50 years – The Fourth Decade: ’93-2004

Getting My Feet Wet – Dans le Bain

This is the fourth blog post in this series and it treats my fourth decade. We pick up the story when I was 29 and headed to French Study

Places lived:

• France (July 1993 - Sept 1994)
• Cameroon: Sept – Dec 1994 – Africa Orientation Course
• Mali
• Cote d’Ivoire (part of 1995)
• US (fall of 1996 –recruitment on the Dayuma tour, home assignments: 1998, 2002)

Verse:

Deuteronomy 31:8 The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you. He will never leave you or forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.

This verse is actually one that I counted as a “life verse” beginning back in college. But it seemed particularly appropriate as I set out for France and Africa.

Life-Shaping events:

One of our Advanced French classes.

I am on the back row with Hannu Koskenranta just right of me.

Amy Fields is bottom Right. 

French Study – I set off for Chambéry, France after 4-years of teaching ESL, somewhat apprehensive but I remember thinking that if those 18-year old Japanese girls could come to Oklahoma to study English, then I ought to be fine in a foreign country on my own at 29.

My 30th Birthday was in France and had a Tintin theme.

In addition to being a francophile, I am also a "tintophile".

It has been 20 years since I learned French and I simply cannot imagine life now not knowing French. To say that I fell in love with the language and country is an understatement. I am a true Francophile and enjoy French music, TV, books, culture. It is more than just a “tool” that I use to communicate with people but an extension of me, a different window for viewing the world. I think if I went home to the US forever, I would find some way to continue to be involved in French.

30th birthday party with friends from church

Administration:

I went overseas to do linguistics and Bible Translation, trained with a degree in linguistics.

It was in April 1999 that I received an email telling me to “sit down before reading this”. The email then proceeded to tell me that in a few weeks time, I was going to be nominated “from the floor” to be our director.

I took this before God and felt led to allow my name to stand and accept the outcome of the election. This meant that in June 1999, I moved out of language work and into Administration as Assistant Director, eventually to become Director on April 1, 2004 (the end of this decade).

A verse that God gave to me at this time was 1 Chronicles 17:16-18:

The King David went in and sat before the LORD and prayed, “Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my family that you have brought me this far? And now, O God, in addition to everything else, you speak of giving me a lasting dynasty! You speak as though I were someone very great, O LORD God. What more can I say about the way you have honored me? You know what I am really like.”

I could relate well to David’s surprise that God had chosen him, especially since God knew what I was really like.

I really did not know what I was doing at the beginning and learned a lot on the job and from Eddie Arthur and Phil Davison, both of whom were Director while I was Assistant Director. On furlough, I had some management training and orientation and the privilege of working under Bob Creson.

In any case, the work was one of stretching and growing and above all, asking God for wisdom.

Crises:

Rick Warren says that, "Your greatest ministry will most likely come out of your greatest hurt." In this time period I begin to deal with painful crisis events. In retrospect, I can see how initially these touched others directly, with me trying as best I could to manage the situation and create normalcy for them.

One of the evacuation groups

preparing to (not) leave Cote d'Ivoire. 

Their chartered plane was turned around mid-flight. 

In October of 2002, our folks evacuated out of Cote d’Ivoire and we hosted them. This was the beginning of my Crisis Management work. I was involved in evacuating folks out again in January of 2003 and November of 2004 as well.

Also in my early years as director, we dealt with the death of an employee from cancer and I oversaw the first and probably most intense of 8 med-evacuations I would do through the years.

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Roommates:

At last count there have been 60+ guys with whom I shared a living space for at least a month. In this decade I had 21 different roommates. 9 in French study, 3 in Cote d’Ivoire, 4 in Mali, 5 on furlough.

Roomies that stand out in this decade:

• Hannu Koskenranta: Finnish guy who was my roommate during French study.
• Ed Bussa: Short-termer in Mali for 2000-2001 who stayed with me for half of that time and has been a dear friend ever since.

Ed Bussa and Me at the Chutes de Guina

Friends: 

There were many - here are some who made the journey better. Thank you all!

• Bill and Julie Johnson, 
• Peter and Sandy Jorgensens
• Phil and Cathy Davison
• Brad and Sue Smeltzer
• Jeff and Elizabeth Jansen
• Bamako Singles group: Janet Souster, Shari Anderson, Kim Nelson, Carina Saarloos

Languages:

language survey in Malinke

In addition to learning French for 1 year in France,

I learned the basics of Bambara, Mali’s trade language.
And I did a year of language learning in another language. (see this post on language learning). 

