Turtle Liberation

It has been three days since Tambo has seen a mother turtle on the beach at night laying her eggs. These days they are the olive ridley’s, measuring perhaps 75 to 100 centimeters in length. The much larger leatherbacks have been few this year, according to Tambo, but the olives have laid many eggs.

Tambo is one of two task forces, as he puts it, though each “force” comprises but one person, employed from the local community and deployed by the owners of the Beyin Beach Resort, Nina and Patrick, to hunt for sea turtles and their eggs. Nina is British. Patrick is Ghanaian, raised in the UK and recently returned home with Nina to build their resort and to protect turtles.



Tambo patrols the beach to the east of the hotel, while a colleague of his patrols the west. Each task force departs around 11pm and walks some 4 kilometers. If signs of a turtle are spotted, this is noted, and the task forces inspect the area for eggs. If any eggs are found, these are carefully collected and returned to the hotel’s hatchery.

It perchance they should spot a turtle in the process of actually laying eggs, the task forces stand watch to assure no one disturbs the turtle. Tambo explained that when the turtle is laying, she falls into a trance. Boys from the village might catch her and carry her off for the next day’s meal, though technically under Ghana law, catching and eating sea turtles is illegal. Tambo makes sure that doesn’t happen. Once the mother turtle is safely back in the sea after depositing and burying its eggs, the task force collects those eggs and returns them to the hatchery.



“You see,” says Tambo, “we the fishermen of this community really do need these turtles. This is because the turtles eat the jellyfish. We the human beings do not eat the jellyfish. The jellyfish consume the small fishes of the sea, and these small fishes never have the chance to become large. That is why our fishermen are not catching any big fish now. And so it is very important to protect the turtles. We bring the eggs here, and then we help the baby turtles, once they are hatched, to find their way to the sea without anyone bothering them.”



Tambo’s collected eggs are buried in a shallow hole in the sand to one side of the beach of the hotel, just above a low shelf in the sand that marks high tide. A wooden box, measuring perhaps 50 centimeters square, and open on both the bottom and the top, is placed above the burial site, somewhat like a corral. The top of the box is covered with a light screen to allow air and sun to reach the sand, but keeps out birds that might dig for and eat the eggs. The bottom is of course open so that the turtles can surface from below after hatching, though that also leaves the bottom open to predatory crabs – not a big problem, says Tambo, though sometimes the crabs do drag one or two of the babies down into the crab holes for their supper.



There are perhaps 15 of these boxes at the hotel, arrayed in a neat line on the ridge, easily visible but still some distance away from the hammocks and beach umbrellas used by the hotel’s guests.

On this particular night, I fell asleep reading a novel around 9pm, and woke to the early calls of birds in the predawn of 5am. Out my bedroom veranda, through the thin, gently swaying muslin across the doors I’d left open through the night, the phosphorescence of the ocean surf sparkled and shimmered a hundred meters down the slight embankment through the coconut grove. I grabbed a flashlight and headed in that direction, but managed to make it to the beach without turning it on and without stumbling, the faint glow on the horizon being sufficient to keep me from bumping into trees.

As the sky brightened further, I peered into each small turtle hatching box. The first ten were empty, but inside the eleventh were perhaps 100 tiny turtles, milling about, climbing on top of each other, perhaps hearing the call of the sea yet unable to find their way out of the corral. I imagined them crying out to their mother, though she had long departed, and of course, these turtles said nothing that I could hear.

Down the beach a bit, popping out in the momentary lulls between tumbling waves, was the sound of a fisherman’s chant. “Ay yah ay yah,” then a pause and slightly louder, “Ay yah ay yah.” Emerging from the darkness were a half dozen young men hauling, inches at a time, on a thick line that disappeared into the sea. Unseen beneath the waves, a net stretched from surface to bottom for perhaps 500 meters, tracing a great arc back to the shore. The chanting men would pull a few inches, then shuffle a bit closer to the turtle hatchery, gradually tightening the net’s arc to collect the morning’s catch.



