I’m still trying to wrap my head and my heart around the latest transition. We’re back in Florida and I’m not quite sure how to adjust. It’s all natural and easy to get back into the groove of things but it’s my mental state that isn’t just as it was. It hits me at odd times too. I try to convince myself, often, not to feel guilty about being here or about the luxuries afforded us, though it’s not easy. I’m not sure guilt does anyone any good, though I think it’s pretty natural and healthy at times. You can’t let it take over though. Been reading “Good News About Injustice” and it’s helping me process a lot of the junk that we’ve been thinking about since Ghana.
The hard thing about having wise people in your life is that you always have to listen to reason! I’m kidding, of course. But sometimes you really just want to be angry and vent or let all the crap out that doesn’t make any sense but you feel anyways. I’m thankful to have people that let me do this; I do know the right response and the proper answers to these feelings, but sometimes the answers just don’t add up with the emotions.
I know that I’m supposed to relate myself to the Pharisees and to Judas, but sometimes the most I can admit to is being like Peter. I may not always be able to admit that I pounded a nail into the cross (though I know I did) I can admit, at least, that I denied him. That I didn’t do anything to stop it from happening. That I was complicit in the act through my silence, or through my inaction; by running away. I contribute to the injustice in the world when I forget the hope that I have in my heart and I do nothing. I often want to run away from pain. It’s not the way anyone wants to live, but it’s also not something anyone can avoid. I figure I might as well experience pain for the right reasons since I’m bound to experience it either way. Dealing with heartbreak for injustice you see seems at least to be a worthy cause for pain. It’s hard not to allow it to debilitate you, though. If it renders you useless, then there’s no point. You have to remain hopeful, and I believe the only way to do this is through knowing the one who gives hope. The only one who loves even those of us who run away, who deny him, even us who nailed him there.
The truth is, I don’t want to love those people. As Yancey puts it I don’t want to admit that those who sin differently than me receive grace just the same as I do. I’m not saying all sins are equal, but I do believe the potential is inside me for evil as much as there is for good. I just struggle differently than those I find so repulsive. It’s not an easy pill to swallow. But somehow it actually helps me believe that there is still hope, because I know that each person has a chance for redemption, and even those I can’t stand are still made in the image of a beautiful God who finds something wonderful in them. I’m glad because I know I’m one of those people that some people can’t stand and it’s reassuring to know that even people like me have something good inside, something worth loving.

Here’s my favorite part, so far, of Haugen’s book;
“The oppressor knows that the primary reason we do nothing is because we have lost any hope of making a difference. It is not that we lack power, compassion, courage or knowledge. Rather, we lack a sense of hope that allows us to take what we have into the fray. By sheer inertia, therefore, we lend our own weight to the downward cycle of despair. Our lack of hope keeps us from the front lines of engagement. And our absence only makes the oppressor look stronger, compounding our own despair and that of those who might otherwise be prepared to fight.”

I found this to be very true. I liken it to the stock market panic, when people start pulling out it causes others to fear the worst and pull out as well and leave nothing but hopelessness. There have been plenty of times when we have wanted to give up and walk away. Chalk it up to a good lesson God wanted to teach us and move on to something easier with the knowledge in our pockets. But we know that in a way we would be lending to the forces of despair and the hopelessness that we want to fight.
It’s frustrating that it can’t be somehow easier, but we’ve seen those who pin it down in a formulaic process and that doesn’t seem to do justice to the intricate situations and personalities of the victims. It often ends up oversimplifying lives and not allowing the reality of the situation to make you uncomfortable. This usually ends up creating bad formulas or simply ineffective ones that make no difference at all or actually hurt those we are supposedly helping.

“Some of us grow so frustrated by the fact that something as important and wonderful as justice cannot be reduced to a handy word formula that we begin to give up on justice – believing that something so vague cannot be so important or wonderful after all, even concluding that it probably doesn’t actually exist. Similarly, some people find the meaning of life so elusive that they also give up on its pursuit.”

I feel like I’m repeating myself too much. I hope a little bit of this makes some sense.

Pictures, finally!

