Things that make me laugh

 Lately, I’ve been noticing things that amuse me.  I don’t mean in the way of making fun of someone, but just in a way of the differences in our styles.  For example, it’s not uncommon for people to ride in the open bed of trucks, even the large delivery trucks.  So the other day as I’m walking home from school, I see this man riding in the back of a delivery truck wearing a woman’s dress.  Only I don’t think he had a clue it was a woman’s dress.  It was a long, sleeveless, denim dress that buttons down the front, and he was wearing it like a long vest.  He had on trousers (pants refer to men’s underclothing), but no shirt, and this long denim dress.  If he only knew what it was I’m sure he’d be horrified – but then again, maybe not. 

To qualify what I’ve said I should explain that most of the clothing that doesn’t get sold at the Goodwill or Salvation Army stores in the States ends up in places like Ghana, and it gets sold at the market or by street vendors.  Many of the clothes I see here are things that came straight from the States, which is unfortunate in that the dress here has become grossly immodest because of our influence.  My blog, my opinions. :) 

Anyhow, do you remember me mentioning the tro-tro’s back along the end of May?  It’s the cheapest form of public transportation, and I think I said I don’t think I’ll ever ride in one of those things voluntarily.  Well, after paying $2 for a taxi ride somewhere, I decided to try the tro-tro for only 20 cents.  Of course, we don’t use dollars and cents, but I think you get the meaning.  Today, I caught a tro-tro to a local school, where I’ve been taking some French lessons (that’s a whole ‘nother story), and I told the side-car man where I wanted to get out.  You see the tro-tro is manned by 2 people – the driver and this guy I call a side-car man.  The vehicle has a sliding side door that in most tro-tros doesn’t really close any more, and this guy hangs out the window waving his hand and hollering something.  Basically, he’s trying to find out if the pedestrians along the side of the road are wanting a ride or just standing there waiting on something.  As the tro-tro slows down, he opens the door, hops out and lets you get in with the rest of the sardines, and you’re supposed to tell him where you want to be dropped.  I said to the man, “Calvary Temple School”.  Evidently, he didn’t understand me, and he asks me again after I’m in and we’re driving down the road.  They stop and pick up some more folks, and then this very long, loud, amusing conversation begins in Twi amongst all the passengers (except me).  I don’t understand much Twi, but it was obvious by the gesturing and the laughing that the conversation was about me.  I mean really, sometimes I think it’s so shocking for them to see someone white that they jump when they see me (at least, I hope that’s why they jump), so I wouldn’t expect to be in a tro-tro and not be the topic of conversation. Finally, the man next to me has enough nerve and skill in English to tell me neither the driver nor the side-car man know what to do with me.  “Where is it you want to go?” 

So, all of that to say, while we’re driving down the road in this tro-tro trying to get more passengers than could possibly be legal, the driver almost hits this pedestrian – an older, gray haired man wearing a woman’s black fur with leopard fur trim, winter hat.  After all, it was only 80 degrees today. From what I understand, we’re having better weather than the folks in the USA. 

Independence Day

This was a good weekend.  Saturday I went visiting with Felicia, Emmanuella and two other ladies.  Felicia is hot after souls!  Almost every one we meet she asks me, “Can we tell them the gospel, Miss Becky?”  What missionary’s going to say ‘no’ to that question???  We were able to speak with three people about the gospel – a young lady visiting in this region, a 16 year-old young man playing football (soccer), and a young man in his 20’s. 

The young lady listened as we explained the gospel – me in English and Felicia in Twi – but she was still convinced she needed to do something to get saved.  She promised to come to church today, but if she came we never saw her.

The 16 year-old stopped his football game and found 2 benches for us to sit and talk.  I usually begin by asking the person, ‘If you were to die today and stand before God, and He were to ask you why He should let you into heaven, what would be your response?’  Ernest’s response was amazingly honest.  He said, ‘If I should die today and face God, I guess he would have to send me to Hell, because I don’t know why He should let me into heaven.’  I was actually amazed at his ability to speak English, and so I let him read aloud the verses we were reading.  He had no argument believing he deserved to go to Hell (just as we all do), and he seemed to understand that Jesus came to die in his place.  I spoke with him in English initially, but when it was obvious he was struggling to understand some of what I was saying Felicia went over it all in Twi.  I thought he had a grasp of the gospel, and when I asked him what his thoughts were regarding our discussion he said he would like to put his trust in Jesus.  We prayed together, but I’m a little concerned after he made a comment about giving up all his sin.  I explained again that Christ died for all of our sins, and that as long as Ernest has flesh he is going to sin.  He promised to come to church, but again, if he came I did not see him.

