Your True Love Has Produced Real Testimonies

written by Mary Kay and Pastor Peter Awane

We don't always get to see the words of Scripture come to life, but in the past month, I have seen the message of 2 Corinthians 9 play out in a very real and amazing way.

Pastor Peter Awane and his family

Friends of mine have been helping a local pastor, Peter Awane, in Zuarungu, near Bolgatanga. Peter has been a believer for more than 25 years. He spent 18 years translating the Old Testament into his native FraFra language, and in 2008 the first copies of the FraFra Old Testament were placed in the hands of the people.  Pastor Peter has a great vision for transforming his community through the power of the Holy Spirit.  Peter has a 5-acre plot of land in Zuarungu where he is centering his ministries, which include a Christian radio station, a church and school for children of prostitutes and HIV/AIDS patients.  He has plans to build a middle school and high school, including dormitories and a skills training center for students and women in the community.

The Primary School at Peter's ministry complex

My friends are helping to raise funds for the construction of Peter’s school buildings.  They knew he needed water but weren’t sure what to do about it.  But one remembered that I did water projects and pulled me in to help.  I agreed to see what I could do, and finally met with Peter over Easter weekend to see his ministry and assess the need.  Through the generosity of Living Word UMC, a church in St. Louis committed to providing water in communities in the Upper East through The Ghana Project, I committed to provide the borehole, electric pump, tanks and piping that are needed for a ministry complex of the size Peter dreams of.  In mid-May, the borehole was drilled, but much to our disappointment, while we hit water, there was only a flow of about 10 liters per minute – enough for a handpump, but not enough for the mechanized system that is really needed. 

After receiving an impassioned email from Pastor Peter and a distressed call from my assistant, I spoke with the driller.  He thought there was another location, near a traditional well, that he could drill and hit lots of water.  I gave the go ahead for a second attempt, hoping that this would not harm the flow into the traditional well. 

I want to share with you the email I received from Pastor Peter recently.  (edited for clarity)

YOUR TRUE LOVE HAS PRODUCED REAL TESTIMONIES.

Your Obedience to God’s call, zeal for the Great Commission and faithfulness in going the extra mile especially with the poor and needy like my community has yielded very positive remarkable testimonies within Church and community. It has strengthened our faith and trust in Christ Jesus.  Our four years’ prayer for water for our school, ministry and community was finally answered in a miraculous way.

The first drilling did not provide our expected mechanized pump which the LORD promised us. And though there was jubilations for the hand pump we could not erase the memory of the promise of God neither could we stop the voice telling us that the promise will happen and the time is NOW!! It was very difficult to believe this voice and the promise which was confirmed in our prayer after the first drilling.

The ancestral well near Peter's property

Two alternate locations were identified by the driller after the first drilling did not give us our needed mechanized pump. We were so joyful when we were told the next day that Mary Kay had approved a second drilling, but at a specific place not under our control. We were faced with so many questions like how much will we pay for that land, how could we get the people to pay light bills since they were fetching the water free of charge,  the increased length of pipe needed and the different fields these pipes will pass through. The second location identified by the driller was on family land, a little closer to the school and church but almost in the same location where the first drilling failed. Now if we attempted and failed again, what would we tell Mary Kay who told us to drill closer to the ancestral well? (Note from Mary Kay:  I was never told about two possible locations, just the location near the ancestral well.)

Ben the driller who is a native saw and knew the complications involved.  He met us and we all agreed to go to prayer and ask God’s direction. The next day Ben called me and asked my opinion and l said our hearts are set on my family land and he also confirmed the same. Shortly l saw the guys who were coming to drill and they asked me to show them the locations. I showed them the one on the family land first because it was closer and asked that we go to the next location. They said no and explained that they see that place to be a problem area and so l should have confidence in God and let them drill on my family land. This was a confirmation of our prayer. So they started and in the fifth rod, a fountain!!!! a fountain!!! It continued and even more stronger up to the tenth rod!!! What a Mighty God we serve. The testimony is everywhere about how we prayed and how God worked.

Kids from Peter's school enjoy the safe water
from their new borehole.

We are now hearing that part of the members of the land on which the ancestral well is, said they were ready to oppose the drilling if we had attempted. Thanks to God who knows how to keep His children away from troubles. Now the Church is strong and has discovered that they can pray for and against anything and it would happen!!! Our faith, trust and courage in the LORD is strengthened by your LOVE ACTIONS. GOD richly Bless you as we look forward to rejoicing together in the dedication DAY!!!!

(email from Peter Awane)

This area of Zuarungu now has a community borehole and will no longer have to use the ancestral well, which is susceptible to contamination.  Pastor Peter has plenty of water for his school and ministry complex.  But most importantly, God is being glorified.  In Paul’s words...

“This service that you perform is not only supplying the needs of the Lord’s people but is also overflowing in many expressions of thanks to God. Because of the service by which you have proved yourselves, others will praise God for the obedience that accompanies your confession of the gospel of Christ, and for your generosity in sharing with them and with everyone else. And in their prayers for you their hearts will go out to you, because of the surpassing grace God has given you. Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift! – 2 Cor. 9:12-15

Kids from Peter's school say "Thank you and thanks be to God!"

We have a guest blogger today - our younger son, Ken.  Following is a descriptive essay he wrote for his Freshman English class at Rose-Hulman.  We are pleased to report that he received a grade of "96" on the essay.  Keep up the good work, Ken!

Meanwhile, I was a guest blogger on the Shine Girls (we're shining for Jesus) blog by Jillian Hill last week.  You can read here about how the Shine Girls celebrated World Water Day, without even knowing it!

