Change in Currency

Three nights ago, I slept on a tree platform aside the Black Volta River. As I lay on my back, the tree canopy sprawled overhead and the sky a blanket of the brightest, sparkling stars, giant hippopotamuses swam upstream through the still waters. Earlier in the day we had the exciting opportunity to take a river cruise in a simple dug-out canoe and witness several hippos swimming through the waters, sometimes only fifty feet away.

As I wondered at the beauty of the night sky, I reflected on the little time I have left in Ghana and the amazing experiences that have filled the time past. We are now in the season of fresh corn, roasted peanuts, and gray skies. While I am also in the season of goodbyes and ‘until we meet again.’ So, I'm taking lots of last looks, trying to memorize the images that have become so common to me, trying to capture them my mind.

Big billowy clouds forming daily, occasional patches of light blue. Grass, tall and green, men, young and old, work, cutting it with their machetes. A family of baboons, a mother with a baby on her back, cross the road. Customs officers dressed in navy blue jumpsuits with matching berets, sit under an ancient mango tree. The loud hum of generators, trying to maintain the appearance of a modern world, despite all too often power outages. Piles of ripe avocados and bright yellow bananas lined up for sale on tables. Clear air and the vision of Adaklu (the mountain Kimberlee and I climbed upon our arrival) from all over Ho. Young girls carry bowls on their heads, full of items for sale. Clean water sealed in plastic sachets, ‘pure water.’

Further, Ghana has just experienced a change of currency, or rather a re-denomination. With the old denomination, the largest note was the 20,000 cedi, equal to approximately 2 dollars; Ghana is now on a scale similar to the American dollar. For the next six months the people of Ghana will transition into this new currency, while both old and new denominations continue to float through the system, and old and new prices continue to be recognized. At certain times, in the heat of the moment, there has indeed been confusion. Whether for the old women in the market, who has no change for these new giant bills, or the young boy in the shop who can't figure out how much money he has been given.

In this time of transition, the use of money is no longer second nature. I think twice when I see a price and pay, trying to figure out how to combine old money with some of the new. As I laid on the tree platform under the stars, I found in this some kind of metaphorical truth -- when I return home, my life and my actions, will no longer be second nature. I will be caught mixing some of the old, the ways of life from Ghana, with some of the new, ways of life in America. And I'm sure there will be moments of confusion, as I figure out how to take some things with me from the past, and what to leave behind.

a recipe for peace

i have found myself caught in a culture of of sharing. surrounded by a people who will give you the shirt off their back and if they need one, expect you to do the same.

before ghanaians partake of their meal, whether you are at school, work, or home, they invite those around to join, "va me di nu" [come and eat] or they will simply say, "you are invited." and despite the declaration before each person takes a bite, this invitation is understood and goes without saying.

meals are built around community, where many people gather around one large bowl and eat, sitting closely together. the most common meals are fufu or banku served with a stew with meat (chicken, fish, goat). the fufu and banku are eaten with your right hand, pinching a piece from the ball and dipping it into the stew.

fufu is made from yam (more like a potato in the US) and plantain (like a giant, less sweet banana). the two are boiled and then placed in a giant wooden bowl or mortar (sitting on the ground). then sitting on a low stool a person will take 6 ft long stick, and pound the two together for about 30 minutes, creating a moist playdough-like consistency. this is served cool, in the shape of a large flattened ball.

banku is made from dried maize which has been soaked in water for several days and fermented. after the soaking it is taken to the mill and turned into a dough. then the dough is put in a pot and cooked with water and salt, stirring forcefully and often until it turns hard. the banku is also served in the shaped of a large flattened ball, though more dry than the fufu and it is very hot.

both of these require much manual labor, this is not an easy job; the pounding and stirring can last for nearly an hour and the fufu and banku are tough and thick. so, more than an offering of food and what it cost to purchase, it is an offering of work and of time and of energy.

as often as i am invited to join a meal, this act has encouraged me to be less greedy within my own life, and more open to sharing my life with others. and as often as a gift has been offered for no reason at all, i have learned to be less possessive of my belongings, and to give with more ease.

there have certainly been moments of tension... when it has been expected of me to share, i find myself fighting cultural instincts of possession and notions of working for what you want. but with the attitude of disowning selfishness i have discovered the recipe for my life to become more peaceful. i have learned to truly love those whom i offer to share my life with -- my food, my time, my money. i have learned to respect the beauty of a culture that takes care of each other, a people with open doors, that can always put another seat around the table.