If you’ve ever seen the movie “The gods must be crazy” you know the hilarity and tragedy that sometimes comes with cultural differences. In the movie a coke bottle is dropped by a passing helicopter into a remote African village. The indigenous people find the bottle and think it was sent by the gods. They marvel at it with curiosity and wonder. It becomes something highly valued and soon the villagers begin to fight over the unique gift they were given. The longer they keep the thing around the more problems it causes. The villagers realize that this gift was not for their benefit, though it seemed amazing at first, it actually does much harm and causes all kinds of conflict between people. Someone actually gets killed as a result. The elders of the village meet and decide that they must do whatever they can to rid themselves of this cursed object.
I was recently reminded of the metaphor this movie provides. Though I haven’t seen it since I was a kid I remember enough of the story to see its importance. The last time I saw it I mostly appreciated it for the comedic scenes where an clumsy Australian aid worker tries to woo a foreign woman and his jeep ends up in a tree (or something like that, it’s been a while). I wasn’t too much of a deep thinker back then, though I’m sure my parents tried to explain the lesson involved.
Our entire experience here has transformed our view of “aid” work, and has confirmed some suspicions we had looming in the back of our skeptical minds. Unfortunately the “gift” of money that Americans are sending here, which is very often dropped haphazardly into unsuspecting places, appeals greatly to the locals at first. What we have seen firsthand is the corruption and manipulation it causes and the conflicts that arise at the expense of innocent victims.
At the end of the movie a designated member of the community is given the task of walking to the end of the earth and getting rid of the thing that has caused so many problems. When he comes to a huge cliff, he throws the bottle over the edge and asks the gods what they were thinking when they sent this strange and terrible gift. I feel like being that guy. I’m almost committed to walking to the edge of the earth to get rid of this gift that is causing such horrible problems and perpetuating cycles of greed, bribery and corruption.
Some people become so dependent on financial support from those in the west that they get locked into unethical and corrupt situations which take control of their entire lives. We have seen good-hearted, caring people bend to the will of those with questionable motives and manipulative tactics. There are organizations here who use money to take advantage of the culture of bribery (though they would never call it that) and gain the loyalty of locals who are then susceptible to exploitation.
The issue of child slavery and the trafficking of children is cultural and very complex. Anyone who tries to simplify it is missing a lot of the point. I’m not trying to excuse it, but many people don’t realize that some children are trafficked into a better life than they would have with their families (living on the street, eating out of the garbage). Some parents believe this is an opportunity for their child to learn a skill and gain some education and an occupation. Many slave masters were forced into labor themselves as children. We have seen the release of these children to ngos through means that perpetuate the trafficking. If the fishermen are given enough compensation for the kids they give up they have more incentive to buy children in the first place. Why not buy children from parents and sell them at a higher price to the western ngos? Not to mention the appeal of children getting free schooling and housing -this has driven parents to lie and claim their children were trafficked who are their own for the sole purpose of getting them into the accommodations and care of the ngo. If you think the slave trade with West Africa ended decades ago, you’ve just learned the truth. It’s ugly. It’s very uncomfortable and incredibly heartbreaking, but the truth of the matter is we are funding it. Americans, churches, kids birthday money that they sacrifice to help others. I wish I was kidding. Whether you care about this particular issue or another, my main goal in telling this story is that everyone who donates or supports any organization knows exactly where their money is going. The sad truth is many people don’t care. It feels good to give, it feels good to put a picture of a cute kid on the fridge and tell others about the difference you are making. But do you know what goes on behind the scenes? Do you know what that organization stands for? It’s so easy to manipulate people. It’s easy to blockbuster it and sell it. We really need accountability. God help us if we ever refuse it.

