February 23, 2008
Now we head back to the United States. Right now we are on a bus to Accra to stop at the hotel before we leave on our flight. Last night was pretty wild. We took Maamaye to the hospital for chest x-rays. We weren’t sure if we would have to stay longer or not. Dennis stayed back with Maamaye, Vida and Rita at the hospital while the rest of us headed back to the hotel. Jeff, Ciarra, a Muslim guard and I all prayed in my room that night for Maamaye. Our new Muslim friend did the prayer for us and his words were beautiful. Around 11:30, they came back and told us that Maamaye had bronchitis and she would be fine, she just needed some medication. Looks like our friend’s prayer worked, Allah Akbar. We were relieved until around 12:30, when Katherine started throwing up. Fortunately Ciarra was there to help her and she immediately went to get Dennis so he could help. Dennis got her on meds so she was fine, just a little groggy. Then early this morning, when Ciarra was doing wake up calls, she found that Myra was feeling ill too and had been throwing up. Through out this early morning drama we were all worried about getting everybody home. Fortunately for us, God is still at work and for the moment it seems as though we will all make it home in one piece. Now we just have to pray that God will protect us as He always has. I was going to end there… however, as it turns out our flight is canceled for the next 36 hours… sweet right? Well, I guess here’s to sitting back for a day, hopefully rest is in our future and a safe travel home. I think I’m going to go grab a Coke now and chat up a little theology with the pastor. Sabbath, Amen.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Holy Communion
February 22, 2008
We missed our opportunity to visit the King Jesus Orphanage yesterday, so we decided to say goodbye to the kids this morning. We had also decided that we would drop off our food supplies we had bought for them yesterday. I got to see my friend again; his name is still unknown to me but seeing his smile makes up for that. These children are stuck in a system that will probably never give them their full potential. The government here makes it very expensive and difficult to adopt one of these children, but if someone has a strong enough calling and enough determination, it is possible. I wish there was more that I could do right now for these kids, maybe someday I can do for them what they have already done for me. As we left the orphanage, I felt like crying but I held back and settled for some good hugs instead. As our bus pulled away I expressed the only words I knew how, to my friend I signed, I love you, Jesus loves you. I do not know what else I can say, my heart goes out, my eyes cry, and my soul longs to help, but the bus still pulls away.
Our next stop was back to the Cultural Center to stock up on Penny Project goods and finish our gift shopping. Afterwards we had some time at the hotel before dinner, only to find out that dinner wasn’t exactly ordered yet, so we would have to do dinner later than planned. Fortunately, Mrs. Gisila arrived at around 5 o’clock. Chatting with her gave some great insight into the SPANKO project and where it’s heading. She said that they have now started a German chapter (Gisila is a German native), and that people from all over were starting to get involved. The children in Ghana will benefit greatly. This relieved me as it seemed clear that this was a partnership we would love to continue. After dinner we parted ways with Gisila and we were headed to Rev. Twum’s church for some cultural dancing and a send off. The dancing was amazing, especially considering it was all performed by the youth of the church. They even had a skit on HIV/AIDS in Africa. Some of the people were laughing when, in one act, one of the men was expressing clear ignorance of the disease and did not want to touch the hand of his daughter. I may have laughed too, if I didn’t know how real that was. The First United Women had told stories very similar to the one being acted out. It’s real.
After the performance we went to the Twum’s parsonage. There, waiting, was a vision of Christ’s communion. We shared our love for one another and we gave gifts and drank orange Fanta. We expressed our gratitude and thanks for all of their work and partnership and they thanked us for coming into their lives. The communion table was set. It was a coffee table in a crowded living room. The members were from continents separated by a vast ocean, a people separated by language and color. As we held hands and prayed together, Christ was among us. The bread was our gifts, our thanks and our hearts for one another, and the wine was orange Fanta. God had never set a more perfect table. The vision for the future, for the world and for heaven can be seen expressed everyday here. I only hope that as we depart from our friends and loved ones here that we do justice to their stories and God’s story. This is what communion looks like, this is sacred, this is Holy.
We missed our opportunity to visit the King Jesus Orphanage yesterday, so we decided to say goodbye to the kids this morning. We had also decided that we would drop off our food supplies we had bought for them yesterday. I got to see my friend again; his name is still unknown to me but seeing his smile makes up for that. These children are stuck in a system that will probably never give them their full potential. The government here makes it very expensive and difficult to adopt one of these children, but if someone has a strong enough calling and enough determination, it is possible. I wish there was more that I could do right now for these kids, maybe someday I can do for them what they have already done for me. As we left the orphanage, I felt like crying but I held back and settled for some good hugs instead. As our bus pulled away I expressed the only words I knew how, to my friend I signed, I love you, Jesus loves you. I do not know what else I can say, my heart goes out, my eyes cry, and my soul longs to help, but the bus still pulls away.
Our next stop was back to the Cultural Center to stock up on Penny Project goods and finish our gift shopping. Afterwards we had some time at the hotel before dinner, only to find out that dinner wasn’t exactly ordered yet, so we would have to do dinner later than planned. Fortunately, Mrs. Gisila arrived at around 5 o’clock. Chatting with her gave some great insight into the SPANKO project and where it’s heading. She said that they have now started a German chapter (Gisila is a German native), and that people from all over were starting to get involved. The children in Ghana will benefit greatly. This relieved me as it seemed clear that this was a partnership we would love to continue. After dinner we parted ways with Gisila and we were headed to Rev. Twum’s church for some cultural dancing and a send off. The dancing was amazing, especially considering it was all performed by the youth of the church. They even had a skit on HIV/AIDS in Africa. Some of the people were laughing when, in one act, one of the men was expressing clear ignorance of the disease and did not want to touch the hand of his daughter. I may have laughed too, if I didn’t know how real that was. The First United Women had told stories very similar to the one being acted out. It’s real.