I did linguistic survey in several dialects of Malinke in Guinea, Senegal, Mali and Cote d'Ivoire. 

Matthias Liebrecht and  traveling in a cattle car on survey.

Testing for Comprehension under a big tree

Rides:

In France I had two bikes. The first one, I assembled in the parking lot of Carrefour before riding it home. That one was stolen and I bought a used bike. This was the first time I had a bike as my only means of transport other than the bus and the first time I was riding my bike a LOT.

In Mali, I bought a bike within the first few months, just to ride around town. It was during this period that I began riding somewhat for fun but not long distances. Also during this time frame, I bought the much maligned "Snow Bike" which was made in Dubai and a bit too small for me.

Tim and Bob the Tomato (Robert Tomaticɛ)

In 1996, I bought a red Suzuki Vitara (Similar to US model Sidekick) and this served me until my 2006 furlough. I made a “Bob the Tomato” tire cover to go on the rear tire.  This car and I had several adventures, the most exciting of which was crossing the Niger river in Guinea on the back of 2 pirogues (canoes).

crossing the Niger River in Guinea with my Suzuki riding on 2 pirogues. 

Gadgets: 
Someone commented the other day that I was one of the first people they knew with a cellphone in Mali (and it was due to my job). I think I must have gotten a basic Alcatel phone. No one else had a cellphone except the pilots. 
Also in this phase, I got my first Palm Pilot and quickly grew to love having notes, contacts, Bible at my fingertips. 

Reading:

This was back before Amazon and certainly before e-books and Kindle apps, and so reading material was limited to what you could borrow from friends and missionary guesthouses. Bookstores in Africa are pretty few and far between.

• Frank Peretti
• Stephen Lawhead
• John Grisham – I had a tradition of reading a new Grisham thriller on cross-atlantic trips.
• Tom Clancy
• Clive Cussler: Dirk Pitt Novels
• Ellis Peters: Father Cadfael Mysteries (in both French and English).

French books:

One of the joys of learning another language is reading their literature in the original language. Suddenly instead of one list of classics from English, you have TWO and a whole new world of creativity to explore. 

• Les Miserables – all three “tomes”, unabridged, in French.
• Notre Dame de Paris
• Les Trois Mousquetaires. (The 3 Musketeers).
• Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince).

Tunes:

This was pre-itunes and getting CDs overseas was not easy. I ordered quite a bit from Mount Carmel, a service for missionaries.   CDs that I wore out:

• DC Talk: Jesus Freak
• Ashley Cleveland: BigTown, and Lesson of Love
• Harry Connick, Jr.: She
• Patrick Bruel: Bruel (French)
• Margaret Becker: Simple House
• Rich Mullins: the Jesus Record
• Jars of Clay: Jars of Clay

Movies:

• Lord of the Rings
• The Matrix (trilogy) - (I frequently pondered the "Why, oh why didn't I take the blue pill?" question with regards to taking on the administration roles). 
• Pirates of the Caribbean
• Amelie (wonderful french film)
• Knight’s Tale
• Dodgeball
• Zoolander

TV:

• Star Trek:TNG, Star Trek: DS9 – videos people sent overseas
• X-files (also on videos)
• Simpsons
• Friends

Ashia - Empathy in Africa

Image by Tumisu from Pixabay

So the other day I came in the front gate of the center where I live in Cameroon and noticed that Mama Maria was not there serving lunch under the shelter like she normally does every day for a dozen people. I went back and ask the guard at the gate where she was and he said that she was not feeling well and would not be in all week. 

I went on my way, but then turned back and said to the guard, “Meilleur Santé” – literally “better health”, or “get well.” I realized how perfectly natural that was to say to an African when someone ELSE is sick, but how unnatural it is in French or in a western context. 

If I were in Mali, this is where I would attempt to say the “get well blessing” that I always got wrong in Bambara and would stumble through anyway:  “Ala k’a nɔgɔya kɛ” which means “May God ease it (the suffering/sickness).” This can be said to the sick person but more off than not is said to the person who reports it to you. 

This got me thinking about the radical difference in worldview here and the incredibly empathetic nature of African culture, which is built on the fundamentally relational nature of their cultures.  This is one of the big cultural divides. Western culture is very individualistic, focusing on independence, self-help, self-realization, etc. African culture is a group-oriented culture that is “all about relationships”. 