Waking Light 

I wake up with the sun reaching across my face. My room is on the western side of the house, but the warm, golden light floods through the hallway that makes up most of the building. For a moment I just lie there, taking in this new day. The bakery next-door that had been so noisy the previous night is now almost silent. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts in, politely pleading for me to eat it. I lie still a little longer.

Somewhere I hear birds chirping, a sweet song for only my ears. I lie, listening, when a rustle of palm trees joins in. With the rhythm of the wind accompanying the birds, our secret band is almost complete. Ah, there it is – the cock-a-doodle-doo of one of the many neighborhood roosters. The group quietly demands an audience – I couldn’t leave now! I lie still a little longer.

I realize that the sun no longer covers my face. That warm feeling only lasts for 15 minutes, due to the sun’s angle and the closeness of Ghana to the equator. Now my ceiling fan, currently set to five – or ‘hurricane mode’ – sends a cool tingling sensation through my body. The fan creates a trance-like state, blocking all outside noise with its ample whooshing. I stare at the rapidly spinning blades, hypnotizing myself into a place where time ceases to exist. I focus entirely on the fan, reinvigorated by the energetic cyclone it creates. I really should get up. I lie still a little longer.

I must have nodded off; the sun no longer reaches my curtains. I am aroused by music coming from my iPod – my mother’s small playlist of ‘Hip music’ is set to wake me. It is fast-paced music, with strong rhythms and catchy melodies. My body demands action at this point; I can no longer lie still. I get out of bed and put on the first clothes I find, a plain t-shirt and some mesh shorts. I exit my room and walk down the hall to the kitchen, where my mother hugs me and offers me some French toast. This is an interesting variety, made from bread with sugar initially cooked into it. The soft, moist sweetness is quickly shoveled into my mouth – covered, of course, with a large dose of maple syrup. I down it all with a glass bottle of Coke. Ah, that’s satisfying. With that, I can take on any kind of day!

Walking the dog at ACP Estates

Charlie writes:
 When Mary Kay and I returned from a birthday getaway to the beach at Anomabo, just outside Cape Coast, I was able to return to my usual walking routine with Ziker, our beloved African-American dog. [We say this because while in the States, he seemed somewhat unusual (just a yellow dog from the pound), when we arrived in Ghana, it seemed every third dog roaming the streets was his brother!]

 As is usual when I take these walks around our new neighborhood outside Pokuase, there are new plants to see. This time, the new ones were smallish trees that were bearing large numbers of yellow, cherry-sized fruit, that were covering a bright red seed. The weight of the fruit was so much that the trees were really sagging:

Laden branches

A row of such trees, 3-4 meters high.

The landscape architect at the ACP Estates had planted the streets with a great variety of species, and they seem to bloom throughout the year. Below is a closeup of the pale blue flowers on the same trees that were bearing the yellow fruit. I was a bit surprised to see flowers and fruit on the same tree at the same time...

We also passed some Bougainvillea thorn bushes, which have the craziest colors:

as well as some ripe palm oil nuggets and a bright red hibiscus flower:

Matthew 6:25-33 (ESV)"Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?  Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.  But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?'  For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you." 

Late Luggage, Ghana style...

Charlie writes:

Rolling along the main highway with our five bags

Inside the Domestic Terminal

Back to the truck, off to lunch...

The second porter on that leg...

Back the last time...

This past weekend, a 13-member team from the Living Word
Church in Wildwood, outside St. Louis, Missouri, returned
for another visit to their friends in northern Ghana.
Mary Kay is escorting them this week, along with Nana,
the driver from the Methodist Church of Ghana. You can
read more about their trip at their Ghana Project website.

Unfortunately, there were five pieces of luggage that did not
make the short transfer interval at London's Heathrow Airport.
In fact, the team almost got cut in half when the pastor was
pulled aside for a thorough examination. The team members
were used to this happening, and were prepared to file
the appropriate papers at the late/lost luggage counter
downstairs at the Accra airport.

I should have checked the next evening to find all the bags,
but instead, Mary Kay had to remind me that the team was
looking forward to distributing some things from those very
bags to the place they were visiting on Tuesday, so I had better
go down and deal with it on Monday. The luggage handlers had
called her to confirm that all the bags had arrived on the
Sunday evening flight, so they just needed to be picked up.

Having had experience with this on a prior trip, I made
sure that I had xerox copies of the photo and visa pages
of the relevant passports. When I arrived, they were expecting
me. We were able to find the five bags based on the descriptions
on the forms and confirmed via the tags.  I signed the register,
then opened each bag for the Customs officer on duty.

Next, I rounded up a cart, and loaded the bags up for the
walk to the local flights terminal. One of the porters
saw me struggling, so came along and relieved me of the
pushing - rolling the cart right along the main road
through the airport with honking taxis upset at him.
Arriving near the terminal, my pushers got nervous and
asked for pay before they would be seen by the police
or the other porters. So that meant another porter being
retained for the last bit.

Inside the terminal, I was directed to ask at the ticketing
counters for arrangement of transport for the bags up to
the Tamale airport. They directed me to the check-in stands,
and when I got to the front of the line, they directed me
to another, and that fellow called someone, returning with
the message "we don't take unaccompanied luggage!" I begged
him to check the other carriers, and the fellow at Starbow
was willing to accept the packages. He explained that they
would be carried for a fee of three ghana cedi per kilogram,
so he recommended I weigh them first so I would know the
charges. Since they were 70 kg, I would be owing GHS 210.
However, the space in the terminal was so limited that he
would not accept them until an hour or so before scheduled
departure. Thus, I rolled them all back to the Hilux and went
to lunch. Then I bought some neon green paper and scissors
and cello tape, preparing labels for the bags to make them
easy for Mary Kay to identify at the Tamale airport.

The drop-off went smoothly, and they issued me the required
claim tags. When I asked how Mary Kay would get the bags since
I obviously was not going to be able to get the tags to her,
I was told that if she knew the numbers, and showed ID, they
would let her take the bags. So, I called her with the numbers.

