Stories from Ghana

When I talk to people for the first time after coming home from Ghana, they always ask how my trip was and I’ve had some difficulty figuring out how to answer that question. I mean, do they really want to know? Or is this one of those pleasantries like “How are you? Oh, I’m fine” types of questions? My typical response so far has been “It was hot and it was nothing like I expected.” People tend to be fairly content with this answer, which confuses me, because I really told them nothing. So for those of you who really want to know, here’s what I have:

First of all, the people of Ghana are INCREDIBLY hospitable. Any time we walked up to someone’s home, they would hurry inside and come back out with benches or couches or whatever else they had to sit on so they could offer us a place to sit. Then we would all sit down and they would just look at us expectantly, waiting for us to bestow some great wisdom on them that we had brought from America. Lucky for them (and us, I suppose,) we really did have important things to discuss with them. But they didn’t know that when we walked up. They were just happy we were there. They would shake hands with all of us using the unique Ghana handshake (I felt really cool when I finally figured out how to do it!) and they would usually greet us in English.

Many of the people there knew English. The schools are in English, so the more educated ones were more fluent with it, but most understood it. One of my team members, Robert, knew the local language [the language in Dzodze (Jo-Je) is Ewe (eh-weh)] so if they were more comfortable speaking in their native tongue, they could. On some teams, whenever the people didn’t know English, the American would talk and the Ghanaian would translate, but Robert was such a good evangelist that when all they knew was Ewe, he would just take it and run with it.

Using the restroom in town was an ordeal. At our hotel, we had actual bathrooms with toilets, but toilets were few and far between in town. A “bathroom” usually consisted of a walled off area of the back yard that had a concrete floor and no door. It must have been so much easier for the guys. When you are a guy, the world is your urinal. It’s slightly more complicated when you’re a girl. But I brought my toilet paper and disinfecting wipes with me, so I managed. At one house, I asked to use the restroom and when I came back, my American team member said they kept looking over at the “restroom” like “What’s taking her so long?” She just smiled and told them it was my first time.

I didn’t see any wild animals while I was in Ghana. Mostly I saw a lot of goats. I would see an animal out of the corner of my eye and think “Oh, it’s a dog!” But then I would turn to look and it would be another goat. Supposedly, even though the goats are just roaming around town, it’s fairly easy for the Ghanaians to tell which goats belong to who. They all just looked like goats to me. All the same. But I guess I’d be able to tell which dog was mine out of a group of dogs, so I guess it’s not much different with goats.

It’s hard to come back to the US. I know that this is the land of the free and the home of the brave, but sometimes it feels like the land of the complainers and the home of the spoiled. The day after I got home, I went to Wendy’s in search of healthy American food (haha,) and I was shocked to find myself getting irritated by how long it took them to bring me my food. And I started to wonder why I felt that way. I was used to the mindset of “There are 50 places within a quarter of a mile that would love to take my money. If any restaurant wants my business, I want what I ordered as quickly as possible, with the friendliest service, and in the cleanest environment.” (Can you guess why I seldom go to Dairy Queen?) It just surprises me how we all have SO MUCH and yet we’re never satisfied with what we have. The Ghanaians are so much friendlier to foreigners and each other than we are and they have so much less than we do. I guess they are blessed in that they know that the source of happiness in their lives won’t be material possessions. If only we were so fortunate.

Okay, so if I were just reading this thing, my ADD would start kicking in about now and I’d be wondering when this entry was going to end, so I guess I’ll stop now. But this won’t be the end of the Ghana stories. Trust me, there’s plenty more. In fact, here’s a preview:

How many cold showers did Jan take in Africa?
Interesting Names
The Noble Evangelist
Our Bodyguard
Paulina - “Thanks God!”

Pictures from Ghana

Just wanted to create a quick entry with some of my pics from Ghana... These are only 3 of the 100+ pictures I took while I was there. Let me know if you want to see more!

These boys go to the Catholic school in town. They were just too cute all dressed the same, walking down the road with their arms around each other!









The funniest thing I saw all week! It says "I am drinking but I have a brain."











What a little cutie!

So what's the deal with the wiggly rice?

I've had a few people make speculations about the wiggly rice, and they've been fairly accurate, but there's a little more to the story.

First of all, in no way do I want to say anything bad about the food that was given to us while we were in Ghana. We were given quite a lot of chicken and rice, but mainly that was because we're sensitive Americans with puny stomachs that can't handle the local stuff. As Pastor Dennis so eloquently put it, the local stuff would "make your nose cry." So I was grateful for the relatively predictable chicken and rice. (As a side note, when I did eat the local food, while a little spicy for this VERY white American girl, it was delicious.)

So Friday afternoon, we met at the Dagba Hotel for lunch. This is where our Ghanaian teammates from Accra were staying and it was where Dzodze Baptist Church was having its first worship service later that night. We got our styrofoam containers of chicken and rice and sat under a big shade tree to get out of the sun. After being out in the sun all morning (it had rained pretty hard and then the sun came out so it was a bit muggy,) I was more thirsty than hungry, so I didn't feel like eating much. Then I noticed a little worm on my arm. I wasn't sure what it was or where it had come from, so I flicked it off and tried to forget about it. Then I noticed another one on my skirt. Again, I flicked it off.