We had some incredible experiences this past weekend. First we had a meeting with some village chiefs. We felt a little like we were living in a national geographic magazine. The village is helping us and partnering with our organization for the betterment of the children. We arrived during a local funeral so we had to wait a while before the ceremony ended and everyone gathered for the meeting. We entered one of the chiefs’ households and sat in a circle in the courtyard waiting for everyone to arrive. This particular village had eight chiefs. Their carved stools sat royally along the back wall and were slowly filled with elegantly dressed men wrapped African-toga-style in yards of shimmery cloth, traditional hats, beaded necklaces, bracelets and embellished sandals. They carried canes with animal carvings and had a very formal process to discussing our purpose. There was an assembly man, a spokesman, a liaison/translator and about 10 other bystanders who I’m guessing were influential men in the community. We felt so vulnerable and tried not to make any wrong moves or offend anyone. Mostly we just listened to a lot of talking (which we didn’t understand), smiled, nodded, said thank you very much, and tried to remember every detail of what was happening.
Then on Monday we took the worst road in the entire world for nine hours straight up to Lake Volta and met with some indigenous leaders to discuss our vision, values and purpose. We made some great connections and saw a bit more of what Ghana is all about. We visited a beautiful village and the people were exceptionally friendly and kind. We spoke with a few fishermen and local chiefs about the issue of child trafficking and child labor. We spent the day there and drove back the same day (almost a 24 hour trip). Our driver had apparently booked two jobs at the same time so he was desperate to get back and his boss kept calling to see how close (far) he was. The minivan we took had no shocks and we were sitting in the back on a dirt road after a long rainy season. It was pretty much like placing speed bumps every two feet for a thousand miles and then driving as fast as possible over them for eight hours. Needless to say there has been some discussion of a visit to a chiropractor when we get back. It was hands down the worst road I’ve ever been on in my life. There was absolutely no sleeping on that trip. We tried hard to keep our sense of humor about the situation, but that can only last for so many hours before the pain gets the better of your attitude. We sped through villages at unbelievable speeds and disrupted any peace they had. We ran over a tiny goat (smaller than a cat) thankfully it was shorter than our bus so it was just knocked over by the wind and shock and we saw it climbing to its feet behind us. By God’s grace no one was killed on that drive.

We’ve received a lot of sobering news recently and things have quickly changed to reveal the truth about many of the people we are partnering with here. The sad truth is that many are motivated by money and ego more than the welfare of the children. We are trying not to allow this kind of thinking or anger at this take over as we strive to give the kids the best we can. We are doing our best to stay encouraged despite a lot of discouraging events. We are also surrounded by some incredibly honest, hopeful and virtuous Ghanaians and westerners who are willing to take a stand for truth no matter what it may cost them. We’re hoping to resolve some issues and move forward with new confidence, motivation and a secure foundation. Please pray.

Henri Nouwen has come through for me again with this insight from “In the Name of Jesus”:
“When members of a community of faith cannot truly know and love their shepherd, shepherding quickly becomes a subtle way of exercising power over others and begins to show authoritarian and dictatorial traits. The world in which we live – a world of efficiency and control – has no models to offer to those who want to be shepherds in the way Jesus was a shepherd. Even the so-called “helping professions” have been so thoroughly secularized that mutuality can only be seen as a weakness and a dangerous form of role confusion. The leadership about which Jesus speaks is of a radically different kind from the leadership offered by the world. It is a servant leadership – to use Robert Greenleaf’s term – in which the leader is a vulnerable servant who needs the people as much as they need their leader.
From this it is clear that a whole new type of leadership is asked for in the church of tomorrow, a leadership that is not modeled on the power games of the world, but on the servant-leader Jesus, who came to give his life for the salvation of many.”