The stack of luggage claim tags

All five bags made it!

The original receipt had been for GHS 410, so I requested another!

Meanwhile, up in Tamale, Mary Kay was trying to figure out
how to get to the baggage area, since that airport only
has an exit from that area, so that only passengers can enter.
The flight was delayed half an hour, but eventually it arrived
and the team was able to make their way to Navrongo, arriving
at 8:30 p.m. Mary Kay passed the phone around
the Coaster bus, and I was gratified by the expressions
of thanks from all those involved.

Later that evening, I was back at the airport (on my third
visit to the parking area, the ticket-taker took pity on me
and let me come in without paying) and visited the BA ticket
office to see about getting reimbursed for the extra transport.
"Go to our offices over domestic terminal for that, sir,"
was my advice. There, I was attended to by a friendly rep
who informed me that such refunds were not allowed by airline
rules in West Africa. [This is just one of many examples of
the special treatment offered citizens of countries with
reputations for scams and lies.] She assured me that if
proper documentation were presented in either the UK
or the USA, the airline would make good on the extra
expenses caused by the late arrival of bags.
That meant I had to make another trip down to the
lost luggage counter, and after diving into a cardboard
box under the desk, we were able to recover the original
forms. The agent went with me to the internet cafe
in arrivals area of the airport to make copies.
Now I have to remember to make scans and deliver
to the team so they can follow up once they are
back in the US.

So, a transaction that would be handled over the phone and
result in the personal delivery of late bags to the hotel
ended up taking the better part of a day. As Chip would say,
"T.I.G." (This Is Ghana).

Genesis 32:13-21 (Jacob and his luggages)

So he stayed there that night, and from what he had with him he took a present for his brother Esau, two hundred female goats and twenty male goats, two hundred ewes and twenty rams, thirty milking camels and their calves, forty cows and ten bulls, twenty female donkeys and ten male donkeys.
These he handed over to his servants, every drove by itself, and said to his servants, "Pass on ahead of me and put a space between drove and drove."
He instructed the first, "When Esau my brother meets you and asks you, 'To whom do you belong? Where are you going? And whose are these ahead of you?' then you shall say, 'They belong to your servant Jacob. They are a present sent to my lord Esau. And moreover, he is behind us.'"
He likewise instructed the second and the third and all who followed the droves, "You shall say the same thing to Esau when you find him, and you shall say, 'Moreover, your servant Jacob is behind us.'" For he thought, "I may appease him with the present that goes ahead of me, and afterward I shall see his face. Perhaps he will accept me."
So the present passed on ahead of him, and he himself stayed that night in the camp.

For want of $400...

Charlie writes:

Emirita Professor Nana Araba Apt

Matthew Christopher Taggart

Prof. Astrid Tweneboah Larssen

Yesterday evening, the Ashesi community said farewell to three
long-term staffers, Emerita Professor Nana Araba Apt, Matthew Christopher Taggart, and his wife, Professor Astrid Tweneboah Larssen. As part of the celebrations, Ashesi's founder, Patrick Awuah revealed the truth about early days.

Actually, Matt was Patrick and Nina's first employee before
the college opened its doors. Over the intervening twelve
years, Matt has spearheaded Ashesi's fundraising efforts, helping to raise over $20 million in funds for construction of the campus and funds for scholarships.  Patrick remarked that his arrival prompted a move from an office over the Red Door Tavern to another, about the size of Ashesi's current reception lobby, on the fourth floor of a Seattle movie theatre.

Patrick's emotions caught up with him as he recalled times he had cowered under his desk in that office, his legs pressed against the desktop from below, shaking with fear. He also recalled Matt fussing at him from under a table for standing by the window of that office looking at construction cranes swaying during a magnitude 7 earthquake!  He also shared a story that inspired the title of this post. As he considered what event was the seed for Ashesi, he realized he needed to tell the story of his admission to Swarthmore College outside Philadelphia.

I had heard that Patrick, having graduated from the Achimota School, had been encouraged to apply to Swarthmore by the US Embassy college office which was in the building now occupied by the Barclay's bank adjacent AU Circle in Accra. Yesterday, we heard "the rest of the story."

Patrick told how he had received an offer of admission from Swarthmore, which at the time cost about $15,000 a year. The offer was accompanied by a scholarship covering all but $100 of those expenses. He excitedly prepared paperwork for a visa to travel to the USA, only to be rejected. When he asked why the application had been refused, he was told of the policy that students requesting permission to attend college in the USA were expected to document bank assets covering the family's total financial obligations for the student's four years expenses in advance.

Patrick explained that his parents had only enough in the bank to cover one year. He elaborated for his audience's consideration that in those days, Ghanaians were in economic distress. Finding money to buy food for the week was a challenge, never mind the astronomical sum of $400 for college tuition.

He argued, "if you let me go to the USA, I will be able to find some way to make the other $300." Still no dice, no exceptions would be made.

Crestfallen, Patrick had to write Swarthmore, appealing to them to reduce his family's contribution to his fees by a factor of four so he could get a visa. After an anxious wait, his family received another offer letter from the college, with a scholarship covering all of Patrick's expenses. As Patrick remarked, "we could handle four times zero, even if we couldn't cover four times $100." So he was able to re-apply to the visa section, got his visa, and began his college career that fall.

Patrick ruminated that an "invisible hand" had reached across the ocean and pulled him though a life-changing experience. A person or people unknown to him had donated money to the college. The college had awarded that money to his family without the donors knowing them, either. What a concept! He noted that recent alumni newsletters reported twenty million and fifty million dollar gifts being made for these "invisible hands" from Swarthmore in recent times.

