"Peter Bread"

Charlie writes:

The Ghanaians speak an English closer to British than American. A prominent feature for me coming from New Jersey is that the letter 'R' is rarely pronounced. Normally this is not a problem once you get used to it, but we found an interesting mis-transcription of our favorite Lebanese flatbread at the store this week. As you can see from the scan, what we would call "Pita Bread" is marketed here in Ghana as "Peter Bread!" which sounds the same to Ghanaian ears.

Raising Global Kids

Mary Kay writes…

Our children are growing up in a very different world than we parents did. The changes in travel, immigration patterns, communications, and the like have created a global environment. But how do we raise our children to succeed in this environment and to be aware of the differences around them? How do we teach them to understand and value that future co-worker who comes from halfway around the world?

Charlie and I both grew up in fairly homogeneous environments. Everyone was pretty similar to us – same language, same culture, same general values. Being different in my elementary school meant that you either had just moved into the neighborhood from somewhere else or you were one of the Jewish children (there were three in my grade). But by the time we were leaving our jobs to come on the mission field, we were working in a completely different environment. Charlie worked in one group at Lucent that had group members from the US, Nigeria, China, the Ukraine, and India. Throughout my consulting career, I worked with Indians, West and East Africans, a Jordanian, Eastern Europeans, Russians, Taiwanese, Koreans, and more, as co-workers, as subordinates, and as clients. Boy, had the world shrunk since my elementary school days!

I recently received a missions e-mail on raising global kids, which really got me thinking about this issue. What had we done, prior to moving overseas, to help prepare Chip and Ken for life in a global society? What were we doing now, and how was it different?

We always tried to raise our children’s awareness of global issues as they were growing up. Our first strategy was to send the boys to our local elementary school, Chesnut Charter School, where at the time we attended there were students from 26 different countries, speaking 13 languages in the home. We introduced them (OK, not so successfully for those of you who know how picky an eater Chip is) to foods from around the world. We had a globe and an atlas and we would look up places that we heard about on the news. Eventually, we hung a world map in our hallway and placed a dot in each place that we had friends living, so that we could see it and remember to pray for them. It was amazing how widespread our network was, even before we entered the mission world!

We also traveled, trying to show the boys other parts of the world. This started the process that landed us in Ghana – we came to visit friends who had moved here. Ostensibly we just wanted to show the boys another part of the world, a place very different from suburban Atlanta, but God had a different plan. We had no idea when we visited in 2002 that we would all fall in love with Ghana and her people, much less end up living here!

We moved our children overseas to Ghana 2 years ago when they were 15 and 12. It has been amazing to watch their transformation. We had always lived in a fairly multi-cultural environment. However, in looking back on it now, that was still an environment where all these children from all over the world were trying to become American (except on International Festival Day). The difference in being in a (no more diverse) international school is that everyone brings their own culture to the table. If I were looking at schools back in Atlanta now, I would definitely explore sending the children to an international (expatriate) school there, as a way of growing global kids.

The other thing that has really impacted us is listening to, watching, and reading non-US news media sources. With the internet and cable now, you can listen to or watch BBC, Al Jazeera, and other similar networks. It is very interesting to compare and contrast their reporting. Our local Ghana news TV station shows 30 mins each of CNN, BBC, and Al Jazeera each morning. It is eye-opening to watch the same news stories covered from three different angles. With older children such as ours, this has given us a real opportunity to discuss media bias and discernment when watching any single source. Other programs, like the BBC Africa radio call-in show “Africa Have Your Say” have been the basis for many interesting dinner table discussions on topics we would never have discussed in the US, such as the merits (?) of polygamy and the torture of female circumcision (try discussing that with teenage boys!). As with anything, we work to bring a Biblical perspective to these topics, but I daresay they would never have even surfaced in the US.

As we visited colleges this summer, one of the experiences most often promoted is the college semester abroad. These are great experiences for any of our young people, opening their eyes to new worlds! I really applaud those students who choose to go to the hard places like Africa and India, rather than just hanging out and having fun in Europe. But Chip had an interesting comment on this: “If my family lives in Africa and I am going to school in the US, are all my semesters considered semesters abroad?”

I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. 1 Cor 9:22 (NIV)

MUCG B-School Dress Code

Charlie writes:

The dean of the Methodist University College's Business School has posted this announcement regarding their take on appropriate dress at the University. Not sure if I will be expected to wear a tie when I am teaching classes with BBA/MBA students, but I've packed one in my office desk to be safe.

Having worked at United Parcel Service headquarters, I recall having been concerned that I dress according to the style expected of lecturers here. The Principal set my mind at rest, saying that there was no formal dress code at the school last year. I understand that the "casual Fridays" rule at UPS Headquarters may be extended to the non-summer months - it seems that in the US, dress codes have fallen into disfavor. During the 1970's when I worked at Chevrolet's Central Office, we were required to show up in suit and tie, but could park our suits in a closet in our office unless visiting customers/clients.

Another interesting aspect of the document is the use of a wide variety of fonts. The Ghanaian, once he masters the use of a computer to typeset documents, tends to go overboard with the idea of clip-art and weird fonts. This particular document had only one font family (Times Roman), but included three different sizes, bold, and ALL CAPS (which from my perspective seems like I am being yelled at). Not sure that the Ghanaians feel the same way, however.