Ghana for Beginners, Part 2 -- My Version

I'm going to tell you the story of an American mom and American dad, who came to visit their volunteer daughter in West Africa, who should have known better, but made plans, a detailed itinerary in fact, for their two week journey; only to have so much go wrong, but through that, realize that God is indeed in control and His way is so much better than anything we could plan.

They arrived two hours late -- not a big deal in the U.S. where waiting areas have benches and air conditioning. No, I stood outside in the heat, waiting, unable to find any screen on which I could find some helpful information. Thinking as each person walked by, that maybe they would be next; two hours is a long time to anticipate the arrival of parents you have not seen for seven months.

After the arrival we went to the office of the reputable/not-so-reputable Hertz rental car company, with whom we have made a reservation for a car and have in our possession a print-out of the confirmation. When American Mom and Dad offer this confirmation and expect to proceed with a simple credit card transaction and prompt hand-over of the keys, they are abruptly surprised by the announcement that the reservation was never received, and not only that but they have NO cars. American Mom gets a little tense while Volunteer Daughter tells her not to worry and things will work out. Finally, after a conversation with the two employees, they have contacted another car rental company who will shortly bring a car.

We should have really checked out the car before we took it; but we didn't. After driving for some time, we realized the muffler was loose. Which, if we had been in a country with reliable roads, it would have been one thing. But instead, on every portion of unpaved or pot-holed road, American Dad would tell everyone in the car to suck up their seats (apparently a common term pilots use), and this action, of course, was to lift the car and keep the muffler from dragging on the road. Unfortunately this method was not too reliable, and sure enough, after one too many holes, the muffler fell. It was still hanging on, but now it was sparking as we drove. Fortunately within minutes of the incident we drove through a village that just happened to have a small shop selling rope, at which point Volunteer Daughter told American Dad to back up, and buy the rope. As he went to the shop to make the purchase, all the while causing a scene because of his whiteness, a crowd gathered and he met a small boy who had encountered this particular problem before and knew exactly what to do -- he took the rope, crawled under the back of the car, and swiftly fixed our muffler.

In the itinerary Volunteer Daughter scheduled a full day of driving to the north, well known for its wildlife reserve. But without considering the combination of less than functional roads and a crummy car -- a ten hour day of driving turned into two full days. By six p.m. on the first day the sky had grown dark and the rains were pouring down. Without having any certainty of what lay ahead we all voted to stop for the evening. We looked in the guidebook for a town large enough to have a guesthouse and went to the best on the list. The first guesthouse had no rooms, the second had no restaurant, the third had no rooms, and the fourth (not in the guidebook) was perfect. Brand new, great staff, comfortable rooms, and a smalling dining room with one table. The evening turned out to be a perfect hiatus from the driving we had gone through and the driving to come.

We woke in the morning and headed, yet again, to Mole [Mo-lay] National Park. About halfway there, we arrived on a horrible unpaved road with 86 km to go. But in a car with already low clearance, five people, and luggage for even more, we were dragging. American Dad was clenching his teeth and concentrating on the road, when after only 18 km and two hours of driving he decided we would turn around and drive further north to a city where we could rent yet another car that could handle the rough road and distance. We were off to Tamale.