He challenged the hundreds of students in the Cornfield Courtyard gathered to hear his address with the vision that some of them, come 20 or 30 years, would remember their Ashesi experiences, and provide the funds for a similar "invisible hand" for an unknown student to attend their alma mater.

Patrick noted that Matt had decided a few years into the project that Ashesi could not afford to pay him a salary that would support him in Seattle, and offered to relocate to Ghana to save the college precious funds. He recalled going back to Seattle, packing up their office, donating furniture to charities and closing up their office over the theatre.

Then, as we had heard before, came the December when the executive team had to postpone their paychecks. Yet, Patrick said the idea of stopping financial aid was never seriously considered, recalling the importance that "invisible hand" had meant to him and his family. A school dedicated to the vision of raising a new generation of ethical, entrepreneurial leaders for the transformation of a continent had to make provision for those unable to afford the cost to be extended that opportunity.

While Patrick admitted that he hadn't had to ride horseback, hat in hand, as had Edward Parrish the first president of Swarthmore College nearly 150 years ago, he already had international bookings in the first ten months of 2013, and November was filling in. He vowed to keep December free for his family here in Ghana, but understood the vital need to keep raising the capital funds to cover the construction of the planned engineering expansion.

"We claim a higher mission for Swarthmore College than that of fitting men and women for business. It should fit them for life, with all its possibilities."  - Edward Parrish

Later in the evening, Matt delivered a heart-felt impromptu message, admitting that the twelve years at Ashesi had made him the man he is today. He met his wife, had two children, and was able to invest his work in an idea that he was passionate about. He encouraged all hearers that he wished for them the joy of finding passion in their work, and pledged to continue to support Ashesi in the future.

Patrick surprised Nana Apt by unveiling a plaque naming the lecture hall 218, the one near the canteen, in her honor. In her address, Nana was clearly touched, saying "usually, you don't live to see this sort of honor!"

Mary Kay has been reading a book called The Idea Factory:  Bell Labs and the Great Age of American Innovation by Jon Gertner.  She and I spent the evening talking of the "lore" of places like Bell Labs and MIT, and we realized that these stories are a huge part of the legacy founders make to those places. I certainly will not soon forget the image of the $400 that seemed to be the insurmountable barrier to Patrick's dreams.

Thank you Nana, Matt and Astrid for your parts in the Ashesi story!  You will always be a part of our legend.


Only take care, and keep your soul diligently,lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen,
and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life.  Make them known to your children and your children's children. Deuteronomy 4:9 (ESV)

Mary Kay writes...

Wow - it has been a long time since we have posted anything. I have to say that I have been traveling virtually non-stop since the last post, and Charlie has been trying hard to keep his head above water, between his teaching and trying to keep up with all the essential tasks I kept assigning him from abroad.

Since Halloween, we and our organizations have been featured in several social media venues. I thought I would share these glimpses into our lives in Africa with you.

The first mention came from a friend of mine, Jen Shank, on her site, Swanky Shank. Jen is a member of one of our supporting churches, Living Word UMC, and runs an on-line business from her home in the St. Louis area. Jen honored us with her creation of the month, bracelets featuring Ghanaian glass beads and is donating the proceeds from the bracelets to the Ghana Project, which funds water projects in northern Ghana. Jen is really creative and has cute stuff, so take a look. I don't benefit from her sales - except the bracelets, which really will benefit the children of northern Ghana, not me.

Last Friday, I was given the opportunity to guest blog on the Shine Girls Shine website. Shine Girls Shine is a daily Bible reading and prayer ministry. I follow it to help keep me accountable in my daily devotions. I have gained so much - it is amazing how often the blog posts are right on target with something going on in my life. It was a privilege to share a part of our story of our call to Ghana with the Shine Girls.

 Most of you probably know that one of the hats I wear is as Managing Director of Pure Home Water, a Ghanaian non-profit that manufactures and distributes ceramic pot filters to rural households so that they can have safe water to drink. A very talented friend of ours, Iaona Lupascu, of SparkIntuit created a wonderful 4 minute documentary on Pure Home Water.

 

 Finally, Patrick Awuah, the founder of Ashesi University, where Charlie teaches, is being honored today by the Haas School of Business at University of California, Berkeley with their prestigious Innovation Award. You can learn more about Ashesi and Patrick's vision to change Ghana one student at a time in this news report.

 

Recycling in Accra

Charlie writes:

After several months of back and forth with the manufacturer of the Pure Home Water lids stashed on our front porch, Mary Kay finally gave up and authorized me to figure out a way to clear them out. The new clay pot filters from the factory in Tamale are a different size, so the lids we had from before just won't work, and the plastics maker here wasn't willing to take them back, since they really aren't worth much without a matching bottom.

I was not looking forward to the exercise, since recycling is not done in the same way here in Accra as it would be in Atlanta. In Atlanta, I knew the various places that glass, metals, or plastics could be taken for recycling, but not here.

After a few minutes, though, I remembered that I had seen a man cutting up the yellow jerrycans that hold cooking oil in a lot not too far from our house. He and his assistant seemed to be breaking them down into flat pieces and then lashing them together in piles to be sold to plastics manufacturers across town. I thought I would wander by and ask if they would take this sort of plastic as well.

When I got there, a crew of about six young men were just pulling in with one of those four-wheeled carts that you see all about town, topped by three large white tyvek bags filled with miscellaneous plastics, and a number of "Go Bags" that were stuffed with more plastic. They untied the bags and tossed them on the ground, then used an S-shaped hook to attach the bags one at a time to a spring scale hanging from a crossbar about six feet off the ground. Then the man running the recycling center scribbled his sums in a small pad and paid the head hauler, who then passed some on to all the "boys" who had helped collect and escort the cart. The cart owner then left to gather up more from the neighborhood.

