The events today has allowed me to pinpoint he best day of my seven weeks in Ghana: today. Last week, Amanda and I had an idea of giving the women something to show the love we have for them. We are so humbled by their gifts that we wanted to share in the generosity. Even if they hadn't given us anything, our love for them would still be the same. So we thought it through and came to the conclusion that cake would be a great thing to share with them. Originally, we wanted to make them an entire meal but then we decided that something sweet would be a treat.
Yesterday, Amanda, Vida, and I spent most of the day in the kitchen, preparing the cake. It was nothing fancy, just plain vanilla cake, but it took us HOURS to make it. This reaffirmed my ill skill and desire at being a housewife (let's just say it's not my calling). Vida did most of the work and she guided us from making too many mistakes. But we were still worried about the final result. When the cake was finished, it tasted pretty good, even though it was crumbly. We made three mini-cakes and three big cakes in the shape of hearts, yet we were anxious that it wouldn't be enough because we never got a concrete number of the women. But when we got there, all our fears melted away.
Pastor called all the women and their children over and we began slicing the cake. The women were delighted at our gift and said it was delicious! Before serving the cake, I told them that we wanted to give them something because we love them so much. After the feast (we even got around to seconds), one of the women said that even though our gift was small to us, it was big to them. I'm glad we can all see eye to eye. The women were so grateful and you could see a brightness in them. Their smiles were radiant not because of us, but because we were sharing and enjoying Christ's love.
I think today was a reincarnation of Jesus feeding the 5,000. We were discouraged at the amount of food we brought, but we fed everyone twice! And we even had some left over for Pastor and Vida. Talk about a miracle.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Day 42: Storms--Asenemaso
It's quite a sight to witness the sky divided as it is at this moment. To the left, the horizon is let with light gold, sparkling with the sun and its daily setting. But to the immediate right, the sky is gray with an oncoming storm. The dark is devouring the light slowly but forcefully. As I stare deep into the two-faced sky, I am reminded of life and the way this world works. There are times, many times in fact, that the dark is overpowering the light. And the onslaught is so violent, so merciless that we feel there can be no end to its reign. We lose the hope of the light piercing the darkness and the elimination of the wreckage the dark brings. Since we are human, we mourn and wail about the damage being done and how we can do nothing to stop it. And it is true, we cannot stop it. We can hide away, deny the storm's presence, but it will still come unto us. Throughout our entire lives, storms will come and darkness will dominate the skies. Some storms do more damage than others and one person maybe victim to more storms than another.
But it is never forever. No matter how dark, how loud, how long, how windy, how wet, how damaging a storm is, it will always be followed by the sun and the healthiness of light. Even when we scan the horizon and see nothing but darkness, we know there will soon be light. We can rely that we will be relieved of pain, no matter how deep that pain goes. In our lives, most of us see more sun than storms and we testify to the beauty of the light. But we should really be testifying to the storms. We can wail and howl "how can God let me suffer like this?" but we should be thankful of these storms. For it is these storms that transform our souls and spirit. Just as the earth is strong and beautiful after a storm, so are we if we allow God to use that storm for transformation. It is our decision to determine the aftermath of the storm: we can either be refreshed and strong, like a light rain; or scattered and broken like a hurricane. The storms strengthen our relationship with God. So as we can appreciate the new life and trials of storms in nature, let us also appreciate the transformation of the storms in our lives. Let us remember that the sun will shine in our faces again and that life will once again be sweet.
But it is never forever. No matter how dark, how loud, how long, how windy, how wet, how damaging a storm is, it will always be followed by the sun and the healthiness of light. Even when we scan the horizon and see nothing but darkness, we know there will soon be light. We can rely that we will be relieved of pain, no matter how deep that pain goes. In our lives, most of us see more sun than storms and we testify to the beauty of the light. But we should really be testifying to the storms. We can wail and howl "how can God let me suffer like this?" but we should be thankful of these storms. For it is these storms that transform our souls and spirit. Just as the earth is strong and beautiful after a storm, so are we if we allow God to use that storm for transformation. It is our decision to determine the aftermath of the storm: we can either be refreshed and strong, like a light rain; or scattered and broken like a hurricane. The storms strengthen our relationship with God. So as we can appreciate the new life and trials of storms in nature, let us also appreciate the transformation of the storms in our lives. Let us remember that the sun will shine in our faces again and that life will once again be sweet.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Day 41: Visitors--Asenemaso
Even when the sky is full of clouds, the heat drains away your energy starting in the early morning. Teaching was not easy today, mainly because we missed class on Friday. The kids are never too receptive on Mondays. It reminds me of my days back in high school. The weekends were never long enough and they were packed full of work, time with friends, and last minute homework assignments. By the time Monday rolled around, I was anything but rested. So I feel for my students except they're exhausted because they have to make money for their families.