Early on in my time in Africa, there was something that would always irk me - a sure sign of a cultural difference. I’d be out riding my bike and come up a hill or just be hot and sweaty and a Malian stranger would see me and greet me with a hearty “I segenna”. This literally is means “You’re tired.” To my western, individualistic ears, this sounded like someone pointing out that I was too tired to get the ride done -  “You wimp.  And you think you’re in shape. You can’t already be tired?” 

In fact, though, this was just the group, relational culture showing through in a way I came to love. Basically the other person is recognizing that you are doing something hard and joining with you in that. There is no judgment, just empathy. 

A similar Bambara phrase is “I ni baara” – “You and the work”. It is said when you pass someone who is doing some sort of manual labor - carrying something heavy, digging a hole, plowing a field, building a wall. Again, it is a recognition that that person is doing something hard and you join with them, just for a minute, by acknowledging that.  A link is formed to that person, even a stranger. 

These empathetic observations are not limited just to Mali. In Côte d’Ivoire, they say “I fo” in Jula, or “Yako” in Akan. You say this, if someone shares a difficulty they are experiencing, much like we might say “sorry” in English. I think it can also be used when you see someone doing difficult work.  

Likewise, in Cameroon, a very similar thing to say is “Ashia”, which is an English Pidgin word (proposed etymology is “hush ya”??). Ashia can be used to sympathize with someone in sickness or difficulty, or to appreciate someone working hard. (In researching this, I came across this blogpost on Ashia).  

Language follows culture. Some would say it is the other way around, but they are definitely intertwined. For those of us living between two cultures, we find ourselves borrowing words from French or Bambara or Pidgin and inserting them into English. Sometimes it is just laziness, but often it is because we are stuck between the cultures and we want to express a cultural concept that simply does not exist in English. 

“Ashia” is one of the few words I have learned and use since moving to Cameroon. I hear other expats say it a lot. Likewise, “I ni baara” and even “I segenna” where phrases I came to love using in Mali. There simply is no good ways to say these things in English. 

In looking up the definition of empathy, I found that oddly enough it did not even exist in English until 1909 when it was “coined by the psychologist Edward B. Titchener in an attempt to translate the German word ‘Einfühlungsvermögen’” [source: Wikipedia]. He took the greek morphemes “en” (in/at) and “pathos” (suffering/passion) and put them together to form empathy, a concept that was obviously missing in English.

Merriam Webster defines empathy as: 

“the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present…” 

Empathy stands in contrast with compassion (con=with ) and sympathy  (syn = together), though obviously there is a lot of overlap.  

Sympathy is a concern with the well-being of another and a feeling of pity or sorrow for what they are going through. Compassion is a sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it.

While I think all humans, regardless of culture, experience all three of these feelings, our reactions to suffering in others (especially strangers) show an innate cultural preference:

• Western culture prefers to react through compassion and sympathy:  Feeling sorry FOR the other person and desiring to alleviate their suffering, without necessarily getting involved emotionally. We want to DO something.
• African culture prefers to react through empathy: identifying with the other person in their suffering and sharing in that. An African will try, of course, to help those in his inner circle, less so with strangers. But there is always a strong identification with anyone who is suffering.  This mostly just means verbalizing the joint pain and BEING with the other person. 

 Photo by Aarón Blanco Tejedor on Unsplash

Some examples should make this clearer:

1. When there is a tragedy anywhere in the world, Westerners are the first to send money to help. We feel sorry for them, and want to do something to alleviate their suffering (partly so that we will not have to feel that suffering ourselves).  We might even organize a mission trip and go there and bring real physical help, but it usually about doing and giving. We end up feeling better. The community is helped but in many cases, an honest evaluation would show that what we brought was not what the community really NEEDED.  
2. When someone dies in America, if you can’t go to the funeral, then you send flowers, or you give money in lieu of flowers. This is an appropriate form of sympathy. If someone dies in Africa, well, you find a way to go. And you sit with the family, sometimes for hours, often for days. If you are absent when the funeral happens, then you are obliged to go and visit and sit with them upon your return months or years later.  I have been to a few funerals in Africa for expatriates who have died and heard Africans express surprise that some of our number did not make the effort to travel to the funeral.
3. When someone is sick in Africa, the thing that you do is go to sit with them. I know numerous stories of missionaries out in the village who were sick in bed and really just wanted to be left alone. And invariably, they have people come to visit who want to sit with them all day.  “He’s not accepting visitors” makes perfect sense in an individualistic, Western context. And very little sense in an empathetic, relational group culture.
4. If I have a problem in the US, the individualistic nature of our society leads me to try and solve the problem myself. Self-help and self-reliance are strong values. It is hard for a Westerner to ask for help, especially to someone outside his family or inner circle.