After they had finished, I approached the owner. He looked at the lid, telling me that he would pay fifty pesewas per kilogram for that sort of plastic. I enlisted two of the hangers-on to walk back to our house with two huge tyvek bags. They neatly stuffed all the lids into the bags, but then realized that they wouldn't be able to hoist them on their heads as I think they had anticipated. So I backed the Hilux over and they loaded them in the pickup bed, supervised by Jonas and Jasper. A few minutes later we were back at the lot, and the owner helped wrestle the bags into position for weighing. Mary Kay was pleasantly surprised to receive cash back for what was no longer usable, and I was amused that the scrap vendor paid the 92 ghana cedis with 92 red one cedi notes. That's about the first business I've run into in Ghana that carries exact change!

The students from CMU have been running a demonstration plastic bottle recycling program at Ashesi, not sure where the bottles go, but I had read somewhere that an NGO was collecting them to use as floats in creating netted fish hatcheries in Lake Volta, which sounded interesting.

Now if we can just figure out what to do with glass and aluminum...

Seawater Desalination Coming to Teshie

Charlie writes:

A few weeks ago on my usual weekend bicycle ride, I tried to find the Ramada Inn that is east of Accra on Coco Beach. Was unable to on bicycle, but later Mary Kay and I drove over, and spent a holiday afternoon there. But the topic of this post is the new water project that I discovered. I've not heard anything of it in the local media.

Today, I bicycled back over, and met with Carlos, one of the engineers from Abengoa Water, a Spanish firm that is heading up a desalination project in Teshie, an eastern suburb of Accra, the nation's capital. Carlos was pacing the property, with a clipboard on which he was counting the trucks as they went in and out of the compound. As he explained to me, the site had been used as an unofficial landfill, so the first step is to build a wall, install concertina wire and gates, and provide manned security to discourage the addition of any more trash to the property. They had been given assurances that the place they were hauling truckloads of black sand in Tema, further east, had been declared a legitimate landfill, but hadn't seen official documents of that claim yet.

When I asked how much water this plant was to be providing to this part of Accra, the answer was "Just read it off the sign, isn't it out there?" We walked outside the gate and as you can see in the photo, there was no mention of the size or date. Carlos then admitted that the plant was designed to produce 60,000 cubic meters of potable water per day, and that if everything goes well, it should begin operating in about two years. As a point of comparison, I found a report suggesting that in 2008, GWCL had contracted for a 20,000 cubic meters per day plant in Teshie, with a 25-year BOO plan with Aqualyng Ghana Limited, which I suppose has lapsed. That was projected to supply enough water for just 4% of metro Accra, which would be 1 or 2% by 2030. Sounds like this plant is 3 times that. Abengoa claims to have built plants in Spain, Algeria, India, and China with a combined capacity of 875,000 cubic meters per day, so this is a modest sized one.

He and I compared traffic stories. Carlos decided to settle in Osu, where he could get about without needing an auto, and could find good food and nightlife. His firm supplied him a driver and auto, and he can make it from home to work in 45-60 minutes. The beach road widening is nearly finished, just a few hundred yards of road where the dual-carriage merges onto one side just east of the Kofi Annan Peacekeeping Training Center. Both our commutes are reverse the normal direction, although mine is closer to 90 minutes.

Apparently the plan is to submerge a large pipe under the beach there, and withdraw seawater. Then it will be forced through membranes at high pressures to separate the salt. He didn't say what other processes would be used, but I would imagine that chlorination or UV disinfection might be required, since the city of Accra discharges only partially treated wastewater into the ocean at a point that Google Earth computes at 17.12 km away. [Google Earth kml file here].

The civil work was being done by the same outfit that had constructed the Ashesi campus in Berekuso, so their foreman recognized my t-shirt. They are planning to finish securing the perimeter in the next few weeks.

With the unreliability of electricity in the area, I'm not sure how practical a desal plant will be, but perhaps they will build a large diesel powerplant to carry them over power cuts. That would be very expensive, though.

Saw the following advert on my way home on a tavern wall. Ghanaians are often surprised that I would call myself "Charlie" for this reason, since it is kind of like "Bud" or "Buster" in the USA.

Exo 15:23-27 GNB

Then they came to a place called Marah, but the water there was so bitter that they could not drink it. That is why it was named Marah. The people complained to Moses and asked, "What are we going to drink?" Moses prayed earnestly to the LORD, and the LORD showed him a piece of wood [moringa?], which he threw into the water; and the water became fit to drink. There the LORD gave them laws to live by, and there he also tested them. He said, "If you will obey me completely by doing what I consider right and by keeping my commands, I will not punish you with any of the diseases that I brought on the Egyptians. I am the LORD, the one who heals you." Next they came to Elim, where there were twelve springs and seventy palm trees; there they camped by the water.

Sεbi - a word missing from English

Warning: this post contains adult language.

Charlie writes:
On Wednesday night, Nii Ayikwei Parkes, author of "Tail of the Blue Bird" was in Accra. I joined a number of Ashesi staff and alumni at the SyTris bookshop, which is two stories above the PMMC shop opposite Papaye on Oxford Street in Osu. After a late start, Mr. Parkes narrated some of his poems and read selected passages from his book.

During his free-wheeling commentary after one of the readings, he mentioned that his use of Ghanaian vernacular was a hard sell to the publisher, but that he had eventually convinced them that it added to the authenticity of the tale. He said that Ghanaians had to use some words that just don't exist in English, and his example was the expletive 'sεbi'.

In the British printing, the editors and author rejected the idea of a Glossary, but Nii found out that to get published in the USA, there would have to be a Glossary in order for the book to sell. This is because, like in "A Clockwork Orange," there are a number of words that would not be commonly known to most readers.