After the performance we went to the Twum’s parsonage. There, waiting, was a vision of Christ’s communion. We shared our love for one another and we gave gifts and drank orange Fanta. We expressed our gratitude and thanks for all of their work and partnership and they thanked us for coming into their lives. The communion table was set. It was a coffee table in a crowded living room. The members were from continents separated by a vast ocean, a people separated by language and color. As we held hands and prayed together, Christ was among us. The bread was our gifts, our thanks and our hearts for one another, and the wine was orange Fanta. God had never set a more perfect table. The vision for the future, for the world and for heaven can be seen expressed everyday here. I only hope that as we depart from our friends and loved ones here that we do justice to their stories and God’s story. This is what communion looks like, this is sacred, this is Holy.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Christ's Banquet
February 21, 2008
There is a line drawn in mission work. There is a fundamental problem when it comes to handling field work and appropriating funds. We visited an up and coming SPANKO orphanage being overseen by a fellow Michigander and a member of our church. Mike is a Michigan State grad, in his mid twenties. He has taken 5 kids in the area under his wing, all teenagers and has dedicated himself to being their father. He has a big heart and big ideas. I was in awe when he took us on a tour of his new orphanage he was overseeing. From an American’s eyes the buildings are phenomenal, the education system sounds great and everything seems to be heading in the right direction. But as we listened to Mike tell us of his plans, I could hear two of our Ghanaian friends talk of how the classrooms were too big, his ideas of bringing in washing machines to eliminate the need for the more traditional washing day were too American. I can sympathize both ways. From Mike’s perspective, Ghana’s education system is broken, the children are often under or not educated, women have far less opportunity than men and parents are often ignorant of the value of learning. Maybe Mike is right, maybe what the system needs is a radical transformation, a new breath of life. On the other hand, I can understand how tradition is important, how often Americans seek to inject their values and beliefs on societies unlike their own and how stupid white men must seem. The problem is that there is no right answer. We have to trust that God will use us in all of our endeavors and we must always pray that He gives us the clarity to discern what is of God and what is of us.
After visiting Mike we traveled to the Mmofroturo girls school once more to say goodbye and to present them with a brand new laptop, printer, ink, paper, and to commit to their library. When Jeff was expressing how much we appreciated their mission and goals, he invited Kevin up to take the mic for a little interview. The girls loved it, as Jeff said “Kevin’s a rock star.” After our meal with the head of the school we were taken on a tour of the entire complex so we could get a better sense of what they needed. They took us to the grade school so we could see the younger kids in class and meet them. When we were walking in between classrooms, there was a man outside selling newspapers, of which the headline read: “Bush Bull Shits,” referring to his visit to Ghana this week and his tour of West Africa. We all got a kick out of that. Once we had met all of the grade school students, the men and women separated and the guys got to play a little with the preschoolers who are in need of better classrooms, one’s that they can have for themselves. They are all very cute and they found Jeff and Dennis to be very funny. While Jeff, Dennis and I were playing with the little girls, Kevin was being mobbed outside for his number, address and pictures with the girls. As soon as we stepped outside we were all mobbed too. Pictures seem to fascinate people here, they love getting their picture taken, even if they can’t keep it. As the guys were heading back to our bus to leave we ran into a wall of girls, all in their colorful dresses. Boat turned to me and asked me if I had seen the “new” students. I had no clue what he was talking about so he showed me. Ciarra and Katherine had been fitted and had each been given one of the school dresses!
When we left the school I was feeling the presence of God in that place. The school is one of the projects that makes me proud to be a Methodist, a school that encourages women to take on a bigger role, educate themselves and express their individuality through their dresses. We traveled on to another market, but this time there was an actual grocery store. I stocked up on some Ghanaian chocolate. We hit the road again, but back to the hotel. We had a few hours to relax, but we were all very anxious. Tonight was a night to party, a night to celebrate. God was here, Christ was walking among us and we were going to celebrate as Christ commanded. Tonight the First United Women came to have a night of dinner and dancing. They came to deliver the clothing we had ordered and to celebrate our partnership and friendship. When they arrived the music was blaring (as usual in Ghana), games of Owari were being played, and dinner was served. That dinner was probably the best one yet. It felt so good to eat amongst friends here. The women brought extra fabric with them and set up a stand on the edge of our party. There were actually guests at the hotel coming out to check out the celebration and ended up purchasing some of the fabric. One of the women came up to me and asked me to dance, so we did. Even the hotel staff were celebrating and dancing with us. Mike showed up with his kids and we talked about the difficulties of working in Ghana for hours.
When the night was done Jeff wandered back into our room and he had a story to tell me. He told me that he had a talk with some of our friends who were on staff at the hotel. He said that they asked him what the purpose was of this party tonight, who the women were. They had said they had had a lot of fun dancing with the women and they thought they had made some friends. Jeff figured, why not. So he told them who they were, why there were there and what we were about. Jeff said he had never seen people loose their color so quickly before. Their response seemed like a mixture of anger, confusion and worry. The stigma here is real. He reminded me of the parable Jesus tells of heaven being like a party; a party where none of the guests you invited show up, they are all too busy. So instead you invite those on the street, the people who never get invited. Tonight we were in heaven. Jeff told the staff that they had just been to heaven, they looked at him like he was crazy. But it was real. This is the vision Christ had for the world. Heaven is real. I’ve seen it, I’ve danced with the uninvited, I’ve shared songs and stories, held hands and hugged. I’ve met God and I will trade this experience for nothing this world has to offer.
There is a line drawn in mission work. There is a fundamental problem when it comes to handling field work and appropriating funds. We visited an up and coming SPANKO orphanage being overseen by a fellow Michigander and a member of our church. Mike is a Michigan State grad, in his mid twenties. He has taken 5 kids in the area under his wing, all teenagers and has dedicated himself to being their father. He has a big heart and big ideas. I was in awe when he took us on a tour of his new orphanage he was overseeing. From an American’s eyes the buildings are phenomenal, the education system sounds great and everything seems to be heading in the right direction. But as we listened to Mike tell us of his plans, I could hear two of our Ghanaian friends talk of how the classrooms were too big, his ideas of bringing in washing machines to eliminate the need for the more traditional washing day were too American. I can sympathize both ways. From Mike’s perspective, Ghana’s education system is broken, the children are often under or not educated, women have far less opportunity than men and parents are often ignorant of the value of learning. Maybe Mike is right, maybe what the system needs is a radical transformation, a new breath of life. On the other hand, I can understand how tradition is important, how often Americans seek to inject their values and beliefs on societies unlike their own and how stupid white men must seem. The problem is that there is no right answer. We have to trust that God will use us in all of our endeavors and we must always pray that He gives us the clarity to discern what is of God and what is of us.