Then someone else mentioned a little worm. Then another. We realized there was some sort of worm falling out of the trees. Someone thought they were maggots, but I didn't think maggots fell from trees, so I'm not sure. Anyway, having any sort of wormy thing fall from the trees when I'm trying to eat lunch makes me not a very happy person. So then I had an epiphany. It has become my new motto for life and it's one I hope to live by all of my days: Don't eat the wiggly rice. Make sure that all of your food is stationary before you take a bite.

I think that when you have a blog, any entry you make should be profound in some sense. As if the reader should be better off having read it. Whether or not that is true in your case I don't know. If you plan to live your life safely within the confines of the US or other developed countries, you might feel as if you would have been better off having NOT read this entry. Thinking about the possibility of maybe accidentally eating some sort of squirmy larva is hardly entertainment all by itself. However, if you are called by God to venture out of your comfort zone, or maybe you like to visit strange and exotic places, and you end up in some foreign land under a shade tree, you will be thankful for this entry and might even make it your own motto for life: Don't eat the wiggly rice.

Welcome to my Blogdom

My first entry will likely not be what you expect. I don’t plan on explaining the name of my blog yet, and though I just got back from a 10-day journey to Ghana, my first entry will actually be about the ride home. In this case, it’s best to begin at the end.

But I will take a minute to explain how I got to the end. I spent a full day traveling to Ghana, spent 8 days in Ghana and was now half way through a full day’s travel back to the US. I was tired. I hadn’t showered in 36 hours. The local food had done a number on my stomach and it wouldn’t stop rumbling.

The first half of the journey from Accra to Frankfurt was fairly uneventful, but mostly because no one tried to talk to me. I didn’t feel well and I was very sleepy, so I was a little on the grumpy side. And when I say a little, I mean a lot. I get cranky when I’m tired. For real. We’re talking Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. But because people pretty much left me alone, the first flight passed without the shedding of innocent blood.

On the flight from Frankfurt to Dallas, I was originally supposed to sit next to my friend Susan on the plane, but her husband asked if I would trade seats so he could actually sit by his wife. So we traded. We all got on the plane and I was in seat 45A. People kept getting on the plane and finding their seats, but the seat next to me remained empty. The plane was scheduled to take off at 9:55. 9:55 came and went. And we sat there. And the seat was empty. I thought to myself, “God is so faithful. He knows what I need. What a blessing it is to have the seat next to me empty. I’ll actually be able to sleep on the way home. Hallelujah.” And then a young Hindu woman and her 11-month-old baby got on the plane. She walked all the way back to row 45. And she sat next to me. Those of you who know me won’t be surprised to learn that “Hallelujah” quickly turned to “Oh, crap.” Sigh. So much for sleep on the way home.

I was surprised to find that my attitude remained fairly upbeat. I knew she wasn’t looking forward to the flight any more than the rest of us. And seeing that she was Hindu, I was determined to be a good ambassador. I was a representative of Lake Pointe Church, Texas, the US, and Christ. I would be nice. Not just act nice, but actually be nice. That’s how I felt towards the woman and her child, anyway. I would have to have a talk with God later. I was less than pleased with Him.

The boy’s name was Abino. I was in the window seat and since he wanted to look out the window, he quickly ended up in my lap. I didn’t mind. He was cute. And it was better to hold a laughing baby than to sit next to a crying one. Then he went back to his mom. Then he came back to me. Then mom. Then me. Mom needed to use the restroom so she asked if I’d hold him while she went. No problem. I took the opportunity to sing to him. I quickly ran out of children’s songs that I could remember, so then I switched to Christian songs. And where else to begin but Amazing Grace?

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, That saved a wretch like me....
I once was lost but now am found,Was blind, but now, I see.

Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. I knew that even thought I felt, smelled and looked like one, I was in fact no longer a wretch. Praise God.

Then came the second verse.

Through many dangers, toils and snares...I have already come.
T'was Grace that brought me safe thus far...and Grace will lead me home.

Wham. I stopped singing as my voice cracked and tears came to my eyes. Of course! Grace is the reason I survive anything. It’s the reason I survive a day at work. It’s the reason I survive family reunions. It’s the reason I survived my first trip to Ghana, with all the new and interesting things that Ghana has to offer.

So I knew I would survive the ride home. Not because God would take it easy on me by giving me two seats all to myself. Not because I would manage to muster enough self control all on my own not to hurt those around me. But because God is faithful. He would see me home.

Then my attitude changed. I wasn’t supposed to be nice to this woman because I was a representative of Lake Pointe or the US. I was called to give her grace because grace had been given to me. When I became a Christian, I voluntarily made myself a slave to Christ. You can’t choose to make yourself a slave to anyone and then bemoan any of the tasks you are given.

Yes, the flight was miserable. Yes, my tummy rumbled the whole way. Yes, I rushed to the bathroom once thinking I might be sick. No, I didn’t sleep much, and yes, it was fitful when I did. But I survived.

T'was Grace that brought me safe thus far...and Grace will lead me home.

And it did.