Kajsa Adu remarked that she agreed with the British publisher, thinking that any good literature shouldn't reveal all its secrets on the first reading. She enjoys re-reading books to pick up on words or ideas that she had missed the first time. In that spirit, I'll give you the contexts for this word, missing in English, from the book (page numbers in parentheses):

(2) The ancestors say that the truth is short but, sεbi, when the tale is bad, then even the truth stretches like a toad run over by a car on those new roads they are building.

(7) Then listen Sargie. Sεbi, our village is like a vagina. Those on the inside have no problems with it; those on the outside think it stinks.

(70) I nodded. (I knew the place. It wasn't far from where my mother, sεbi, had her farm.)

(96) "I caught the antelope, so I will eat until, sεbi, I go crazy."

(98-99) That same night, the musician, Tintin, disappeared. Everybody thought, sεbi, he was dead, but I will tell you the truth later.

(101) It is true that those who knew Ananse understood his sadness. Sεbi, since the time before his penis knew to stand up for the right purpose, he had done everything to get close to his wife. As he matured and learned the ways of the world, he realized, sεbi, since she grew to be one of the most beautiful girls in the sixteen villages under their chief.

(102) So, sεbi, losing his wife two years after he had married her was not an easy thing for Ananse, but as his mother-in-law, Yaa Somu, said, he had a daughter.

(106) I am always repeating the elders' adage that even the eagle has not seen everything but, when I went to the place where Tintin had been living, where he had built the adakabεn, sεbi, I almost died.

(123-124) He had worked non-stop, except for one interruption from the truck driver's daughter, who wasn't so much sick as expecting. He had simply asked her a few questions since he didn't really have any supplies. She readily admitted that she was urinating more frequently than usual, but laughed when Kayo asked her if her breasts were tender.
"Are you trying to seduce me?" There was a knowing twinkle in her eye.
Kayo smiled, "No, I'm trying to find out if someone else has recently."
She cast her eyes to the floor, then raised them slowly. "Why?"
"Maybe, sεbi, he is the reason you are ill."
"Oh, really?" Her eyes widened as she realized what Kayo was trying to say, then smiled. "Oh!" She turned and headed for the door, looking back to wave, "I thank you," she giggled. Then she was gone.

(131) Sometimes we heard him beating her, or shouting at her, telling her that she had killed his wife, she was anyεn like her grandmother, Yaa Somu. There wasn't much we could do. I mean, sεbi, she was his daughter and the ancestors must lead the way, but there were times when we called on them to ask for things we didn't need, just so that he would stop beating her.

(132) By Onyame's generosity, Yaa Somu's land, where she planted her tomatoes, had not been taken by anyone (I think the chief in his wisdom kept it so), so Mensisi got my sons to help her clear it and she started planting tomatoes. Kwaku Ananse was not happy, but, sεbi, apart from beating her he couldn't do anything to her, and she was no longer afraid of the weight of his arm.

(145) It is true that we still had crops but our harvest was light, there was not much left over for the farmers and traders to sell. As for Kwaku Ananse, sεbi, his crop was destroyed that year, the cocoa pods that grew looked like a baby's fists, he could not sell them. I told my wife that the ancestors had started.

(146) Kwaku Ananse had been sick with his coughing again, but Mensisi wasn't able to come and look after him because her husband was hurt. He had been in a bad accident while travelling to Takoradi to work and, sεbi, they had to remove his leg. He was in bed for three moons but still things didn't get better and, with the passing of time, Onyame in his wisdom removed him from his suffering.

(147) We kept quiet and allowed her to do what she wanted, but we, the men, we watched Kwaku Ananse's home. We were ready, sεbi, to kill him this time, if he started beating her again. We were ready because Kwaku Ananse to us was no longer a man, and sεbi, nobody mourns a tsetse fly when it dies.

(147-148) You see, they say, sεbi, when something you don't know is approaching it is frightening, but when it gets close it is often a relative.

(168) Hmm, can you believe that this Mintah, the one who removed the bullets, also took money to his mother for him? That's why the elders say that, sεbi, bad doesn't live alone in a compound; good always lives there too.

(169) Anyway, I told Kwadwo that this is why you have to look well with people because you never know their story. I mean, they say what happens for a woman to conceive - sεbi, not the lying down, but what happens after - is a mystery to all men. But (this is what I told him), my friend, I tell you, what happens after birth is a bigger mystery.

(170) It is true that, because this woman with short short skirt and thin legs, sεbi, knew certain people, the police were here with their guns before the three days could come, so it didn't happen exactly as Oduro said.

Confused? I was also as I read the book, and when the Ashesi freshmen were reading it this past fall, I asked for a translation. I was told that it introduces a potentially embarrassing or off-color comment. As Nii Parkes put it on Wednesday, you can just about say anything after sεbi and no one will get upset. With the political correctness of English nowadays, the concept just doesn't translate!

Judges 12:4-6 Then Jephthah brought all the men of Gilead together, fought the men of Ephraim and defeated them. (The Ephraimites had said, "You Gileadites in Ephraim and Manasseh, you are deserters from Ephraim!") In order to keep the Ephraimites from escaping, the Gileadites captured the places where the Jordan could be crossed. When any Ephraimite who was trying to escape would ask permission to cross, the men of Gilead would ask, "Are you an Ephraimite?" If he said, "No," they would tell him to say "Shibboleth." But he would say "Sibboleth," because he could not pronounce it correctly. Then they would grab him and kill him there at one of the Jordan River crossings. At that time forty-two thousand of the Ephraimites were killed.

Ashesi's Economics Field Trip to Tema Port

Charlie writes:
On Friday, June 8, a subset of the Freshmen class at Ashesi University College toured the Tema port to understand the perceived high cost of imported items here in Ghana. The students traveled on a large bus, a small bus, and my Hilux, merging at the port after dealing with breakdowns and a shopping expedition to the Accra Mall.

