Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2011-38

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IN THIS ISSUE

• Dalton Deedrick tells again of a month volunteering in Africa
• Rafiki´s story illustrates the value of women friends
• Betty Fehlhaber sends another blonde joke
• Carol Shoemaker injects some humour in air travel
• Tom Williamson describes a radical career change
• Viagara may have some unexpected results
• Zvonko Springer forwards an example of a bizarre court case
• Terry Shannon writes about a fantastic encounter
• The editor explains this week´s selections
• Sites are suggested by Bruce Galway, Catherine Nesbitt, Pat Moore, and Stan French

In view of all the attention being paid to drought-stricken Africa, it seems timely to republish Dalton Deedrick´s account of his experiences during a volunteer stint in Kenya:

A MONTH IN AFRICA

Africa ... that great "Dark Continent" that has intrigued most of us who heard about Stanley and Livingston in our school days, or those who read "King Solomons Mine", or those who went to the movies to see "Trader Horn", or "Out of Africa". It was always a dream of mine to get a closer look at that distant corner of the world, and by great good fortune, this dream did come to pass somewhat late in my life.

To set the stage for this account, I practised dentistry for some 40 years in Alberta, but back in 1969 a medical friend and I did a three- month volunteer stint in Tanzania. A few years later, a heart attack put a severe crimp in my life, resulting in a somewhat earlier retirement than planned. After a few months I was enjoying quite a good recovery, enough so that I felt I could return to some degree to the work I had so thoroughly enjoyed.

As a long-standing Rotarian, I was aware that they had medical and dental clinics all over the globe, so a few phone calls later I was advised that there would be a clinic spot open in Kenya in a little bush hospital an hour´s drive north of Nairobi. The term would be for a month. With nothing pressing on my "to do´ list here in a wintery Alberta, I replied to the offer with, "Yes."

As I was to find out later, this may not have been the wisest thing to have done for someone with a slightly wonky heart, but more of that later. I have been a diary keeper for many years, and the other day I chanced upon the journal that was written day by day over the course of that memorable month. Perhaps someone who reads this will accompany me vicariously through what was, for me, an exciting adventure.

March 4, 1995: The past two weeks have been spent assembling whatever disposables I could muster, and as a result, two enormous bags totaling 115 pounds were packed with gloves, needles, anaesthetic carpules, some surgical gear, and a few clothes and books for the ensuing month. March weather has turned sour in central Alberta, -10 F, a strong wind, and five inches of new snow. Decided to let my son take us to Calgary in his 4X4 if the drifting became serious. Made the flight deadline with an hour to spare.

Had to go westward first to Vancouver, then catch an eastbound British Airways 747 to go to London. An omen of good luck to start with: I got booted up to business class from tourist, so the following ten-hour trip was enhanced by ample leg room, a congenial German seatmate, and a rather better than expected dinner and breakfast. My big bags had been cleared from Calgary to Nairobi, so I only had my carry-on to lug through perfunctory passport, customs and immigration officials.

I had been pre-booked into one of the many hotels which are on the airport periphery, and in due course a bus which circles the airport endlessly to accommodate travellers such as I deposited me at my hotel. It is wonderful to be able to speak the language and read the signs where one is deposited.

March 5: Rather a Spartan room, but clean sheets and a most welcome sleep. The window looks out on the approach to Heathrow airport, and after 5 p.m. I can see the incoming traffic. There are four or five jumbo jets in the circuit, with landings averaging every 70 seconds. I wonder how the terminal handles that many arrivals. Only managed a few hours of sleep before catching the circling bus, and back to depart for Nairobi.

March 6: An overnight flight in a very cramped aircraft, and down and dry in Nairobi at 10:30 a.m. local time. Now the fun starts! Customs, passport, immigration all O.K., but no carts available for the two mountainous bags, and a long way to the reception area. A nice American couple who were incoming to meet their missionary daughter managed to scrounge a cart with one wheel which determinedly stayed at 90 degrees to the other three, and we cooperated in dragging their and my belongings over to the exit.

