While in the waning sun

The first post that I put on this blog was typed while sitting in my backyard in Courtice on a cushioned chair beside a propane fireplace. Over three months later, I am now sitting in the front yard of my house in Asamankese in a green, plastic chair, watching the sun set behind the palm trees and the cooler evening breeze blow the pink and golden clouds. We only have four sleeps left here in Asamankese and six sleeps until I am back in Canada, which my mind cannot wrap itself around. Mary flies in tomorrow night and we have a busy few days of saying goodbye to people, teaching our final classes, reading our final stories to the children and celebrating the accomplishments of the women with the graduation ceremony on Wednesday.

Crazy things happen every week. We've started a list of things that we find in the children's mouths, as they like to chew on EVERYTHING! Leaves off of the bus floor, pieces of wire from the fence, money, moth balls, candy bottle lids, pieces of their shoes, their socks and pencil led are only a few. I've learned how valuable good quality pencils are, since most of the pencils here are of the poorest quality and cannot even sharpen properly. Once I hand out the books and pencils to the kids to copy something from the board (they LOVE to write!), I have a continual stream of children coming to my desk with their pencils that "won't come", as they say. They've either bitten the led off, broken it on the table, or they were legitimately not sharp. There have been a few times that blisters have formed on my fingers from sharpening so many pencils and the pencil shavings go everywhere, including into the kids' mouths. I end up sharpening half of the pencil before it is actually ready to be used since the quality is so bad. One positive side to having the kids come to my wobbly, plastic table is that the Beginner's Bible usually sits there and the kids will leaf through it viciously and ask me who the people are as they wait for me to struggle with their pencil and to keep my patience.

I do not remember much from kindergarten, but I do remember using scissors and glue. Which kid doesn't love scissors and glue? In addition to English, I teach Creative Arts  and I have come up with a few fun crafts for my eager KG2 students that involve cutting up paper and tissue paper and gluing things to it. The cleanup takes longer than the actual craft does, but every child, even the ones that rarely ever sit still during class, are extremely intent on their work as they try to figure out how to hold the scissors and how to use the popsicle sticks to paste the white glue on their work. After our craft on Thursday, a pair of scissors still laid on my table that had not been put away. Trinity, one of my dear students who is just something else, was standing behind my chair on the table during morning break while I read a story to one of the other girls. I felt Trinity playing with my braided hair, as the girls have not ceased to twist it even though it's already in braids. Something felt different. I turned around and Trinity's face broke into a nervous smile as she lowered her hand with the scissors in them to her side. Had she actually cut my hair, I don't know what I would have done, but I am so thankful that that situation didn't happen.

The children are preparing for their Christmas program and I am incredibly sad that we will not be here to see the actual performance! Margaret asked me to teach them some Christmas songs so I have spent a few hours slowly going over the words to "Away in a Manger" and "Joy to the World". Children remember things so easily and with the aid of a musical tune, they catch on to a song with ease. I had to correct them after the first afternoon of going through the verse to "Away in a Manger", as they were saying, "Amanga, a manga," and although their voices and accents were cute and made me smile, the first words were slurred. They LOVE singing "The Twelve  Days of Christmas" and I'm pretty sure that they know it better than most North Americans know it. Their Bible quotations are coming along and it melts my heart to see some of the Muslim kids reciting verses from the Bible and I hope that they remember those life-giving words when they are older. Trinity, Christiana and Mardiatu were inside with me at morning break the other day and Trinity had the Bible open on her lap and said she loves Jesus. Mardiatu joined in and dramatically said, "I love, love, love , love, love Jesus!" I don't know if she understands the gravity of those beautiful words, but I hope that one day her heart will help her mind to fully accept it.

The final exams for the literacy program went well on Wednesday and there are a few of my students who would be graduating to Level 3 next semester if the program was continuing. They have thrown themselves into their studies upon learning that the funding is being cut and no more interns will be coming and therefore the program will, unfortunately, be ceasing. I am looking forward to the graduation rehearsal on Tuesday and then celebrating with and showering gifts and love on the women on Wednesday. Wednesday will be our last day in Asamankese. We are planning on having a party in the morning for the kids, decorating for the graduation ceremony in the afternoon and then we have to say goodbye to the children, the women and our friends in Asamankese (the majority of whom will be at the ceremony) all within the span of about 3 hours. I expect it to be emotionally draining.

