Esther says

Chatting with Esther the other day while driving her home, I asked what she thought about the recent robberies. She put it pretty succinctly.

"See all these people with the big houses, they're all thieves. Where do you think they get this much money?"
"So the robbers from the boats are just stealing from the thieves in the houses?", I asked.
"Yes"

More haste, less speed

Sitting here in the aftermath of a fierce but short rain storm. Grateful Dead streaming from archive.org. (Fillmore east May 15, 1970, late show, including NRPS, set 2 group B). The clouds had gotten really black off to the east and the wind started kicking up. The usual 5 gallon plastic water container blowing around the driveway. Will they ever pick those up?

It had been a somnambulant morning, lazy bike ride, coffee with Colleen, nothing planned. As the wind started rattling the roofing, I was suddenly energized. The driver was washing the car, looking forward to lunch, the cook was finishing up, all cooking done, now cleaning and mopping.

In my excitement, I had the idea to save the cook from getting wet I would send her home early with the driver. So I had the driver wait and hurried up the cook so she could go.

If I had been paying attention at all, I would have noticed that the cook was not worried, she knew the rain would be brief and was proceeding along at her accustomed pace. The driver was concerned about lunch and not understanding why the crazy white man was worrying about rain when there are more important things at stake. He could eat free at the company cafeteria up until 14:00 which was now passing by.

I got them all hustled off in time for the rain to taper off so that I was left alone to contemplate the advantages of all these arrangements.

There was the advantage of privacy, maybe that's why I did it. Or maybe it was just another case of not knowing when to just let things be and have them work themselves out on their own.

The Marine Ball

Sometimes I get things just so wrong that it's just funny. Between cultures there are bound to be misunderstandings, but it doesn't have to be a cultural problem either, sometimes I just get it wrong. For example:

There were two young U.S. Marines on our recent boat trip. Quite a pair, a male recent immigrant from Khazakhstan and a woman from somewhere rural in the U.S. They acted like a couple teenagers, which they just about were, teasing and goading each other. Marines are stationed around the world to guard the embassies and consulates.

My wife was talking to them at lunch and mentioned how she was looking forward to the annual Marine ball. A must attend black tie event. She mentioned that she had brought a fancy dress just for the occasion. The Marine said the ball might be canceled this year.

I was thinking (logically I thought) that this must be due to the recent robberies, including a couple consular cars getting robbed and an invasion of the consular residential compound itself. So I blurted out, "no one will try to rob a hall full of Marines, what's the problem?".

I was totally out of line. The problem is that the ball is supported by the receipts from the club (bar) at the Marine's house. There had been a severe reduction in business recently and it wasn't clear that there would be enough funds to put on the ball.

I've decided to be a true American and support the Marines more often.

I like the canvas

I had informed the maintenance office that we had three light bulbs out. About average for a week, normal occurrence. Just now the maintenance guy rang the bell.

I showed him the three bulbs, one in the sconce in the living room, the second in the kitchen ceiling fixture, and one more upstairs. The kitchen bulb had exploded spectacularly in a shower of sparks and glass when the power came back on Saturday night.

The thing was he didn't have a ladder as he usually does. So as we were walking back down the stairs I asked, "Do you have your ladder?".
"It's outside" I heard him say.
As he went out the door, he picked my shoes off the porch, turned back and handed them to me saying, "I like the canvas".
Realizing this was an interaction that I just wasn't going to understand, I took the shoes and put them away in the storeroom.

I know "canvas" is slang for athletic shoes but how that relates to the ladder that I thought we were discussing will have to remain a mystery.

Later he returned with the ladder and replaced all the bulbs.

Boat Ride

Went on a trip Sunday with the Field Society. They arrange trips all over the place, we had joined a while ago but this was the first one was actually went on. Met at 08:00 at the wildlife sanctuary right near the office. Since the driver went missing, I drove the 4 km all by myself. No driver's license, no insurance, no permission, just hoping for no police and light traffic.

With my wife yelling "Slow down" I got there safely in just a few minutes. Seemed to me that staying ahead of the other vehicles, especially the minibuses was a reasonably safe strategy and anyway not much traffic that early on Sunday. Left the car there and got a ride with some others to the boats. "Don't worry, it's safe to leave the car here."