One of the happiest moments when landing far from home is to see someone along the disembarking line holding up a sign with your name on it. There she was! A rotund little nun with a broad smile, and the welcoming sign above her head. Her name, she told me, was Sister Mary Christopher, and she was the senior administrator of the hospital to which I was to go. She had her Dental Units´ vehicle, a most unpromising looking old Peugeot which I mentally tagged as "unsafe at any speed". The interior did nothing to dispel that impression, none of the gauges operated, and the seats were squashed down to floor level. However, it started and ran well, and cheery little Sister Mary Christopher buzzed through Nairobi like a pro.

The hour´s drive up to Thika was on paved road, and before taking the road to the hospital, ten miles beyond, we saw a roadside pineapple vendor. She said "I will bargain for them," and I could never ascertain how much the asking price varied from the final purchase price. I am sure she paid less than I would have.

When we finally got to our destination I was met by Dr. Bob Liners and his wife, Lois, whom I was to relieve. They were just finishing his month. They had brought along a granddaughter of about twelve, just to let her share the African experience. Bob has done over forty similar volunteer stints around the world after retiring, and is still as energetic as anyone twenty years younger.

The house is quite adequate, with electricity, propane stove and hot water, as long as the big outside tank is full. Lois had a great supper ready and the rest of the day was spent getting acquainted with what was in prospect for the next four weeks.

To be continued.

Rafiki forwards this insightful essay:

A THOUGHT TO SHARE

The last lecture in an evening class at university was on the mind- body connection - the relationship between stress and disease. The speaker (head of psychiatry) said, among other things, that one of the best things that a man could do for his health was to be married to a woman, whereas for a woman, one of the best things she could do for her health was to nurture her relationships with her girlfriends. At first everyone laughed, but he was serious.

Women connect with each other differently and provide support systems that help each other to deal with stress and difficult life experiences.

Physically, this quality "girlfriend time" helps us to create more seratonin - a neurotransmitter that helps combat depression and can create a general feeling of well-being. Women share feelings, whereas men often form relationships around activities. They rarely sit down with a buddy and talk about how they feel about certain things, or how their personal lives are going. Jobs? Yes. Sports? Yes. Cars? Yes. Fishing, hunting, golf? Yes. But their feelings? - rarely.

Women do it all of the time. We share from our souls with our sisters, and evidently that is very good for our health. He said that spending time with a friend is just as important to our general health as jogging or working out at a gym.

There´s a tendency to think that when we are exercising we are doing something good for our bodies, but when we are hanging out with friends, we are wasting our time and should be more productively engaged. Not true. In fact, he said that failure to create and maintain quality personal relationships with other humans is as dangerous to our physical health as smoking!

So every time you hang out to shmooze with a gal pal, just pat yourself on the back and congratulate yourself for doing something good for your health!

So let´s give a toast to our friendship with our girlfriends. Evidently it´s very good for our health.

Betty Fehlhaber forwards another blonde joke:

SALESMAN´S PITCH

Last year I replaced all the windows in my house with that expensive double-pane energy-efficient kind, and today I got a call from the contractor who installed them.

He was complaining that the work had been completed a whole year ago and I still hadn´t paid for them.

Hellloooo .... just because I´m blonde doesn´t mean that I am automatically stupid. So I told him just what his fast-talking sales guy had told me last year, that in ONE YEAR these windows would pay for themselves!

"It´s been a year!" I told him.

There was only silence at the other end of the line, so I finally just hung up. He never called back. I bet he felt like an idiot.

Carol Shoemaker puts some much-needed humour back into flying:

IT´S NOT ALL ABOUT SECURITY

Cessna pilot: "Tower, Cessna 12345, student pilot, I am out of fuel."

Tower: "Roger, Cessna 12345, reduce airspeed to best glide! Do you have the airfield in sight?"

Cessna: "Uh ... tower, I am on the south ramp. I just want to know where the fuel truck is."

A man telephoned an airline office in New York and asked, "How long does it take to fly to Boston?"

The clerk said, "Just a minute."

"Thank you," the man said and hung up.

A man walks up to the counter at the airport. "Can I help you?" asks the agent.

"I want a round trip ticket," says the man.

"Where to?" asks the agent.

"Right back to here."

A passenger piled his cases on the scale at an airline counter in New York and said to the ticket agent, "I´m flying to Los Angeles. I want the square case to go to Denver and the two round ones to go to Seattle."

