I killed my dance partner last night.

Ha!  I knew I’d get your attention!  Yes, the humor is starting to revive – thank you for all your prayers. :)

So who is my dance partner?  I actually have many.  Let me explain.

One of the other missionaries here has likened the road to church to that of the surface of the moon.  Lots and lots of craters!  The drivers are going to do everything possible to avoid the potholes, even if that means driving in the other ‘lane’ of traffic (as if they have lanes).  Or it could mean driving where the pedestrians are walking.  But, despite their best efforts the taxi drivers have dubbed the ride on this road as the ‘Ghanaian dance’.  Your whole body feels a lot like one of those bobble head dolls as you rock from one crater to the next.  So my partners in this dance are the taxi drivers and other passengers!  Don’t worry, though.  I didn’t kill any of them.

My partner I did kill was totally unexpected.  Two nights ago I walked into my bathroom without turning on the light, and as I stood in front of the sink my uninvited partner step on my bare foot.  In fact, he ran across my foot, which caused me to do quite the jig!  I caught a glimpse of him as I looked down to see him scurrying under a piece of tile.  One really big cockroach!  Ok, for now on I’m turning on the light before I walk in there. 

So, last night he shows up again, but this time I’m ready with my can of ‘Birtox Parfume’, otherwise known as insecticide.  I’ve heard stories from other missionaries of these indestructible screaming roaches that you step on 20 times, their guts are hanging out and yet they’re still running away.  So I decided on a two-pronged attack: chemical then physical.  Once they’re disabled by the chemical, then I beat them into pieces until they quit moving.  The worst part is picking up the pieces.  Anyhow, I sprayed under the bathtub where I saw him hide, and this morning I started looking for his ugly little body.  But I didn’t see him anywhere on the floor.  Instead he’s floating in the bathtub where we keep water for dishes and laundry.  Good thing we add bleach!

The battle for my spirit.

 25/4/11

I’ve tried to write something for my blog this last week, but my mind just isn’t seeing the humor.  I realize humor is what helps deal with the frustrations – the vast different-ness of living in another culture.  I read I Corinthians 6:20 the other day, “For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, AND IN YOUR SPIRIT, which are God’s.”  Obviously, the emphasis is mine. However, as I read it the other day, the emphasis was that of the Holy Spirit’s. 

May I be perfectly honest with you?  Please understand that I want to serve God.  I want to please Him.  I want to be anywhere He wants me to be.  I desperately want to see His face some day and hear Him say that I pleased Him.  I want to tell people how to go to heaven and hear them say, “Thank you for coming all this way to tell me this.”  But my flesh!  It wants to be where I’m familiar with what’s going on around me – not where there’s a constant uneasiness as to how I should handle a situation.  My flesh wants to be where I can go to the store and buy what I’m looking for, for the same price others pay – not the price they charge the white man.  My flesh wants to be clean and comfortable – not hot, sticky and dirty from road dust and diesel as I walk or ride in a taxi wherever I’m going.  My flesh wants to go back to the mountains of Colorado and hike for hours on end, hearing and smelling nothing but nature and praising God for His beautiful creation – not seeing trash every where, smelling things that are rotting, or hearing rock and roll or reggae music blasting in my ears from churches and taxi speakers.  These are the things that wear away at my spirit and cause me to fight a battle each day to tell myself I can’t allow those thoughts of going back to what’s comfortable.  Not to a location, but to a place in time when my life was comfortable – when I had my dream job of flight nursing, was 20 minutes from the mountains, had the strength and vigor of youth, had my home church where I could attend every service and activity, and my best friends surrounded me.

But I’m bought with a price.  My body and my spirit are His.  It does no good to give Him my body by coming to Africa and submitting to all this, but then let my spirit drag around being miserable.  He purchased both.  I’m to glorify God with both. 

While I see this great failure in my life right now, I praise Him that, as He so often does, He has responded to this failure with gentleness and blessings.  He has given me missionary families that allowed me to come over and visit, who fed me a wonderful dinner and let me watch a DVD with their kids sitting around me on Easter Sunday.  He has given cooler temperatures with a little bit of rain, allowing me to sleep through the night.  He has brought visitors to church that I invited the day before.  He has allowed me to share the gospel and see one bow their head to trust Christ – the first person I’ve seen do that in Africa.  He has allowed me to download my pastor’s sermons, and sermons from other godly preachers.  He has allowed me to talk with a godly, older missionary couple that can no longer serve on a foreign field because of their health.  He has allowed me to keep up with my friends via skype and email.  He’s given me a pastor that would spend on hour talking with me, giving me counsel and just checking to see how I’m doing.  He’s given me a pastor’s wife that emails or calls to give me updates on my home church.  He has given me prayer partners around the world that not only pray but also send me notes to remind me they’re praying.  He has given me more than I could possibly comprehend!  And just reminding myself of these blessings makes me love Him more.