Lord and Master

Mary Kay writes:

I am currently reading through a series of excerpted devotionals from Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest that deal specifically with missionary topics. The devotion I read today (September 22) is entitled “The Missionary’s Master”. Chambers talks about how poorly we understand the term Master. We tend to equate it with “boss” – someone to be obeyed. But the word means much, much more. As Chambers writes, “To have a master and to be mastered is not the same thing. To have a master means that there is one who knows me better than I know myself, one who is closer than a friend, one who fathoms the remotest abyss of my heart and satisfies it, one who has brought me into the secure sense that he has met and solved every perplexity and problem of my mind. …In the Bible obedience is based on the relationship of equals, that of a son with his father. Our Lord was not God's servant, He was His Son. "Though He were a Son, yet learned He obedience . . ."”

As I read this again, I am struck by how differently Ghanaians would interpret this than we Americans do. We take even the roles of father and son pretty lightly in our culture. So many want to be “friends”. The respect and absolute trust that obedience often requires is frequently missing, even in our parent/child relationships. Therefore, we see the son’s obedience to the father as optional – something the son does if he wants to.

Ghanaian sons would only at great personal peril (not physically perhaps, but relationally) disobey their father, or even their extended “fathers” – uncles, family friends, others in authority. Charlie and I were really struck by seeing a drama of the story of the prodigal son. At the end when the father tells the older brother to go join the party, the brother did! We had always just assumed that he stayed outside sulking – what many of our North American reactions would be. And at first, I thought that this better mirrored how God wants us to be in relationship with him. Not only obeying when we want to or it fits our agenda, but obeying always, without question.

But now as I write this and continue to ponder, I think that Ghanaians miss the mark too. For they often obey out of fear or cultural pressure. The father-son role is often very authoritarian and dictatorial. Again, though for different reasons, respect and absolute trust are missing.

I remember hearing someone (Max Lucado?) preach one time about being a father – and building that relationship of absolute trust. He told an anecdote of being in a situation where the child’s life was threatened by a poisonous snake just behind her feet. The father knew that if he told the child about the snake, she would freeze in fear and probably be bitten. But he also knew that if he just told her to slowly walk toward him, she would because she trusted him and would obey. After she was safe in his arms, he could tell her about the snake.

Oh that we could be the same – obedience to God not when we choose or desire it, and not out of fear, but out of total trust. Absolute trust that He knows what is best for us, even when we cannot see it.

"Ye call me Master and Lord: and ye say well; for so I am." John 13:13

Famous Last Words

Mary Kay writes:

The week of Pentecost, I was asked to preach the sermon at the Methodist University Chapel Service. My first reaction was, “I can’t do that – I’m not a preacher!” But a good missionary must be prepared to pray, preach, or die at the drop of a hat…. And I received three preaching invitations within two days, so it seemed clear that this is something God wants me to take on. Then I looked at the lectionary text for that week – talk about a “gimme”. I think any missionary anywhere could preach on the quintessential missionary Bible verse – Acts 1:8. Ironically, the text for one of the other preaching assignments was Matthew 28:19. So maybe this preaching stuff isn’t so hard after all! Here are some of my thoughts on Acts 1:8.

Imagine with me for a minute that you are one of the Disciples. Think back on the emotional roller coaster that you have been on over the last month and a half:

• 43 days ago, you watched your Teacher and Master brutally tortured and put to death on a cross. You then hid away in The Upper Room for fear that the authorities might come after you next!
• 40 days ago, you awoke to shouts from some of the women in your group that the tomb was empty. You may have even been in the group that ran to verify what the women were saying.
• Later that day, Cleopas comes running back to the Upper Room to tell you that he met Jesus on his way home to Emmaus.
• Since then, Jesus has visited your group several times – both in Jerusalem and in Galilee. When He sent you back to Galilee, you must have wondered whether that was the end, and you were being released back to your old life again. Were you one of the ones who returned to fishing?
• Your emotions have swung between the depths of despair and total elation. Jesus has been teaching again, but you have barely been able to take the lessons in, in the wonder that He has risen from the dead!
• And now He has disappeared again – taken up into the sky. You start to compare notes with the other disciples around you. What were those last words He said to us?

Last words are very important. I think about when I first started leaving our two boys at home by themselves. My last words were things like, “Don’t open the door to strangers.” Important commands that I wanted to make sure they obeyed – for their own safety and well-being. Or they were words like “I love you”, that I want them to carry with them always.

Or think about it like this – the forty days the Disciples had just been through were like Revisions Week. They had sat at the Teacher’s feet for three years, taking in His teachings, watching Him perform miracles, seeing how He interacted with a hurting world. Now, it was almost time to write the examination. So for a final few days, the Disciples are given the chance to once more sit at Jesus’ feet and prepare for the upcoming exams. When you sit with a Lecturer during Revisions Week, if they tell you to pay attention to a particular concept, you can be certain it will show up on the exam!

So what did Jesus think the Disciples needed to know for the exam? What were Jesus’ last instructions to the Disciples and by extension to us? While they differ slightly in the details, each of the four Gospel writers record the same final instructions – “Go and tell everyone about me.”

The big question for me is how do I live this out on a daily basis – whether here in Ghana, or at home in Atlanta, or traveling to some other destination?

“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. Acts 1:8.

Optical Fiber Deja Vu

Charlie writes:

Thursday afternoon, I walked over to the Lartebiokorshie campus of Regent University to listen to Prof. Steve Squyres of Cornell speak on the Mars Rover expedition. Turns out his elder daughter is visiting Ghana while a student at NYU, and one of the Rover drivers is a Ghanaian in the diaspora who was a classmate of a lecturer at Regent. A great talk, followed by some inspirational comments made by the provost and president of the college to the effect that with "Spirit" and "Opportunity" you can achieve anything you set your mind to. Dr. Squyres let me have a copy of his presentation which I shared with Chip and Ken that evening.