The last man invited us to come and talk to him.  He was sitting outside his door doing laundry, but he stopped to sweep off the stair and lay down a garment on which we sat.  I asked him my usual question, and he said his trust was in Jesus Christ and that he believed in him.  I told him the devils of Hell believed in Jesus – they knew who He was from having known Him before they were banished from Heaven.  I read to him James 2:19, and then Felicia and the young man both demanded an explanation.  As soon as I explained about their (the devils) knowledge of Christ in Heaven they asked if those angels could accept Christ as Savior.  I told them ‘no’, and they both said they understood the difference – while the devils believe Jesus to be the Son of God, they could not accept His substitutionary death for salvation.  Yet as sinners, that death is the very thing to reconcile us to God.  Felicia and this young man have both accepted Christ’s death as the only satisfactory payment for their (our) sin to the One they (we) have offended.  I have no desire to take him from his church if they teach the gospel, but hopefully we will see him for other services when his church is not meeting.

Today we had a special day at church.  July 1 is the Ghanaian independence day, and of course ours is Monday.  So after the morning service we had a picnic lunch on the grounds, followed by volleyball, a football penalty kick shootout, other games and the evening service starting at 4:30 pm.  It’s been a while since I’ve played volleyball, but it sure was fun.  I did take a dive across the grass to save a ball, and came up full of stickers – what we call ‘goats heads’ in CO.  Except now my legs are covered with angry looking red spots, as though I have about 50 or more bites.  Who knows what’s in the dirt here! 

July 4^th every one on the team celebrated together at my apartment – 36 people in an 800 or 900 square foot apartment!  I say ‘my apartment’, but it really belongs to the ministry, not me.  And I got the better end of the deal. The men did the grilling outdoors (hamburgers, hotdogs and something that had the looks of pork chops but tasted like steak), and all the ladies brought sides.  There was even an apple pie contest, and I got to be a judge.  And if that wasn’t enough, I was allowed to turn on the A/C all day, so the house was very comfortable, even with all those folks.  We even adopted a fellow American that one of the missionaries met at a local store.  He’s just a ‘baby’, maybe 22 or 23 years old, and he’s here all by himself from another mission agency.  I’m sure his days get plenty lonely! 

We again played several games of volleyball, and the kids had a parade at the church.  They decorated their bikes and tricycles and even themselves.  One of the things that I appreciate in Ghana is the pro-American sentiment.  It’s not at all unusual to see American flags flying (or Israeli flags, either, for that matter), so it didn’t seem we would be offensive to have the patriotic paraphernalia. One of the Ghanaian young ladies helped me to clean up afterwards, so the house was back in order by nine that evening.  Needless to say, Ibuprofen was in order that night after all that activity! 

I have always been very patriotic, and in my younger years seriously considered military service, but I especially remind myself how blessed I am to have been born and raised in America now that I see what life is like outside our borders.  We’re not better than other folks, but God has certainly blessed our nation.  I fear for the choices we are now making that mock the God that has been so good to us.

Thanks for the birthday wishes!

 Thanks to so many, I had a great birthday.  I had several Facebook posts, wishing me a happy birthday, and I even got 4 packages of birthday goodies!  It took some time to claim them at the post office, though.  The first three were easy, but one was sent to the ‘parcel service’.  The lady completed some paperwork and charged me 7 GHC, about $5, and then gave my package to another person further down the counter.  When he got around to helping me, I was made to open the package for him to inspect the goods and determine how much to charge me for customs fees.  He saw my trail mix and said, ‘You people’, with a little bit of disgust in his voice, and he questioned me as to what hairspray is.  He was completely bald – kind of a waste. :) Some other lady looked things over and had me give him back the paperwork (despite the fact he was standing right next to her), and I was again told to have a seat.  The whole thing took about an hour, but I finally got my package and it didn’t matter the silly paperwork exercise – I have trail mix!!  And it’s not the store bought kind.  No, this is a special mix created by my pastor’s wife and shared with a dear friend that I’m sure spent an arm and a leg buying the ingredients and then paying the postage.  Every handful reminds me that I’m loved.  Ahhh – happy camper. :)