Through the coconut grove two flashlights bobbed low to the ground, attached to unseen children’s voices. Nina and her two boys had heard from Tambo that many eggs had hatched in the night, and they were coming to inspect, with Patrick not far behind.

First they removed the box and inverted it. As the tiny turtles began flopping instinctively toward the surf, Nina, Patrick, and the boys quickly but gently scooped them up, counting them as they were deposited in the now upside down hatching box. “110,” proclaimed Nina.



Patrick eyed the approaching fishermen and their net. “We’d better carry these over to the outside of the net,” he declared. “No sense our releasing them here only to have them end up entangled.”

“Is the mesh in the net small enough to catch baby turtles,” I asked, thinking that it might be unusual for fishing of this type to be done with a small-mesh net.

“Yes, it’s illegal, and a waste really,” Patrick replied, “but there’s no enforcement. They end up leaving most of the small fish on the beach, actually, which is quite a waste.”

“They don’t realize they’re depleting their own stock,” Nina joined in. “It’s quite a shame. I’ve gathered up some of those wasted small fish myself, and they cook up quite nicely. If they’re going to catch them, they really ought to eat them.”

“Do you really think that artisanal fishing like this can have a real impact on fish stocks,” I asked. “Don’t you think the real problem with overfishing is those industrial trawlers you can sometimes see out there on the horizon?”

Nina looked out to sea. “It’s hard to say,” she answered after a moment. “I wonder if nets like these, dragging on the bottom, destroy the places where fish eggs are laid. We do sometimes see enormous quantities of coral and rock washing up on the beach, but perhaps that’s the damage done by those bigger trawlers.”



Patrick walked the turtle box to the other side of the fishermen’s net. One of the other tourists staying at the hotel lagged behind a bit, and then took a flash picture that included both Patrick and the fishermen, to which the lead fisherman chanter shouted an objection. As I crossed under their line, greeting them, the chanter also called out to me, “Please white man, give me one cedi.”

I smiled. “You give me one big fish and I’ll give you one cedi.”

All the fishermen laughed in reply. “Ok, ok, when the fish comes, I will call you,” replied the chanter.

“Big one,” I held my hands wide apart to show them.

“Yes, yes, we are coming,” was their unison response. With renewed vigor, they hauled further on their line.



Patrick, trailed by Nina, the other tourist, and the two small boys, had moved another 50 meters down the beach, and I caught up with them just in time for the turtle box to be turned gently over, tumbling all 110 freshly counted turtles onto the sand. As the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, they “dashed” (turtle style, more like floundered) toward the sea. They seemed to have no trouble discerning which direction to take. Some moved remarkably quickly. Others looked a bit tired.

The surf caught the lead turtles, tumbling them back upon their siblings. They quickly righted themselves and resumed the race. We snapped more pictures, then a big wave came, and they were gone.

Lungi

The Freetown airport at Lungi was a pleasant surprise. Chicken and chips at a lovely cafe just outside the terminal, and an air conditioned waiting lounge inside with BBC on the television. Nice bargains at the duty free.

The baggage handlers were annoying and somewhat aggressive, and a guard at the entry door politely requested a bribe, which I politely declined to pay. Other than that, all was more official and organized than on any previous trip.



I'd urge the casual tourist to be escorted, but the savvy traveler should have no trouble with the airport. Still not good enough to encourage tourism or investors, but better than it used to be.

East Defeats West In Hard-Fought Match

The press were on hand for a recent series of three friendlies on the pitch at Fourah Bay Road near downtown Freetown. The matches were organized in conjunction for a rally to promote peace during the upcoming municipal elections.



I stopped by to watch friend Bonor Kargbo compete in the third match for one-legged amputees. All the players have one leg, except for the goalies who have two legs but one arm.



Bonor's match was between the East Side (blue and white) and the West Side (yellow). Bonor is a West Sider, the one with the flag of Sierra Leone as a head scarf.



Bonor's team worked hard, but ultimately was no match for the more powerful East Side squad, who defeated them 2 nil.