We arrived in Mole by nightfall that evening. Finally. Just in time for some dinner and then early to bed. Shortly after falling asleep the rains began and continued all night long, bringing in the cool air and flooding the land. I woke early and feared, after all the work it took to get there, that the rains would never end. As we dressed and waited for our guide, the rains turned to a drizzle and stopped just as we began our safari. It was lucky that the rains came because the cool air, and abundant supply of water brought out hundreds of animals into the open. Within five minutes we were face to face with a beautiful giant elephant, and over the next two hours we saw animals everywhere, including kob, water buck, warthog, and baboon. It turned out to be a wonderful day, thanks to the rains.

We left Mole at five a.m. On our way back down south, towards the coast, we took the roads that seemed to be most direct and also reliable. By the afternoon we were in the mountains, driving on narrow, winding roads, through small mining villages. These roads, as our luck would go, had been driven on by huge trucks coming from the mines and crushing the pavement under their tires and heavy weight, leaving us with many potholes. Eventually the sun had set and we were dodging holes in the pitch dark. As was bound to happen, we hit one hole too hard, and got a flat tire. So we pulled over, and that's when American Dad announced that we did not have a jack. We started waving down cars with our flashlights, while dodging the fast and reckless drivers on the road. Finally, after what seemed like forever, a car with two kind men pulled over and willingly took the jack from their car and even changed the tire for us, telling American Dad to 'thank God' and not them.

After spending a few days along the coast, we were on our way back to Accra, and as I'm sure you have noticed, things in Ghana rarely go according to plan; so what should have taken two hours took six. Ultimately, I must admit that despite things that seemingly went wrong, there was a lot that went right. We had a fabulous Easter celebration, which included a village party and all of us joining in the dancing, we visited a local village famous for weaving, we stood under the tallest waterfall in West Africa, saw the largest artificial lake in the world and the dam that supplies all of Ghana's energy, enjoyed beautiful beaches, walked on a rope-and-cable canopy walkway in the rainforest, and toured an old slave castle.

Moral of the story: Be willing and open to what God wants to show you. That's the beauty of Africa. It will not work out the way you plan, but when it was all said and done, American Mom and American Dad fell in love with this place, it's challenges, and it's great people that make it all worth while.

Ghana for Beginners

This blog entry comes from Nora's Dad, back home in the States with Nora's Mom for just a few days now, after the whirlwind adventure of a lifetime visiting Nora in her adopted Ghanaian home. It was truly an amazing trip!

With Nora as our erudite and sophisticated guide, we encountered waterfalls and elephants, climbed through the canopy of a rain forest and sunbathed on gorgeous beaches, found chickens and goats running free almost everywhere we turned (even in Nora’s yard) and fresh mangos and pineapples for sale all along the roads throughout the length and breadth of the country, and went shopping in local markets for our food and for trinkets to bring home as souvenirs.

Ghana is truly a beautiful country - but the people impressed me even more than the landscape. Nora has worked with wonderful people in the small town of Ho, people who have befriended her and loved her during her sojourn living with them since last September; and Beth and I were welcomed into their homes and with Nora had the joy of joining them for Easter Sunday worship our first weekend in the country. We were embraced like family, and we laughed and ate and even danced together - both during the four-hour church service and during the “after-party” in the town center that afternoon - while we shared our life stories with one another and our common love for God - and for Nora.

I was impressed by the Ghanaian flora and fauna. I was impressed even more by the Ghanaian people, especially the children whose smiles and joyful love of life are infectious. But I was impressed most of all by my own daughter, who has made a home for herself in a foreign land thousands of miles away, where life is so incredibly different than what she knows here in America.

Nora has faced challenges every day accomplishing even the simplest things. She washes her clothes by hand, and has to burn her trash, for example; and she has to manage in a country where English is the official language, but where most of the people actually speak not English but tribal languages which come in multiple dialects. But Nora has overcome every challenge she has faced, and in the process has become an even more beautiful and capable young woman, while making friends for life.