For those I haven’t told yet, I have relocated for the summer to Kumasi, Ghana.  One of my supporting churches has a team of missionaries here.  I’m helping out in the mornings at their ACE Christian school, and I’m really enjoying it.  Let me tell you about one of the little girls.  Her name is Emmanuella, and she’s about 8 or 9 years old.  I’m not sure exactly how she came to Christ, but when she didn’t show up at her public school her teacher came looking for her.  She just has a very sweet spirit, and I can see why her teacher would take notice that she was missing.  When the teacher found out she was going to a Christian school, Emmanuella invited her to visit the church.  On her first or second visit to the church, the teacher, Felicia, got saved, and now comes to every service, including soul winning.  I have gone out with her a few times on Saturday mornings, and she wants us to stop at each vendor to witness to them!  She translates for me, and I believe she will soon be doing the witnessing on her own.  Both Felicia and Emmanuella are real delights. 

Sounds of Africa

 There are many sounds that come to my ears each day that in these three months have become familiar to me.

Each morning around 5 am I here the high-pitched cacophony of these beautiful, iridescent blue birds.  They are not nearly as big as the noise that comes from their pointy, bright orange beaks!  It seems they always precede my alarm clock by about 30 minutes. 

I hear the constant hum of the ceiling fans that bring a comfortable breeze through the house in the mornings, and a thick, humid stirring of air in the afternoon heat.  When the hum arrests during electrical outages, there is a physical discomfort that comes with the silence.  Thankfully, those outages usually last only an hour or so.

Around 8:30 each morning the familiar cry of a lady’s voice begins to come to my conscience mind.  It took several weeks before I understood her to be calling out, “Ice water for sale!”  I finally understood her call one morning as I spotted her walking by the house with a tub of water sachets on her head.

There always seems to be hammering of some sort.  I still don’t know what it is that is being pounded, and I’m sure it’s not coming from the same source each time.  Plus, there is the beating of drums every morning at a local school.

When Isaac is here, it is the grass being ‘mown’ by a machete.  I miss the smell of mown grass by a lawnmower. 

Occasionally I hear sirens, but not often.  And there are always horns honking when going to the market.  It’s not for the purpose of telling people to get out of the way, rather to tell people “I’m here”.  For a taxi driver, he wants potential customers to know he’s available.  For the driver going around the curve in the road it is to announce to oncoming traffic to get into their ‘lane’.  I use that term loosely, as often the vehicles drive 3 or 4 abreast, regardless of how wide the road was intended to be.

When on foot, the most common call falling on my ears is, “Oh broni!”  It is the Fante word for white person, and the little children come running to the side of the road to announce to the neighbors the presence of a white person.  I try to always wave to acknowledge them, and sometimes the very small children want to touch me.  Their eyes get like saucers, and sometimes just before our hands will touch it is too much and they begin crying and run away. 

The cocks crowing, the goats and sheep bleating, the dogs barking – those sounds are a constant throughout the day.

The smells are a totally different subject!

Visit to Kumasi and Isaac gets saved

 

I recently took a trip to Kumasi, Ghana to visit a team of missionaries there.  It’s about a 5-hour bus ride, but thankfully they sent a young Ghanaian woman down to ‘fetch’ me and bring me back because I would not have known what to do if the bus would have had troubles.  The bus was actually pretty nice.  It was much cleaner than the average taxi (okay, so that’s not really saying much, but there weren’t any chickens or goats on board), and it had A/C so strong I had to turn mine off!  I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been cold in the last 3 months, and two of those times were going to Kumasi and returning from Kumasi! :)   

They do have things called tro-tros (that is a total guess at the spelling) that are basically like a 15 passenger van with a hatch-type back door.  Usually there’s about 20 people or more in there, beside whatever else has been strapped onto the top and what is hanging out the hatch.  It’s an interesting sight to behold, and I don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough to try one of those things.  My personal favorite is when another missionary says, “Hey, can I give you a ride to….?” 