After visiting Mike we traveled to the Mmofroturo girls school once more to say goodbye and to present them with a brand new laptop, printer, ink, paper, and to commit to their library. When Jeff was expressing how much we appreciated their mission and goals, he invited Kevin up to take the mic for a little interview. The girls loved it, as Jeff said “Kevin’s a rock star.” After our meal with the head of the school we were taken on a tour of the entire complex so we could get a better sense of what they needed. They took us to the grade school so we could see the younger kids in class and meet them. When we were walking in between classrooms, there was a man outside selling newspapers, of which the headline read: “Bush Bull Shits,” referring to his visit to Ghana this week and his tour of West Africa. We all got a kick out of that. Once we had met all of the grade school students, the men and women separated and the guys got to play a little with the preschoolers who are in need of better classrooms, one’s that they can have for themselves. They are all very cute and they found Jeff and Dennis to be very funny. While Jeff, Dennis and I were playing with the little girls, Kevin was being mobbed outside for his number, address and pictures with the girls. As soon as we stepped outside we were all mobbed too. Pictures seem to fascinate people here, they love getting their picture taken, even if they can’t keep it. As the guys were heading back to our bus to leave we ran into a wall of girls, all in their colorful dresses. Boat turned to me and asked me if I had seen the “new” students. I had no clue what he was talking about so he showed me. Ciarra and Katherine had been fitted and had each been given one of the school dresses!
When we left the school I was feeling the presence of God in that place. The school is one of the projects that makes me proud to be a Methodist, a school that encourages women to take on a bigger role, educate themselves and express their individuality through their dresses. We traveled on to another market, but this time there was an actual grocery store. I stocked up on some Ghanaian chocolate. We hit the road again, but back to the hotel. We had a few hours to relax, but we were all very anxious. Tonight was a night to party, a night to celebrate. God was here, Christ was walking among us and we were going to celebrate as Christ commanded. Tonight the First United Women came to have a night of dinner and dancing. They came to deliver the clothing we had ordered and to celebrate our partnership and friendship. When they arrived the music was blaring (as usual in Ghana), games of Owari were being played, and dinner was served. That dinner was probably the best one yet. It felt so good to eat amongst friends here. The women brought extra fabric with them and set up a stand on the edge of our party. There were actually guests at the hotel coming out to check out the celebration and ended up purchasing some of the fabric. One of the women came up to me and asked me to dance, so we did. Even the hotel staff were celebrating and dancing with us. Mike showed up with his kids and we talked about the difficulties of working in Ghana for hours.
When the night was done Jeff wandered back into our room and he had a story to tell me. He told me that he had a talk with some of our friends who were on staff at the hotel. He said that they asked him what the purpose was of this party tonight, who the women were. They had said they had had a lot of fun dancing with the women and they thought they had made some friends. Jeff figured, why not. So he told them who they were, why there were there and what we were about. Jeff said he had never seen people loose their color so quickly before. Their response seemed like a mixture of anger, confusion and worry. The stigma here is real. He reminded me of the parable Jesus tells of heaven being like a party; a party where none of the guests you invited show up, they are all too busy. So instead you invite those on the street, the people who never get invited. Tonight we were in heaven. Jeff told the staff that they had just been to heaven, they looked at him like he was crazy. But it was real. This is the vision Christ had for the world. Heaven is real. I’ve seen it, I’ve danced with the uninvited, I’ve shared songs and stories, held hands and hugged. I’ve met God and I will trade this experience for nothing this world has to offer.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Economy of God
February 20, 2008
Today ought to be an interesting day. We aren’t really involved in any hands on ministry today. Our purpose this Wednesday is to meet with Opportunity International and discern whether or not our missions are compatible. We were in meetings with reps from Opp. International until about 3:30 today. Today was also our wake up at 6:30 day . The level of tired I am experiencing is pretty amazing in itself. Once we got going we were joined for breakfast by their rep who is a Ghana native, but was educated and raised in England. I just thought it was funny that instead of saying “we had people signing up left and right.” She would add “left, right and center.” That made me smile. We took the bus over to their head quarters in Kumasi and sat down with some of their reps who were brought up in Ghana, some of which had rags to riches stories. They had attempted to explain everything about their business making microloans. It was important however that we meet the people and see how transactions are made and business is conducted. They always take their loans to the people and do community meetings. When we arrived in the community there seemed to be a party going on at one of the homes. There were about 50 women singing and dancing and celebrating the arrival of the Opportunity International people and the meeting. Business is conducted underneath a tent where the Opp International people sit in the center and take questions and listen to personal testimonies. All of the women we met praised the work done there and had told stories of how prosperous they had become and how much the money loaned to them had helped. The transactions were transferred in the meeting and the women who were scheduled to take out money had to thumbprint as a signature and although it was a group loan they had to sign individually and take different amounts with explanations for each. The next thing on our agenda was to visit some of the area shop owners who were receiving loans. The first woman we met had started her business selling charcoal for cooking. Thanks to the loans, she has been able to purchase and build a storage shed where she plans on selling water, an expansion of her business. The next to shops we saw were pretty similar, selling a variety of small goods and packaged food. Everyone we talked to had said that the loans had empowered them to do things that they otherwise would be unable, and they all expressed great gratitude for the assistance the loans gave them. We all said our goodbyes and had to leave for our last stop, the market. I’m not quite sure if I can properly describe what the market is like. Off of the road the land dips down and creates a kind of bowl. In this bowl is the market, and all along the sides of the bowl on the road is the market. Shops were placed one right after the other and the distance between shops that were “across” from one another couldn’t have been more than 3 feet. Where we were harassed in the Bonewire village, here was the exact opposite. There were far too many people for anybody to care about a couple of white folks. We had to walk a good distance before we actually descended into the market. The market is hot, hectic, and pungent. People are everywhere, you are constantly in contact with other people and there are so many goods in one place you can become dizzy quiet easily. We decided that we would only visit one or two people who had shops there as a result of loans because it was so hot.