Sleight of Hand

Teenagers and young boys are everywhere at the Lungi ferry, which connects Freetown to its international airport. Medium-sized boys offer to carry your bags for a small fee. Once aboard for the hour-and-a-half crossing, small boys sell candies and crackers.

And then there are the other boys, mostly just hanging around, watching, or pretending to do something when they're actually doing something else. It can be a bit like Oliver Twist. Watch your pockets.

Universities

British Canadian International Education is an organization that facilitates recruitment of students for universities. In a conference room at the La Palm Hotel, a dozen UK schools had booths, many with representatives from the schools, though some staffed by BCIE personnel.



Both Abdul and Moses registered and entered. There was initially some confusion about what to do once inside, so I helped them through the first couple of interviews. Abdul focused on engineering, Moses on accounting.


From the BCIE Flyer for Today's College Fair

Abdul left pretty excited. Seems he is well within range of direct admission with a possible scholarship, particularly if he can improve a bit in a couple of areas (advanced maths and biology in particular). Moses was happy to learn that his remarkable score of C in English is the qualification he needs for further studies. He is now looking at a year of foundational studies to explore accounting a bit, but also to keep open other options.

Maya Visits Volta

Maya stopped by. The two of us have another friend in common, Joan from Washington. Joan gave Maya my address, and I was so pleased when Maya showed up at my office.



Of course I invited Maya to go sailing on the Volta River. She seemed quite at home on my Hobie 16, though she'd apparently not sailed before.



We took an extended cruise, first upriver toward Big Ada, around the big island and through several of the smaller waterways among the smaller islands.



We waved to the young boys we discovered casting their nets or diving for oysters.



Often one boy will stay in the boat with a motorized pump, while the other dives with the air hose.



Or maybe they'll have constructed lots of traps from palm, loading them with bits of fish to attract crabs.



They also use nets that are fed overboard, supported by floats, and formed into a big circle.



After a long day on the boat, it was good to relax on a hammock over at Pat's place.

Movie Night

Spouses have a pretty tough time in overseas service. It's rare for both to have good jobs. One usually follows when the other gets a job assignment. Once they arrive, local laws often limit the employability of the "trailing" spouse.



One friend has been trying lots of new ideas. His wife is a professional with a local aid agency. He's a computer guru, and is developing contacts with all the major computer and communications technology companies -- there's currently a boom in such things in Ghana.



He recently brought in some phenomenal video projection technology -- Blue Ray, speakers, the works. Now we have movie night -- a great feature downloaded from Netflix or some other such service, plus short films and commercials, delivered in the comfort of his living room, complete with popcorn and beer. Next week he's combining a wine tasting contest with a viewing of the film "Sideways".

Security

Bright flashes of light and the sound of gunfire roused me around 4am early last weekend. Peeling back a corner of the curtain in my bedroom, I could just make out shadows running past my fence, and could easily hear loud shouts from the front gate. The security lights were out.

Cool, huh?



OK, no real crisis. Somehow the power line from our front electricity pole to the staff quarters managed to short itself out, generating brilliant sparks and loud popping noises. It created a small fire where the wire entered the wall of the building, and so freaked out my staff that they ran out with their hands over their heads to protect themselves from sparks.



A week later -- yes, a full week later -- we managed to get the electricity company out here to cut the juice to the wire, though I think the delay was more due to problems with the landlord than with the company. Meanwhile, we'd established a perimeter around the sparky spot, and staff moved their television to the front veranda so as not to disrupt viewing of the latest from the Championship League.

Shakeup in Ada Foah

The culinary and general tourism scene in Ada Foah has been shaken up with changes in personnel and new startups.

Maks Guest House, just north of Ada Foah and just off the main road to Kasseh Ada, is reputed to offer great rooms on the river with a/c and a pleasant restaurant -- will have to try it on my next visit. There's a Maks Hotel in central Ada Foah, but from the exterior I'd say a visit isn't necessary. Perhaps the two facilities are unrelated.