But back to the bus.  I had no idea that there were ever movies made in Ghana, but unfortunately they are.  For the entire ride there and the entire ride back (with the exception of about 40 minutes some guy stood up to preach) they played these cheesy, Ghana made movies with lots of screaming, violence and other things I didn’t want to look at or to listen.  Praise the Lord for my IPod that has over 200 sermons, 500 songs and the entire Bible on it!  While at times I still had to put my hands over my ears to block the sounds from the movie and to hear what I was listening to, I was thankful the movies were in the local dialects so I couldn’t understand them if I did hear anything.

One thing I noticed both going and coming is that almost every village has a ‘church’ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) and Jehovah Witnesses.  We may not like their doctrine, but they are more faithful to what they believe than most folks who have the truth.

While I was at Kumasi I helped in a small ACE Christian school scoring paces.  Both the missionary kids (MKs) and Ghanaian church members children make up the student body.  This was my first experience with ACE, but I think it would be great material to help Isaac learn to read.  Currently, I’m using an A Beka reader, but I wish I had more pictures.  Isaac doesn’t know the English words to a lot of things, so sometimes I’m just busy trying to teach him what a word means.  Otherwise it is nonsensical to him.  Beside that, the reader has animals meeting one another like people do.  Try explaining that to someone who probably has been exposed to animistic beliefs! 

Speaking of Isaac, I would like to tell you about his recent conversion.  Since trying to teach him to read he has been more willing to talk to me.  Before, he was so quiet that I didn’t know if he understood anything I said or not.  Now, I realize that he’s probably watched enough Hollywood movies that he understands more than I have given him credit. 

Anyhow, I was given the Firm Foundations material that presents the Bible chronologically.  Unfortunately, I asked for the wrong series – there is evidently a series for Western cultures and another for more tribal cultures.  But I have still found the material very helpful.  In particular the sketches that accompany the Bible accounts of the Old Testament are great when you’re working with someone that is illiterate.  It helps them picture those things to which you are referring.  For Isaac and me, the sketch of Cain offering fruit from the garden and Abel preparing to cut the throat of a lamb was a tremendous help. 

Last Tuesday Isaac was late getting to work.  That is unheard of for Isaac.  He has never been late in the 3 months I’ve been here.  All I could picture in my mind was him laying dead on the side of the road after being hit by a car or something (he rides his bike to work each day).  The Holy Spirit just pricked my heart that I had not fully given him the gospel.  Once before he was in my presence as I gave the gospel to someone else, but I was not addressing him per se as I didn’t think he understood at the time.  When Isaac showed up about 40 minutes late he explained that he had overslept and got here as fast as possible. 

We have been doing a Bible lesson four evenings a week after his reading lesson, so that evening I was very pressed in my spirit to present the gospel, even though we had only gone through Cain and Abel in the accounts of the Bible.  For two hours we talked about how Adam and Eve tried to hide their sin and cover it up with their own works, and how Cain tried to offer the works of his own hands as well, but that these efforts and offerings were not satisfactory to God.  God demanded that blood be shed as a payment for sin.  It isn’t enough that sin is forgiven – a righteous judge cannot simply forgive a criminal for his transgression.  The sin debt must be paid.  After I brought Isaac to the understanding that he and I both are sinners, eternally separated from God because of our sin and deserving of eternity in Hell, I showed him the sketch of Cain and Abel.  I reminded him that the works of our own hands cannot satisfy God.  I asked him, “Isaac, can you die in my place to pay for my sin?”  He immediately said that he would!  But then I asked him, “Isaac, what about your sin?  You can’t die for me because you owe the same debt I owe.  Do you know someone that can die in our place, someone whose death is acceptable to God because He has never sinned?”  He thought for a minute then looked up and said, “Jesus!”  Amen!!  That’s what I’m talking about!!  I then pointed back to the picture and asked him if he knew that Jesus was called the Lamb of God, and he said he knew that but he didn’t understand why.  I then explained to him while pointing at the picture of Abel with a knife to the lamb’s throat that Jesus was like a lamb that went to the slaughter, and that just as God accepted Abel’s sacrifice, He accepted Christ’s.  Shortly thereafter he placed his trust in Jesus Christ to pay his sin debt instead of trusting his own good works.  Praise the Lord!  Thanks to all who have prayed for him.