It’s ironic that the hardest part about being here, in Africa, is dealing with the Americans. Really.
I’m not saying we haven’t had a share of cultural challenges and a lot of adjusting to Ghanaian ways. I’ve definitely collapsed more than once based on some differences I couldn’t handle. But the breaking point has been the difficulty communicating and understanding the westerners. There has been a lot of confusion, miscommunication, lack of cultural sensitivity, and questionable motives (and I’m being generous here!) A lot of it has to do with organizations who come here to help but have never spent more than a week in the country and expect to solve its problems by dumping a bunch of money on it. First of all, it seems that the corruption and manipulation is fed by western funds which are carelessly thrown at whoever is the first to latch on. Secondly, the westerners have an agenda of their own, and though it seems to be honorable at first, it can quickly turn into a numbers game or ego trip based on the perceived success of their efforts. Most of their concern is how it is perceived to westerners, and that is very easy to manipulate. For instance, it would not be hard to sensationalize our trip here, to tell of all the wonderful things we’ve done, all the lives we’ve touched, and to make it sound easy, or to make it sound like we are overcoming all the obstacles in our way, or to tell you a sweet story about the kids and make you cry (and these kids could do it in a second, they really are amazing.) I’ll admit, I’m even making up a slide show of our pictures and I’ll probably set it to some cheesy music about making a difference or we are the world or something. So yes, I suppose I am guilty too.
The real danger comes when we start selling something that isn’t real. I want to be honest about the challenges we face here. If we aren’t up front about that then we risk creating a false sense of how easy it is for Us to solve their problems. Even the idea that we can solve their problems is faulty. We want to send our money to change something that we don’t even fully understand. I’m not saying they don’t need the money. They definitely do. It is a big part of the solution… but only if it is put in the right hands, and invested in the programs that are actually benefiting the people here for the long run, not just making for a good photo opportunity or a heartwarming story for Oprah. A lot of the stories we read or see on television are actually creating more problems for the people. It looks wonderful to send a poor child on a Disney vacation, but what kind of shock and dissatisfaction will it give them with their life once they return? What kind of long term damage do we do to a family by teaching them how much wealthier they could be without giving them an opportunity to improve their situation? We need to address the issues of poverty based on their felt needs and their own gifts while emphasizing their personal value despite the size of their bank account. - Even that statement is completely based on a western mindset and we can’t approach Africans that way. We have been here for eight weeks and have just recently made a few relational breakthroughs with people we have been living with this whole time. It has taken this long to build enough trust for them to open up and reveal some deeper issues that they are dealing with. And we certainly don’t have the credibility to make nearly the difference we need to because we haven’t been here long term. A lot of the issues we see here stem from a western belief that we can save Africa. That all they need is a new car, or iphone or a vacation to make them feel good about themselves (okay I’m overdoing it, but you get my point.) We leave a lot of destruction in the wake of our good intentions (or ego stroking) and the destruction comes in a form of disempowering the indigenous leadership, creating a dependency on western provisions and instilling an increased value on possessions and property (which often gets muddled into the idea that people can actually be owned too – sometimes it begins through sponsorship or employment which can turn into bribery and coercion – and then what we are doing can easily be compared to some of our most shameful history in this part of the world. Maybe I am overstating my case, but we have definitely seen evidence of some tactics that draw those parallels.) At the same time we see the good intentions of people and those who are being as careful as possible to be sensitive to cultural differences and to gain understanding of them before stepping in to “fix” the problem. I do believe there is help to be given, there are things that they need here that should be provided to them, we just have to be very careful about how we give, what we give, and where we give it. Most importantly we have to understand the complexity of the issues. I know we will never be able to eliminate all mishaps or do as much good as we originally intended, but we have to keep trying. Giving up on it all together is not the right option either (though it is often very tempting!) I am really thankful for the time we have here to gain as much insight as we can so hopefully we can be a little bit more perceptive of the needs and the approach we should take to addressing them.

