a great conversation.  I encouraged him to pursue his goals, he is very ambitious and seems to be a real entrepreneur - someone who can identify business opportunities and bring them to fruition.  I told him my own business story and he was really interested and asked questions.

He became particularly excited when I told him that I currently work in a winery, producing fine Oregon Pinor Noir - his favorite!  He is not only talented, but energetic and very curious.   The conversation became very animated.  We had a bond.

Before long, we got to the end of the boat journey.  We were going to have to go our separate ways, he had to get his mother back to the hotel.  We exchanged emails, and promised to keep in touch.  Amazing what you can encounter in your travels.  I'm grateful for this experience.

------------------------------------------------------

P.S. - There is a little more to the story.  Fiona told me later that Ice had won the immigration lottery, and was going to be given a chance move to America!

For those who don't know about this lottery - our country limits the number of people coming here to live.  There are so many people around the world who want to immigrate to America that in order to be fair and impartial, our government has created a lottery, where people are chosen by random to be given a chance to move here.  Ice had won the lottery.  What a life changing event for him.

I hope we can keep in touch.  I'm rooting for him to achieve his goal of opening a restaurant in New York City.

Monkey Attack in Cambodia!

The last couple of days have been full of activity and discovery, mostly good, with a little adventure thrown in ...

We toured the Angkor Wat ruins near Siem Reap Cambodia - a place we visited during our Round the World trip earlier this year.  This time we brought our son, Lewis and his wife Ruby to enjoy this as the last stop on our Asian travel quest.

The amazing thing about these ruins is that they  always reveal something new.  Part of the strength of this place is that it's so vast - it covers miles and miles of jungle and has so much to see.  You could probably spend a month here and still find different sights to see and views that are unique.  We weren't disappointed this time either, as we wandered around the numerous locations, and I have included some pictures, but they never really convey the eye-popping experience.

 

Warning!  Monkey Attack Ahead! 

On the way back to the town after a day of viewing, hiking, and climbing around the ruins, we were heading down a stretch of road that had a bunch of monkeys.  People were stopping to look and take photos and "interact" with the monkeys.   

Only ... well ... have you ever been around monkeys?  They are not sweet little docile cute, teddy-bear-like critters - they are ill-tempered, vile, aggressive, disease ridden little beasts with a bad attitude.

We found this out all too soon.  As we stopped for a picture, some monkeys came over to us looking for food.  I thought our Tuk-Tuk driver was suggesting that I give them something to eat, so I tossed them some almonds that I had in my pocket.  My fellow travelers ...ahem, shall we say ... became upset with me - "never feed wild animals!  you idiot!"

So the monkeys got more aggressive, and got closer to the Tuk-Tuk, and then climbed on board.  This alarmed Ruby and she swatted one big money with her scarf - "shoo, get outta here!"  But ... the monkey didn't move ... so she smacked him with a guide book.

This really pissed off the monkey.  He flew into a rage ... and attacked Lewis!  Fangs were flying, and claws were out and he jumped on Lewis's back and started making mad monkey screeching noises and swinging some blows at Lewis - who was taken by surprise and yelled "What the ... ?" and jumped up and started fighting back.

The monkey (a vicious little bastard) threw a few more blows and tried to bite Lewis, then snarled one more time and jumped off the vehicle and we shouted to the driver - "let's get out of here!!!"  

People were still pretty amped up after the incident.  Lewis was kinda shook up and puzzled why the monkey attacked him ("I didn't even do anything!?!?).  I got yelled at some more about feeding them, and we sped off and everyone was yelling at each other and laughing and we were lucky to escape with our lives HA! HA! HA!

Unexpected Travel Gem Discovered   

We were heading in another direction for a slight change of pace from the Angkor Wat ruins, with the destination of a "floating village" - not sure what that meant.  We were trusting our TukTuk driver to take us to this place that he recommended.  We had the same driver all week and he was a good guy.  I nicknamed him "Carlos". 

So we drove off the beaten path, way out into the country side.  It started off raining hard but eventually let up, resulting in steamy tropical humid heat.  We went a long ways, in a direction not a lot of travelers go.

We drove along a canal for a while and then Carlos stopped and we got into a boat.  It was a pretty good sized boat, but driven by a little kid, like eight years old.  His big brother was there too.  Off we went in the canal into a broad swampy wetlands, it looked like it was flooded.  

We were pleasantly surprised after half an hour to come to a village that was basically built on the water.  It was a fishing village, and the structures were amazing.  They stick logs in the bottom of the water and go up four stories high or more.  It was a whole town built up in the air, like schools, churches, temples, shops, and even a small restaurant.  

This is not a place that a lot of westerners ever go to.  We felt like real explorers.  Then we stopped at a small shop and we got into even smaller boats, like canoes, rowed by ladies.  They took us out into a forest that was submerged in water, even more amazing, and so remote.  

Then after that, we got back in the big boat and went further, until we emerged into a giant lake!  This whole village exists so the fishermen and their families can fish the lake.  It's really out there a long way from anywhere.  And it's a huge lake, we couldn't see the other side, it turns out to be Tonle Sap - which is over 75 miles long, depending on the rains and flooding!

This was one of those rather thrilling moments in travel where you end up someone that you didn't even know existed and it's magnificent.  What a treat it was to go there.