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| Lake Bosumtwi |
My work partner and I sat before a table spread with
documents. Computer screens boasted spreadsheets of budget proposals and
notebooks were crammed with task lists and hand-drawn maps of our target areas.
It was the quarterly management meeting, and we needed a break. Our speech
buzzed with school names – Asanteman, Bonwire, SecTec, Mmofraturo; accompanied
with clauses like – scenario-based interview questions, scholarship winners,
site development, etc. Yes, it was time we stepped away from the consuming world
of organizational strategy and enjoy our surroundings. At least, for an hour or
so.
Seeking an environment that favored quiet and peaceful
tranquility, our self-appointed management retreat was held on Lake Bosumtwi in
the Ashanti Region of Ghana. A mere 1.5 hour bus-taxi-walk from our home, this
site was perfect for us to be removed from the city but close enough to still
enjoy the weekend.
The lake itself was crater-formed. A perfect circle of
mountains rose around water, the jagged peaks covered in dense forest. In order
to fully appreciate the view, Nora and I applied a lacquer of sunscreen and
jumped into a rented pedal boat complete with sunscreen, water bottle holder,
and a small compartment for snacks. Pedaling for 30 minutes or so, we made good
headway across the lake before abandoning our vessel for a brief swim. All
thoughts of reports were whisked away by the sun and exercise.
However, responsibility eventually seeped back into our
consciousness and we figured we should return to our spreadsheets. Levering
ourselves back into the boat, this sentiment was confirmed by an assessment of
our water supply. Barely a quarter of the bottle remained – a few swallows each
at most. We shrugged, land was not far away, and placed our feet upon the pedals.
Nothing happened. The pedals remained stoically jammed
against the gunnels with no intention of propelling us forward. Our water
supply suddenly seemed much more dire as we contemplated the engineering of our
small vessel. I dove back into the water and under the boat, hoping to find a
reason for the jam. Between the two pontoons, the air was thick with humidity
and smelled of lake algae. Treading water, I fiddled with the bars and managed
to find the one that had slid out of it’s home and hung at an incongruous
angle. Suddenly, Nora’s voice resonated from above me, vibrating through the
pontoons and shaking around my head.
“Rachel, get out the water.”
“I’m fine, I almost got it.”
“No. Get out. Now.”
It was hard to hear her tone with the acoustics that
surrounded me, so I rammed the offending bar back in place and popped up on her
side of the boat. I surfaced in time to see her swinging the life jacket over
her head – aimed just behind me. I turned, and saw a wedge-shaped head and
reptile eyes above the surface of the water. A snake: coming to check out the
disturbance in the water. I immediately dove under, kicked furiously to the
other side of the boat, and threw myself over the gunnels and into the seat in
an ungraceful heap. Nora continued assailing the water with her life preserver,
but the snake – potential prey out the water – disappeared under the surface.
We sat in the boat, staring at each other. My breath came
quick, and Nora’s hands were shaking.
“So…” I said weakly.
“I think I just found our interview question,” Nora replied,
her voice surprisingly steady.
“Oh?” My mind was warring with two realities – work and survival. It wasn’t a harmonious mix.
“Oh?” My mind was warring with two realities – work and survival. It wasn’t a harmonious mix.
“Yeah. Hypothetical Scenario: You are stranded in the
middle of a lake in a broken boat and a snake decides to investigate you and
your work partner for lunch. What do you do?”
“Oh,” I said, still not quite aware of where I was. “Would
we have gotten the job?”
“Did you fix the boat?”
“Yes.”
“Then absolutely.” Nora replied firmly.