Climbing Mountains

This past weekend marked our final voyage of exploring the corners of Ghana. We set off on Friday for the Volta Region in the east and after making our way through the stalls of eager merchants in the Centre for National Culture to buy some souvenirs in Accra, we took a seven hour tro tro ride to Hohoe in Volta. The trip was not supposed to take that long, but getting out of Accra took approximately an hour and a half, which is absolutely ridiculous! Our driver decided to take the oddest round about route, zigzagging through random side streets in an attempt to shorten the way out. We ended up driving past the Kotoka International Airport which we had not been near since we arrived here. Millions of thoughts rolled through my mind as we drove by: we have less than two weeks left in Ghana, we have so much to do before we leave, we have so many people to say goodbye to, we have so much to look forward to with final activities with the school and the graduation ceremony for the literacy program.

On Saturday we took a taxi (since tros were scarce) to the base of Afadjato Mountain, the highest peak in Ghana, right on the Togolese border. We followed our 15 year old tour guide out onto the path through the forest and began the hour and 15 minute ascent. As we climbed, many connections were made between our hike and our semester here. There was a sign at the bottom of the mount that told us to take a deep breath as we were about to climb 882 m upwards. I remember taking a deep breath before we boarded our plane in Toronto to come here. It seemed as though we had a long way to go. The path up Afadjato was incredibly steep and consisted of large and small rocks scattered across the dirt which gave our thighs a thorough workout. We had to take large strides to reach the next good rock or sturdy tree root. The same happened for us when we first arrived here. We were not used to the culture that we were thrown into. We had to quickly overcome the initial shock of being called by the colour of our skin and we learned how to enjoy walking down the street and having to wave or say good morning to every person we meet (and that's a lot). We cannot step outside of this house (and sometimes I can't even go outside of my room) without people being there and talking to us because we are white and they are curious about our culture. It was an incredibly big step to begin teaching both the women and the children and to step into the shoes of the previous interns. Just last week Kujo was sick and had to go to the clinic during our literacy class, so I taught Mama Vida solo. Those first big steps prepared me for taking on the class alone and to form the relationship with her that I have. As we climbed the mountain, my legs seemed to get stronger with each step. They were tired, yes, but they were motivated to keep moving.

There were signs posted along the rocky path up to the peak of Afadjato that told us how far we had come, and not long into our trip we reached the sign that said we had come 216 m, a quarter of the way up. A quarter of the way into our internship here, I was still in transition mode. The food was different, the lifestyle was different (like different modes of transportation, for example. Taxis here don't cost like two bucks just for sitting in it,) and we were just beginning different friendships and meeting new acquaintances. What a comparison to now! There are certain people along the road to school or into town that we specifically say hi to as we pass (in addition to responding to the continuous chant of "obruni!") and we know their names and receive hugs from their kids. There is a group of about six children down the road on the way to town who used to immediately follow their "obruni!" with, "Give me bicycle!" We tend to stop almost every time we pass them now and they no longer ask for bicycles, but they just want to give us a high five or a quick hug or say, "How are you?" We pass Auntie Sophia (Belinda's mother) sitting by the junction on the way to school every morning, selling water. She always gives us a big smile and wave and we stop to ask how her day went on the way back home. May is always eager to welcome us at her shop and we've stopped asking her for phone credit or plantain chips - now we simply go and get whatever we need ourselves and leave the money where we know we should put it. We can jump right into crazy conversations with her and Faustina (the wonderful lady who braided our hair), can be down right ridiculous with them and not be afraid of making a fool of ourselves. I thought that these friendships wouldn't happen when we were at the quarter mark.

One of the girls that I climbed the mountain with has asthma and we had to stop quite a few times for her to catch her breath and she wasn't feeling very well. There have been plenty of times when we have had to take a break during our time here in Asamankese and try to return our breathing to its regular rhythm. I have often felt as though I am incapable of filling the shoes of the previous interns and that I wasn't benefiting the women or children at all by being here. The enemy likes to discourage us by saying that the small work that we're doing is not worthwhile, but it's quite on the contrary. We do not have to see huge steps being taken in the learning of our students, but we can just rest in the thought that our small contributions will take root and will one day produce fruit. Maybe one day the Muslim children in my class will remember the stories of Jesus that I am telling them and they will see how divine Jesus really is. One day the women will be able to read novels, even though all I can read with them right now are simple sentences. Had we given up and remained in that state of taking a breather, thinking that we couldn't do it, we wouldn't have seen the small steps that we've seen taken.