Our question for the day was whether or not this was a partnership we would pursue. The lending office had also become a bank, due to request they say, so there were other aspects to now consider, such as savings plans and exactly how much this company was earning. The vision was a non-profit, and our question is if that still exists. From the looks of things it does, and the work being done is obviously good for the people here. My question is over how well this lines up with its inventor’s ideas; from Burma to Ghana. There is a long road ahead and there is much discernment to be done, but I believe that our decisions are not over whether or not our money is best spent here, but whether or not this project is in line with and economy of the least, an economy of fools, the economy of God.
Today ought to be an interesting day. We aren’t really involved in any hands on ministry today. Our purpose this Wednesday is to meet with Opportunity International and discern whether or not our missions are compatible. We were in meetings with reps from Opp. International until about 3:30 today. Today was also our wake up at 6:30 day . The level of tired I am experiencing is pretty amazing in itself. Once we got going we were joined for breakfast by their rep who is a Ghana native, but was educated and raised in England. I just thought it was funny that instead of saying “we had people signing up left and right.” She would add “left, right and center.” That made me smile. We took the bus over to their head quarters in Kumasi and sat down with some of their reps who were brought up in Ghana, some of which had rags to riches stories. They had attempted to explain everything about their business making microloans. It was important however that we meet the people and see how transactions are made and business is conducted. They always take their loans to the people and do community meetings. When we arrived in the community there seemed to be a party going on at one of the homes. There were about 50 women singing and dancing and celebrating the arrival of the Opportunity International people and the meeting. Business is conducted underneath a tent where the Opp International people sit in the center and take questions and listen to personal testimonies. All of the women we met praised the work done there and had told stories of how prosperous they had become and how much the money loaned to them had helped. The transactions were transferred in the meeting and the women who were scheduled to take out money had to thumbprint as a signature and although it was a group loan they had to sign individually and take different amounts with explanations for each. The next thing on our agenda was to visit some of the area shop owners who were receiving loans. The first woman we met had started her business selling charcoal for cooking. Thanks to the loans, she has been able to purchase and build a storage shed where she plans on selling water, an expansion of her business. The next to shops we saw were pretty similar, selling a variety of small goods and packaged food. Everyone we talked to had said that the loans had empowered them to do things that they otherwise would be unable, and they all expressed great gratitude for the assistance the loans gave them. We all said our goodbyes and had to leave for our last stop, the market. I’m not quite sure if I can properly describe what the market is like. Off of the road the land dips down and creates a kind of bowl. In this bowl is the market, and all along the sides of the bowl on the road is the market. Shops were placed one right after the other and the distance between shops that were “across” from one another couldn’t have been more than 3 feet. Where we were harassed in the Bonewire village, here was the exact opposite. There were far too many people for anybody to care about a couple of white folks. We had to walk a good distance before we actually descended into the market. The market is hot, hectic, and pungent. People are everywhere, you are constantly in contact with other people and there are so many goods in one place you can become dizzy quiet easily. We decided that we would only visit one or two people who had shops there as a result of loans because it was so hot.
Our question for the day was whether or not this was a partnership we would pursue. The lending office had also become a bank, due to request they say, so there were other aspects to now consider, such as savings plans and exactly how much this company was earning. The vision was a non-profit, and our question is if that still exists. From the looks of things it does, and the work being done is obviously good for the people here. My question is over how well this lines up with its inventor’s ideas; from Burma to Ghana. There is a long road ahead and there is much discernment to be done, but I believe that our decisions are not over whether or not our money is best spent here, but whether or not this project is in line with and economy of the least, an economy of fools, the economy of God.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Discernment
February 19, 2008
This morning started off with a meeting, and quite an important/symbolic one at that. This morning we were meeting with the Bishop of the Kumasi area. We were meeting with him to discuss the progress of our project and to express our appreciation for his support and our partnership. He represents our Methodist brothers and sisters here in Kumasi and my first impression of him is a man who is full of joy and compassion. His continued work with our project and willingness to work with the First United Women is a real showing of the body of Christ. He promised to continue to aid our work here and our partnership. I was chosen to hand over the Penny Project’s gift of appreciation to him and say a few words… no big deal right? After our meeting with the Bishop we had intended to head back to the bus, only to find out that mama Twum (Rev. Twum’s wife) teaches at the school right behind the building we were at. So we went over to see the kids, interrupt class and gather crowds of children together for pictures. The moment we pulled out camera’s the kids flocked around us. There were actually two children who got into a little fight after one of them fell on the other. Yeah, believe it or not even children in Methodist schools in Ghana get into little scuffs. One interesting thing that I learned was that blue and yellow are the colors of the Methodist school uniforms here, so every time I see a kid wearing those colors I know there’s a fellow Methodist. Once the children were done mobbing us for pictures, there’s some crazy video of Kevin Furlong getting mobbed, we had to jump on the bus and grab some lunch. It should be no surprise that I can’t remember what we ate for lunch, but I can guarantee it was some sort of chicken, with either rice or noodles (or both), and fishermen’s soup (which may or may not include fish). When we got back to the bus we went driving to a Methodist hospital that the youth visited on the last trip. Rev. Twum decided however, to make a surprise visit to his retirement home that is currently under construction. It was in a gated area, we had to walk through a narrow street to get to it. Once he opened the gate to his home, the home it self was quite nice. He gave us a little tour and Rita gave me the task of drawing water from their well. This is a task that would normally not be too difficult except for the depth of the well. It was probably 100 feet down. When I was done drawing water for the garden we were off to the hospital once more.