We visited the women at the well today, but Mike and Matt came along to meet their husbands. Prior to the visitation today, Amanda and I had discussed how the women might react if we brought more people with us. We didn't think their reaction would be super supportive. And there was something different about the women today. They were excited to see us, but they weren't as focused as they usually are. I think the 2 extra visitors might have thrown them off. Not intentionally, of course. We failed to tell them we were bringing other people, so they definitely weren't expecting it. It wasn't even part of the plan for us to be with the women. Amanda and I were supposed to say hi to them while the guys spent time with the men. But with only one translator, you have to compromise even after you thought the day was over.
Mike failed to tell any 3 of us that Pastor invited us all for dinner at his house tonight until we were on our way home. I'm not much of a spontaneous person so I didn't have the best attitude about it until we got there. Once I saw how happy Pastor was because we came, I instantly became grateful for his hospitality. I loved eating with him and discussing the ministry. I have a lot of hope that God will continue to work through Pastor to these marginalized people.
We visited the women at the well today, but Mike and Matt came along to meet their husbands. Prior to the visitation today, Amanda and I had discussed how the women might react if we brought more people with us. We didn't think their reaction would be super supportive. And there was something different about the women today. They were excited to see us, but they weren't as focused as they usually are. I think the 2 extra visitors might have thrown them off. Not intentionally, of course. We failed to tell them we were bringing other people, so they definitely weren't expecting it. It wasn't even part of the plan for us to be with the women. Amanda and I were supposed to say hi to them while the guys spent time with the men. But with only one translator, you have to compromise even after you thought the day was over.
Mike failed to tell any 3 of us that Pastor invited us all for dinner at his house tonight until we were on our way home. I'm not much of a spontaneous person so I didn't have the best attitude about it until we got there. Once I saw how happy Pastor was because we came, I instantly became grateful for his hospitality. I loved eating with him and discussing the ministry. I have a lot of hope that God will continue to work through Pastor to these marginalized people.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Day 40: Father--Asenemaso
It's Father's Day in America but not here. I wish I could be with my father today to show him how much I love and appreciate him. But at least I can truly appreciate my Father in heaven. Here is my favorite passage about God as our Father:
Romans 8:14-17 "those who are led by the Spirit of God are the sons of God. For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father." The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs-heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory."
We are God's children and we don't need a specified day to appreciate Him. Why can't God also be our mother? I don't think God is masculine or feminine but that God's characteristics are so divine that we wouldn't even know how to describe them. But what does it matter anyway? We're God's children, regardless.
Romans 8:14-17 "those who are led by the Spirit of God are the sons of God. For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father." The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs-heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory."
We are God's children and we don't need a specified day to appreciate Him. Why can't God also be our mother? I don't think God is masculine or feminine but that God's characteristics are so divine that we wouldn't even know how to describe them. But what does it matter anyway? We're God's children, regardless.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Day 39: Recharge--Asenemaso
The rain has been coming down ever since 2 this afternoon, trapping us inside the walls of our houses. I guess we aren't really trapped, but it does give us a good excuse to watch Disney movies. It's so fun to relive those stories we loved so much as kids. Elliott brought a ton of Disney movies on VHS to give to the library. We even went as far as to identify a Disney character to each team member: Mike is Peter Pat, Blake is Prince Philip, Alex is Pumba, Pierce is Timon, Matt is Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Laura is Snow White, Elliott is Grandma Willow, Lorna is Pocahontas, Dani is Belle, Diana is Rafiki, Kat is Nala, Kelsey is Cinderella, Kate is Jasmine, Amanda is Ariel, and I am Mulan. So now we have a quest to watch all these movies before the trip is over (we've only watched Peter Pan and The Little Mermaid).