About a 100 km ride east along the coast on a very good road, at least after we got through Ajah. That's the end of the line turnaround for lots of bus routes and is always jammed and the road bad. Then we were cruising along. I was riding with Esther and her two kids. A German family. The kids were looking forward to the beach.

We turned off the main road onto a pretty bad dirt track for the 10 km to the boats. A small tidy village, Ise. We met the Oba (chief) Ganiyu Adebowale Adegbesan. Quite a regal looking fellow dressed in a lacy white robe and carrying a ceremonial whisk. Our leader presented some cash towards the construction of his new house and three cans of Milo. Very traditional to meet the chief when visiting his territory. When the Oba found I was from the U.S. he pointedly asked me what I was doing about Mr. Bush. Not sure where to go with that I stuttered something about him being gone soon anyway. That seemed satisfactory. These chiefs are still a force in the community and as he pointed out it's a lot cheaper to come to him to resolve a dispute than going to court.

We piled into two large wooden canoes and pushed out through the water hyacinth into the lagoon. Outboard powered, we headed east for most of an hour, our goal to visit one of the many villages accessible only by water. This lagoon stretches for at least 100 km east from Lagos, varying in width from 10 km to much less. Green, green, green, the surrounding trees and bushes. Bamboo stakes in the shallow areas support fish traps, the water the color of weak tea. Some fish hawks sitting in the tops of trees observing the food supply. Threatened rain but never felt more than a few drops.

At Ode we got down and wandered into town. This place was larger than I expected. Enjoyed a warm Fanta from the local store and chatted with the locals. Was a bit annoyed by a few of us white folks who think they should be offered a place to sit wherever they go without even buying anything. One woman leaned over to me and complained, "they're not even cold". Well, duh, without road or electricity what to you think you're going to get, just enjoy what there is.

Then back on the boat to Ise and drove to the beach. We sat around and shared food and conversation. Had a South African mince specialty (bobotie) and watched the waves. Sorry I didn't bring my swimsuit since for once the waves were low enough for safe swimming.

Back to wildlife sanctuary, yes the car was safe. Drove home without incident.

Flat tyre

With all the staff hired and working away, my guilt for not finishing fixing the wife's bike reemerged. I had had the bearings fixed, but never bothered to put the wheel back on. So to prove that I too could be a useful member of the household I got to the task.

Put on the wheel (back) and was good to go. Then I noticed the front tyre was flat and I had just pumped it up a few days ago. I pumped it up again. While fooling around with the brakes that are just such junk they will never be adjusted properly but at least I could get them to not rub on the rim, I noticed that the front had gone soft, then quite soft. Good, another thing to do to demonstrated my prowess.

Took the wheel off, gathered up the tools. It is so hot in the yard at that time of day I thought of taking it all over near the pool where the lanai would be cooler. I also had the idea that the driver would come over too so as to give me time to impress him.

Well, the driver got distracted by the gardener putting up the bouganvilla that falls down off it's trellis every windstorm so I went over by myself. There were two federal police officers there and I thought that would do. One officer got up and left, the other returned the obligatory "good morning/afternoon/evening". (I think it's the first thing learned in grammar school, even the smallest toddler knows good morning).

I sat down, took the tyre off and started looking for the leak. Feeling around the inside I explained to the officer that I was checking to see if anything was sticking through.

"Might be a nail" he commented and then continued
"My eyes are probably better than yours, let me have a look."

So I handed him the tyre and started pumping up the tube to see if I could find the leak that way. After the tube was quite distended I ran my had around and sure enough felt the pinhole of air escaping.

"It's inside the tube" I exclaimed, "not a nail".
The officer showed me the spoke nipples in the rim, "these should be covered up, this thing isn't on there properly".
He was right. The rim strip had been installed thoughtlessly. A sure recipe for the pin hole leak on the inside of the tube.