The hospital was a pretty powerful experience for me and for everybody on the trip. It was a small hospital and pretty shocking by our standards, but you could definitely see the miracles and blessings of God. The entrance to the hospital was an open roofed waiting room with smaller rooms lining the outside of the courtyard. People waited on wooden benches underneath tents and there were chickens and roosters waltzing around. From there we checked out the Intensive Care Unit, where there was a small child sleeping and being cared for by four nurses. The room had several beds and a fan in the middle, with a small desk for the nurses. Afterwards, we walked back across the courtyard to the laboratory. From what I understand they had some fairly decent equipment and they were able to treat people with all kinds of ailments. They also had a birthing area, a surgical area and a x-ray room. Upstairs were the wards, male and female and where we met a child who had both of her legs wrapped because of a crippling fall. There were several mothers in the room with their children, sitting by their child’s bed, holding their hands, rubbing their backs, attempting to comfort them in any way possible. It was a powerful sight and it said a lot about the doctors, when you saw the mother’s eyes light up when they walked into the room. The doctors and nurses there do great work, for non-profit, and the community recognizes that. While we were there, there was also a team of dentists and opticians from California, who were dedicating their week to helping the children in the community. This hospital and the works that God does through the wonderful people there are one of the many things that the youth of the Penny Project had committed their hearts to, and I can see why. The administrator of the hospital is a man from Indiana and he said that if any of us would feel called from God to come back and work (they need any help they can get, all kinds of doctors, administrators, business people and especially, ministers) they would put us up and help us get there.
After the hospital visit I was feeling pretty emotional and I was considering some of the things the administrator had said. I wouldn’t get to entertain these thoughts fro very long however as we were heading to Bonewire, the Kente cloth village. The second we stepped off of the bus we were surrounded. People were grabbing at us, shoving their goods in our faces and constantly vying for our attention… and money. I immediately decided to follow Rita and Sally to the nearest shop to avoid the sellers. I ended up buying some Kente cloth for the Bonsell’s (the wonderful people who found in their hearts a calling from God to entirely enable me to travel here) but then had to leave the shop to find other goods. Apparently Ciarra was having some trouble as she most closely resembles the people here, so she is sort of an item of affection (and lust) for some men here. She had been offered a Cedi if she would come back to some of the men’s huts with them. I decided I would take her with me from there on out and stay very close to her the entire time.
After that experience we were all pretty tired. So Jeff, Kevin and I decided to check out the pool side at our hotel. I had bought a game similar to Mancala at the cultural center the day before and Boat had shown us how to play the Ghanaian version called Owari. So we grabbed a couple of Cokes, struck up some conversation with the woman who was bartending and played a couple of games of Owari. Eventually Ciarra came down and joined in. It seems a little weird having a pool and a bartender, but after a day like today, it was definitely well appreciated. Now I have time to discern my calling. Where is God calling me next? Could it be Ghana? Where is my ministry? One thing is for sure, never make plans, God will usually intervene in someway and mess them up.
This morning started off with a meeting, and quite an important/symbolic one at that. This morning we were meeting with the Bishop of the Kumasi area. We were meeting with him to discuss the progress of our project and to express our appreciation for his support and our partnership. He represents our Methodist brothers and sisters here in Kumasi and my first impression of him is a man who is full of joy and compassion. His continued work with our project and willingness to work with the First United Women is a real showing of the body of Christ. He promised to continue to aid our work here and our partnership. I was chosen to hand over the Penny Project’s gift of appreciation to him and say a few words… no big deal right? After our meeting with the Bishop we had intended to head back to the bus, only to find out that mama Twum (Rev. Twum’s wife) teaches at the school right behind the building we were at. So we went over to see the kids, interrupt class and gather crowds of children together for pictures. The moment we pulled out camera’s the kids flocked around us. There were actually two children who got into a little fight after one of them fell on the other. Yeah, believe it or not even children in Methodist schools in Ghana get into little scuffs. One interesting thing that I learned was that blue and yellow are the colors of the Methodist school uniforms here, so every time I see a kid wearing those colors I know there’s a fellow Methodist. Once the children were done mobbing us for pictures, there’s some crazy video of Kevin Furlong getting mobbed, we had to jump on the bus and grab some lunch. It should be no surprise that I can’t remember what we ate for lunch, but I can guarantee it was some sort of chicken, with either rice or noodles (or both), and fishermen’s soup (which may or may not include fish). When we got back to the bus we went driving to a Methodist hospital that the youth visited on the last trip. Rev. Twum decided however, to make a surprise visit to his retirement home that is currently under construction. It was in a gated area, we had to walk through a narrow street to get to it. Once he opened the gate to his home, the home it self was quite nice. He gave us a little tour and Rita gave me the task of drawing water from their well. This is a task that would normally not be too difficult except for the depth of the well. It was probably 100 feet down. When I was done drawing water for the garden we were off to the hospital once more.
The hospital was a pretty powerful experience for me and for everybody on the trip. It was a small hospital and pretty shocking by our standards, but you could definitely see the miracles and blessings of God. The entrance to the hospital was an open roofed waiting room with smaller rooms lining the outside of the courtyard. People waited on wooden benches underneath tents and there were chickens and roosters waltzing around. From there we checked out the Intensive Care Unit, where there was a small child sleeping and being cared for by four nurses. The room had several beds and a fan in the middle, with a small desk for the nurses. Afterwards, we walked back across the courtyard to the laboratory. From what I understand they had some fairly decent equipment and they were able to treat people with all kinds of ailments. They also had a birthing area, a surgical area and a x-ray room. Upstairs were the wards, male and female and where we met a child who had both of her legs wrapped because of a crippling fall. There were several mothers in the room with their children, sitting by their child’s bed, holding their hands, rubbing their backs, attempting to comfort them in any way possible. It was a powerful sight and it said a lot about the doctors, when you saw the mother’s eyes light up when they walked into the room. The doctors and nurses there do great work, for non-profit, and the community recognizes that. While we were there, there was also a team of dentists and opticians from California, who were dedicating their week to helping the children in the community. This hospital and the works that God does through the wonderful people there are one of the many things that the youth of the Penny Project had committed their hearts to, and I can see why. The administrator of the hospital is a man from Indiana and he said that if any of us would feel called from God to come back and work (they need any help they can get, all kinds of doctors, administrators, business people and especially, ministers) they would put us up and help us get there.
