Etherean Shakedown

The Theory of Ghanaian Time Relativity

In contrast to the Western World, which operates on the standard 24 hour clock, though the numbers might appear identical, Ghana uses what is known as the “Astrological Clock,” wherein, after agreeing to a 10 AM appointment, your next duty is to immediately consult a local psychic who will confirm that your meeting will begin at 2 PM sharp! (or 8:30 AM depending on your psychic.)
Having failed to consult the local soothsayer, we arrived at The Etherean Mission (Tetteh’s Church) at promptly 10 AM. Apparently the guests of honor, the local chiefs, had three different psychics, each of whom, independently, came to the consensus, and this was considered a miracle by all of the Ghana, especially considering the pinpoint accuracy of their independent prophecies, that the event would not begin at 10 AM.

This doesn’t mean that we were bored while we waited for the chiefs to straggle in. The beat of African drums, and the extremely warm and friendly churchgoers lead to enthusiastic dance party in the courtyard.
I had made quick friends with a young, pretty African girl named Jessica, she tells me that “I’m a pretty good dancer … for a white guy.” (Anyone remember that song by the Offspring, ‘Pretty Fly for a White Guy’ ?”

Jessica Boifo, Accra Ghana

(Check out Jessica’s beautiful blinged out dress. This is kinta cloth. It can be very pretty ... sadly, for y'all, footage of us all dancing and many other pictures were lost while transferring from my camera :(

Check out the row of children. I think church is the same for kids everywhere

I ask Jessica a million questions about Ghana.
A middle class wage is about $550 a month. Her Mother, a pharmacist who works for the government, makes somewhere around that, but her Father, who works for a private company, makes substantially more. And while the $2,500 or so this family of four brings in a month makes them on the wealthy side for Ghanaians, it is in obvious contrast to the purchase power such an amount would be in the US.

The beautiful dress you see above, which she very much values, the fabric alone if I remember correctly, costs in excess of $200. It was a gift from her parents, and she hired a seamstress to customize the cut for her. Jessica loves fashion and one day wants to travel to Milan to study fashion.

All Ghanaians love soccer. They are proud of their World Cup team, who would have made the semi-finals if not for a Uruguayan player’s blatant and intentional hand ball which prevented a Ghanese goal at the end of the game. It is sore spot for every Ghanaian, and Suarez (the Uruguayan player) is unlikely to ever be granted a visa to the country. In fact, I am sure the immigration officer would relish the opportunity to stamp his application, "DENIED!" 100% of Ghanaians within 50 miles of a television watched the game. There wasn’t a single car on the road.

Divorce is exceedingly rare in Ghana, and the family and extended family, are a very tight knit group. The most powerful man in Ghana, is not the President, Jessica informs me, but rather the Ashanti Chief, who presides over the mining (gold in particular) region of Ghana.
Obama is very popular here in Ghana. He represents hope unheard of. The Ghanaians simply did not believe that it was possible for a person of color to be elected President of the United States. On the eve of the election, the people of this country watched the results more closely than the majority of people in the United States.

When Obama was declared president, a mighty roar was heard in all corners of Ghana. It wasn’t so much the fact that Obama is black that they were cheering, but rather, the fact that the impossible just took place. What dream could possibly be out of reach, now that America has elected a black man?
Also of interest, Ghanaians were thrilled when Obama chose to visit Ghana, but some were suspicious that this was business as usual for America, since Ghana had very recently discovered a large amount of oil, and they thought perhaps Obama was there to plunder their wealth.




(African dancers- pretty fly, even for black guys :)