It felt good to keep going after a break while climbing Afadjato. We were sweating like we've never sweat before and the air that our bodies cut through as we climbed cooled us down. There were often mornings that I woke up and felt as though it was just another day, another 17 hours that needed to pass before I could go back to sleep. There were times when I didn't want to go out of my room so that I didn't have to interact with the many people again, but in God's marvelous working power, it was never as bad as I expected it to be to start going again after a break. Walking down the street should be an incredibly draining experience for me (and it often is), but I've learned the importance of smiling and I've realized that it can actually cheer you up even to put on a forced smile and to stop and see the people as individuals, not just an entire community of people who exclaim at seeing a white person all the time. It has been more refreshing to continue than I expected.

We've had to push ourselves on everyday. If I didn't lift my feet as I placed foot in front of foot up Afadjato, I would trip. I caught my toes on the rocks a few times as a result of not lifting my feet high enough as I walked. We couldn't shuffle through this internship either. Conversations have had to be intentional. Words have had to be carefully chosen so that these ESL people could understand us. Visits have had to be initiated and lesson plans have had to be carefully thought through. Malachi 1:7-9 talks about how we ought to offer our best to God. We have had to do things with excellence while here and we've had to offer everything to God, for we can do nothing of lasting value on our own. We couldn't pay attention to the sweat that was wetting our clothes, but we had to just keep going.

And then we reached the final sign, saying that we had reached the top of the highest mountain in Ghana. We broke through the forest and into the bright, hot sun and could only stand in awe of the breathtaking scene that we saw spread out before us. The mountain range was a depth of shades of green and the flat landscape that was the Volta Region swelled my heart with love for Ghana. We peered into Togo, another country, from the heights of Afadjato. We have peered into another culture during our time here in Ghana. The climb was incredibly worth it and the view was beyond words as we thanked God for His marvelous creation. The challenges of this internship, mingled with the many joys, have made this internship incredibly worth it. It is beyond words what we have experienced and learned and all we can do is thank God for every minute of it and for every breath we have taken of Ghanaian air.

A picture's more than a thousand words

Myself with Auntie Jo (left) and Auntie Julie (right) at their church.

After 17 hours and two packages of fake hair, I turned slightly more brunette and have a head of heavy hair.

This is Mardiatu, one of my favourite students. I took an individual picture with all of them so I can print them and give them a picture of us before I leave.

This was the hike for 882 m up Afadjato, the tallest mountain in Ghana. (Blog post on this weekend coming soon, Lord willing.)

Conquered the mountain and peering into Togo.

The kids loved this craft - decorating face masks! #kidsloveglue

Steph, Karen and I at Wli Falls, the tallest falls in West Africa (again, blog post to follow). Absolutely gorgeous!

Mama Vida, my most faithful student and such a hospitable, generous, caring woman.

Smiling - the universal language

Phew! We just arrived back in Asamankese after 10 days of gallivanting around this hot, African country. We snaked our way up to the north, going even as far as 7 km from the Burkina Faso border. The north of Ghana is not rainforest as it is where we are here; it is a legitimate African savannah and right now it is the dry season, making everything even hotter. Disclaimer:  I apologize in advance for how long this post will be...

The first stop in our journey was a community called "Hand in Hand" which is home to 80+ mentally and physically handicapped children and young adults. In Ghana it is traditionally believed that if a child is born with a disability, that child is from the devil and are more often than not abandoned. We had the opportunity to walk around with the children, play with them, watch them chase after the ball in a game of soccer and watch them splash around in the shallow pool that they enjoy spending time in everyday. There was one boy in particular that clung to my heart.

We first met Michael as he came crying up the path towards us and went directly into Karen's arms and soon pulled me into the hug as well. He then took my hand and lead me away from the group. I spent the next significant portion of time following him around the grounds as he viewed his world through the lens of my camera. I knew that God was smiling every time Michael dropped it and I carefully put the batteries back in and handed it to him again. God wasn't going to let my precious camera break when that innocent boy was having the time of his life taking pictures for possibly the first time ever. I couldn't help but smile. As we watched the soccer game, Michael climbed onto my back like a natural monkey and clung to me like a whirlwind was trying to sweep him away. He alternated between sitting on my back and climbing onto my front for a hug and to rest his head on my shoulder to watch the game. I had prayed that morning that God would help me to interact well with the kids as I am not always certain of what to do in the unpredictable moments with mentally disabled children. God confirmed to me again (as is becoming a theme this semester,) that smiling is the universal language. Smiling transcends every spoken language. It is accepted in every religion. The deaf can see it and the blind can feel it. I believe it was Mark Twain who said that "kindness is a language the deaf can hear and the blind see." I don't have to communicate verbally with those who speak Twi to let them know all is okay when I smile. The mentally disabled who can barely speak their first language, much less English, know that it is okay to come to us for hugs or to play when they see our smiles. Sometimes a smile is all you need show for people to know that you are welcoming and open to them. All it took was a smile for the children at Hand in Hand to come up to us and put their little hands into ours and entwine their hearts with our own.