In a relational, group culture, it is not hard at all to ask for help even from strangers.  As a Westerner, you can get overwhelmed with these sorts of requests. Our culture predisposes us to fix everything and try to help every stranger who comes to the door. Usually we can’t do that completely, and need to learn to just BE with the other person, to empathize with them. Listen to them and share back what they are feeling. Pray with them.  

Jesus has something to teach all cultures in these matters. He calls us to have both compassion and empathy. He who “bore our griefs and carried our sorrows” (Isaiah 53:4) also had “compassion on the crowds because they were harassed and helpless like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36) and carried his compassion to completion by  healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and raising the dead. 

May “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort” (2 Corinthians 1:3) help us to grow in these things!

Slices of Cameroon - II - Street Murals

I went to church today in downtown Yaoundé at the Hilton. Reminds me of going to Hope Community Church back in the late 80s when we met in the Holiday Inn in downtown Fort Worth.

Afterwards, I wandered over to the Moulin de France which has a salon de thé and some very good pizza:  ham, goat cheese, mushrooms and pineapple. They had never heard of pineapple on a pizza, but gave it to me. But it seemed all wrong without my Sunday evening crowd and Madame Sangara from the Olympia Pizza place back "home".

As I left, I was planning to wander up the boulevard to the Bois Sacré Anastasie, which I did eventually.

But first I happened upon a wonderful event happening in the alley just between the Moulin de France and the Institut Français (formerly the French Cultural Center). The Institut Français and some other partner had arranged for a dozen artists to paint murals up and down this alley. This was the last of 3 days and I happened upon them during a break. Most of the paintings were close to being done and there was a guy leading the artists down the street and they were commenting on each mural and giving critiques, suggestions. etc.

I was surprised, as I often am when I realize that other languages can express abstract ideas in domains I am not used to. These guys had obviously had good training in art and also very good level of french. Some pictures were deemed to be too 2-dimensional without enough shading and color depth. or perhaps derivative of other works. They also talked about what the paintings meant - always interesting to contemplate. The artist had been given a theme, simple enough - to evoke something of their city: Yaoundé. Some of the less creative ones (according to the one guy I talked to) worked the word  Yaoundé into their work when the link was not obvious enough.
(Note: All of the pictures on this page are available at my flickr page if you want to see them in more detail, download them, etc.)

 This painting was one that was deemed to be 2-dimensional due to the lack of color depth. Note the letters Yde at the bottom, representing Yaoundé.

When i came back later, the artists were putting finishing touches on this mural and the next one. (Below)

The painting below was one of my initial favorites, just because I liked the effect of the water forming hair.

Right: Tools of the trade - acrylic paints (used by all the artists to provide cohesion) and cut off water bottles and ketchup bottles.




After the artists were done commenting on each others' work, they went back to work and I got a chance to talk to some of them. Here are some of my favorites.

This one shows some of the busy street scenes so common in Africa.

 I really like the depth in this picture and it is enhanced more below, where it appears the artist is standing in behind the rest of these people on the street.

The artist I spoke to the most was Dieudonné (name means "God Given"). Here he is in front of his mural which was so long it took up two pics.

He says the painting represents people moving forward into the future. The woman is holding a calebasse (large gourd used in cooking, for carrying water, milk, etc and also fairly symbolic. Kind of like the "mom and apple pie" of Africa).

 Left side of Dieudonné's painting:
A man holding the tools of his trade (in this case a paintbrush with green paint) moving into the future. He is also holding a lantern to light his way. The white orb represents light as well - the moon or sun.

If I haven't gotten the cards mixed up, this is Gael Rostrand Pokam standing in front of his picture unfinished here and a bit more finished below.

 I correctly interpreted this one. It shows an elder passing stories and cultural knowledge down to youth (wearing the colors of the Cameroonian flag - yellow, red and green). They are situated in the modern city with skyscrapers. But to the left there are scenes representing the village from whence the elder came and draws his knowledge to help guide the next generation.