The Chiefs Arrive
“Later” finally arrived, and the chiefs were accounted for. The aforementioned Ashanti chief was invited to the ceremony, but as he could not attend, he sent three of his local sub-chiefs in his place.
There was dancing, a few ceremonies, and, believe it or not, a lecture on Ghanaian law during which Jessica and I took it upon ourselves to go get water and snacks at a local convenience store. After a good deal of time, Ishmael got up and spoke.
At the, albeit very unlikely, risk of costing what was gained by Ishmael, I have decided not to go into too much detail on the world wide web, (but if any of you back home are curious, it’s a great story that I’ll tell you in person) but let me just state that Ishmael is a master of manifestation, and all of us who were there from America, were merely unwitting, but even afterwards quite grateful to be pawns in his ingenious master plan.
In the middle of his beautiful speech, he made a large request for what it was he wanted, and then followed it up by stating, “We must speak of these things out loud, for as the saying goes, ‘We must speak of fish, or else we will only eat bone!’ “
Well, moments later, Ishmael was granted his large request (which will do enormous good for the youth of Ghana) so the “cultural day” was a huge success. After all speeches were concluded, we went outside where we formed a line to inspect the various foods from the various regions of Ghana brought in for the event. Yes, before eating, you go and inspect the food to make sure it is up to your satisfaction, which is contrary to my commonly held belief I refer to as, “dig in.”
While the food was plentiful, I cannot say I am a huge fan of Ghanaian food. Most of it is quite heavy, a lot of it fried and oily, with few vegetables, but I had a lot of fun nonetheless. (plantains however, are yummy!)

35th Anniversary Celebration
The following day was the 35th Anniversary celebration, and Michael Beckwith, the founder of Agape who you might have seen on Oprah or in “The Secret” who is a very deep and knowledgeable man, got up and gave a speech that blew everyone away. Michael, like Tetteh, is a brilliant orator, but today he was ON FIRE. Thoughts and words were just moving through him, he was channeling something far beyond the human mind.

A humorous moment came when Ishmael asked someone from the youth ministry to volunteer to give someone a blessing, and a brave young boy answered the call.
For several minutes words raced frantically from the ten year old,. Slowly, audience members began to open one eye, then the other, while the boy continued his invocation. Applause began to rain down upon him, a hint to wrap it up, but he just kept going and going and going while the applause became louder and louder coupled with laughter. When he finally completed his prayer, he received a standing ovation.
The poor boy stood there, sort of dazed, then realized what the applause were related to, and raced back to his mother, burying his face in her arms while she consoled him. I felt both bad for his reaction, but also had to laugh , knowing that in the future, assuming he doesn't develop a fear of public speaking, he will likely become a charismatic speaker.

(you can feel warmth and joy even in this brief video)

The VIP's Meet Moses

I ain't going to lie. Ghana is traffic can be horrific, so when we were to receive a VIP police escort to the airport (courtesy of Ishmael), we are all excited to see whther it would make any difference.
But low and behold, we cut through massive amounts of gridlock like a razor through butter. Sirens wailing in front of us, behind us, lead our gigantic wildabeast like buses through traffic that would have taken 2 hours to get through in 15 minutes.
We were unbelieving of the magical feat. Someone in back of the bus, offerred the conclusion that the lead cop's name must Moses.
Frankly, I don't think that gives the guy enough credit. His feat had a far higher degree of difficulty than parting the red sea. In line with Ishmael's teachings that all comes from the same source, I'm going to call him God.

the general feeling I think our group left behind in Ghana

Accra, Ghana and Ishmael Tete

Obama is exceedingly popular in Ghana

Part 1/2

Finishing our circular navigation route, we arrived back in Ghana’s capitol, Accra, a city in perpetual motion, its citizens always trying to line their pockets with a few extra dollars. Ghanaians are very industrious people, and work exceedingly hard to feed their families. Unlike most poor countries, beggars are rare.

Market in Ghana

Friends here are instantaneous. While vendors and cabbies are always trying to gain some level of rapport to increase the odds of a sale, many Ghanaians are happy just to make your acquaintance, their warmth is genuine.
Mechanical know-how is a must. Ghanaians are continually repairing or enhancing their fifteen plus year old cars that generally leave plumes of exhaust in their wake. Scattered piles of trash dirty the busy city. Get on the wrong street, be prepared for congestion.