On my way over, I passed an unusual scene - dozens of Ghanaian men working with picks and shovels, digging a four-foot deep trench all along the road, preparing to bury a fiber optic line for MTN, the multinational African telco that sponsored the recently completed Africa Cup of Nations 2008 soccer tourney in Ghana.

The contrast of seeing people selling used clothing, tropical fruits, and repairing appliances adjacent to a high-tech telecom installation was jarring. You have the open gutters clogged with water sachets and rotting peels, dirt and dust. And of course, all the PVC water and drain pipes which were chopped open by the workers and then patched back up. Reminded me of the time BellSouth was trying to lay fiber in our Briers North neighborhood back in Atlanta, and they seemed to hit water and gas lines even with them supposedly being marked ahead. The idea of marking such lines in Ghana is ludicrous to even consider.

Having worked in a factory where we made such cables, I tried to see what brand they were pulling, but was not able to make it out.

After the stories in the newspapers about the Electric Company of Ghana not being able to keep copper cables in stock (they are stolen from locked storage areas and hocked for the copper inside!), I was interested to see what techniques MTN would use to keep people from stealing their fiber cables.

As you can see, they worked it from both ends: HIGH POWER LASER INSIDE-- DOES NOT CONTAIN COPPER.

Life In Ghana

Ken wrote the following haikus for a recent English assignment. We thought they gave a good picture of life in Ghana, so we asked him if we could share them with you. As I post this, the roosters in the neighborhood are going nuts! The photo is Ken in 2005.

Power Out

The night has begun.
Our microwave won’t start up.
It is power out.

Morning

The morning cock crows
As the sunlight fills the house.
Ghana’s life returns.

Rat

Coming out at night,
The rat skitters through the roof;
It eats all our food.

Me

No attention span,
I start daydreaming in class.
I get in trouble.

Akokɔhene
(Chicken King)

The royal cock crows.
His fiery crown stands up as
He struts proudly by.

copyright 2007 Ken Jackson

Daughters of the King

Mary Kay writes...

I went to a crusade in the village of Kushibu, about an hour outside of Tamale, last night. I met a wonderful mission team from Heritage Christian Academy in Dallas, TX, at the guest house where I was staying, and they invited me to join them for the evening.

It was the usual stuff of village crusades – singing, dancing, praying, and preaching the Gospel. The entire village will turn out for something like this – but then again, what else is there to do on a given Wednesday night in a village in the middle of nowhere? The children all gather around, wanting to touch us, greet us, and practice their few words of English – which in this village seemed to be limited to “my brother.” I tried to teach them “my sister” or “sistah” as a Ghanaian would pronounce it. But since my Dagbani is at least as limited as their English, it was a lost cause.

During the sermon, which was entirely in Dagbani, I found myself watching the mothers of the village, who were standing across the circle from me. My heart feels such a bond with these women. But tonight, I found myself wondering whether we were more alike or more different.

I’ve always focused on the similarities before. They marry, have children, care for their families. They cook and clean and work to help support them. They love their children and try to raise them to become productive and respected members of society. They want the best for their children. I observed all this as I watched mothers quiet children who were noisy or restless. And as the hour grew late, every so often a mother would get up, gather her sleepy preschoolers, and take them home to bed.

But then I was hit by the differences. The women my age are grandmothers, if they have survived this long, and have given birth to 6, 8, even 10 or more children. They look more like they are in their sixties or seventies, than their mid-forties. And I don’t have to watch my children run around half-clothed in rags (well, except for Chip’s fashionably torn jeans!). I won’t hear their cries as they go to bed with empty stomachs (again!) because the rains have not come and the crops are failing. I don’t have to worry that the next mosquito bite will be the one that brings my child a fatal case of malaria. I can turn on the tap, rather than worry about where I will go to find water for my family, or about whether the water I and my daughters fetch will make us sick, or about what might happen to my daughter as she goes to fetch water or search for firewood. Most of these women cannot read and write. Most will never travel further than Tamale, while I am typing this into my laptop on a plane bound for Europe.

And yet, we are all daughters of the King. God loves each of us passionately. He calls us His “beloved, beautiful and precious in [His] sight” (Isaiah 43:4). Jesus cares about each of us individually and wants to know us personally. He wants to share in our joys and our sorrows, to comfort us in our fears, to give us hope for a better tomorrow. But many of these village women may never know that they have a wonderful inheritance, theirs for the asking.

I pray that I never become complacent or self-satisfied. I want an ever-burning passion to share Jesus’ love with my sisters – in Kushibu, in Dansoman, in Dunwoody – wherever I meet them. I pray that God will use the bonds that we share to bridge the gaps, whether cultural, language, or lifestyle, that divide us.

He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; He gently leads those that have young. [Isaiah 40:11]

All Creatures Great And Small, Part 2

Mary Kay writes...

For the last six weeks or so, we have had a visitor living with us. Not someone we invited in, by any means!

Our awareness of our house guest started when we heard scurrying in the ceiling. At first, I would only hear this during the day time. Later on, our friend would wake us up in the night, racing around our bedroom ceiling. Fortunately, it is solid wood, so I didn’t think he would fall through on us! We decided that we had mice, and hoped the racing was one of the neighbor cats coming over and chasing them. This seemed to be the case, as one morning I awoke to see a small mouse crawling across our bedroom window sill. Needless to say, I woke Charlie up and left the room! But the mouse got away.

Then, he started to take greater advantage of our hospitality. One morning I walked in, and a large bite had been taken out of a banana sitting in our fruit bowl. That seemed odd, as I didn’t think mice ate bananas, but maybe they are different here. We got some poisoned grain and scattered that around the kitchen hoping to get rid of our friend. We even put some on a banana, hoping that would attract him. But our guest was smarter than that, and not fooled in the least by the grain or the banana. Would Snow White have eaten it if the witch had offered a poison banana instead of an apple?