Forgive my transparency.  But as I tell the Lord often, I am not ‘big and strong’.  I’m made of the same human flesh as the worst of sinners.  My strength is in Him.  He is my refuge. 

Questions I ask myself

 So, do you think the IRS will have any problems with listing a machete as a deductible?  We are allowed to count lawn-mowing services, and the yard guy cuts the lawn with a machete. 

Should I be grossed out when 5 or 6 moths fly out from the cereal box I’ve been eating out of for a week?  Don’t worry, I’m eating more than cereal – and I don’t mean moths and cereal!

Should it bother me that on the beach where I’ve just been swimming (okay, splashing, since I swim like a rock!) I find a bunch of white shell-looking things, and when I ask what they are I’m told they’re sharks teeth?

Should I be suspicious when the police pull over the taxi driver I’m riding with, and his first reaction is to get out his money instead of his drivers license?

Should I be worried when I try to put on my seat belt in the taxi because the game of ‘chicken’ he seems to be playing is making me nervous, but when I look for where it should be it has been removed?  Only the driver has a seat belt.  Me, a former trauma nurse!  Me, who harps on all my passengers that they must wear a seat belt before I’ll start the ignition! 

There's a new sense of 'normal' in my life.

Shopping

 Shopping in Ghana can be interesting.  I know I’ve told you about the market, but now I want to tell you about the grocery stores. 

From what I’m told, even 5 years ago, most things Western were absent in the stores.  In fact, if I understand right, there really weren’t that many stores!  If you really want to find something Western (something you’d find in the States), you go to the Lebanese stores.  Makes sense doesn’t it – that the Lebanese sell American products.  Anyhow, I personally am thankful for these stores.  Of course, we all know you can find Coke and Pepsi products all over the world, in the remotest village, so that’s no big surprise.  But I thought I’d mention a few other items that have surprised me.

Aunt Jemima pancake mix and syrup – the mix is over $15 for a large box.

Johnson and Johnson baby products.

Kleenex toilet paper and facial tissue.

Cheerios – which I really like, but not at $9 a box.

Several Kellogg’s cereals – again rather expensive.

Colgate and Aquafresh toothpaste.

Hershey’s chocolate syrup.

Pringle’s potato chips – again rather expensive, but in general, chips are not popular.

Microwave popcorn – I buy a bag of the old fashioned stuff at the market for less than 70 cents, and I can make several servings on the stove!

Skittles, Mars bars, and Cadbury chocolate bars.

Pampers diapers.

Things that are very expensive are hair care products for white folks and sunscreen!  Yes, Tracey, I actually found some sunscreen yesterday.  SPF 15.  I sure appreciate the SPF 50 you sent!  You would have thought that I would have thought to bring that stuff coming to Africa, but it was winter in PA when I was packing.

When I say ‘store’ here, I am speaking of a small shop with about 4-7 short aisles, with every spot crammed full.  You have to scrutinize every square inch because otherwise you could miss something you’d really appreciate if you knew it was there.

What do I miss? 

Nuts.  You can get peanuts pretty cheap, but almonds, cashews, etc. are expensive and hard to find.  I found a 1kg (2.2 pounds) bag of almonds for 26 Ghana cedi, which is about $21.

Cheese.  Again, you can find mozzarella, cheddar, Gouda, Parmesan, and a few others, but you’ll pay a pretty penny for it.  Every one of those is over 20 Ghana cedi per kg.   

A variety of snack items.  As I say, you can find Pringle’s and pretzels, but I like all the selection in the States.  I do think I found some trail mix type of stuff, though, and it seems affordable.  I think it’s even organic!

There is a vanilla ice cream that is good and very affordable in single servings.  We can doctor it up with bananas and chocolate syrup.  Flavored ‘ice creams’ are more like flavored frozen ice, though.  Believe it or not, we found Ben and Jerry’s in the local Lebanese store.  I didn’t even look at the price though, for 2 reasons – I can only imagine the cost, and I wouldn’t support that company, not even in Africa! 

Musings

I have just finished reading a very challenging book written for missionaries.  I would, however, dare say it should be applied to all Christians.  The book is entitled, “Have We No Right?”, and it speaks of giving up what we would consider normal rights as missionaries [Christians]. 

Chapter titles are:

The right to what I consider a normal standard of living.

The right to the ordinary safeguards of good health.

The right to regulate my private affairs as I wish.

The right to privacy.

The right to my own time.

The right to a normal romance, if any.

The right to a normal home life.

The right to live with the people of my choice.

