He is deceivingly old for his appearance. He stands at easily under 5 foot, a slender body as most people here. But what raises question as for his correct age, is the fact that he has scarification on his face, which is a discontinued birth ritual practice. Up to probably the later 1990′s it was common to put special tribal designs on the face of a child in the first months of life.  This is done by making cuts resulting in a scar design. Yen is likely ten years older than most other members of his 4^th grade class.  Yen is a dwarf, a type of dwarfism where the proportions are the same as people with normal growth; he will just never get any bigger. He is 19 years old. He speaks English reasonably well, however some concepts  will always be beyond his ability. This does not imply he is dull; far from that.

Lisa and I have been an acquaintance of Yen since our first visit back in 2005-06. He was a cow herder; ‘cowboys’ do not attend school. Now he goes to school, but questions are raised as to what he learns. It seems the headmaster continually requires him to go on errands during school hours. So when his attendance is  marked ‘present’ he may be off a good share of the day bicycling from errand to errand. He will always be a ‘small boy’ as defined by African society. Here, a ‘small boy ‘ is expected to do various  work requests by actually any adult  community member. If you are a small boy you learn who to avoid. But you can’t avoid your headmaster.

Yen is poor. We can tell this by his rag-like cloths. He is cared for by apparently no one. His father died ‘some five years ago’ and his mother ‘maybe four’.  He says his auntie cares for him, but we have no evidence that shows. He seems to survive on his own. Friends tell me he is a very  good worker within his limited strength. He sometimes goes to the gold mines a few miles away to wash clothes for small cash. For us, he is very willing to pick up garbage for an hour and receive some compensation  to be used for food. He has sharpened hundreds of pencils for us. But recently I discovered a talent that has until now been hidden.

Yen can make toy trucks out of evaporated milk cans. I saw him pulling  one attached by string. I admit I thought he was not the engineer of this fine toy that was spring loaded, giving it a comical bouncy movement.  I needed proof. “Come to the Mango tree tomorrow , and make one for me. I will pay you for it!” says I.

Along with some same-size assistants, I see Yen cutting and punching evaporated milk cans , transforming them into an authentic enough pull toy. A true craftsman has been found. He produces a second truck that moves as nicely as the first.

I pay him half of the 10 cedis agreed upon. I warm him “Tell no one you have this money”. Despite that he shows up the next day to account the theft of his money left hidden in his room. Tending to believe this, I arrange for a fair-minded business women to act as his banker, so when he needs money earned, he can ‘withdraw ‘it.

I am thinking of ways to assist Yen by either selling his toys in the U.S ( though transporting could be a big added expense) or better yet, offer Yens’ Milk Can Truck Design, so others can attempt to make one of their own.

Readers input gratefully accepted. -David Stone

My choir of about 26 has prepared itself well. I have one of the students leading, another playing recorder which is a real novelty here as I have never seen any other than the ones I have brought. I also have taught one student to play a bit of the trombone. The trombone actually can be heard at national level football games (soccer games to us) playing over and over the same chanting song along with other brass instruments. Again thanks to Lindy Wunn and Portland Public School for allowing me to take a much repaired trombone to be used here. I use the trombone as the only accompaniment for the choir; It serves us well ; No one or at least few have heard an acoustic piano around here and I never seen one. But alas …….. I digress.

The choir and about 40 marchers ( no instruments, just marching) jump on a bus that more resembles a cattle truck with racks on the side at 7 A.M. to travel for 40 minutes on the bumpy unpaved road to the regional education headquarters at Tongo. We arrive in the heat of a normal March day to do what Ghanians have learned how to do without complaint ………………. wait. I take in the large crowd of school marchers assembled around the marching field, and sellers in the shade, and the dignitaries under the awnings. The chief of cheives arrives in colorful splendor and with traditional drumming. There are speeches about preventing AIDS and other health issues. The army and police each have a small marching group on the marching ground at “parade rest”. The remain this way for one hour in the hot sun. I am convinced most Portland marchers could never do this!

Finally it is announced that they wish the choir to sing. They give me just enough time to gather the choir and get my trombone out and tune to the recorder. Nonetheless, we do quite well! We sing three selection just in front of all the dignitaries. We are about to start our last song when they say we are our of time! Oh well ….. my trombone girl does not play this time but we did record her at an earlier performance when we sang at the local chief’s compound. I did videotape this performance.

They have done well, and I shall miss them and, in fact, all the students that I had the pleasure to teach these last three months.

These students went to great effort in November and December of 2007 raise money for students in Ghana. A long tim in coming as things tend to move at their own pace in this part of the world, but this writer, one David Stone, is happy to announce that every student in th high school where I volunteer teach is receiving a an Oxford pocket ditionary! This is truly a significant thing ; in the final year, all students take a national test that dtermones if they can continue with further educaton or not. If not, many doors close on options for a good livlihood. Thes dictionaries will improve immeasurably their chances of passing the test. Letters have been sent to Ms. Kob’s class by many of the recipients expressing gratitude. As the one dispersing the dictionaries, I can tell you this gesture is heartfelt and much appreciated. I only wish someday, some of these students or perhaps Ms. Kob’s herself can come hre to experience the wonderful peole in this beautiful but very dry land in northern Ghana. There is a balance of about 75 dollars. With permission form the students , I am thining it appropriate to give that to a older widow lady whose house burned. She cares for three students at the primary level. All books and one uniform were burned. They have no place to sleep except outside. That balence can build one roof for one room. What do you think, Ms. Kob’s class. Is it a “go”?