I realize that most of what I have written lately has been about what we are thinking and not much has been said about what we are doing. That’s because we’ve been thinking a lot and doing, well, little. I suppose this is the season for that and the hope is that all this thinking will subsequently turn into some major doings… but that’s not always the point either. Still, I hope we take some good action steps next. I think we will.
So here’s a little of what we’ve been doing.
This weekend was a four day weekend (I still haven’t figured out why) so the kids were home Friday and Monday. It was a really fun weekend. We had a bunch of coloring books and crayons (and chewing gum!) left by one of the volunteers and that was a big treat for the kids. So we colored. We did a lot of singing and banging on drums and strumming on the guitar (which has perpetually broken strings due to over enthusiasm) and learned a few new songs, sang some old ones and made up a bunch about ourselves and things we like. John took the kids to the football field and there was a community team of under 17s playing so they watched and cheered and got pumped up about the U-17 World Cup in Nigeria which just started (and will be the only thing on our television for the next month.)
Yesterday we went to church in Accra and met up with a couple from Indiana who are here with a similar organization to ours. We have a lot of common connections and contacts here and plan to get together with them again soon. On the way home from church we couldn’t resist the temptation of pizza (with CHEESE!) so we blew a close to 20 cedis on that, which was well worth it.
The trek to and from Accra takes a good hour to an hour and a half, depending on how long it takes for the tro tro to fill up. It’s best to get there right before it’s full and then you leave right away, but there’s no way to gauge it. They run continuously so sometimes you show up to an empty tro tro and have to sweat it out waiting for up to a half hour before taking off. We generally arrive at church sweaty and windblown, but we actually enjoy the ride and often get to talk to people or see knew things on the way. And there are always vendors just an arm’s length away outside of any window so you can always get anything you need while waiting, or riding. There are often people selling things inside the tro tro too. It’s usually medicine, which they give a long lecture about and explain how it can cure everything from a headache to skin disease. An amazing number of people buy it, and the seller generally guarantees it by giving out his cell phone number. Sometimes they are selling books on how to use a computer or learn English or home remedies for illnesses. It’s all quite entertaining (though I’ll admit that it’s mostly in Twi so I understand very little of it and these are all observances and neighborly explanations that are probably only partially accurate).
Last night a new volunteer arrived who is going to be here for three months. Seems like a really good guy. He’s from the Bay area and has been working for Young Life for a while. We are sad that our Canadian friend leaves this week since we’ve had such a great time with her. She has really been a stellar example and a huge contrast to some underperformers we’ve had (we’ve been learning from all of them and creating a volunteer handbook to address all the issues that come up and hopefully sift through some of those before they arrive next time). I think the new guy will be a great addition too. We have been dealing with a lot of tricky situations which we can go into more in person, but really learning from them and growing and figuring things out slowly with varying degrees of frustration, sadness, and inspiration.
John is taking a trip up to the lake this week with Johnbull to make some new connections and get a better feel for what the kids go through there. It should be really interesting and hopefully insightful.
It’s hard to believe that we only have two and half weeks left! We are trying to gather our thoughts and get a few things settled for our return (school, housing, etc.) which is tricky to do without internet. Also trying to wrap things up here and set up what we need for continued work in the US. We are especially excited about a trip to the west coast which we are planning for Christmas to see both of our fams! We’re really looking forward to meeting our new niece or nephew (in utero) in Seattle! We are already in love with Baby Reimer.

I had a dream about economic development. I know it’s a little odd. Doesn’t seem like something that would be interesting to dream about at all but I somehow can’t get it out of my head. I guess what I’ve realized is how we always seem to take an extreme view one way or the other (by “we” of course, I mean me.) It feels like I’m constantly fluctuating between the temptation to “stimulate the economy” and the conviction to buy nothing in an attempt to reject consumerism all together. I don’t think either one is right. Actually, for a while I felt that purchasing anything was wrong and that the only way to eliminate the temptation to accumulate as much stuff as possible was to give everything away (not that I did that, to be clear.) Then there’s the option of savings which seems like a good idea but can turn into hoarding -and what is the purpose of sitting on money that could be used and is needed desperately elsewhere? Even though saving seems like the responsible decision, it really can be just as selfish as pure consumption. I think the only real way to confront the whole dilemma is through responsible consumerism, which is not a new idea at all, I know. I started thinking about this in college when reading various articles about sweatshops and poor working conditions for laborers internationally. I started taking note of the companies I bought from and where various items were made. This didn’t last long, I was easily sucked back into the idea that I couldn’t really make a difference anyways, and getting a cute new shirt trumped my desire to be ethically responsible (and I’m not saying it won’t happen again, let me be upfront about my own hypocrisy.)
I grew up thinking business was a dirty word, but I realize its necessity and the good it has the potential to do when done wisely and with integrity. Putting money into purchasing goods to support others in need can mean survival for many. I’ve also seen the negative effects of uninformed generosity, which sounds and looks good but can actually do a lot of harm. Americans have a well known tendency to appease their consciences by throwing money at a problem, which often leads to disempowerment and dependency, not to mention we often throw our money in the wrong direction or at something that is culturally inappropriate or downright irresponsible (I’m working on researching this in more detail as we have seen some disheartening effects of it firsthand.) This also encourages the belief then that Americans are wealthy and unfortunately naive.
For environmental reasons I liked the idea of buying local, but didn’t give it much thought beyond enjoying the farmers market and thinking about saving fuel. I realize now that the local economy is something I should take more seriously. I like the idea of going local because I want to know where my things are coming from and that proper working conditions and wages are maintained. Not sure what this means in terms of globalization, as I know it’s nearly impossible to avoid purchasing things made internationally. And I’m not sure it’s wrong either. I don’t want to benefit my community at the expense of another, but I am not sure how to invest in my community and reject unethical practices locally and worldwide, without hurting those who need help in the process. So confusing. I read recently about unconfirmed allegations that coca-cola was using child labor and I have to say, even though I barely ever drink soda in the States it’s become one of my comfort foods over here. Something familiar that I am reluctant to abandon. All this stuff makes my head hurt.
I also dreamt about yogurt last night. Pomegranate, cranberry and mixed berry yogurt. It was heavenly. (Please don’t tell me Yoplait is corrupt too!)