I got out the patch kit and looked for what I needed. Now I started feeling like the student as he guided me through the process.
"don't you have to scrape that?"
"that cement looks old"
"is it completely dried?"
"use pressure to set the patch"

The officer was right all the way. I got the job done and then asked him.
"So you know how to do all this?"
"Of course, Practical Vulcanisation. Don't want to get stuck somewhere."

After fitting the tyre and inflating it we sat down again. His name is "Sule" (soulay) currently sergeant and hopefully soon to be Assistant Superintendant.

I wish him all the best.

Small things

The recent robbery gets more and more puzzling. The stories going around are ever growing, conflicting and confusing. One version has that there was no robbery, just a friendly shootout amongst family members. And what about the guy with the shotgun hiding in the bathtub? I guess I'll never know.

So how does a flat tire turn into an oil spill? Beats me. While out this morning I noticed a large gravel truck alongside the road above a pool of motor oil. A vulcaniser (tire repair) guy was fixing a flat. But where'd the oil come from? It looked like the whole crankcase had been dumped. There was a guy with a small cup dipping up the oil that had collected near the gutter and carefully filling a plastic jug.

Unfamiliar businesses: panel beaters, thats a body shop. How about the bar at Alpha beach that advertises dry cleaning? Could make sense, "honey I was just getting the cleaning done". Consider this real estate listing: "Warehouse suitable for storage of soap in a good location". Defensive driving: staying away from gasoline tankers. (they have a habit of rolling over and blowing up).

Todays saying: those that live near the church, are always late for service.

Off to the bank with a bag full of cash to buy airplane tickets. Namibia.

In the newspaper

One of the puzzles of the local newspaper is that a story's picture is not always near the story. For example, a story with the (mind boggling headline) "Country may co-opt neighboring countries into war against water hyacinth" is next to a picture of the recently built cruise ship "Marco Polo". BTW the story is about getting the other countries to cooperate to battle the water plant pest.

On the same page is a story headlined "Govt detains erring ship over death of dockworkers". The first time I read the story, I burst out laughing, reading it again I feel like crying, here's an excerpt, you make your choice.

"The two dockworkers died instantly when the crane of the ship from where they were discharging fish products collapsed on them."

"They died before they could be assisted with any first aid treatment. Their colleagues went on sympathy protest which later degenerated into mass protest and mob action, which led to the destruction of the entire administrative offices at the port."

Gunfire last night

Awoke to an unfamiliar sound, 2:15am. Maybe the wind whipping something around, maybe power out, maybe armed robbers climbing the fence.

Laid back in bed straining my ears for any further sounds. Heard a rattle, not close, is that what a machine gun actually sounds like? I only know from the TV and I know that is wrong. I thought about the supposedly distinctive sound an AK-47 makes when fired towards you. (Another thing I know from TV).

I got up and moved to the other room to put one more wall between myself and where the sounds seemed to be coming from. After a while with nothing, I ducked back into bed keeping low and feeling vaguely foolish. Looking out the window was probably a bad idea, I couldn't see much anyway unless the robbers were in the back yard in which case looking out was probably a real bad idea but I was tempted.

Laying there I then heard what sounded like fireworks, then I knew it was gunfire, the witnesses always say that it sounded like fireworks. After while I drifted off and slept late into the morning.

In the morning took my usual bike ride and tried to judge if there was menace in the air. Not really, just the sun, the watchmen at the house gates, the chop bars going strong with breakfast for the construction workers, the small group of men standing hoping for a job across the street from a construction site pouring concrete today, small groups of men walking back to town after not getting hired, a couple policemen sitting in the shade. I stopped to ask them what had happened.

Boatload of robbers had landed from the lagoon and entered two houses. Beat up two watchmen one homeowner and took a smallish amount of cash. One policeman wounded in the leg and taken to hospital. Our watchman said the robbers were chased back to their boat and escaped. And that he would protect me so don't worry.

I could tell which houses it was by the jam of cars parked in front. Lots of well dressed looking people milling about although few in uniform. I wonder who they all were. Relatives, detectives, politicians, generally important people? I imagined that the two standing in the street talking away on cell phones were reporters dictating the story. We'll see what's in the newspaper tomorrow.