The right to feel superior.

The right to run things.

As you read these titles, is there anything in there about which you find yourself cringing?  There are a few areas that make me cringe, and that I am having to live through them right now.  I am such a weak Christian – weak in living for Christ, but strong in demanding my rights!

The final chapter is a poem that I would like to quote, but I wish to give all credit to the author, Mabel Williamson, who worked with China Inland Mission.  The book is published by Moody Press.

He Had No Rights

He had no rights:

            No right to a soft bed, and a well-laid table;

            No right to a home of His own, a place where His own pleasure might be sought;

            No right to choose pleasant, congenial companions, those who could understand Him and sympathize with Him;

            No right to shrink away from filth and sin, to pull His garments closer around Him and turn aside to walk in cleaner paths;

            No right to be understood and appreciated; no, not by those upon whom He had poured out a double portion of His love;

            No right even never to be forsaken by His Father, the One who meant more than all to Him.

            His only right was silently to endure shame, spitting, blows; to take His place as a sinner at the dock; to bear my sins in anguish on the cross.

            He had no rights.  And I?

            A right to the “comforts” of life?  No, but a right to the love of God for my pillow.

            A right to physical safety?  No, but a right to the security of being in His will.

            A right to love and sympathy from those around me?  No, but a right to the friendship of the One who understands me better than I do myself.

            A right to be a leader among men?  No, but the right to be led by the One to whom I have given my all, led as is a little child, with its hand in the hand of its father.

            A right to a home, and dear ones?  No, not necessarily; but a right to dwell in the heart of God.

            A right to myself?  No, but, oh, I have a right to Christ.

All that He takes I will give;

All that He gives I will take;

He, my only right!

He, the one right before which all other rights fade into nothingness.

I have full right to Him;

Oh, may He have full right to me!

Eating Ghanaian

  Yesterday, KM and I ate at the Luthers house.  We had a traditional Ghanaian meal of chicken boiled in a peanut/ pimento paste, which creates a soup type sauce.  Then you make giant rice balls and with your fingers, you break apart the rice and dip it in the sauce and chicken.  It was very good, but the idea of ‘eating’ a liquid with your fingers was a bit strange to me.  If you add enough rice, however, you eventually get all of it.  The chicken is cooked long enough that you can actually eat the bones, too.  Honestly, the bones weren’t bad.  But Julie did have to shame me into eating with my fingers instead of a spoon.  I think chopsticks are easier.

One of the things that troubles me here is how the name of the Lord is blasphemed.  In the States it happens, too, but that is usually with cursing or other foul language.  And I don’t like it there, either!  Here, it is in their superstitions.  Almost every shop or store has God’s name used in it.  For example, ‘God is Great Hair Salon’.  On the back of taxis it may say ‘Jesus is Lord’.  At first it seems nice to see the acknowledgment of God, but the reality is they are using His name expecting Him to bless them simply for using His name.  They’re not using His name as a cursing, like is done in the States, but to seek a blessing.  Both are vain uses of His holy, righteous name!  The Lord’s name was never meant as a lucky rabbit’s foot, that you rub and say a few magic words, and voila! – you have that which you asked.  It reminds me how God gets mixed into whatever traditions a culture has, with the idea that, “What we have is not bad, and neither is this Jesus, so let’s just mix Him in with what we already have.”  You know, like in the States. We like our rock music, so why not just add Jesus’ name to it, and He’ll bless it.  Or this idea of dressing and looking like the world in order to attract the world to us, then we’ll surprise them and tell them we’re Christians.  If they think they can keep living like they live and have Jesus, well then they’ll trust Christ.  A changed life doesn’t save a man, but when Christ moves in He should be allowed to set up house as He pleases!

Jesus said He is the ONLY way, not just one of many.  I want to be so careful to present Christ as Savior, not lucky charm.  I'll get off my soap box now.

Praise and interesting stuff I'm learning

 25/3/11

I’m learning that the status of water and electricity is so dynamic, that I’m no longer going to indicate whether we have it or not.  I’m just praising the Lord for the well and for a strong worker that can carry the water indoors for us.

We visited a medical clinic the other day, International Medical SOS.  This is a 2-bed emergency room with one bed observation private facility sponsored by the Maersk oil company that drills here in Takoradi.  Believe it or not, it’s not too uncommon to see Caucasians in this area because of this business.  There is even a housing area for those who work for Maersk. 