After the hospital visit I was feeling pretty emotional and I was considering some of the things the administrator had said. I wouldn’t get to entertain these thoughts fro very long however as we were heading to Bonewire, the Kente cloth village. The second we stepped off of the bus we were surrounded. People were grabbing at us, shoving their goods in our faces and constantly vying for our attention… and money. I immediately decided to follow Rita and Sally to the nearest shop to avoid the sellers. I ended up buying some Kente cloth for the Bonsell’s (the wonderful people who found in their hearts a calling from God to entirely enable me to travel here) but then had to leave the shop to find other goods. Apparently Ciarra was having some trouble as she most closely resembles the people here, so she is sort of an item of affection (and lust) for some men here. She had been offered a Cedi if she would come back to some of the men’s huts with them. I decided I would take her with me from there on out and stay very close to her the entire time.
After that experience we were all pretty tired. So Jeff, Kevin and I decided to check out the pool side at our hotel. I had bought a game similar to Mancala at the cultural center the day before and Boat had shown us how to play the Ghanaian version called Owari. So we grabbed a couple of Cokes, struck up some conversation with the woman who was bartending and played a couple of games of Owari. Eventually Ciarra came down and joined in. It seems a little weird having a pool and a bartender, but after a day like today, it was definitely well appreciated. Now I have time to discern my calling. Where is God calling me next? Could it be Ghana? Where is my ministry? One thing is for sure, never make plans, God will usually intervene in someway and mess them up.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Changes
February 18, 2008
Today was probably the busiest day yet. We started off with a trip to the orphanage. King James orphanage is a part of the SPANKO orphanage group (I add this only because I just realized it). The night before we had stayed up late and made packages for the children so that they can have school supplies and a new toy (beanie baby) as a reminder of love; we handed these packages out today and the kids were pretty excited about it. Some of the older ones weren’t so thrilled with the beanie baby but the whole package should go a long way. The first child that came up to me had a great smile on his face. I asked him his name and a said something, which I couldn’t hear, so I assumed he had responded in Twi, the main language. As it turns out, my new friend is deaf. So my goal between today and the next visit is to learn some sign. What I’ve learned however is the power of a smile and a hug. When I learned a small part of this child’s story, he was picked off of the street by police several days ago, my heart was warmed. He is a child who is more excited to be hugged and loved than to be linguistically understood. I am overwhelmed by the power of love here. I can’t wait to return and spend more time with the beautiful children there. After the orphanage we left for the First United Women’s shop. Our day had gotten off to a slow start so everything was very hectic. We arrived at the First United Women’s shop where there is no front door and all of the women are essentially standing outside. They sow in the “shop” and dye the cloth outside. The pictures from the surrounding area are pretty amazing. The level of poverty in the area is astounding. The vibrant colors of the dye that these women produce provide a stark contrast to the dusty, half assembled landscape. I can’t wait to show people the shirts that I purchased and the pictures of their cloths. Once we were done chatting with the ladies, buying cloth and making balloon animals for the women and some neighboring children, it was time to jump back on the bus and head to the Cultural Center. When we got to the cultural center we had about an hour and a half before closing so I had to rush around to get to the shops I wanted to see. I had been pulled aside by a man after making several purchases and he told me he had some good Djembes to sell. Well, he was wrong. His prices were high, his drums were small and they were not of good quality. When I made it apparent I wasn’t interested, his “associates” decided that they would try to persuade me to buy other goods. I learned a very good lesson; walk away. I then ventured up to the actual drum shop, where I got to see some fruits of some amazing labor. They showed me their “workshop,” which translates to a tree stump as a stool and a string to dry goat skins on. There were wood shavings everywhere, and they showed me a bunch of their photo’s of them making drums. They then let me hang out and drum with them so I could test the instruments and make a purchase. The three that I bought were pretty good quality and a really good value. The most important thing that I experienced personally was a realization of the change that God can place in our lives. We can never be comfortable with our situation or we become complacent and we will miss the beautiful opportunities before us. God has used this project to make Change and it can be seen in the dyed cloth of the First United Women, and on the faces of the children. This gives new meaning to our slogan, today has given it purpose and reality.
Today was probably the busiest day yet. We started off with a trip to the orphanage. King James orphanage is a part of the SPANKO orphanage group (I add this only because I just realized it). The night before we had stayed up late and made packages for the children so that they can have school supplies and a new toy (beanie baby) as a reminder of love; we handed these packages out today and the kids were pretty excited about it. Some of the older ones weren’t so thrilled with the beanie baby but the whole package should go a long way. The first child that came up to me had a great smile on his face. I asked him his name and a said something, which I couldn’t hear, so I assumed he had responded in Twi, the main language. As it turns out, my new friend is deaf. So my goal between today and the next visit is to learn some sign. What I’ve learned however is the power of a smile and a hug. When I learned a small part of this child’s story, he was picked off of the street by police several days ago, my heart was warmed. He is a child who is more excited to be hugged and loved than to be linguistically understood. I am overwhelmed by the power of love here. I can’t wait to return and spend more time with the beautiful children there. After the orphanage we left for the First United Women’s shop. Our day had gotten off to a slow start so everything was very hectic. We arrived at the First United Women’s shop where there is no front door and all of the women are essentially standing outside. They sow in the “shop” and dye the cloth outside. The pictures from the surrounding area are pretty amazing. The level of poverty in the area is astounding. The vibrant colors of the dye that these women produce provide a stark contrast to the dusty, half assembled landscape. I can’t wait to show people the shirts that