This afternoon's rain is announcing itself with great gusts of wind. I love the way the bursts of air play out across the water. Blooming flowers of ripples over the waves. Five gallon water jug blowing around the driveway. I wonder when they will ever pick it up? Dinner with Bob tonight at the Chinese place.

How not to design an oven (HotPoint)

We had the rack of lamb to cook so I needed to figure out the oven. Fiddling with the knobs brought no sign of the thing actually turning on. Luckily, I remembered where the instructions were, right where I left them 9 months ago. On top of the fridge in the storeroom under some other papers that are probably instructions for more mysterious appliances. (And my wife says I can't find anything?) Get this, to operate the oven the clock must be set first. Seems simple enough. Except in a country where the power goes out twice a day and unsets it. What a crock!

Tip: sear seasoned rack of lamb with olive oil in a heavy pan, a pan with high sides will keep splatter to a minimum, then fan grill at 177C for at least 20 minutes. Don't believe the book that fan grill doesn't need preheating, of course it does. That was a bit rare, despite the thermometer reading, next time try 25 minutes. And yes there will be a next time because we brought two. And maybe by then I can find the other oven racks from wherever they have been hidden.

P.S. The second one came out just beautifully.

Why not to throw anything away

When I was sailing a while ago, Paul handed me a ball bearing that had just fallen out of a winch. I stuck it in my pocket like the father that I am having been handed things by children over the years and without questioning stuck them in my pocket.

At the softball field opening party later that evening, I felt the ball in my pocket, took it out and threw it into the trash. At the time, I remember thinking like "I'll never regret that, right?".

Well, now I do. In fixing up the other bike, I've noticed that the rear wheel makes a clicking sound as it turns. Or clunking more like it if there is weight on the wheel. I had noticed when I took the wheel off how tight the cones were and I think there is a broken ball. Need to take it off to be sure.

I got the axle out and sure enough a broken ball bearing. If only I had that bearing I threw away. I had asked around about where to get this repaired and was recommended to the place at the roundabout with a bunch on bikes outside. Now to the untrained eye this place may look like a shack with parts of bikes piled out front. And I guess that's what it is. But when I went over this morning, the guy took my wheel and immediately knew what needed doing. While he was at that I took a closer look around. It looked like I could find pretty much anything for a bike I would ever need there.

The guy had the wheel back together in a few minutes. So maybe I don't need to save every little thing since there are places like this around. They may not look like much, but they can do the job.

I guess I was a little disappointed how easy it all was. I was expecting (hoping) to make an adventure about getting my wheel fixed. It was actually a lot faster and cheaper ($4.85) than I could have gotten it done in California. Maybe I'm learning how to get around, moving from the "fresh fish" stage towards being an "old hand". Part of that is getting past what shops look like to what they can actually provide.

Wind howling and white caps on the lagoon this morning as I write this. Looked like rain earlier now just howling wind.

Our House

Here's the house we live in. A two story end unit townhouse of a U shaped development facing the lagoon. Master bedroom and two smaller rooms upstairs plus the area at the top of the stairs where we have the desk and computer and I'm sitting at right now. Kind of a crappy picture but that's just me trying to override all the automation in my wife's fancy Canon EOS 30D. I really love getting my input into the shot against all it's wishes even if it comes out "wrong" according to conventional wisdom.

Just heard from the wife that we are having Cinco DeMayo celebration for our location this evening. Our contribution to be chips and beer. The beer is easy just need to pick it up and put on ice, the chips have been in the freezer for about two years and I wonder how they'll be?

Other choice was to go on the "Fat boy run". This time I had committed to actually "running", well mostly walking. From the office through the swamps to the the bar (shack) at the beach, about one mile minimum or much more for those committed to the "long way round". I'm told the swamps are not what they used to be, no need now to splash through the channels, mostly filled in and hard to get lost, not like the good old days.

(Had two power outages so far this post. Learning to use the "save now" feature.)

So no run. Now I'm really feeling guilty about not riding the bike this morning. I just couldn't do it, I opened the door to look out to a blast of light and heat. Nothing very unusual. But I knew the run later would wash away the guilt so easy to just close the door and eat some cereal. Maybe beer will help.