"I´m sorry, sir, but we can´t do that," said the ticket agent.

"Why not? You did it last time!"

Air traffic controller: "Flight 1234, for noise abatement turn right 45 degrees...."

Airline pilot: "But Centre, we are at 35,000 feet. How much noise can we make up here?"

Air traffic controller: "Sir, have you ever heard the noise a 747 makes when it hits a 727?"

One of the airlines recently introduced a special half-fare rate for wives accompanying their husbands on business trips. Anticipating some valuable testimonials, the publicity department of the airline sent out letters to all the wives of businessmen who used the special rates, asking how they enjoyed their trip.

Responses are still pouring in from angry wives asking, "What trip?"

SALE DAY

It was the day of the big sale. Rumours of the sale (and some advertising in the local paper) were the main reason for the long line that formed in front of the store by 8:30, the store´s opening time.

A small man pushed his way to the front of the line, only to be pushed back, amid loud and colourful curses. On the man´s second attempt, he was punched square in the jaw, and knocked around a bit, and then thrown to the end of the line again. As he got up the second time, he said to the person at the end of the line, "That does it! If they hit me one more time, I´m not opening the store!"

Tom Williamson sends this one:

CAREER CHANGE

A gynaecologist had a burning desire to change careers and become a mechanic. So he found out from the local tech college what was involved, signed up for evening classes, attended diligently, and learned all he could.

When the time for the practical exam approached, the gynaecologist prepared carefully for weeks, and completed the exam with tremendous skill.

When the results came back, he was surprised to find that he had obtained a mark of 150%. Fearing an error, he called the instructor, saying, "I don´t want to appear ungrateful for such an outstanding result, but I wondered if there had been an error which needed adjusting."

The instructor said, "During the exam, you took the engine apart perfectly, which was worth 50% of the total mark. You put the engine back together again perfectly, which is also worth 50% of the mark. I gave you an extra 50% because you did all of it through the muffler."

HOW TO LOSE ONE´S APPETITE

A woman asks her husband if he´d like some breakfast. "Would you like bacon and eggs, perhaps? A slice of toast and maybe some grapefruit and coffee?" she asks.

He declines. "It´s this Viagra," he says. "It´s really taken the edge off my appetite."

At lunchtime, she asks if he would like something. "A bowl of homemade soup, homemade muffins, or a cheese sandwich?" she inquires.

He declines. "The Viagra," he says, "really trashes my desire for food...."

Come dinnertime, she asks if he wants anything to eat. Would he like maybe a steak and apple pie? A pizza or a tasty stir-fry that would only take a couple of minutes?

He declines. "Nope, still not hungry."

"Well," she says, "would you mind letting me up? I´m starving...."

Zvonko Springer forwards the story of a bizarre

BREACH OF CONTRACT

In Stuttgart, Germany, a court judge must decide on a case of honourable intentions in a situation where a man hired his neighbour to get his wife pregnant.

It seems that Demetrius Soupolos, 29, and his former beauty queen wife, Traute, wanted a child badly, but Demetrius was told by doctor that he was sterile.

So Soupolos, after calming his wife´s protests, hired his neighbour, Frank Maus, 34, to impregnate her. Since Maus was already married and the father of two children, plus looked very much like Soupolos, the plan seemed good.

Soupolos paid Maus $2,500 for the job and for three evenings a week for the next six months, Maus tried desperately, a total of 72 different times, to impregnate Traute.

When his own wife objected, he explained. "I don´t like this any more than you. I´m simply doing it for the money. Try to understand."

When Traute failed to get pregnant after six months, however, Soupolos did not understand and insisted that Maus have a medical examination, which he did.

The doctor´s announcement that Maus that was also sterile shocked everyone except his wife, who was forced to confess that Maus was not the real father of their two children.

Now Soupolos is suing Maus for breach of contract in an effort to get his money back, but Maus refuses to give it up because he said he did not guarantee conception, but only that he would give an honest effort.

Terry Shannon recalls a close encounter of a fantastic kind:

FROG KNIGHT FOLLY

Craig and I stare into the eyes of the frog posed before us. He´s something to look at, all right - a man-sized frog in armour.

My husband and I look at each other.