During our stay at Hand in Hand we made a trip up to the Baoteng Monkey Sanctuary, walked through the forest with a guide and got to feed bananas to wild monkeys out of our hands! They were tentative to approach us at first but soon they were jumping up and clinging to our arms in their attempts to steal the remaining pieces of banana out of our hands. It was quite the entertaining experience, though smiling at the monkeys was not an efficient way to get them to approach us.

Continuing farther north, we hopped on a bus to take us four hours to Mole National Park. We had arrived too late to get a ticket with a seat number, so we had to stand as the bus bumped its way down the red dirt roads as the night closed in and the stars shone in all their brilliance. We were COVERED in dirt by the end of the ride; it looked like I had a beard and my backpack is still a slightly different colour than the original black. We tried to scrub the dirt off of us in the trickle of water that came from the shower that night and fell into bed in great anticipation for the next two days. In summary of those full days, we went on three safaris in the African savannah, two jeep safaris and one walking safari. We sat on the top of a safari jeep and held on as we drove carefully over bumps and rocks, through the running water of a river and across the tree-dotted grasses of the national park in search for elephants, my favourite animal. Since it is the dry season the elephants tend to move farther in, but we did manage to spot one, WAY in the distance, on our first jeep safari. I couldn't wipe the smile from my face all night. Up until that moment I didn't know that it was actually possible to tremble with joy, but as I gazed at a wild elephant in the African savannah from the top of a jeep and felt my wildest dreams become reality, I literally shook from being so happy and excited! The warthogs, Nile crocodiles, monkeys, baboons, vultures and various species of antelope were definitely amazing to see, but seeing a big elephant in its natural habitat was a definite highlight. I felt as though we were on the Discovery Channel the whole time we were at Mole.

Leaving Mole a few days later (on the bus that left at 4 o'clock in the morning and for which we received a wake up call at 3:15 am - oh joy), we went all the way up to Sirigu to an organization called SWOPA (Sirigu Women Organization for Pottery and Art) near the Burkina Faso border. Women in the small village of Sirigu used to walk 134 km with pottery and baskets on their heads to sell, so the organization was started to cut out the incredible walk that they would have to make in order to make money. During our stay we made a small basket in a basket weaving workshop (taking about 4-5 hours of getting stiff while sitting on the ground to complete), took a tour to see a traditional house in the area (which was very unique and symbolically decorated with paint and pictures of animals) and visited Mother of Mercy Babies Home. Many people believe that if a child's mother dies in childbirth, the baby is of the devil and is abandoned at birth. The Babies Home is home to 15 children in this situation, each with a caretaker, where they will stay and be looked after until the age of three when they will be reintegrated into their families and communities. The organization strives to change the mindset of the locals to show that these children are no different than any other. While we were there, smiles again became the primary means of communication and soon we had a third of the children living there holding our hands or reaching up to be carried and following us around on our tour, eager to show us their rooms and where they lived. Our guide fairly had to drag us away, saying that he knew we'd spend the whole day there otherwise. So very true. Although we couldn't communicate verbally with the children at all, our smiles, pointing to different things, playing little games and bouncing them on our laps was enough communication to let them know that they were noticed, that they are meant to have fun and play as children and that they are loved.

Taking an 11 hour bus ride from the north down to Pokuase (where we were taken care of by the incredibly hospitable Auntie Emma and Doc for the night/day) was long, but wonderful to see almost the entire country pass before our eyes in one day. We left the hot and dry savannah and entered into the side of the country with clouds and rain, the side that we are currently calling home. We have a limited amount of time left in Ghana and the next few weeks are packed with things that we need and want to do. Every day matters and we need to keep smiling as we go. Besides, joy is the fruit of the Spirit and we definitely have something to be joyful about in the death and resurrection of Jesus!