The last ones that I am going to comment on are from Alain Djeumo (djeumoal@yahoo.fr)

 I talked to him for a while as well. He was pleased that I picked up on the imagery of the shoes. On the left there are business shoes representing professional people. The center pair of shoes are pantoufles - traditional slippers worn by elders and village folks. And on the right are a pair of "baskets" - tennis shoes for the young.

 In the middle of his space there is half of one of the ubiquitous taxis of Yaounde, which hold up to 5 passengers, each of whom pays 20 cents to ride where they want to go - but only along the route the driver has chosen. For $3 you can ask for a "depôt" which means you get in and the passengers already inside get out at their stop and then no  new folks are picked up as you go on to your chosen destination, no matter how far away.

Alain explains the imagery of the faces, again in the colors of the Cameroonian flag (and most other African flags). The faces, which each share a mouth and an eye with the next, representing different parts of society working together. 

To the left of that is an unfinished stoplight which he said would have the logos of 3 cars, each representing countries that have had a big impact  historically on Cameroon. Germany (mercedes logo), France (Renault?) and another country he had not decided on.

Well, there are a few more pics on the flickr site (http://www.flickr.com/photos/timthast/) but you deserve a reward if you got this far.

Kudos to all these artists and to the Insitut Français (French Cultural Center) for sponsoring this.

Cameroon - Same, Same, but different

On Sept 11, 1994, I landed on the African continent, for the first time since 1975 when I finished up my one year of boarding school at Good Shepherd School in Ethiopia.

This time I was arriving in Cameroon as an adult (30 years old) at the very start of my career in Africa, ready for our Africa Orientation Course. I had a year of french study under my belt and I was good to go. The next three months brought

• adventures in shopping in the market, slip sliding down the hill in the mud.  
• lectures on African culture, staying healthy in Africa
• camping on the beach which included the infamous (an totally pointless) "killing a chicken" exercise and learning to use a machete to hack through the jungle. 
• an example of how NOT to do community development, in which 25 expats go to a village and work on a well digging project
• 3 weeks in a "village phase" in the extreme North
• insects
• and, of course, eating lots of unusual food.

So here I am back in Yaounde, Cameroon, after 18 years in West Africa.
I am here for some training to prepare me to take up a new role here in January. It is strange to have come full circle.
They say that the first weeks in a new place are when you should take a lot of pictures, write a journal, etc, because after that time, the new wears off and you do not notice as much.

So here we go - Cameroon 2.0
There is much that is familiar. The buildings on the workshop center all look pretty much the same. But walk outside the center and you are astounded at how much the city has grown up around us. Where there was formerly hills covered with jungle, there are now houses and taller buildings and Total gas stations convenience stores with ATMs and fancy self-serve coffee machines. Just to remind you that you are in Africa, the coffee machine has a sign on it telling you not to use it. I ask it if is broken and find out that it isn't. You pay at the counter and then they come around and punch the buttons for you. There are also books for sale with a sign telling you not to touch them!

I successfully made a trip downtown, which in 1994 was a place with piles of garbage and a high degree of crime. The trash is gone and many of the open areas have little parks. Apparently the crime is down as well. I made the trip back home in 2 taxis - different from what we have in Mali, but similar to those in Abidjan. You share the taxi with 4 or 5 others and pay 40 cents to go anywhere in the same direction as the others. I had to take 2 to get back home. 


There is much here that reminds me I am in Africa but then much that is strikingly different from the part of Africa where I have lived so long.

Cameroon is much more Christian. There are a plethora of church choices, a big cathedral right in the middle of the downtown circle. The country has more money and the church does as well. I was surprised last week to find that the church I visited had a projector and was putting the worship songs up on the wall.
Somehow being a Christian country in Africa nvolves a lot more alcohol and alcohol abuse. In the villages, they produce home grown alcohol and there are problems with drunkenness.  This was also the case in Burkina. I commented on it in one village in Burkina  where they told me it point blank it was because they were Christians, not Muslims.

Cameroon has a 20% Muslim minority. I have not seen any mosques, probably because most of the Muslims are in the North. I landed on the Muslim holiday of Eid Al-Adah, called Tabaski in West Africa. Here they call it the "Fête des Moutons" (Holiday of the Sheep) which is somewhat akin to calling Thanksgiving "Turkey Day". Not much of a holiday for the sheep! In any case, I saw none of the signs of Tabaski I was familiar with - sheep being slaughtered in the street, streets blocked off for the big prayer, people dressed in their best clothes going out and visiting each other.