baskets of commodities displayed atop heads

Vendors hawk their goods on the sides of every road. For a dollar or two, women act as transports balancing baskets of various commodities upon their heads, regularly moving heavy items more than a kilometer. Oftentimes these rather cumbersome “hats” serve as both store and display. Ask for a bag of banana chips and a quick overhead reach will produce the requested item.
Clubbing
A number of us decided to go out to a club in Accra and to experience night life in Ghana. Immediately I was called over by a group of young Ghanaians to join them. I note their outgoing energy and a natural sense of joy not often found the United States as they puff on their cigarettes. I purchase some pineapple juice for a one of the girls. The next thing I know we are dancing. She is grinding me.
This is just the way they dance in Ghana. All three of the Ghanaian guys in my group received such treatment at the downstairs disco. I dance with her and her friend an hour and a half. It was the longest lap dance I have ever received.
She sits on my lap trying to kiss me. That is pretty much as far as I am willing to take it tonight. She asks me if she could have some money. I am not shocked. My ten dollars is worth a lot more to her than me. I leave. She definitely wasn’t a professional, she was embarrassed when she came out of the bathroom and her friend was grinding me, but that’s a slippery slope into the abyss.
The Etherean Mission
The founder of the Etherean Mission is named Ishmael Tetteh, a powerful, handsome man standing six foot three, who looks far younger than his 62 years (I believe) of age. We were there to celebrate the 35th anniversary of the founding of the church.
I spoke to Ishmael for about thirty minutes or so privately, and he related some of his story to me. I had met Ishmael in America, and heard him speak, and let me tell you, he is an incredibly dynamic and powerful orator.

Brother Ishmael Tete

The thing about Ishmael is he walks his talk. This man has thirty-seven children … two of which are biological. Anyone that needs help that ends up in his path, he does all he can.
He tells me it is harder now, that he and his wife had agreed to stop at 36. (Wasn’t there some old show called “Eight is Enough?”) Apparently a twenty-one year kept sneaking into their back yard and taking scraps of food. He soon found himself sleeping on Ishmael’s couch. He had no education. Ishmael made sure he got it, and the young man’s agreement to fully and willingly participate was a prerequisite to continuing care. That made 37.
Ishmael believes that God is love. Nothing less or more. He personifies his beliefs. Being around this bubbly, loving powerful man cannot help but awaken your own natural state of joy. Brother Tetteh exudes love. He is one of the most charismatic men I have met.
In fact, the only human being I have ever met who exerts more unconscious power is a living Saint I was fortunate enough to spend some personal time with while in India nicknamed Babaghi. Babaghi will absolutely blow the “YOU” away, literally and figuratively (phrasing intentional) merely by being open to his presence.
I grew up in a household with an atheist MIT Physicist father. Science is amazing, providing us with the wonderful lifestyles we live today, but the more I learn and open as a being, the more I understand that science is merely God expressed in mathematical form, and my prayer is that one day my Father will be able to express love and joy as a quantifiable equations that can be replicated for the rest of the world. If I can offer him one hint, I am positive that ego dissolution would be an important variable.

Ghana is predominately a Christian nation, co-existing peacefully with Islam and other local faiths and customs. Ghana is the most stable and peaceful of the Sub Saharan African nations.
Ishmael tells me that many Christian churches preach fear and the devil. Ishmael could not comprehend that a God of love, would allow the devil to exist to scare humanity. It made no sense, in the same way a parent would not lock his child in a room with a poisonous snake to fear. How then, could the devil exist?
At the age of 26, he got on national TV and stated that God was love and that there was no devil. Immediately he became a pariah, labeled the Anti-Christ by some, and received death threats.
“As a 26 year old, let me tell you, it was not fun,” states Ishmael.
35 years later his church of new thought is packed. We were there to celebrate the 35th anniversary its founding. ----------------

For more on Ishmale Tetteh click here http://www.ethereanlife.com/

Part 2/2 coming tomorrow!!

Man Attacks Crocodile!!

Man Attacks Crocodile!!

African rainforest

The twelve foot long, man eating croc, sat on the riverbank sunning itself, re-energizing, readying to take down his next victim, not knowing that it was the one who was being stalked by the crazy guy nearby who had a hankering for croc meat. The ensuing brawl would put any UFC match to shame …
On what was my favorite day in Ghana we got to visit one of the last vestiges of rainforest left in the country in Kapkum National Park. I'm a nature lover, minus every mosquito dead or alive.

Much of rural Ghana is covered in new growth forest, scrawny 98 pound weakling trees as compared to the Arnold Schwarzaneggar’s that have all but been clear to make your hot tub deck, the last vestiges residing only in the National Parks. (please make certified sustainable woods purchases)
Immediately I am struck by the beauty of the African Rainforest. Emerald green shining in the against a background of saturated golden light, trees extending their arms towards the heavens, birds and monkeys chattering up a storm, and the soft warm rain alighting on my skin.
I ventured onto the canopy walk, rope bridges spanning from tree to tree one hundred and twenty feet above the ground. It was soooo beautiful, to look at all the surrounding vegetation from an eagle’s vantage point.