I purchased and the pictures of their cloths. Once we were done chatting with the ladies, buying cloth and making balloon animals for the women and some neighboring children, it was time to jump back on the bus and head to the Cultural Center. When we got to the cultural center we had about an hour and a half before closing so I had to rush around to get to the shops I wanted to see. I had been pulled aside by a man after making several purchases and he told me he had some good Djembes to sell. Well, he was wrong. His prices were high, his drums were small and they were not of good quality. When I made it apparent I wasn’t interested, his “associates” decided that they would try to persuade me to buy other goods. I learned a very good lesson; walk away. I then ventured up to the actual drum shop, where I got to see some fruits of some amazing labor. They showed me their “workshop,” which translates to a tree stump as a stool and a string to dry goat skins on. There were wood shavings everywhere, and they showed me a bunch of their photo’s of them making drums. They then let me hang out and drum with them so I could test the instruments and make a purchase. The three that I bought were pretty good quality and a really good value. The most important thing that I experienced personally was a realization of the change that God can place in our lives. We can never be comfortable with our situation or we become complacent and we will miss the beautiful opportunities before us. God has used this project to make Change and it can be seen in the dyed cloth of the First United Women, and on the faces of the children. This gives new meaning to our slogan, today has given it purpose and reality.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Chapel
February 17, 2008
This morning was Sunday morning, a morning to go to church, to worship and to learn about God. Well in Ghana, Sunday morning is quite an event. We drove out to Pastor Twum’s church, located beyond the main road, where there isn’t really a means for our bus to travel. So our bus pulled over to the side of the road and we walked back behind the small tin huts on the red dirt path, over the signature drainage ditch, and into the gated church area. When we entered the church we were greeted by warm smiles and good hosts. The service itself was unlike anything I had ever seen; several hours, three offerings (one of which was in response to our $800 donation to the youth program), a dance performance, the entire congregation doing a dance line (including the pastor!), and an enormous amount of curious children. Jeff delivered a powerful sermon, although some parts may have been lost in translation as our good friend, Boat, did his best to translate. After the service we got the opportunity to meet the youth of the church and hand out candy and photos. Lots of kids wanted autographs or addresses, which were of course given with a smile. We sang songs and played a little before they had Sunday school and we had the chance to chat with Pastor Twum in his parsonage. When we first got to the parsonage Boat was waiting with coke and sprite (a saving grace) and we had a chance to look around and view the beautifully decorated home of the Twum’s. We ate lunch at the parsonage, all of the food has been great, and we got to know everybody a little better. Afterwards, we walked back to the church and met with the group formally known as WOLPHA (Women Living Positively with HIV/AIDS). I say formally because of a moment, among many here (and at times few), that has reminded me why I am proud to be a part of the Methodist church. The women renamed their group First United Women, in honor of a little project and a certain church that made their existence possible . After hearing the testimonies of the women I was amazed at how touched I was by their stories. This meeting really helped to put a face to a cause and it is all starting to become real and make real sense.
After meeting with the First United Women we decided to head back to the hotel for a little rest and maybe a shower (Today has been a particularly hot day). Once we decided to get back on the road our bus had gone missing. So instead the hotel guys loaded us up into their trucks and were kind enough to drive us out to the MMoforuturo (The Garden) girls school. We spent the evening with the girls in worship, listening to their beautiful voices (They sing all parts, Soprano to Bass, by the way) and had dinner with their head “mothers.” We will return to the girls school later this week and we will actually get time to spend with the girls. Until then I will be thinking of the beauty that is realized here in Ghana from this small project. As Jeff has been putting it, big ideas only make sense in the particulars. This project has big ideals, but it is here, with a group of 40 women, a school of girls seeking an education (and the chance to become President) and a village of Orphans, that it makes sense. They are the particulars, they are the pennies, they are the church and Ghana is our Chapel. Amen.
This morning was Sunday morning, a morning to go to church, to worship and to learn about God. Well in Ghana, Sunday morning is quite an event. We drove out to Pastor Twum’s church, located beyond the main road, where there isn’t really a means for our bus to travel. So our bus pulled over to the side of the road and we walked back behind the small tin huts on the red dirt path, over the signature drainage ditch, and into the gated church area. When we entered the church we were greeted by warm smiles and good hosts. The service itself was unlike anything I had ever seen; several hours, three offerings (one of which was in response to our $800 donation to the youth program), a dance performance, the entire congregation doing a dance line (including the pastor!), and an enormous amount of curious children. Jeff delivered a powerful sermon, although some parts may have been lost in translation as our good friend, Boat, did his best to translate. After the service we got the opportunity to meet the youth of the church and hand out candy and photos. Lots of kids wanted autographs or addresses, which were of course given with a smile. We sang songs and played a little before they had Sunday school and we had the chance to chat with Pastor Twum in his parsonage. When we first got to the parsonage Boat was waiting with coke and sprite (a saving grace) and we had a chance to look around and view the beautifully decorated home of the Twum’s. We ate lunch at the parsonage, all of the food has been great, and we got to know everybody a little better. Afterwards, we walked back to the church and met with the group formally known as WOLPHA (Women Living Positively with HIV/AIDS). I say formally because of a moment, among many here (and at times few), that has reminded me why I am proud to be a part of the Methodist church. The women renamed their group First United Women, in honor of a little project and a certain church that made their existence possible . After hearing the testimonies of the women I was amazed at how touched I was by their stories. This meeting really helped to put a face to a cause and it is all starting to become real and make real sense.