Things soon escalated. I went into a cabinet one morning to get a new carton of milk, and found that our visitor had chewed a hole in the side of one of the milk cartons. There was milk everywhere. In addition, he had eaten one entire container of shelf-stable yogurt also in the cabinet. This was an all-out declaration of war!

The next night, we put out poisoned yogurt in the cabinet. Once again, our friend didn’t touch that – instead he went for the cartons of fruit juice! And this time, not just one. Four cartons of juice were punctured and had to be thrown away. What kind of creature is this that is eating fruit and milk, not bread and grains? Do we have a bat or something?

Last week, Chip went into the kitchen at lunch to put his uneaten pizza away. Opening a drawer to get a plastic bag, he shrieked and ran out of the kitchen. For sitting in the drawer was our house guest – a huge, 8-inch plus tail, rat! Chip says the photo bears a good resemblance to our furry friend, but is not nearly ferocious enough. The kids and I ran out of the house, and sent in the security man, our driver, our housekeeper and Charlie to try and catch it. After about thirty minutes of chasing it around the kitchen, the rat got away. We put out more poisoned yogurt and grain, hoping to finally kill it.

We haven’t seen our “friend” any more, but he is getting the last laugh. Apparently, he finally went for the poison, but chose to die behind the cabinets (or maybe under the washing machine?). Because now we can smell our late guest.

“How many are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. Psalm 104:24

All Creatures Great And Small, Part 1

Mary Kay writes...

One of the great things about living in Africa is the chance to see a different part of God’s creation.

I always enjoyed watching wildlife in the U.S. As a little girl, on our summer vacations in the Hill Country of Texas, my family, my grandparents and I would pile into the back of my grandfather’s pick-up each sunset and go for a drive. The purpose was to see how many deer we could count each evening, as they came out to graze. Some nights we would see over 100 during the 30 minutes or so we were out!

Later, as a Mom, the boys and I would laugh as we watched the squirrels play outside our kitchen window, and we would put out bird seed in our feeder to attract all sorts of birds. Occasionally, a rabbit would show up in our backyard (before we got a dog!). And for one brief period of about a month, there was a beautiful red fox that we would spot in the neighborhood as we walked to the bus stop.

But here in Ghana, wildlife watching has gone to a whole new level! When we first arrived in Accra, we were surprised to see so many chickens running loose, but now we are accustomed to spotting a good variety of animals in our urban neighborhood. There are goats, cows, and sheep, often with their herders nowhere obviously nearby. On the grassy area of the roundabout by our church here, a pair of tan donkeys have shown up, and a horse joins them sometimes, calmly grazing while watching the tro-tros and taxis speed by.

Last Christmas, when we traveled to the Volta Region, we were able to visit the village of Tafi Atome. Here, the traditional religion worshipped the local mona monkeys as messengers from the gods. Christianity almost wiped out the monkey population, as taboos were lifted and monkeys were killed because they represented the old ways. Fortunately, ecologists stepped in and were able to show the villagers how the monkeys could be saved and eco-tourism could improve their economy. Human visitors arrive each morning and evening to watch the monkeys, who now sleep safely close to the village. We were even able to feed them bananas – the monkeys would come right up to us and take the fruit from our hands!

But not all the wildlife is so innocent! In June, I took a bus to Wa to watch a borehole being drilled. At one stop, I looked down from my window at a man who was calling out loudly on the sidewalk, selling something. Movement on his hat caught my eye, and I looked closer: live scorpions! Imagine my discomfort when, as the bus was preparing to depart, he stepped on! Yikes! What if these critters got loose on our very crowded bus? It turned out he was selling bush medicines – herbs and barks to treat all sorts of ailments – including scorpion stings. He gave his sales pitch in both Wali and English for the benefit of the “oboruni” (foreigners) on board. He was very entertaining, reminding me of the patent medicine sellers in movies about the American West. But I never took my eyes off those scorpions!

“All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small…the Lord God made them all.”

Dancing For Joy

Mary Kay writes...

Last weekend, I went to Lawra to watch a borehole being drilled. The water is for the Lawra Integrated Health Project, run by the Methodist Church Ghana. This program started as a nutrition and feeding center for malnourished children and pregnant/nursing mothers. As the program grew, and those in charge could see the needs around them, a general health care clinic was started, then an HIV/AIDS clinic and counseling center, and finally an orphanage. While the program has been in operation for many years, they have never had a reliable source of potable water.

When I first visited in March, the clinic staff was fetching water from the river. They did have one connection to city water, but this was a problem because they never knew when the water would be turned on and for how long. Some days, the city water flowed only 10 minutes for them, some days not at all. (One of my US water engineering magazines recently carried an pipe manufacturer’s advertisement featuring a dry faucet with the headline “What if you turned on the tap and nothing came out?” This reminded us just how crazy that would have seemed just last year, while it is very much part of our life here in Africa.)

A group of churches in Georgia, with a heart for Ghana and the orphans at Lawra, generously raised the $6700 needed to drill a borehole for the clinic. I arranged for a driller to put in the borehole, and last weekend, it was installed. The borehole is 63 meters deep and is producing 36 liters of water per minute. This will be enough to serve all the clinic’s needs for years to come. Praise God for his provision of water!

I was privileged to be present for part of the drilling and installation of the borehole, though I was not able to be there the entire time. Seeing the joy on everyone’s face as the well was going in was wonderful.