We’re just a little bit proud of her…

Watch for Nora carrying me to victory on the winning team on next season’s “Amazing Race”!

the Great Decider

I am in a church made of concrete with openings along the walls that allow the air in. I sit on a wooden bench or a plastic lawn chair. And I listen. There are occasional moments when I am sure the words of the speaker are divine and they are words I recognize to be of my Father. But more frequently I struggle to identify with the message -- I sit uncomfortably in my chair and try to discern some truth, searching for God in the words even if they seem unfamiliar.

Since my arrival I have been caught in a world of God. Surrounded by the highest growth rates of Christianity on the globe, Africa is indeed searching for an answer. In the average village, and even city, shops have names like: Jesus is Great Fashion Center, God is My Witness Fast Food, Jesus Saves Fan Milk Depot, and God is King Spraying Works. It is common for a person to wish you God's blessing as they bid you goodbye. Most school children have numerous prayers and Bible verses memorized, and many of my friends wake up as early as 4 am to say prayers and read their Bible before the day begins.

The world of Africa is struggling to get on it's feet, struggling to overcome the past and survive the future. I often become distracted during church, Bible study, and devotions; distracted by the alternating between English and Ewe, distracted by the differences in theology, and I find myself drifting to the familiar words of the Bible sitting in my lap. But recently I had a revelation and an explanation for Africa's Christianity boom: the pastor declared, "Hand over your life to Him, He can keep it better." In America we can avoid God, but in Ghana it's difficult to be so independent. I reflected on the absence of running water in houses, as well as the absence of bathrooms and the numerous people I have witnessed relieving themselves publicly. Both, simple signs of un-development. I thought about the dark presence of AIDS and other potentially fatal diseases like Malaria and Typhoid. As the pastor spoke about traditional African shrines, the spirits that travel and have to be summoned by witches and juju, he triumphantly proclaimed, "Our God does not travel, He is with us regardless of when and where." He stated, "Life is about conviction," and asked, "Can you die for what you believe?" It then occurred to me that God has been received in Africa because with Him there is an eternal future with promise and an escape from the harsh realities of our bitter world.

But I am still compelled to ask, Is this God, my God, and are we worshiping the same Father and Christ? I am often confused by their teachings, and as we read the same Bible passages I have heard again and again since childhood, I wonder, If we both have the same source, can the comprehension and application really be that different? And, Can I be the one who has misinterpreted the meaning of His word? Further, If our faith is innocently subjected to the consciousness of our culture, can we possibly have gotten it all wrong? -- Could this have a tragic ending? Finally, What is the crucial truth? Is is Jesus Christ alone?

The average Sunday worship service lasts between two and four hours, including: prayers, the singing of hymns, reading of scripture, multiple (mandatory) offerings, and a long account of announcements at the end. Initially I was irritated by the seemingly endless length of the service, how could I not be? -- it's in my breeding. In the US the pastor feels pressure to release his congregation and church closes at 12. Americans are a busy people, perhaps filled by unnecessary busy-ness, but we are on a schedule nonetheless; with exactly one hour to spare for church on Sunday morning. But in Ghana, this concept of time frame is essentially non-existent. As I thought about the comfort, assurance, and strength a worship service can provide, I discovered that perhaps they last so long in Ghana because they are the oasis of the desert and it's only natural to dwell in such a place.

One evening while on a walk with the Moderator of the EPC and his wife, we heard the prayers of a local church -- it's a charismatic congregation that holds prayer meetings multiple times a week, with the use of a loud speaker, and often encouraging speaking in tongues. As you can imagine, it can be very loud. Mrs. Buama asked me how I felt about it and I responded too quickly, "I just don't understand what they are making so much noise about." She then simply answered, "God." At that moment, it was clear to me. And though I still wonder, If we are sincerely worshiping the God who calls us, is it possible to have taken the wrong path? -- I find assurance in God's control and that He is indeed the Great Decider.