Upon reaching the port, the Ghana Ports and Harbours Authority Public Relations Officer boarded our lead bus, which meant that the two buses could get waved through the gate. The first stop was the Scanners, a pair of open frames large enough to drive a flatbed loaded with a container through, where the CEPS officers can visualize the contents of a mixed container that is suspected of containing contraband. The students asked why not all containers were scanned, and were told that the capacity of the machines was limited. Bulk containers that are filled with a single commodity are never scanned.

Beyond the scanners is the Golden Jubilee facility and the area where home used vehicles are delivered for sale into Ghana. We returned back to the main quays (which our guide pronouced KEY), where we learned that there are 12 berths on two quays, the second being deeper and designed for modern containerized shipping. We all left the buses and listened to the PRO and two port authority workers describe the layout of the wharfs and the general process for scheduling the loading/unloading operations.

Dr. Stephen Armah then got word that we could have a tour of the scanners, but where we returned to that part of the port, it was just after noon, and we got stuck in a traffic jam. The PRO explained that many of the autos imported are actually driven straight off the boats as would be the case for automobile ferries. We saw some cars being driven, some being towed by others.

When we realized that we would not be making it back to the scanners promptly, we backed out and saw the main port offices, the Duty Free shop (for crew members and Authority workers), and the clinic. We didn't have time to tour the bunkers for petroleum products, the dry dock, or the clinker (raw material for cement production) terminals.

The PRO said that the port was sized to handle a half million containers per year (the Authority's web site claims to have processed 500,000 TEUs in 2009, and as much as 750,000 TEUs during 2011). Meanwhile, the nation's only other deepwater port, Takoradi, claims 55,000 TEUs, but 62% of the nation's outbound traffic, consisting of manganese, bauxite, cocoa, and lumber.

The port has been somewhat privatized with MPS, the operator, owned 35% each by Maersk, France's Bollore Group, and 30% by Ghana Ports and Harbours. This group now runs the two deep wharfs, and apparently has streamlined operations somewhat. Unlike the ports at Lagos, Nigeria, and Abijan, Cote d'Ivoire, vessels cannot be assured of "berthing windows" when a berth would be available for prior reservation at a given time. At Tema, the vessels must queue out in the ocean, and then wait to be berthed on a first come, first served basis.

The transportation of containers in West Africa is quite a bit more expensive than in developed countries. For instance, the West Africa Trade Hub found in a 2010 study funded by USAID that

"the cost to deliver a container from Tema to Ouagadougou is more than seven times the cost to deliver the same container from Newark to Chicago, a route of roughly equal distance. This is despite the fact that trucker salaries in the USA are roughly 25 times higher. And the trip takes as much as four times longer."

The students were asked to prepare a one page report on why imports are so expensive for extra credit, I'll ask Dr. Armah how they did.

Then the LORD ordered the fish to spit Jonah up on the beach, and it did. Jonah 2:10 (Good News Bible)

April Fool's!

Mary Kay writes:

I have been struck this Holy Week with the juxtaposition of the sacred and the secular calendars.  As you know, Palm Sunday fell on April 1 this year.  This has only happened nine times in the last three centuries.  Apparently it happened in 2007, the only other time in my lifetime as I look back, but I totally missed it then – probably because we had just moved to Ghana and everything else about Holy Week and Easter celebrations here was so new to me.  Plus, it doesn’t seem like Ghana makes as big a deal of April Fool’s Day as we used to in the US.  The next time it will happen will be in the year 2091.  Since I would be 131 at that point, I think it is probably safe to say that this is the last time in my life that I will see Palm Sunday and April Fool’s fall on the same day.

I read a couple of devotions, tweets, and the like this week that pointed out this juxtaposition.  Most pointed out that the same people who were praising Jesus, shouting “Hosanna”, which means “save us”, were the ones shouting for his crucifixion by the end of the week.  Some talked about the disciples “borrowing” a donkey – which the owner must have seen as a prank – though presumably the donkey was returned at the end of the day. 

I also looked into the history of April Fool’s Day to see when the tradition started.  The Persians (and now the Iranians) celebrate a day of pranks on the 13^th day of their New Year, which either falls on April 1 or April 2, according to Wikipedia. The earliest mention of a day of pranks associated specifically with April 1 was in Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales in The Nun’s Priest’s Tale, which is the tale of Chanticleer and the Fox.  Certainly Chanticleer outfoxing the fox could be considered a good April Fool’s prank!  But the Romans celebrated a festival called Hilaria on the 25^th of March, which is also thought to be a precursor to our present day tradition.

Given that Jerusalem was under Roman rule, and that the Passover (and therefore Easter) changes days as a lunar holiday, it is quite possible that the original Palm Sunday procession coincided with the Roman Hilaria.  This would be even more fitting in my mind.  To see Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, with the crowds going wild?  This event is easier to see as a Monty Python-esque satire of the great Roman military processions than as a real act of worship and praise.  Who would cheer for a guy on a donkey, unless you thought it was all a great farce?  Certainly Jesus did not represent the type of military hero that Israel would have liked to see come and kick out the Romans – that guy would have looked more like a combination of Sparticus, Ben Hur and Rambo!  Or at least Iron Man, with the disciples cast as the rest of the Avengers.

By Friday, the prank seemed obvious.  Jesus, who had triumphally entered Jerusalem the week before was now hanging on a cross, dying.  The joke felt like it was on all of us for believing, for hoping.  The disciples sure didn’t get it – they were the ones most discouraged at the death of their leader.  They were the ones who thought Palm Sunday was real, only to have their hopes dashed.  They heard Jesus say, “It is finished,” and thought all was lost.  They spent the weekend hiding in terror that they would be killed next as his associates.  Even Satan thought he had won that day, triumphing over God’s Son at last.