The children were so cute. The clinic staff had set up a bench where the children could watch, but be out of harm’s way. They sat there, fascinated, for two days watching their borehole being drilled. Big grins were on all their faces!

The best part was the dancing, though. The diesel engine on the drill rig had a definite rhythm to it, not unlike the native drums these children are used to hearing. So, at one point, they got up and danced! Danced for joy at the gift of water – hope for the future. And Marjorie, the clinic’s director, and I danced, too. It was a moment of grace and joy in the midst of struggles and adversity.

“Sing to the Lord a new song…Let them praise His Name with dancing and make music to Him with tambourine and harp.” Psalm 149:1,3

A Servant’s Heart

Painting from the Jesus Mafa project. See http://www.jesusmafa.com for more information.

Mary Kay writes...

On Maundy Thursday, I sat in church for the services. I was by myself, as Charlie had a class to teach and the boys had homework. So I was the only white person in the congregation of several hundred. I had taken a seat near the back, rather than our usual seat up front, in an effort to be a little less conspicuous (yeah, right!).

About ten minutes into the service, one of the church leaders came over to me and said that the Reverend Minister (senior pastor) was wondering if I would be willing to take part in the foot washing that would occur later in the service. One of the things that we were taught in our missionary training was that a good missionary should be ready to preach or pray at a moment’s notice. So of course, I agreed to help out. The woman led me to the front of the church to sit with other church leaders.

As I sat through the next part of the service, my mind kept wandering. I had participated in foot washings back home, but only in small groups, never in a large gathering like this. Of course, this was my first Easter in Ghana, so I had no idea what to expect. Would we wash the entire congregation’s feet? That could take quite some time. And Ghanaian feet are not like American feet. Since Ghanaians usually wear flip flops or sandals, or even go barefoot, their feet are much dustier and more calloused than most Americans. More like the disciples’ feet would have been at the Last Supper. But God has called me to serve these people, and I will gladly wash their feet. Was there a hint of pride that I would be so chosen? Yes.

Then came time for the foot washing. Basins of water and towels were carried to the altar and chairs set up. We were called forward. But I was being directed to sit in one of the chairs. What was going on? Was the minister going to wash my feet? Surely not – I was here to serve them, not the other way around. But that was exactly what happened. Four persons, three leaders of various church groups and I, were called up front and the ministers washed our feet in front of the rest of the congregation.

At first, I felt uncomfortable being served, rather than serving. But then it dawned on me – my reaction was just like that of Peter’s that first night. “No, Lord, you shall never was my feet!” [John 13:8]. And Jesus’ answer is still the same today as it was 2000 years ago. “Unless I wash you, you have no part with Me.” I went back to my seat humbled.

It is so easy to focus on the end of the passage about Jesus washing the disciples’ feet. Jesus did instruct the disciples to wash one another’s feet, to have a servant’s heart. As a North American, I tend to jump to the end, focus on the action, put this task on my “To Do” list, and later check it off. But first, I must be served. I must allow myself to be humble and vulnerable, so that Jesus can wash my feet. Then I will have a part with Him.

“Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” Psalm 46:10

Bumpy Roads and Blessings

Mary Kay writes...

I just got back this morning from Wa in the far north-western corner of the country. It was a great trip and a wonderful time of fellowship and ministry, followed by a gruesome 16 hour bus ride.

Charlie and I drove to Wenchi last week (about an 8-hour drive) to participate in the dedication of the new Agricultural campus for the University. It was a wonderful ceremony, and a great chance for us to realize just how many people we have gotten to know here! While we were in Wenchi, we went by and presented a monetary gift from the Mission Society missionaries to the Wenchi bishop, whose parsonage burned to the ground last month! He had been studying simplicity, and has a great attitude about the whole thing - that God really wanted him to get this message about "stuff". Fortunately, he and his wife were out of the house at the time, so there were no injuries, etc.

Charlie and I also learned about cashews. We are all familiar with the nut. But the yellow fruit of the cashew is edible too. It is shaped like a small bell pepper, but very sweet and juicy.

John Russell, another of our missionary team, picked me up in Wenchi and drove me to his home in Wa, another 5 hours north of Wenchi. There I stayed with their family, including their 7 year old son and 3 year old daughter. It was a lot of fun and good fellowship - especially for Bess to have another adult to talk to, but it made me appreciate how grown up my boys are now! I did enjoy reading Dr. Seuss again, though.

Sunday, we went to worship in the village of Kongu - under one of the trees, as their church building is not yet complete. This is a village church that John and Bess planted about 5 months ago, and it is thriving! They only have the Gospel of Luke in their language of Dagare right now, though the Catholics are finishing up some other books which will be released soon. It was great to see how hungry they were for the Gospel and for worship!

Monday, John, his assistant, and I drove to Lawra, about 2 hours north of Wa in the very northwestern corner of Ghana, to visit the Methodist Integrated Health Project there. They have a nutrition center, clinic, orphanage, and HIV/Aids center - and not enough water, which is why I went. After looking over the situation and talking to leaders in the town, I think we will be able to put a new borehole on their campus to alleviate their chronic water shortages. Some of their buildings are on the town's water system, but there just isn't enough water for all their needs, especially the vegetable and moringa plot for nutrition supplementation. I am really excited about being able to help, and I think this will be a good first project.