"Wow," I say, shifting my attention back to the giant amphibian. "He´s outrageous! He´s bizarre! He´s ... irresistible."

"Are you thinking what I´m thinking?" Craig asks.

"You´d better believe it," I say.

The two of us have a long history of abandoning logic to choose the path our hearts dictate. Our "what were we thinking?" purchasing plan encompasses the small odd food item (jalapeno salmon jerky, anyone?) to real estate.

For example, our "reasoning" (I use the word extremely loosely) when deciding to buy the house we live in went: "Hmm ... it has a leaking roof; the septic system is beyond repair; there´s dry rot everywhere - not to mention that little foundation problem. Plus it will double our commuting time. And the house we´re in now is finally fixed up. "BUT...." We smiled at each other, starry-eyed, and said in one voice: "I love it ... let´s buy it!" Buy in haste, repent at leisure.

So it´s little wonder - I guess - that we should find ourselves enraptured by a papier-mache frog knight object d´art taller than I am.

In a rare reasonable lapse, I ask, "Where on earth will we put him?"

"Dining room?" Craig suggests.

"We barely have room for our table and chairs. Living room?"

"We wouldn´t be able to see the TV."

I sigh. "We don´t have room for him, anywhere. BUT...." We smile at each other, starry-eyed, and say in one voice: "I love it ... let´s buy it!"

We admire our frog for a bit. He gazes back regally, his armour gleaming silver and bronze.

Craig clears his throat. "Uh. How will we pay for him?"

"If we put off shingling for a month, and don´t buy mulch, and don´t buy one book or one single plant...." I break off. "Craig! This is crazy! We don´t need this thing."

"Look at it," he says. The frog´s eyes sparkle from beneath his visor. I halfway expect him to salute and announce, "Sir Percival, at your service."

"He´s so big," I say, in my weakest please-convince-me voice.

"He has presence," Craig says. "But if you really don´t want him...."

"No," I say. "But how will we get him home? He won´t fit in the car."

"We´ll figure something out."

Previews of our future flash before my eyes: renting a moving van, asking one of our friends to help us cart our frog around. Oh, dear. On the other hand, I love that frog.

We smile at each other. "Let´s buy it!" We´re able to find our way to the counter, even with our eyes full of stars.

"The frog knight?" the shopkeeper says. "Believe it or not, someone bought him. There´s no accounting for some people´s taste!"

"Whew!" I say as we climb in our frogless car. "That was a close call! What on earth were we thinking, anyway?"

Craig´s quiet a moment. "We´re always going to regret not having that frog," he says finally.

And, to tell the truth, I kind of do.

FROM THE EDITOR´S DESK

If you see your name on one of these contributions but can´t remember sending it, it is because I have been going through old files in search of material I´ve not used yet; or which was published so long ago that I hope everyone has forgotten it.

In the case of Dalton´s story about his volunteer work in Africa, it was a little of both reasons that prompted me to reuse it, but mostly because it is such an interesting story and so well written that I enjoyed it again, and hope that you will find it equally interesting this time around.

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

According to this site forwarded by Bruce Galway, I´m going to be around for a while yet. Developed by Northwestern Mutual Life, their life expectancy calculator predicts how long you are likely to live:

Bruce also sends a link to a video showing the first assembly lines at the original Ford auto plant. Neat to see those guys making the old wooden wheels, by hand mostly:

Catherine Nesbitt forwards this link to a site which demonstrates a new adult CPR method which is less intimidating and requires no certification:

You may have seen this one before, but the video of a naked balloon dance sent by Pat Moore is well worth watching again:

Stan French suggests this short video of a Ming vase up for auction, knocked down for one million Euros:

For a video of a house made entirely of recycled materials, visit this site. The farmers who built it are pioneers in the idea of modern homesteading and being completely self-sufficient. The owners also raise organic chickens, llamas and vegetables:

What if every light bulb in the world could also transmit data? At TEDGlobal, Harald Haas demonstrates for the first time a device that could do exactly that. By flickering the light from a single LED, a change too quick for the human eye to detect, he can transmit far more data than a cellular tower - and do it in a way that´s more efficient, secure and widespread:

To check out the features of the "freedictionary", which changes daily, go to