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!”