We returned to Wa on Monday afternoon to find that the Wa pastor's wife, Gifty, who I had met on Saturday, had been admitted to the hospital on Sunday evening with severe burns on her arms, lower legs, and to a lesser degree on her face. She had been cooking in a gas oven and the flame went out. When she went to relight the oven, the built-up gas flared and burned her badly. To make matters worse, this is the week that her husband is being installed as the Superintending minister (a little like a DS) in Wa, with festivities and lots of visitors, family, etc. coming to town. Of course Gifty hates that she will miss it all - but the women of the church are stepping up to take over her hostess duties. She should be released from the hospital today or tomorrow, but of course, the healing will take a long time. Please pray that she heals rapidly and that infection does not set in!

Tuesday, I was supposed to return to Accra, but on Monday, we had heard that the American Ambassador was coming to Wa on Wednesday to meet with Pastor Amos (Gifty's husband) about a water project for one of his village churches. We decided it would be a good idea for me to stay for this, so my bus ticket was changed to Thursday. Then we found out that the visit was delayed until at least Friday...by which time it was too late to catch the Tuesday bus (service is only on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday). Oh well, it really was great to spend additional time with the Russells. I was also able to bring some letters and other items back to Accra for Marjorie, the Lawra clinic manager, which gave us more opportunity to build our new relationship. And it gave me a day to shop for a smock for Charlie (Wa is known for this type of weaving), as well as some down time.

So that brings us to Thursday and my big bus adventure. There is a song from one of the kids' favorite cartoons (Arnold) about "Riding on the Crazy Bus" - well now I've done it!! The bus was supposed to be an air-conditioned motorcoach (greyhound type), and was rumored to show movies (Nigerian soap opera type) for most of the trip. Well - it was a bus, but that was about all the similarities! The usual bus needed repairs, so we got an un-airconditioned, no frills bus, similar in comfort level to a typical city bus - except that the shocks were really bad, so it felt more like you were riding in a school bus. Fortunately, the children on the bus were all very quiet - there was the real potential for screaming babies on this one. The only noisy person was the guy sitting across the aisle and one row behind me, who decided he had to "entertain" the only foreigner on the bus. He started by telling me not to think that all of Ghana was like this, as we were bumping over the three-hour section of dirt road. I told him I knew it wasn't because I lived here, and that I was used to the bumpy roads. So then he decided he had to give me language lessons - not in Twi, since I already know some, but in Ga and Ewe at the same time. Finally a couple of the other passengers got him to leave me alone, so the rest of the trip was pretty quiet. But every hour or so, the bus would just quit working - kind of stall out. So I just kept praying that each time it would start again - and it did. Whew! So we left Wa at about 2:30 yesterday afternoon and arrived here in Accra at 5:45 this morning! What an adventure! Our driver picked me up at the station (where he had been waiting for me since 3 am when the bus was supposed to arrive), and we got home just in time to send the boys off to school.

Walk In The Light

Chip writes:

At New Year's, the Elim Youth Group went on a three day retreat at the beach. The first night our speaker was talking about breaking the chains that keep us away from God. She used the parable of the wheat seed found in John 12:24-25:

“I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

Only when the seed is broken can it grow into a plant and produce abundant fruit.

Afterwards, I was praying with God about letting go of my chains, and He gave me this vision:

When God made us in our mother’s womb, just like Adam we are just a corpse that can’t do anything until God breathes life into us. In doing so, He puts a ball of light inside us that is His spirit. We try to fill up the emptiness between our outer shell and the light with earthly things and lies that the Devil tells us about ourselves. Those things are like dirt that forms a crust around the ball of light. But, when we have even just a mustard seed of faith and we throw it at the crust, it cracks the crust so God’s light can shine through. This light then consumes all of the dirt inside of us and consumes us until it begins to flow through every orifice in our body and then out our very pores. This light then encourages others to take that step of faith and become more like Christ.

Christmas in Ghana

Mary Kay writes:

I am struck by the things that are the same about Christmas, amid the many differences.

The first thing we've noticed is the weather. While temperatures are dropping in Georgia, and days get shorter and shorter, here in Ghana it is actually getting warmer, with our highs in the 90s. The air is full of dust as the winds blow south from the Sahara, bringing harmattan. And the days are the same length year round, as we are on the equator.

But the stores are full of Christmas goodies - toys for the children, electronics for dad, jewelry and perfume for mom. Christmas ornaments, gift wrap and garlands of tinsel in every color imaginable are available amid the vegetable stalls in my local market. Christmas carols play on the radio and in the stores. The boys had a holiday concert at the school last night, and we will go to a service of Lessons and Carols at our local Methodist church next Sunday.

The church is decked out in purple altar cloth for Advent, but there is no Advent wreath to be lit, no Advent hymns that we have sung as yet. I find I miss the thoughtful strains of "Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel".

Many of our family traditions remain the same. We still light our Advent wreath, which had been carefully packed in tissue and bubble wrap to make the move, each evening and read a Christmas story as a family. We no longer sit by the fireplace, sipping hot chocolate, but that seems to be OK. Treasures ornaments made by little hands in numerous preschool and Sunday School classes still adorn our tree. We won't be able to drive up to Lake Lanier on Christmas Night for the Christmas lights, but we will have the chance to go explore a new part of Ghana during the break between Christmas and New Year's when Charlie's classes are out and the boys are on winter break. And my mother has sent us a jigsaw puzzle - a family tradition to set out and work over the holidays. We just will be watching soccer matches instead of bowl games while we work it. And the biggest difference is that Gramma and Grampa won't be here (this year, at least!) to work it with us.

Our nativity scene, which we have put out on the bookshelf where we hung our stockings (no mantel here!), was carved here in Ghana of local mahogany. The characters of the traditional story take on a new meaning for us, as we see the Wise Men are carrying the traditional symbols of an Ashanti king - a staff for the spokesman for the king, a machete for the body guard, and a calabash for the water bearer. And the shepherds look like Ghanaian goatherds from the north of the country. But the baby Jesus lying in the manger, is the same Jesus we wait for in the US.