Sky and Water

In the beginning of January, Kimberlee and I traveled to the beach-side village of Ada Foah with hopes of seeing a turtle. When we arrived at the guesthouse after dark the manager informed us that turtles make their way to shore in the early morning hours and when we were ready we could accompany a guide to the beach. We had some dinner and by 10 pm we began walking. It was dark, but the light of the moon filled the sky enough so we could see clearly.

In recent years, Ada has been known as a location to sight turtles, specifically because the people of the village have protected them. The leatherback currently has the conservation status of a critically endangered species with an extremely high risk of becoming extinct, but this stretch of beach has become a place of refuge and safety. The mother turtles know they can come to shore, lay their eggs, and return safely to the sea; no poachers waiting to steal eggs or even kill for their meat. Rather, the village men will bury eggs if they are swept out of their holes and will watch to ensure the turtles return safely to the water.

At first I was filled with energy and anticipation at the sight of a turtle, but as each hour passed and my feet and legs were worn from walking far in the deep sand, I began to doubt whether we would have any luck. I was so eager but struggled to be patient and wait for the right time. Just as I was ready to give up, I looked ahead along the sand, and there it was – a giant leatherback sea turtle: five feet long, four feet wide, and two feet high. She was indeed an impressive animal, and justified her status as the world's fourth largest reptile.

She was inland fifty feet with her back facing the water. We sat down in the damp sand and watched as she spent time digging a hole with her back flippers, into which she laid at least one hundred eggs. Though, in the hour and a half it took for her to dig the hole and lay her eggs, the tide had come in and proceeded to wash her eggs out of the hole. At this, our guide promptly began to dig another hole and instructed us to gather the soft, bright white eggs (the size of racquetballs) and place them into the hole. We then buried them and watched as the giant turtle turned around and slowly but swiftly returned to the ocean, surfing on the waves, and finally disappearing into the dark sea.

At the ending of February I was on yet another adventure, joining Becci and Anna for a boat ride on the Lake Volta. The Yapei Queen is a ferry primarily used as a cargo vessel but has a small deck space available for passengers. The journey was thirty hours, complete with sleeping on deck, and the route is the longest followed by any boat in Ghana. It was a journey I will remember forever; sitting for hours at the port waiting to board, far past schedule (so typical Africa), then standing in line with the common men, women, and children of Ghana – still waiting, then entering the ferry, and scrambling to find a place to stay for the next two days.

Lake Volta is the largest artificial lake in the world, stretching north 402 km, and was created in the 1960s when President Nkrumah took on the ambitious project of damming the Volta River to generate electricity. Sadly, in process of damming the river, 850,000 hectares of land were flooded (7% of Ghana’s land surface) and 84,000 people were displaced. To this day much remains to be done to compensate people for the loss of their land.

As the heavy boat pushed through the calm waters I could not help but notice the hundreds of dead trees still remaining many feet into the water – a striking visual reminder of the past, the land overcome by water, and a history that cannot be escaped. The views offered by the boat were stunning, men fishing from their small canoes, the lush hills of the south and then transitioning to the flatter lands of the north, and small villages of simple mud huts with thatched roofs nestled at the edge of the water. On the last night as the hot African sun crept out of sight, setting behind the haze of harmattan, the water was still and the sky and water seemed to be one.

When the journey ended we arrived at midnight in the port town of Yeji and quickly discovered it had nothing to offer in terms of entertainment, so we made plans to leave early in the morning. However, as I walked through the streets, I recalled current controversy surrounding the port town and it’s infamy concerning child trafficking. In Yeji, as well as other towns along the lake shore, (despite its illegality) children are bought and sold to work for the fisherman. This slavery often results in terrible living conditions, working in unfavourable weather, eating non-nutritious foods, and non-sufficient clothing. (Check out the 'international organization for migration' website http://www.iom.int/jahia/page1666.html).