The facility is very clean, has a small laboratory and limited radiology services.  It is staffed by individuals from around the world.  The nurse we met is Ghanaian, the paramedic South African, the clinic manager is a Russian born Korean, and the doctor is German.  They are on 3 month on, 1 month off rotations, and they recruit world-wide.  This would not be open to us as missionaries, however, unless we would pay $2,000 per individual per year.  I do not know if they would assist in a medical evacuation, but they do have arrangements made with two other companies to use their helicopters for evacuation.  There is a Ghanaian air force base here in Takoradi, and unfortunately, they do not allow medical aircraft to land at the airfield, so the helicopter would have to fly the patient to Accra for fixed wing transport.  When I asked about the medical crew that would accompany the patient the answer was a bit unclear, but there is not enough staff at this facility to go with the patient.  I got the impression they would have to get a crew out of Accra, but how all that happens I do not know.  It was an interesting visit, and we hope to visit a local hospital next week.  Our taxi driver’s aunt is a charge nurse at a hospital here, so he wants to introduce us.

27/3/11

It is always amazing to me how small the world of independent Baptists is.  In a city north of us, Kumasi, the second largest city in Ghana, there is a team of laborers from First Baptist Church of Hammond.  But there is also a smaller team – the Summer family and the Aaron family.  The Aarons came to Takoradi to visit their friends, the Consfords, this week.  All the local missionary families got together, and we found out that Mrs. Emily Aaron is from the Baptist church in Heber Springs, Arkansas that has been a US sponsor to Dr. Kadio.  She has even been on a medical mission trip with Dr. Kadio!  Of course, this is the doctor with whom I will work in Ivory Coast. 

They have been in country for a little over 2 years, and they are still in the process of learning Twi, the language that is actually best known all over Ghana (far better than English).  When they spoke to people in Twi at church today it was quite obvious that the Ghanaians were very excited to have a missionary speaking a Ghanaian language.  They are further ahead in their language learning than are the Luthers (the Luthers have only been here for a little over a year), but I have still seen this same type of reception when Pastor Charlie speaks Fante. 

There is a young lady that comes to church on Sunday mornings.  Her name is Jifa (spelled as it sounds), she is a Christian from Accra, and is in Takoradi on a teaching internship.  Each Sunday she does an hour bus/ taxi ride commute to make it to morning services.  Her English is excellent, and today as we spoke she told me she is very interested in linguistics.  She has even studied linguistics in a program similar to the program where the Luthers and I studied. 

Jifa explained to me that in British colonized African nations, such as Ghana and Nigeria, the British did not force the nationals to conform to their language or manner of living.  However, in countries where the French colonized they forcefully imposed their language and culture upon the people.  That is why one can be in a country like Ghana where the official language is English, and yet only 50-60% of the people can speak any English (and at that, not necessarily well).  In Ivory Coast, however, one cannot travel that country without speaking French, even though there are over 60 dialects. 

But regardless, she made statements similar to what I heard in language school and from others I’ve met from non-English speaking countries – Americans do not articulate.  We ‘round’ our words, so to speak, and we do not move our mouths when we talk.  Of course, we move our mouths somewhat, but not in a fashion where one can watch the mouth to truly understand the sounds being made.  When I watch Pastor Evans, the national currently leading this church, preach I am captivated.  His entire face is apart of his speaking.  One can watch his tongue and lips form the sounds that are made, and I am reminded of what my teacher in France would say to me so often, “Ouvre ta bouche!”, meaning, “Open your mouth!”

I have a special praise.  It may seem little, but to me it was very sweet of the Lord to hear my prayer today.  KM and I must take taxis wherever we go.  We have one driver that we can really rely upon as he is always on time or calls if he is running late.  However, he doesn’t work on Sundays, and neither do many other drivers.  Consequently, it makes it difficult to find a taxi, especially on Sunday night.  When you find one they usually want to charge you more money.  This morning I told the Lord that I just didn’t have it in me to stay out in the sun trying to flag down a driver and then haggle over the price.  I asked Him to please intercede for us.

When we got to the area where we start looking for taxis there was one right there, ready to pick us up.  He willingly took us all the way to church for the right price, and he accepted a John and Romans.  When we left church this morning, we stood by the road for about 5 minutes when a taxi came, and he even took us closer to the house for the same price.  This evening we were running late because our night watchman came late, so we were trying to get to church on time.  Again, there was a taxi waiting at the road for us, and he took us to church without an argument re: the price.  We actually arrived 10 minutes early!  And once more, after evening church when we are especially trying to get home before dark, there sat a taxi that took us very close to our house without fighting over the price.  Each driver willingly took a John and Romans, and KM was able to give some other passengers the same. 

I think we’ve found one of our opportunities to minister, except I have already learned not to literally point out the plan of salvation written in the back because they will quit looking at the road and look at the book!  That will scare the bejeebies out of you! 

My God is so good to His ‘girls’.  I just wanted to openly thank Him for His goodness to His weary girl today.