Last week it was the photo. Now I'm the disappointment.

Had you been a female market trader in the small Ghanaian village of Achiase this week, you would have received some exciting news on Tuesday morning. You would have been informed that there was a white man in the conference hall above the bank, registering names of local women so that he could divide his riches among them. You then would have promptly joined the stream of women who were abandoning their stalls and making their way to the bank. Upon arrival, you would find a room filled with more than a hundred women. Indeed, there would be a white man standing before them, rambling incoherently in english - which is not the local language. And his translator would be more or less relaying the message that you'd hoped for. After registering, you'd hurry out to help spread the news.

As you've probably guessed, the white man in this story is me. As for the riches, well, I haven't located those yet. And as for the 100 women, unfortunately this was only the start. Throughout the remainder of the week, growing numbers of local women continued to seek me out at the bank, at the school where Marina is working, and at our home.

The background to this story is that I arrived at the bank on Tuesday morning, expecting to meet with the project officer of the bank and be briefed about the existing groups and the issues that they were facing, then meet with one or two of them. So I was a bit frustrated when he was in and out of his chair, giving me a broken ten minutes of his time. He was anything but cooperative, but I was trying to be patient. I just needed the one morning with him, and after that my time would be focused with the women. A few minutes after one of his exits, and about 15% of the way into my many questions, another bank employee came into his office and called me upstairs for the meeting with the women. ("What??? Now???")

I entered the room and saw the crowd of women and the project officer. He gave a lengthy introduction in the local language (which I later learned was the source of all the confusion) and then left the room. So that's how it began. If you then factor in a translator who arrived late and didn't seem to understand a word I said in english, and a bit of the telephone game where a message gets relayed several times and becomes more confused with each repetition, you now have the necessary elements in place for a village-wide misunderstanding.

Of course, the misinformation is far more exciting and spreads far more quickly than the correction. However, in the midst of all this, I did manage to identify a few groups that I can begin working with. I now have a translator who is much more adept, and after a final explanation at church on Sunday (where many of the villagers will gather), I expect to have a more productive week next week!

- Davis