So is Christmas different here in Ghana? Yes....but No. For at its heart, Christmas is about celebrating God's incredible gift to us in the birth of His son, Jesus. And that is why we are here in Ghana.

Bits and Pieces from December

Charlie writes...

Mary Kay has joined Andrew Jernighan on a trip out to the Lake house that he is preparing for their arrival. They have a bore hole there, but no pump. And before you order a pump, you have to discover the "recharge rate" of the hole. While the state Water and Sanitation agency that drilled the well is supposed to be able to tell you that, we're not taking chances, as the Jernighans have two little kids, and Mary Kay wants them to have reliable water. The Lake is south of Kumasi, and was formed in the crater left by a prehistoric meteorite impact. It is the largest natural lake in the country, with a good fisheries industry on it, although as Andrew says, "we are two hours from anywhere." Mary Kay took Ken along, so it is just me and Chip holding the home fort. He has been busy working on his IB Junior Project - where he is drawing plans of our house here and then speculating on the features and why they are different than in houses in the states, to be followed by interviews with Ghanaians who know something of architecture to validate his inferences. He's really enjoyed the drafting - reminds me of my drafting class at Westfield High.

The music director at the college died in early October, and Mary Kay and I went to the funeral, our first one in Ghana. We had the boys stay home, and then had Jasper take them over for youth group in East Legon, then on to the Mozleys until we could come pick them up. The staff got to ride in the new MUCG 15-passenger bus, and the students rode in the GET-Fund big bus. The service went on and on, and as the only white people present, the usher made sure that we were seated prominently near the front (which was pretty embarrassing, as I did not really know the man, and was going as a support to the University and to see a funeral). We went out to the gravesite and then after singing some hymns, adjourned to one of four different receptions - this one at the MUCG Registrar's home, which is also in Winneba. He had been the registrar at Winneba's school of Education before retiring and then joining MUCG. He has a very nice home, and again we were treated like royalty - one of the few times since I've been here that we had time to converse with the principal. I think it also was the first time we had met his wife.

My exam is scheduled for January 15 - the evening class will have to come in to take it at the same time as the day class - exam security is a big deal in Ghana. The paper has had "Wall of Shame" photos of people who obtained admission to Legon, the state University that we are working under, under false pretenses and were now being publicly shamed and banished from university here for two years. There are also seasons where exam cheaters are expelled with similar publicity. Rather sobering...

Lincoln had a nice Christmas program with multiple choirs and music ensembles. Chip played African drums and the American drum set, and Ken played clarinet, and they both sang. The music people did a great job of pulling it off, since they had kids from pre-school all the way through high school in one program!

The college had a "Lessons and Carols" service last Wednesday - ad- vertised to begin at 5 p.m., so we were there to an empty house at 5:05, thinking we would be late! Shortly after, we started to see some of the choristers coming for their rehearsal, and things began to happen at 6:15. Program began at 6:30, continued until 9:30, and since we had not yet had dinner, we were starved. They did the usual readings - from Genesis, Prophets, and Gospels, and there were four different choirs there - "Mass choir" which is open to all at the University, the University Chorus which provides music at the Wed. morning worship services, the Mt. Olivet Methodist Church choir, and the Dansoman Youth Choir, some of which have members in common. Of course, it turned into what Chip would have called "Battle of the Bands" - but we did hear music ranging from calypso to Handel's Messiah excerpts, local African music, and Methodist hymns. There were even Methodist Christmas Hymns that I had never heard, out of the British tradition, I suppose.

Notes from November 06

Charlie writes...

We are keeping busy with the logistics of life here. Traffic is horrendous, as the roads are in poor condition, and cars, taxis and tro-tros (15-20 passenger vans that function as an unofficial bus service) frequently block each other and cause gridlock. This and the lack of restaurants in our part of town are our biggest complaints. So, really we don’t have it so bad. We are doing pretty well in our language lessons. We can make simple sentences describing activities or a picture, and hold some basic conversations. I get more practice with the women in the market than Charlie does at the university.

The boys have plugged right in to their school. Chip is in the school play this next week, with two smaller roles in Oedipus Rex. He is also enjoying playing goalie for the JV soccer team. Ken is his usual carefree self, and enjoying after school activities like karate and chess. They both had good reports on their mid-semester report cards, some room for improvement, but that’s to be expected!

Charlie is teaching two sections of Freshman Math for IT students, a Discrete Math course. He has a day session with about 40 true freshman, and an evening session with 9 “mature” students. He really is enjoying it, especially when he sees that they understand what he is teaching or when they get engaged enough to really start asking him questions. Please pray for him and his students as they will be having mid-term exams this week and next, and Charlie has to prepare his final in the next couple of weeks as well. One of the other things that we are really enjoying is the Wednesday morning worship service at the University, which we both attend. The chaplain draws from a wide variety of speakers, both on and off campus, and the choir is terrific!

I have had two meetings with the Methodist Church Ghana, starting the groundwork for future water projects. I am looking forward to getting to know the Ghanaian civil engineer that they have hired as a consultant. He will be a great resource for me as I try to learn about the practice of engineering in Ghana. I will participate in a Dry Farming workshop on November 21^st. We want to educate farmers to work together to put in wells near their fields so that they can irrigate crops and increase their yields. We will be sharing a number of technologies with them that day, including a treadle pump and clay pot water filters for drinking water. I will also attend a conference on Rural Water and Sanitation that is being held in Accra the last week in November. So keep me in your prayers as my schedule picks up.