Alice Beckwith on the rope bridge

(A view from the canopy)

Straight from branches of nearby trees came the coconuts and cacao fruit I chopped open with a machete. Birds lizards, and salamanders abounded. I had a great time!

(A lesson in where CHOCOLATE comes from)


After what was only an hour and a half in the forest, we had to board the bus again (don’t get me started, we spent 80% of the first four days on that stupid bus. Less travel, more DO please.)
With that frustration in mind, we stopped for lunch by a local lake, known to have crocs, and sure enough, the local legend, the twelve footer who the locals said was known to have eaten at least one tourist was sunning himself on the bank.
Now, a quick adoption of game theory, (measuring each possible outcome and weighing the benefits of one against the downside of the other) came up with the following results.
Outcome #1: I survive my encounter, educate you guys about crocs, and have a fun story to tell
Outcome #2: I get pulled into the lake and eaten, a grizzly horrible death by any standards … which means that I don’t have to get back on the bus!
A no lose situation for Rich!
Apparently, the rest of my group didn’t agree with my analysis and told me I was CRAZY. It’s not that I have any empirical evidence to counter their argument, but do they really have to state it out loud? It kind of hurts.


(Rich versus Crocodile- the brawl of the century)


You can see the full results of the croc brawl in the video. As I am still standing, it’s pretty safe for me to claim victory. I guarantee that croc slid back into the water, and all his pals told him, “man, you’re a loser. If that was me, CHOMP, yum-yum,” but my croc undoubtably replied with a refrain often heard on the basketball court, “Maybe if he wasn’t so quick.”
On my end, it was the first time I was grateful to get back on the bus.

West African Slavery - examining the Slave Trade Today (Ghana)

Slavery Roots In West Africa

Slave auction sign, look closely

African Slavery
Whenever man can impose his will on other individuals for his own personal gain he rarely hesitates. Slavery, in its various forms, has existed since the dawn of civilization, coupled with the needed dehumanizing measures used by those with the physical power to help morally justify their actions.
The blueprint for a slave ship’s design labeled them as “cargo,” On plantations, slaves were often made to eat out the same troughs as animals, families were broken-up and auctioned off as objects, derogatory epitaphs like “N” word were developed, it was made a CRIME to educate slaves,
Many of my compatriots had very visceral reactions to what they saw and felt, so I am going to keep this blog entry less tongue in cheek than usual out of respect for their experience. My group here is 75% black and all but one are older than me. I do not know what it was like to grow up black in the United States, and many of them remember the civil rights era, when racism was obviously much more rampant than in my childhood.

Cape Coast harbor/many fishermen

canons pointing out to sea at the castle

Our first stop was “The Last Bath,” where slaves, having been forced marched 300 miles on foot, chained to one another, unable to move their arms to even protect themselves against a biting insect, were given their final bath on African soil, to bathe, still chained together (in case the slave you were chained to decided to drown himself you went with him), and were finally fed and made to exercise to regain some lost weight (higher market price) before being marched the final 30 miles to the Cape Coast Castle where they were sold, raped, killed, etc. and possibly then brought on a dungeon like ship to the America’s.

young Ghanians by the river

entrance to the river

The Gas Chamber of Africa
We then went as a group to visit Cape Coast Castle, the last place the enslaved would touch African soil. Lined with canons pointing out to sea, turrets, and dungeons, the castle served the dual functions of short term imprisonment and fortress.
For those uppity slaves who dared to choose to fight for their freedom, they were set usually set free because it is just too hard to deal with someone with such crazy ideas.
“Look at Vernon,” (likely not his real name, but who knows) the slave merchant would yell at the rest of the slaves while Vernon was shackled and lead away with spear tips pressed against his neck, rifles pointed at him from all directions, “For his exemplary behavior we have decided to set Vern free.”
And of course by “exemplary behavior” the slave master was sarcastically referring to Vernon sneezing in his (the slave master’s) presence and by free, he of course meant, “dead.”
So what would happen to Vern, and up to two hundred other damned souls at one time is they would be thrown into a cell with no light, no water, no ventilation, and no Internet, packed like sardines, unable to see their own hands, with temperatures inside easily exceeding one hundred degrees from all the body heat and the African climate, amidst sewage and decay from the previous group. Some would die in six hours, some would last two days breathing in the stench of the rapidly decomposing bodies around them before they too passed.
At least the Nazi’s made it quick.
I can tell you that I was in the gas chamber with the entire group, who comprised less than 100 people, and the door was closed and the light turned off. Many people let out a yelp of fear. It was exceedingly hot, and it would be very easy to feel claustrophobic as densely as we were packed. Now put more than double that number, and KNOW that you face Death.
Many cried. For their ancestors, for the energy of the room, from the thought of what it must have been like, from their own fears.