The four of us were going to watch Mulan with the kids tonight, but we are currently watching Secret Crime 2, a Ghanaian film. It's quite hilarious, but I doubt that the kids appreciate our giggles when the intense moments arise. A combination of overly dramatic actors, cheap music, amateur editing, terrible sound quality, and a ridiculous plot make this film quite a laughable piece of entertainment. My brother has taught me what a good film entails and because of that a lot of movies have been spoiled for me. Definitely for the better, though.
Today was the laziest day on this trip. We had absolutely no agenda, which was wonderful. Waking up late (8:30 rather than 7:45), read for hours (Beloved by Toni Morrison), got fabric with Kate and Amanda (the rain started while were were out), The Little Mermaid while drinking black tea, dinner with fried rice, and now a Ghanaian film with the kids and Charles. What a great day off. We just did whatever we pleased while we recharge for the week. I definitely wear myself out with the work we've been dong here.
It takes a lot of effort to live here, even to just walking down the street requires drains your energy. There lives a mob of abruni (Twi for white person) bloody thirsty children on our way home. Everyday we walk home, along with the repetitious chant of "abruni", they surround us in an instant. They come from all angles, like a surprise SWAT attack, everyone of them pulling our lives and throwing their bodies against us. We think it's getting dangerous. At least they're no older than 8 years old!
The four of us were going to watch Mulan with the kids tonight, but we are currently watching Secret Crime 2, a Ghanaian film. It's quite hilarious, but I doubt that the kids appreciate our giggles when the intense moments arise. A combination of overly dramatic actors, cheap music, amateur editing, terrible sound quality, and a ridiculous plot make this film quite a laughable piece of entertainment. My brother has taught me what a good film entails and because of that a lot of movies have been spoiled for me. Definitely for the better, though.
Today was the laziest day on this trip. We had absolutely no agenda, which was wonderful. Waking up late (8:30 rather than 7:45), read for hours (Beloved by Toni Morrison), got fabric with Kate and Amanda (the rain started while were were out), The Little Mermaid while drinking black tea, dinner with fried rice, and now a Ghanaian film with the kids and Charles. What a great day off. We just did whatever we pleased while we recharge for the week. I definitely wear myself out with the work we've been dong here.
It takes a lot of effort to live here, even to just walking down the street requires drains your energy. There lives a mob of abruni (Twi for white person) bloody thirsty children on our way home. Everyday we walk home, along with the repetitious chant of "abruni", they surround us in an instant. They come from all angles, like a surprise SWAT attack, everyone of them pulling our lives and throwing their bodies against us. We think it's getting dangerous. At least they're no older than 8 years old!
Friday, June 13, 2008
Day 38: Stelleluna--Asenemaso
Friday the 13th. On a day that is supposed to be haunted and filled with bad luck, today was anything but that. Teaching did not happen today for two reasons: 1. there was an intense storm this morning that prevented many kids from getting to school and 2. the school had our students carrying cement blocks on their heads. What for, I'm not sure. We do know that the schools use the kids for upkeeping the landscape and the school grounds. It seems like a very odd concept to us, but it makes sense here. There's no way the school can afford a landscaper and it also cuts down the expenses a student owes. The frustrating part is that they decide to sacrifice an entire academic day for it. Oh well, TIA.
I was discouraged today. Abigail, one of my students, came to the library today. I had just finished reading a book about Native Americans with Dorothy when Abigail slid into the seat next to me with a book in hand. I didn't recognize her at first (she never participates in class), but I did recognize the book she chose to read: Stelleluna. Memories of childhood flooded my mind: long wet hair after a warm and steamy shower, thin glasses pushed up the highest part of my nose, settling next to my mom or day in the armchair (it is now Strider's self-proclaimed throne) with my brother and sister squashed next to me, ready to hear the words that would guide our dreams that night. It didn't matter what the book was, just that we had a book ready to us before we shut our eyes on the day. Alas, the days when a absence of a story before bed was a torment too unjust to fathom. Be my witness, do not take away my stories! Those stories kept me in childhood and kept me in my world in which reality could not invade. When my eyes fell on Stelleluna, all these thoughts came to me and I thought that even more of my inner child would emerge as the words would be read into the African afternoon. But this nostalgia was interrupted when Abigail could not read a single world on the page. My heart sank not because I could not enjoy the story but because I knew Abigail's life did not have books. It was painful enough to swallow the fact that a fifth grader did not know how to sound out any words presented to her, but the wound went deeper when I realized Abigail's life was probably missing an element of imagination and wonder. Books were, and still are, an outlet to the reality that suffocates us. To be deprived of such a thing is a crime.