We’ve started to look for a vehicle to purchase. Right now we are borrowing a car from friends on furlough, but they will come back after Christmas. This seems to be a very complicated process here. We found one used Pathfinder that seemed like a pretty reasonable deal, but then were advised by several friends not to buy a used car in Africa, as you never know what you are getting and vehicles are often poorly maintained here. So we will start looking at new cars next week, but of course that has budget issues. We have been blessed to find a terrific driver, Jasper, who helps with getting the boys to and from school. He worked at one time for a German organization that was involved in water projects, so he is knowledgeable in that area, too. He has been a big help to Charlie as they have looked for a car together.

We’re attending church at Mt. Olivet Methodist Society, here in Dansoman. It is a truly Ghanaian church, probably about the size of DUMC. It has an English service at 7:30 am, that we attend for the boys’ sake. Several other lecturers from the university are members there, as well. It has an interesting mix of traditional and contemporary worship in the services, which last 2 to 2-1/2 hours each.

MUIT 101 Daytime, MUCG Prayer Service, Trip to the Post Office

Charlie writes...

It was a busy day today. I joined the boys and Jasper as they left this morning for school, and they dropped me at the college. Ken was greeted by his namesake and Jasper's brother, who is now watchman/guard on the campus. Kennedy had been our night watchman at the house when we first arrived, and introduced us to Jasper. I spent some time reading Romans in "The Message" before some of the IT freshmen came by to ask about where MUIT 101 was to be taught. Together, we scoped out a room on the ground floor that seemed about the right size. There are about 40 freshmen in the IT group, eight of whom are female. The evening students are older, and numbered 9, all male.

The day students are mostly fresh graduates of the SSS (senior secondary schools, comparable to a high school in the US), and seemed alert and ready, even though the class ran from 8:30 to 10:30, which would have been VERY early and long for me as an undergraduate. I outlined the differences between what freshman IT majors would learn in their math class and what the other majors would be studying. The polynomials, equations of lines, trigonometry, and exponentials/logarithms of the rest of the school are replaced with "discrete math" which includes topics like Number Theory, propositions and proofs (via induction, cases, contradiction), Trees, Networks, Graphs, Counting, and Recursion.

After class, I chatted with the master groundskeeper/landscape architect on the campus, who was supervising a crew of 6 men hacking away at the elephant grass lining the main dirt road leading to the campus. The principal had requested that bermuda grass be planted for a more finished look, but the landscaper again commented on the very tight budget he must work within. He also indicated that water for irrigation may be a problem, since the water pressure on campus is not great. Perhaps Mary Kay will have a water project in our own backyard!

The chaplain's office had put up flyers announcing the first weekly worship service on campus, and Mary Kay came over to join me. We sat in the front with the other lecturers and academic officers. A lecturer in psychology who is a Prebyterian minister gave the homily, and lead the congregation in a prayer session following. Using texts ranging from Genesis to Jeremiah, he tried to impress upon everyone that we should be confident in pursuing our goals which honor God, and not be afraid or distracted. There were several hymns sung from a book excerpted from the MHB (Methodist Hymn Book), most of which we were familiar with, even using the tunes we remembered from the US. It seems that almost half of the hymns we sing at Mt. Olivet Methodist are familiar words but sung to different tunes than we are used to.

The college receptionist gave us a notice from the Ghana Post Office that reported the arrival of a package from my sister two weeks ago. We checked at our local PO, but they directed us to the Accra Central PO for pickup. Jasper stayed with the car, while I queued at the main window. The clerk there told me I was at the wrong place, and so we ended up circling the block to park inside the main post office courtyard. We were then directed to walk around the outside again to another entrance. We saw a long line of people queued for outbound shipments, but then a number of windows for pickup. Our form had a red '7' marked on the top, which we then found out indicated the window which we were to use in claiming the Parcel Post. We had been instructed to present ID in the form of a Ghanaian passport and driver's license, so I had brought along a scan of my US passport and the International Driver's Permit and my Georgia license. The clerk joked that people from the US have too many IDs. She took the passport copy and made note of my Georgia license number on her paperwork, then went behind to fetch the parcel. Then the customs lady had us open the parcel in front of her, then announced that based on the contents, I would have to pay 47 thousand cedis duty. Being familiar with the habit here of quoting a price down to the cedi and then collecting much more without returning change, I had brought along smaller bills. I paid 47 thousand with two twenties, a five, and two fresh one thousand bills. This made quite an impresson on both of them, as they assume that an obruni (white man) will pay with big bills, and they can pocket the change. Then I was asked questions about what I was doing in Ghana, and once they found out I was teaching at Methodist University College, the customs lady said she had a relative she wanted to get into college, and the post lady said she had a ward who she wanted to get into the Wesley Grammar School on the opposite side of the property. I had to beg off, saying I didn't know the folks at Wesley Grammar. All in all, a rather complicated exercise. Upon exiting, the gate keeper asked Jasper to pop the back trunk for an inspection, which seemed a bit gratuitous. Having packages delivered is obviously much more complicated than flats, which seem to make it more easily, although still at a cost of nearly $20 each.

7th Grade First Day

Ken writes...

7th Grade First Day


Fall of 2006 has come.
I feel my left leg going numb.
It's my first day at this school.
This makes me feel like a fool.
2nd period....
time for French.
My mother said,
"It's a cinch!"
What's that? I don't understand.
I feel like I'm in a foreign land.
It's time for lunch!
Munch! Munch! Munch!
Next stop Math!
There's no path
Between the 10th graders.
I slip,
I trip,
I do a flip
In the giant crowd!
I want to sleep in the shade
On the first day of 7th grade.