Yesterday Ghana won the Under 20 World Cup! The kids got to stay up an hour and a half after bedtime to watch the game, which was just about the most exciting thing to ever happen around here. It was so hilarious to watch them. The game was actually really exciting as it came down to penalty kicks (Ghana vs. Brazil) - it was the culmination of all the tv that has been watched in this house for the past month. John and I stepped out during the game to go to the internet café and found the fastest connection we could get because the whole country was off watching the game (the poor café worker was pretty bummed to be there.)But we made it back for overtime and the shoot-out which was met with a lot of prayer and predictions from the kids, and followed by an extended period of dancing and shouting.
The past few days have brought some encouragement as we’ve met with the director here and really sorted out the needs, priorities, and changes that need to be implemented. I think it is going to work out well for us to help from the US and create some more infrastructure and development that has to be done stateside. Everything seems to be falling into place a little better and we are feeling more reassured and less bewildered about things. Too many things have unpredictably lined up for us to deny the connection here and the direction God is leading. We are praying about it and hammering out details about the position.

I feel like we’ve been in a washing machine for the past couple of months. It’s made us really dizzy and extremely soggy, but hopefully we will come out cleaner. Now that we are pursuing a return to the States the reality sets in about much of the learning we’ve done here. The past six months has really been a sort of retreat which we purposed, I would say, for self-discovery, but which turned its focus into world-discovery and God-discovery (which is far better and always sheds light on the self part inadvertently). It’s been a very interesting journey and the pain of it (sometimes self-inflicted) has been worth the price because we seem to be in emerging from it with a transformed view of everything. In a way it feels like we’ve had a very long retreat from normal life or at least from what we had always seen as normal and now we know might not be. We also had some internal organs replaced (soul organs) and isolation therapy was prescribed for the healing and health of the wounds. The surgery that has taken place on our spirit has been mind altering and eye opening. We are seeing things in new ways and with consideration for things we didn’t know existed before. Someone recently asked me how I am spiritually nourished in an environment like this, and I realized that the real question is; how am I nourished normally!? I have found it far more difficult to gain knowledge and understanding, or to even have the will power to seek after it, when I am surrounded by consumerism and everything else that takes over my “normal” life in the states, or wherever else. Being here has exponentially increased my spiritual growth in such a short amount of time, it really puts my normal to shame! Now I’m going to have to work really hard not to fall back into it once we leave. We are already strategizing and planning ways to make this happen. It’s not going to be easy.