I was discouraged today. Abigail, one of my students, came to the library today. I had just finished reading a book about Native Americans with Dorothy when Abigail slid into the seat next to me with a book in hand. I didn't recognize her at first (she never participates in class), but I did recognize the book she chose to read: Stelleluna. Memories of childhood flooded my mind: long wet hair after a warm and steamy shower, thin glasses pushed up the highest part of my nose, settling next to my mom or day in the armchair (it is now Strider's self-proclaimed throne) with my brother and sister squashed next to me, ready to hear the words that would guide our dreams that night. It didn't matter what the book was, just that we had a book ready to us before we shut our eyes on the day. Alas, the days when a absence of a story before bed was a torment too unjust to fathom. Be my witness, do not take away my stories! Those stories kept me in childhood and kept me in my world in which reality could not invade. When my eyes fell on Stelleluna, all these thoughts came to me and I thought that even more of my inner child would emerge as the words would be read into the African afternoon. But this nostalgia was interrupted when Abigail could not read a single world on the page. My heart sank not because I could not enjoy the story but because I knew Abigail's life did not have books. It was painful enough to swallow the fact that a fifth grader did not know how to sound out any words presented to her, but the wound went deeper when I realized Abigail's life was probably missing an element of imagination and wonder. Books were, and still are, an outlet to the reality that suffocates us. To be deprived of such a thing is a crime.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Day 37: Wicked--Asenemaso
Another day of love. Today, we visited the women from the North but we also met some of their husbands and their children. We visited two houses they live in. It was definitely the worst poverty I have ever experienced with my own eyes. I never thought that there would be worse poverty than a hut village. The space was smaller, the houses were falling apart, and the sanitation was worse. The village we stayed at last weekend was much better off than the people form the North. But despite their poverty, they gave us yet ANOTHER gift: 7 uncooked eggs. The landlord, Jacob (a Northerner), was asking us not to forget about them and he hoped that we could find them help in America. It was a very light-hearted day, filled with laughter and warmth. Some of the women were even waiting for us to arrive.
They took today to tell us about the prejudice and discrimination they receive from the Ashanti. This region is much more fortunate because of their fertile soil, while the North suffers because of their dry soil that doesn't support crops. This instills an attitude of superiority and hostility from the Ashanti. There are many instance where an Ashanti won't pay the women for their work because they're from the North, even after they've carried the water far distances and poured the water in their customer's bowl. They lie and say things like, "we never told you to bring water, so I'm not paying you." Jacob was telling me that they used to live with the Ashanti, but they drove them further away onto the land they are on now, which is a ten minute walk from the well. When I asked Jacob what he thought of the Ashanti, he said he thought they were wicked because they treat them so badly. Their living conditions are as bad enough as it is, but the harassment and treatment from the Ashanti probably makes life unbearable. It saddens me that the Ashanti treat them this way but also that the Northerners have no love for the Ashanti. It is not my place to tell them to love those who persecute them, but I know Jesus tells us to love our enemies. I pray that the Ashanti show love to the Northerners and that the Northerners find forgiveness in their hearts.
They took today to tell us about the prejudice and discrimination they receive from the Ashanti. This region is much more fortunate because of their fertile soil, while the North suffers because of their dry soil that doesn't support crops. This instills an attitude of superiority and hostility from the Ashanti. There are many instance where an Ashanti won't pay the women for their work because they're from the North, even after they've carried the water far distances and poured the water in their customer's bowl. They lie and say things like, "we never told you to bring water, so I'm not paying you." Jacob was telling me that they used to live with the Ashanti, but they drove them further away onto the land they are on now, which is a ten minute walk from the well. When I asked Jacob what he thought of the Ashanti, he said he thought they were wicked because they treat them so badly. Their living conditions are as bad enough as it is, but the harassment and treatment from the Ashanti probably makes life unbearable. It saddens me that the Ashanti treat them this way but also that the Northerners have no love for the Ashanti. It is not my place to tell them to love those who persecute them, but I know Jesus tells us to love our enemies. I pray that the Ashanti show love to the Northerners and that the Northerners find forgiveness in their hearts.
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