One thing that really surprise me here is the lack of bicycles. I went out for my first ride a week ago and rode for 2 hours and did not see a SINGLE person riding a bicycle. After a week, I have seen only ONE person riding a bike. In West Africa, you see a lot of people riding to and from home on bicycles, often carrying racks of eggs, loads of hay, or even small animals on the back of their bikes. For many people, this is their only form of transportation.

One of my favorite signs in Mali - "watch out for headless cyclists"

On my ride, I was looking for a store selling a bike pump, and figured I could ride a kilometer or so and find a shop with bike tires and other parts hanging out in front. Never did see one. I stopped at a lot of moto shops, and hardward stores, and finally found one hardware store that had a pump. I may seriously have to bring innertubes with me from West Africa.

I think the lack of bikes here comes down to:

• more money, allowing people to buy motorcycles. 
• it is very hilly, enough so that your average person would be put off by cycling. 
• there is a huge amount of traffic on the paved roads during the week.

Speaking of cycling, I have gotten out a few times now, and is wonderful riding out in the jungle. Beautiful trees, packed down mud roads that are not rocky, but made difficult by the number of hills, one right after another. Another difference I noticed out in "the bush" was the number of nicer, cement homes with proper roofs, even satellite dishes in the little village areas. That and a number of quite nice schools.

Sunsets are beautiful here as is the lush vegetation. There are swathes of undeveloped jungle here and there, including in the valley just behind where I live.

A tropical climate means an abundance of fruit and vegetables. I bought a giant pineapple today. There are the sweetest little clusters of manadarin oranges. Plump Avocados, bananas, tomatoes.

The meals include a lot of plantain. We had corn fufu once, not unlike the balls of dough made out of millet flour we have in West Africa, though made from corn flour here. Several times the cafeteria has served a sauce made out of greens, which i did not care for. We are not too far from the coast and so that means fresh fish and shrimp.

Peanuts come in whiskey bottles, for $2/bottle. they are better than the ones in Ouagadougou, but not as good as the Malian ones.
Eggs are a bit more expensive (90 CFA = 18 cents each)
The baguettes cost a bit less but are a strange mushy consistency, leading me to pine for the  crispier ones from Mali. At least, they are available in the little boutiques here, unlike in Burkina Faso where you have to go to the bakery to get it,

Clothing: Dress is more formal here. The director-types wear a tie every day. And it is not uncommon for higher-placed Africans to be wearing suits and ties. It seems that people do NOT wear dress shirts untucked here as much as they do in Mali. You do not see people wearing Boubous but there is plenty of "pagne" cloth from different associations made into shirts and dresses.


Language: There is a decent segment of the Cameroonian population who are anglophone (English speaking), though the majority of the country uses French as the language of wider communication.  So on center and off, you never know whether to speak English or French to folks.  I had a long conversation with a guy out on the street the other day in french and he finally said "My name is Jackson and I'm English speaking".

Bambara Blessing - May God Bless you!

What I find really difficult is not being able to talk to people in Bambara. I was out on the street the other day at a little table where someone was selling bananas. But no one was around. I kept trying to find words to ask those around where the vendor was but all that would come to mind was "Namasa tigi bɛ min?" French or English would have worked fine, but my brain is wired to function in Bambara in that environment.

 In spite of all the differences, there is much to remind me I am in Africa: friendly people who value relationships and have ingenious solutions to problems.

The other day out on a bike ride, I came across something that I did not understand. It was the end of the day, so the site was unoccupied but there were large granite boulders with fires built on top of them. The fires were sheltered by large logs on each side, to keep the fire concentrated in one place. There were three fires on each boulder. Next to the boulders were piles of large granite rocks.
I finally realized they must heat the rock until it splits and then somehow break them apart into granite rocks to sell. On the way home, I saw the aforementioned "Jackson" working on a site he was clearing for the landowner, who would use the granite to build a home. Once the rock is split, Jackson uses hammers and wedges to split it apart.
It was dark and so I could not get a good picture, but the next day I came back and saw that he had shaved off about 2 feet of the boulder.

The rock splitting site. Note the charred remains of three logs used for the fires.