Sunrise over the Volta

I have stopped by to visit Roget at his new place, now under construction. He offered me a cup of purified sweet palm wine while we watched his carpenters at work. You'll recall Roget was the fabulous seafood chef from Togo (aka "the French chef") heading up the kitchen at Tsarley Korpey Hotel. Superbly cooked barracuda, great sauces, crispy French fries (remarkably hard to find in Ghana). He's departed Tsarley Korpeh, and is now constructing what looks to be a fabulous garden restaurant not to far from the old administrative part of Ada Foah, with a clear view to the beach and fresh sea breezes. It'll be his own place, with seating under little huts.

I stopped by Tsarley's to see how they were surviving without Roget. It seems Roget left behind a well trained crew, as the French fries are still pretty good. They'll need to pull in a good chef, however, if they want to maintain their clientele amid growing competition.


Pat's (foreground) and Winfred's (background)

Victor has now departed Winfred's Maranatha Beach Camp, and seems to be entering a business partnership with Pat's Estuary Beach Camp. Victor will presumably be helping Pat out on the management and publicity side, while Pat focuses on building out her new kitchen and bar facilities. Victor is also reported to be starting a new business to provide twice-weekly service removing rubbish from the beach chalets. No word on why Victor and Winfred have parted ways.

The two camps, Winfred's and Pat's, are side by side near the mouth of the Volta, in lovely locations, though the river bottom by Pat's place is sandier, while Winfred's guests must cope with a bit of muck if they seek to wade. Winfred's still got the best cook, however. Emmanuel makes a mean grilled barracuda with paprika and rosemary, though he hasn't quite mastered effective French fries. Pat's working on upgrading her menu, but the low volume of tourists makes it hard for her to keep good perishables in stock.

Did I mention that I liked barracuda?

Seafood

Good Fish (Pacific Albacore Tuna)

Chef Barton Seaver was escorted recently around West Africa by colleagues at the Trade Hub in Dakar, checking out local catches of sustainable seafood.


Bad Fish (Bluefin Tuna)

Chef Seaver recommends salting your tuna steak a good half hour before cooking. Wood grill for about a minute per side until rare. Serve over risotto infused with cauliflower and drizzled with intensified black olive paste.



Or just try his restaurant in Georgetown... Only sustainably harvested fish are served.

Cup of African Nations

A great tarpaulin covered the pitch as fans entered the stadium around 2pm. Organizers had warned that the gates would be closed at 2:30 so that the opening ceremonies could begin on time at 3pm.



Loud music blared from banks of speakers. Suddenly a helicopter approached, dangling a tremendous flag of Ghana by a wire underneath. The crowd erupted with wild jubilation.



Drummers marched onto the pitch to begin the cermony ...



... joined by acrobats and dancers ...



... then troops of singers clad in traditional costumes from the four corners of Ghana ...



... in spectacular formations each greeted with tremendous applause and fireworks.



Then the tarpaulin was removed, the President welcomed the players, and the games began.



The stadium was truly spectacular. Comfortable chairs in a brisk harmattan breeze. Jumbotron at one end for announcements and scores. Covered seating for VIPs.



Ghana wins its opening match against Guinea, 2 to 1!!

Mississippi

Clark Young
West Point, Mississippi, USA

From the Daily Times Leader

An Alabama photographer whose work has been featured in national and international publications will present a Dec. 9 lecture at First Presbyterian Church USA. Chip Cooper of Tuscaloosa will continue a series that honors longtime West Point residents Clark and Diane Young and their commitment to the environment. The 2 p.m. presentation, which is free to the public, is titled “Nature’s Light.”

“We established the Clark and Diane Young Environmental Lecture to honor the lifelong stewardship of two of our devoted members,” said Rev. Rita E. Cochrane. “We’re especially delighted that this lecture also will capture their love of nature’s beauty.” Cooper, head of photography at the University of Alabama, has published four books of photographs and has had work exhibited around the South and in Costa Rica, France and Washington D.C.