I started a near riot at a burial today.

I say burial because the actual funeral will be held at a later time.  My understanding is that the more important the individual that died, the longer they will take to bury him or her.  I was told one political leader was refrigerated for over a year before his burial and funeral, and to have a body refrigerated is quite expensive. 

Anyhow, the lady that was buried today was named Grace.  She was a member at the church where I attend, Mt. Calvary Baptist Church.  I really only met her a few times, but I noticed her coming into church as she had quite a pronounced limp.  She was older than most here, probably in her early 60’s, and she didn’t speak much English.  She died on Thursday and was buried on Saturday, which one of the older members stated was very disrespectful.

I attended the burial with an American missionary pastor and 5 Christian nationals, one of which was her sister-in-law.  The spiritual condition of the rest of those in attendance is unknown to me, but I was not impressed that it would be Christian. It was held in a village about 30 minutes from where I live, and where the church used to do some outreach. 

When we arrived the road into the village was blocked at the center of town – it was impossible to go past where the services would be held.  We were ushered to the town pavilion where many older men in their traditional dress were sitting and greeting one another.  It seemed before they could take a seat they must present themselves before the others and exchange greetings, and then they would sit on the bench that encircled the inside of the pavilion.  There was a family pole, which was a stick about 5 feet tall with 3 carved figures of animals perched on a small board at the top.  The largest of the animals looked like an elk or reindeer, which was curious to me as I’m sure they’ve never seen such an animal here. 

In the pavilion there was also a soundboard set up and a DJ playing ‘music’ on a set of 14 speakers stacked over 6 feet tall.  The speakers were set up next to a canopied area that had been draped with lace and plastic flowers.  Under that canopy was a brass bed with the dead body, posed as though she were taking a nap.  There were plastic flowers across the foot of the bed, and for the most part only the women would approach to view the body.  On either side of the bed sat a woman waving hankies over the body.  At first I thought they were saying prayers or doing something ‘spiritual’, but then I realized as I was waving the flies away from me that they were probably waving the flies off the body.  Then I thought about the fact that the body had more than likely been laid out like that the evening she died, and several someones had probably spent the last day and a half trying to keep flies and such off of her.  Wow – I don’t know who normally gets appointed to such a job, but I can’t even imagine what that was like in such heat. 

The music was so loud the vibrations literally physically hurt my heart and ears.  If someone had problems with irregular heart rhythms, this would have really set them off!  I had no idea how long that would last but I started praying, ‘Please Lord, do something!  Protect us from this ungodly stuff!’  About 15 minutes later the music stopped, and then some women with about 30 of the village children came into the town square beating plastic fuel containers, boxes and anything else they could get their hands on, dancing and chanting.  They danced in front of the bed, weaved in amongst the people, went down the street, came back and repeated this a few times.  It was then that someone told us the power went off and the DJ wasn’t able to play his music any longer.  Glory hallelujah!!  God most certainly did something!

In the midst of all this goats and chickens wandered in and out, and flies were in gross abundance.  There was one goat in particular that I thought was going to have a kid in the middle of the service. I have never seen an animal so pregnant!  It was almost wider than it was long, and I was really wishing I had my camera.

There were 2 other canopies with plastic chairs for those in attendance, which I assume it would be impossible to live in this village and not attend.  The older women wore their traditional mourning dresses, black or dark brown, while the younger women wore all kinds of stuff – anywhere from blue jeans and t-shirts to Ghanaian style dresses.  It is shocking to see Western style dress in Ghana.  In many places in Africa, only prostitutes would dress in pants and tight clothes as you see here and in America.  It’s not at all unusual to see Wendy’s t-shirts or Kmart t-shirts, but I still find it odd.  Of course, they have no clue what the shirt refers to – they just bought it from the clothes that came from Salvation Army and Goodwill. 

After about an hour and a half from the time the services started a casket was brought to the bedside and a drape was placed around the canopy.  Several women were inside the canopy and evidently it was their job to move the body from the bed to the casket.  I didn’t notice any men helping, and it seemed to take about 30 minutes.  Again, I can’t even imagine the repulsiveness of this task in that now closed off canopy.  Just the thought – the flies, the heat, the odor!  After the body was moved the men came and moved the closed casket onto 2 benches in the middle of the square, and a cloth was placed over the top of the casket.  I don’t know the significance of the cloth, but they seemed very careful not to let it touch the ground.