After meeting with the First United Women we decided to head back to the hotel for a little rest and maybe a shower (Today has been a particularly hot day). Once we decided to get back on the road our bus had gone missing. So instead the hotel guys loaded us up into their trucks and were kind enough to drive us out to the MMoforuturo (The Garden) girls school. We spent the evening with the girls in worship, listening to their beautiful voices (They sing all parts, Soprano to Bass, by the way) and had dinner with their head “mothers.” We will return to the girls school later this week and we will actually get time to spend with the girls. Until then I will be thinking of the beauty that is realized here in Ghana from this small project. As Jeff has been putting it, big ideas only make sense in the particulars. This project has big ideals, but it is here, with a group of 40 women, a school of girls seeking an education (and the chance to become President) and a village of Orphans, that it makes sense. They are the particulars, they are the pennies, they are the church and Ghana is our Chapel. Amen.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
El Mina
February 16, 2008
Today has been a very long day. After waking up somewhere between hysteria and groaning we gathered all of our things and boarded the bus to head to the coast. Today I may have been a little camera happy. So far I’ve taken about 100 photos and that’s with most of the time being spent on a vehicle. Driving through the country has been interesting. You can tell when you are traveling into the cities by the increasing amount of small houses. Seems like most of the housing I’ve run into has been pretty basic, four walls, the outside brightly colored and elevated above the road by dirt mounds. There are goats and chickens everywhere. The surprising thing is that they are allowed to roam freely without their owners watching. No matter what they always return each day. There are also people everywhere, even along the long stretches of dirt highways where there is nothing but thick vegetation on either side. People set up little stands along the main roads hoping to sell some sort of fruit or good. The purpose of our traveling to the coast was to visit the largest slave trading post in African tropics. El Mina was originally built by the Portuguese as a trading station for spices, gold and other materials. However, they quickly realized that there was a larger profit to be made in the selling of people. The storage compartments that were used to house materials like gold, were repurposed to house Africans. They would house about 150 people in each area, where the tour group I was with felt uncomfortable with only 30. There were no windows to the outside, there were three doors which were only for the purpose of moving people and there was a hole that leads into the munitions room, which often leaked deadly fumes. The men and women were kept separate and were given two buckets for waste. They were fed one meal a day and were often abused by guards. The women seemed to have it the worst as their torture included rape. If the woman refused, she would be tied up to a chain in the middle of the court yard which was surrounded by the women’s cells and she would be given no food or water for a day. When the governor was feeling up to it, he would have all of the women released into the court yard and then he would select one to go to his chambers with him, after she was bathed, had brushed her teeth, was fed and hydrated. If she was lucky, she would become pregnant and she would be allowed to leave and raise the child outside of the castle. The hardest part was making the walk to the point of no return. Just thinking about how many people had made that walk before, squeezed through the tiny doorways, single file, and seeing their loved ones for the first time in two months, before being separated again and shipped to another country to be sold, was enough to give chills. The castle traded hands several times, once to the Dutch and another to the British. When the Dutch came they installed a church on the second floor above the women’s cells. They believed that God was in that church and they vowed to do His work and even had a passage from Psalms 132 above the entry, as they profited and oversaw the selling, imprisonment and torture of the very people that were the European’s original mission’s project. It’s been a tough day, but no less a good day.
Friday, February 15, 2008
The Flight In
February 15, 2008
There has been so much in one day, the events themselves are difficult to describe. The hustle and bustle of this day will hopefully be met by a much calmer, relaxed morning tomorrow. As of 7:15 Ghanaian time, I was on Ghanaian soil. The excitement that was building up from the moment we had left Detroit can be summed up by our youngest member, Maamaya, the three year old daughter of Vida Twum, a Ghanaian member of my church, when asked where we were going, Maamaya responded with a childish joy that is difficult to describe, “Ghana!” When we had left Detroit we had no idea what our journey would look like. The last time a group left for Ghana from my church in June, they described a very different experience than what I have observed today. Whoever invented our T-shirts for us to travel in must have been someone resembling a genius. The bright lime green colors are a clear eye catcher and the picture of Africa on the front and back is enough to get people talking. Right away, as we were waiting in line at the ticket counters in Detroit people began to notice and they began to ask about our project. When we had landed in Amsterdam and were getting settled before our next flight we ran into several groups, also traveling to Ghana, who were going on a calling from God and need for God’s love here; that isn’t to say that the people of Ghana are not very close to God, but the fact remains that this is a third world country and is amongst those hurting as the result of many injustices. I should add that on neither flight was I able to attain very much sleep, so if this comes out as rambling and nonsensical, I’m operating on about 3 hours of rest that was very much interrupted. Most of my time was taken up by homework and after doing some reading for my African American History class, Maya Angelo’s book, I know why the caged bird sings, I was shaken hard and my heart longed for a way to connect. It is probably a feeling that I will never quite be able to convey, but needless to say there were events in her life that intersected mine, to some extent and some people who are very close to me and it was very difficult to hear her recount stories that I have heard so many times. It was right after reading this that one of the more interesting moments on our flights occurred when a man fainted due to stomach pains. Fortunately we had a doctor in our crew who was able to assist the man. It was also one of those times of prayer where you are touched deep inside by God. At the time I didn’t quite know what was going on, so my prayer was just for the world to stop hurting. Here I am, on a flight headed for Ghana, a country where the largest storing cells for slaves were kept, to go and make a feeble attempt to help some women shunned by the community, to help educate others and to show some love to children who are far too commonly forgotten.So Lord save us, move us towards that which is your will. Amen.
There has been so much in one day, the events themselves are difficult to describe. The hustle and bustle of this day will hopefully be met by a much calmer, relaxed morning tomorrow. As of 7:15 Ghanaian time, I was on Ghanaian soil. The excitement that was building up from the moment we had left Detroit can be summed up by our youngest member, Maamaya, the three year old daughter of Vida Twum, a Ghanaian member of my church, when asked where we were going, Maamaya responded with a childish joy that is difficult to describe, “Ghana!” When we had left Detroit we had no idea what our journey would look like. The last time a group left for Ghana from my church in June, they described a very different experience than what I have observed today. Whoever invented our T-shirts for us to travel in must have been someone resembling a genius. The bright lime green colors are a clear eye catcher and the picture of Africa on the front and back is enough to get people talking. Right away, as we were waiting in line at the ticket counters in Detroit people began to notice and they began to ask about our project. When we had landed in Amsterdam and were getting settled before our next flight we ran into several groups, also traveling to Ghana, who were going on a calling from God and need for God’s love here; that isn’t to say that the people of Ghana are not very close to God, but the fact remains that this is a third world country and is amongst those hurting as the result of many injustices. I should add that on neither flight was I able to attain very much sleep, so if this comes out as rambling and nonsensical, I’m operating on about 3 hours of rest that was very much interrupted. Most of my time was taken up by homework and after doing some reading for my African American History class, Maya Angelo’s book, I know why the caged bird sings, I was shaken hard and my heart longed for a way to connect. It is probably a feeling that I will never quite be able to convey, but needless to say there were events in her life that intersected mine, to some extent and some people who are very close to me and it was very difficult to hear her recount stories that I have heard so many times. It was right after reading this that one of the more interesting moments on our flights occurred when a man fainted due to stomach pains. Fortunately we had a doctor in our crew who was able to assist the man. It was also one of those times of prayer where you are touched deep inside by God. At the time I didn’t quite know what was going on, so my prayer was just for the world to stop hurting. Here I am, on a flight headed for Ghana, a country where the largest storing cells for slaves were kept, to go and make a feeble attempt to help some women shunned by the community, to help educate others and to show some love to children who are far too commonly forgotten.So Lord save us, move us towards that which is your will. Amen.
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