We’ve had our first two downpours in Tema in the past few days. The rain takes over all other sounds and we say antigravity prayers for our sagging roof as it threatens to cave in at any moment. The kids are excited to take advantage of the water and have a free bath (“We are baffing!” they yell.) Returning from our trip last week we really got hit hard by how attached we are to these kids. It’s going to be so hard to leave them and the house parents who we have built strong relationships with. It was so precious to get welcome home hugs and excited requests to see promised pictures of elephants.
We’re still working on a lot of documenting of our observations and ideas for the organization. The head of the organization comes this week and we are preparing for a lot of discussion about direction and the potential for our future involvement with this project. There’s a lot to cover. We are praying that we get good answers and clarification that helps us make a wise decision about where to go from here.
In the mean time we are also working on applications for school and talking about all the details that are involved in moving back. We are so thankful for Lorie who is helping us set everything up and spending endless hours on the phone with airlines, schools, and doing all kinds of tedious explaining for us. We couldn’t do it without you! It’s really hard to coordinate all the details from here. (We got our tickets for November 12!)
John passed his sickness on to me, so we’ve been taking it easy for the past few days and trying to do as much restful work as possible. We are really enjoying the new volunteer who is here (and plays Settlers with us!) She has a willing spirit and flexible attitude and it’s nice to meet likeminded people to bounce ideas off of at meals and during the day. We have another girl who arrived last night so the house is getting fuller which is fun. I am working on writing up a volunteer handbook and having new people helps me process what is needed in this area.
We got the news of Obama’s Nobel Peace Prize and have been discussing it at length with our Canadian counterpart here. Yes, I completely believe that it is premature and there are certainly thousands of more deserving individuals with a heck of a lot more to show in their efforts toward peace. Agreed. Since I had nothing to do with the decision, and it has been made, I will offer only this in slight defense of the choice. First, I hope it is a call to action and causes him to make some more influential steps towards peace. Secondly, as someone who has traveled extensively during both the Bush and Obama administrations (I resisted the temptation to insert the loaded regime here) I can say only this. That the dialogue within other countries and specifically towards me, as an American, has definitely changed. It seems that we are better received - at least, received with a less defensive spirit, and at best, notably received with excitement by those around the world (and I’m not just talking about countries that are stigmatized by the West. I especially noticed it in Europe). I do think that Obama is unduly elevated by his celebrity status and of course his moderate rhetoric towards reconciliation is only seen as monumental in contrast to the contradictory efforts of the past presidency. However, I believe the international community that has so enthusiastically embraced this change may give this honor to Obama as a way of extending back the olive branch to the United States. I do believe he is mostly a symbol, and though it should be the American people offering the branch who should be credited the honor, it is a way of tangibly acknowledging the offering. I won’t go on about this, I know it’s controversial and I don’t want to invite too much criticism (I know my own limited capacity to accept it, which I’m working on.)
…Okay, now that I’ve rethunk it - do Americans really deserve a prize just for voting in a president who has some inkling of diplomacy? I’ve unconvinced myself and my argument is pointless. I concede.
All this to let you know that we are receiving some news from the outside world and are trying to discuss it in light of our new experiences and insights. We have definitely had some major changes in our views of issues as we become increasingly aware of how policies and philosophies directly affect individuals and societies, which is the whole point.