On Friday, a thief on a cross and one of the Roman centurions who helped to crucify Jesus caught a glimpse of the real story, but even they didn’t get the full picture.  But today, Sunday morning, we can look back and laugh!  We see joke and we get it.  We share in the “Gotcha”.  We can run to our friends shouting the Good News.  He is alive!  Jesus conquered the cross and death.  He conquers all the rulers of this world – whether Romans or Americans or someone else.  He conquers all the lesser gods and demons of the spiritual world – even that most powerful of demons, Satan.  On Easter, of all days, we proclaim that all is right with the world.  God’s creation is restored and God declares, “It is very good!”.

Alleluia! Christ is risen.  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!

“[Jesus] told them, “This is what is written:  The Christ will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance and forgiveness will be preched in His Name to all nations, beginning in Jerusalem.”  (Luke 24:46-47, NIV)

The artwork posted today is from www.jesusmafa.com, an organization dedicated to presenting the Gospel in an African context.

My Take on KONY 2012

Mary Kay writes: 


It has been fascinating to me to watch KONY 2012 go viral this week.  This is the first time I personally have seen this phenomenon, partly because I am “a clueless old fogie” (as my high school senior would put it) and partly because we live in Ghana, where we are just beginning to explore all the uses of social media.  True confession:  I only figured out how to participate in Twitter this week, follow me at @ghanawaterwoman.  It has been doubly interesting as it follows on the heels of and illustrates two books that Charlie and I have been reading lately about the new world social order – ala Facebook and Google – What Would Google Do and Public Parts, both by Jeff Jarvis (@JeffJarvis and www.buzzmachine.com).  Watching the video gave me more insight into how the web could be used to form a critical mass for change – ala Tahrir Square, or Yemen, or Libya, or I guess even Wall Street (though I still haven’t figured out the whole “occupy” movement).

The video does bring attention to one of the major problems in Africa over the last 50 years– that of child soldiers.  But Joseph Kony and the Lord’s Rebellion Army are hardly the only ones involved in this practice.  Child soldiers have been used in Liberia, Sierra Leone, Sudan and elsewhere, as well.  The movie does bring infamy to Joseph Kony, but since he has been under indictment by the International Criminal Court since 2005, I would argue that he already was infamous.  In the end, all KONY 2012 does is vilify Joseph Kony and call for his capture and prosecution.  Easier said than done since he is hiding out in dense and sparsely populated jungle and could be in one of three or four different countries in Central Africa, in a geographic area approximately half the size of the United States.  After all how long did it take the FBI to find Eric Rudolph, the Atlanta Olympics bomber, when he was hiding out in the mountains of North Carolina?  Or for the international community to find Osama bin Laden, for that matter?  And why pick only on Joseph Kony?  Three other leaders of the LRA are also under indictment for the same crimes against humanity.  A two others were indicted in 2005, but have since died, so the charges against them have been dropped.

My biggest beef with the movie and the KONY 2012 movement is that it doesn’t really address the underlying issues in Uganda that led to the formation of the LRA or provide any solutions.  Let’s say we arrest Kony, try him, execute him.  Or that he dies in a gun battle when they try to arrest him.  What happens next?  What will keep another from stepping into his shoes?

Many of the blogs and news sources I have read on the internet, from people living and working in Uganda, and more importantly, from Ugandans themselves, don’t see Kony as their biggest problem anymore.  Yes, he is evil, and did atrocious things.  But he is not nearly as active in that part of Africa as he was 10 or even 5 years ago.  His power has diminished greatly.  But the conditions that led to his rise to power are still in Uganda and throughout Africa.  Corruption.  Oppressive governments.  Grinding poverty.  Malaria and HIV/AIDS.    Lack of access to health care, or potable water, or sanitation, or education.  Kony and the LRA may have abducted as many as 70,000 children over the course of his rebellion, and certainly they killed more than that.  But approximately 4,500 children die every day from preventable waterborne diseases, most of them in Africa.  And 1,400 children die every day in sub-Saharan Africa from malaria.    EVERY DAY!  That would equate to over 50,000,000 children from these two causes alone, over the 25 years that Kony has terrorized children.  And this does not include the children who are ill but recover.

Of course, there are plenty of organizations that are mobilizing around the issues of malaria, waterborne disease, education, or other issues as well.  You can google any of these topics and find heart-breaking videos of the impacts of disease and poverty on God’s children in Africa (or Asia or the United States for that matter).  I can point you to a lot – and I can show you my own photographs and videos. 

But the myriad issues in Africa, or specifically in Uganda, have been going on for 25, 50 or even 100 years or more.  They are too complex to distill into a video like KONY 2012.  They won’t be solved overnight, or in 2012, or with the arrest or death of one person.   The United States can’t just “come to the rescue” like some governmental version of Superman.  And these problems certainly won’t be solved without the input and effort of Ugandans and other Africans.  Africans should be engaging in conversations, whether face-to-face or on Facebook, Twitter and the like, with other Africans about what they see as their greatest problems, most significant needs and their proposed solutions.  Then we in the west can follow along, learn, and in turn ask how we can best support and encourage them to achieve their dreams and meet their own needs. 

THAT approach, my friends, is community development.  That is development with dignity.  That moves past colonialism, or neo-colonialism, or the Western “we’re here to fix you (and remold you into our image)” mentality.  That would recognize and celebrate the image of our creator God in Africans.  And that is what I pray that I am learning to do, with sensitivity and love.

I have cried until the tears no longer come; my heart is broken. My spirit is poured out in agony as I see the desperate plight of my people. Little children and tiny babies are fainting and dying in the streets.  (Lamentations 2:11, NLT)