In our humanity and in spite of our brokenness the lines of right and wrong seem indistinguishable. A poacher ignorantly steals the eggs of an endangered species, selfishly thinking only of his survival. A country’s leader thinks it is right to dam a river to create a large source of energy and potential income, but dismisses the consequences and plans poorly. A mother hopes if she sells her children she will save them, by giving them work and education in a trade, ultimately offering them a future.

Somehow we ignore the big picture. We are distracted by the deceptive unity of water and sky and forget that they are indeed two separate and very different things. We are deceived by the superficial truths and we chose to believe the resolution that allows our choice to be right. God gave us a great gift in the freedom of choice, but perhaps it is that gift alone which consistently proves our sinfulness. However, once this is recognized we must take responsibility for it and fight to be better, strive to overcome our brokenness.

We need to listen to the call of our lives, to recognize what fight we were created to take. Is it to bury the turtle eggs when they are swept out by the sea, or to remember the past and past mistakes so they are not repeated, or to create awareness of child slavery? Right now there are thousands of opportunities for right to battle wrong.

What fight will you chose?

Ghana is 50

At midnight on Tuesday evening, March 6th, 2007, I stood in the streets of Accra near Dr. Kwami Nkruma's mausoleum alongside thousands of Ghanaians to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Ghana's independence. As bright fireworks filled night sky and people cheered with excitement I reflected on the significance of this day, the significance for Ghana, the whole of Africa, and the world.

For hundreds of years the fate of the Gold Coast was in foreign hands: In the 15th century the Portuguese were in control, and ivory and gold were quickly replaced by the trading of slaves. By the 16th century the Dutch, British, and Danes had all arrived to take part in the trading, and in the early 19th century when slavery was outlawed, the British had dominance of the coast. For the next hundred years there was much conflict between Ghanaian tribes fighting for control of each other and each other's land, as well as conflict between the tribes and the British.

However, despite conflict, under British control the Gold Coast experienced success; by WWI, cocoa, gold, and timber made the Gold Coast Africa's most prosperous colony and by independence in 1957 the future was only hopeful-- Ghana was a country that boasted both the best schools and the best civil service in West Africa.

A nation once rich in timber, diamonds and gold and the world's top exporter of cocoa, a nation formerly at the top with the promise of great development and success. Fifty years later battered by political repression, Ghana's economy crawls along, while a third of the people live on less than a dollar a day. Further, Ghana's seaside capital, Accra, suffers from increasing power outages, and tens of thousands of people in Accra have no running water and are forced to heft buckets and cans from water pumps to their homes.

On March 6, 1957, Ghana became the first country in Africa south of the Sahara to gain independence from colonial rule. And Dr. Kwami Nkruma, the first president, known as the liberator, declared: "At long last, the battle has ended. And Ghana, your beloved country, is free forever." But today, this Golden Jubilee prompts reflection on why Africa has failed to translate its dreams, and its abundance of mineral and agricultural resources, into wealth.

Current president, John A. Kufour has recognized the disappointing absence of development and the need to separate the future from the past: "Let us resolve to draw a firm line between our chequered and unhappy past and a future full of hope, achievement and fellow feeling."

The streets are lined with Ghana's flag, three stripes of color, starting at the top with red, yellow in the center, and green at the bottom, with a black star at the center of the yellow. With the anniversary's theme in mind, Championing African Excellence, I am reminded of Dr. Kwame Nkrumah's vision of Ghana as the guiding light of African independence and solidarity, the black star. His dream was indeed fulfilled as Ghana led the way for other African colonies to earn emancipation from colonial rule but somehow, the lead has been lost. It is the story of promise unfulfilled, the story of a nation born to prosper but stalled by corruption and selfishness.

Ghana boasts fifty years of freedom from Europe, but now, the nation is enslaved by other, sometimes less recognizable forms of bondage, and the oppression of poverty has replaced the white man's oppression. I ask you to pray that God grants the people of Ghana vision, strength, and courage in the work that has to be done to move this country forward.