As members of her church we were responsible to sing, so we sang 3 or 4 hymns, but I doubt too many people had any understanding of these English words.  However, I’m sure it was the first time that they ever heard white folks singing.  The American pastor preached in English and it was translated into Fante by one of the Christian nationals.  I sure like listening to Spirit filled African preachers!  After the pastor preached a message that contained the gospel, they took an offering for the bereaved – I assume to help pay for the casket and burial services.  That’s when the trouble started.  I had brought a stack of John and Romans scripture portions, and I asked the family if I could pass them out.  I was told it would be fine, but as I started quietly handing them to people around me it seemed it was too much to see a ‘broni’ (as they call white people) giving something away.  I now know what it means in the Bible when it says Jesus was ‘thronged’!  As I said, I only had a stack and there wasn’t going to be enough for everyone, but a man grabbed my arm and said, “Give them to me!”  Recognizing things were getting out of control, I gladly handed them to him, and he did his best to try to pass them out.  We had a box of about 150 in the car, and someone brought those out.  People were pushing and shoving, and I thought 2 old ladies were going to start throwing punches!  They even snatched the empty box! 

At that point, we headed to the car and drove to the cemetery.  The casket and family were loaded into the back of a station wagon taxi, and they drove to the cemetery also.  Everyone else just walked.  Grace was buried under a large tree on the side of a hill.  I was thinking it wasn’t such a bad place to be buried when they told me we needed to sing again.  The hole had been hand-digged and lined with cement. The casket was placed in the hole, Psalms 23 read in English and Fante, a shovel of dirt thrown on by the pastor and then several men with shovels filled in the hole.  We left before this was completed, but I was told that more than likely people would start pouring liquor into the ground around the hole in order to appease the demons and spirits. 

Isaac

Please note that I don't have internet service right now, so that is why I haven't posted.

I want to tell you a little about Isaac, our yard worker.  This young man came with the house.  He is employed by the missionary that normally lives here, and we have kept him on to keep up the yard and do things around the house.  Truly he is a very unusual young man! 

What first impressed me is that he is always on time.  I don’t believe he owns a watch, but he is always here before his work time.  If we ask him to come at a different time, he is flexible and here for that time also. 

I’m also impressed because he is self-motivated.  I don’t have to tell him what to do to keep up with the yard (as if I would know anyhow!), and he looks for things that need to be fixed.  As I’ve noted before, our water supply is not always reliable, so without me asking he began to check the polytank on the roof to let us know if it is running low.  Around the property is a cement block wall, about 7 feet at its highest point.  There are rusted knife blade type protrusions that are cemented on top to prevent people from jumping over the wall.  One day I found him out there with cement replacing a portion of knife blades that had been knocked down.  I hadn’t even noticed they were missing, yet he had and he was fixing it.

We were told that Isaac doesn’t know how to read or write, so I wanted to teach him.  I told him I’ve never taught anyone before, but he said he would like to learn.  He explained to me that he wasn’t able to go to school because his parents did not have the money to pay his school fees (books, uniforms, etc.).  Instead he was sent from his home in the north to Takoradi to live with his uncle and to find work.  He also told me he sends his money to his parents so that his younger sister can go to school.  When I asked him about his siblings he stated his two younger brothers died ‘for want of food’. 

Today Isaac was able to say the alphabet without looking at it, he read more than 15 words, and he could articulate what the difference is between B and b.   He recognizes God, Jesus, his name and sin.  I’m incredibly excited, but at the same time I wonder how he’ll ever learn enough to be able to read the Bible.  It is one thing to quote scripture to someone, praying they’ll believe and understand, but it’s another to have them see it for themselves.  I realize either way the Holy Spirit is the witness of the Truth, but so much of the word of God has been twisted here, and used to teach false doctrine. By his testimony he is trusting in his good works to get him to Heaven.  I have witnessed to him once, but I want to lay a foundation of the gospel from the Bible. He said he is willing to let me teach him some Bible lessons.  Please pray for Isaac!