Parting Thoughts
Without a system of agreed upon morals, society could not survive. It would be difficult to justify enslaving a neighbor and an equal, so we skew these morals by re-framing the way we see other tribes/races/etc if it gives us a competitive survival advantage. It further separates the ego from the pure divine love that is innate inside all of us.

the last bath river

Going Going Ghana

GHANA
Day #1

Young Ghanian boys

Equatorial Ghana has the luxury of spending zero percent of its budget on national defense, relying instead on its vast arsenal of nuclear mosquitoes, who carry the twin canons of malaria and yellow fever. I’m very much looking forward to meeting the national guard, seeing as mosquitoes treat me like a piñata at a Mexican birthday party.
We arrive in Accra, Ghana at dawn. Immediately leaving the airport we get on a bus which will take us to Ghana’s second largest city, Kumase.
After an interminably long ride over unpaved roads, we stop at a stand where they sell Kente Cloth. Rural Ghana is quite poor, so the locals are naturally excited to see Americans and their money.
Everybody here is a hustler, but I feel a lot more warmth from the majority of those who approach me trying to eke out a living than I did in say, Turkey, where people will skin you alive if you let them.

Selling The Shirt Off My Back

Kente cloth shopping

Kente cloth is very colorful, and is generally made out of rayon or cotton, using looms to weave these strings into woven patterns.

There are some really wonderful artists here. I am currently in negotiations with one of them. Although the piece is nice, he wants more than I am willing to pay.
“I like your shirt,” he states, gazing at my basketball uniform from this year’s Sports Club LA League championship team.
“You like my shirt?”
“Yes, very much. I buy from you?”
“You want to buy the shirt I am wearing?”
“Yes.”
I got the kente cloth, he got the jersey. At least he got a championship jersey, and not some loser jersey from some loser team like Dan Denham’s or Aaron Davis’s. (both of whom we beat in the playoffs)

Proud owners from the exchange

We get back on the road and drive the entire rest of the day before arriving in Kumasi late in the evening. The city center is crowded and bustling. Traffic is slow. We get to the hotel. I am tired. I am glad to be off the bus. 

Day #2
The most exciting thing that happened today was when our bus hit a goat.
We drive for seven hours straight with one stop. I have been traveling for six straight days. I haven’t exercised, much less played basketball. Nothing but buses and flights and waiting for other people. We saw NOTHING in Kumasi. We went there for what? This part of the tour is obviously incredibly poorly organized.

Ghana traffic and activity

We drive all day. Half the bus cheers when we hit the goat because at least something happened.
Arriving at our hotel on Cape Coast after dark, barely stepping foot off the bus, I wonder why I came and vow never to go on another big group tour again.

The only thing I have to console me is the brilliantly crafted trade I made for my basketball jersey. Beaming with pride at my outstanding negotiation skills, I become suddenly energized with anticipation, remembering why I really came to Africa.
Don’t be envious, but last year, Lady Luck smiled upon me like the Saharan sun at noon. I received an email from a Nigerian Prince (out of ALL the people on the Internet he chose ME!!!) requesting $1,500 to help him cut through the red tape on his fifty million dollar inheritance. One thing about me, in contrast to you, and why I get to be here in on Africa on the threshold of collecting my enormous windfall, when I see a business deal of outstanding value, I do not hesitate, no, I jump right in!
And to all you jealous haters out there, who are right now hollerin’ that Rich, merely, once again, got “lucky,” and how does this exemplify my "so called," shining skills as a negotiator, and that there is “no way,” as I have often claimed, that had I been Jesus’s lawyer, he’d still be alive today, let me tell you this-- originally my Nigerian Prince friend only offered me $250,000. Through the charm and charisma that you can only dream of, I bargained him up to a cool million. He barely even whimpered.