On Friday we made a spontaneous decision to take a trip to Mole National Park. There were a few extra visitors staying at the house and we thought we should take advantage of the extra help and get away for a few days. A new volunteer arrived Friday night and we invited her along. We were impressed at her flexibility and eagerness to go despite just coming off of a 30 hour trip from Canada. She was super laid back and a great travel companion. The trip was not exactly luxury travel (it never is with us). Mole is in the northern region of Ghana. The whole country is about the size of Oregon, but you would never guess it by the length of time it takes to drive across. We took a bus to Tamale which made several fifteen minute breaks which turned into hour-or-two breaks for bus maintenance and various other issues. What was supposed to be an eight hour drive ended up being about sixteen. The roads are intermittently paved and I’m not convinced the paved areas are any better than the unpaved. We probably doubled our intended mileage with the amount of swerving we had to do to dodge potholes, and goats. The drive was beautiful and very entertaining. We watched the landscape change from flat and sparse to thick and hilly. The buildings change from cement blocks to round mud homes with thatched roofs. The people changed from busy city Christians to rural traditional Muslims. And the transportation changed from traffic jams of cars to occasional groups of villagers walking miles to fetch water or sell the goods they carried on their heads.
We arrived in Tamale at 10:30pm and after a few short hours of horizontality in a hostel we caught an early ride to Larabanga, the little Muslim village at the entrance to the park. There wasn’t space on the Metro bus so we asked around and found a tro tro going there at five in the morning. The ride turned all of us from white and black people into red dirt people. Every head was dyed henna red by the time we arrived and what began the trip as white prayer caps came out fully transformed along with any part of your body or luggage that was exposed to air. We rented bikes in Larabanga and rode about 5km into the park. About 50 meters past the entrance we spotted our first antelope and just beyond that we saw a bunch of monkeys. We stayed at the Mole Motel, which is idyllically located on a cliff overlooking two huge watering holes and the vast spread of the park. Just as exciting for me was the clean swimming pool which we made good use of, I haven’t swam in ages.
Within the first few hours we were sipping cool drinks by the pool and watching the lookout for animals when a couple of baboons came running out carrying a bag of stolen food. They startled us from behind and were followed by about ten more friends of various sizes. A couple of them settled on a perch about five feet away from us. We had to fight off a baby baboon who wanted our yellow bottle of sunscreen (a precious commodity) that he must have mistaken for a banana. It seemed too cliché to be true, like a page out of Curious George where we are the man with the yellow hat. Soon afterward he found an actual banana peel and was satisfied to sit there obediently for a kodak moment.
We went on two safari hikes in the park which are only allowed with a park ranger as your guide. The landscape is technically called “wooded savannah” but to me it was a jungle (John argues it’s a forest). We saw different kinds of antelope – kob, water buck and bush buck – three kids of monkeys, baboons, more than our share of warthogs, and a lot of different birds including storks and guinea fowl. Our first hike was in the evening and we did another the next morning. The jungle smelled like fresh herbs everywhere, which surprised me, I was expecting more of an animal smell I suppose. It was hot and muggy, but the anticipation of seeing the animals was so exciting no one minded. We tried not to leave any evidence of our trek, save for a few sneaker prints and a number of bugs fuller than before. After a rigorous two and three hour hike with some intense tracking, we were disappointed that we hadn’t seen any elephants (the main attraction). Our guide, who had worked there for 27 years, was feeling bad about it too and was working hard to find them. Somehow, though, it validated the experience for me. This was authentic. The elephants weren’t being coaxed out of cages to perform for us; we were foreigners in their home, not the other way around. Later in the day we saw one from above. He was taking a bath in the watering hole and we watched him for a few hours as he napped and went about his daily routine. I was satisfied.
At night I lay awake listening as the fan click rhythmically, it sounded like Grandma Mary’s fingernails rapping out tunes on a restaurant table. I couldn’t sleep and kept getting up to look for animals out the window. I saw six or seven kob antelope grazing at different times of the night and in the early morning light I could make out a few elephants moving from the open field into the trees. We ate lunch at the motel restaurant, which is notoriously slow - we took our time in the pool and at the lookout - and when our food finally arrived we tried some new ethnic dishes; guinea fowl in curry, fufu, and omo-tua with groundnut soup. Warthogs watched us from their mud hole by the pool. This place is definitely in the running for a spot on my list of paradise locations.
Unfortunately John got sick on our last day and as we rode our bikes out of the park we found tick bites all over our legs. We spent the night on the roof of a small guest house in Larabanga with a Dutch couple and two German students . The owner’s son played on the roof with us and told us what we could and couldn’t take pictures of. The Dutch couple had left from Spain and have been traveling for four months around West Africa. They plan to spend eight more months on their way to South Africa and had some pretty interesting stories to tell.
The chief of the village had just died and there were continual funeral services going on. I was amazed at how remote the town felt, and pleased it had kept its cultural flavor despite its location on a tourist path. I suppose even the most touristy location here is off the beaten path compared to Egypt. John couldn’t sleep because of his sickness so we spent most of night looking up at the stars and the full moon until the cloud cover rolled in. The clouds looked like a giant white reflection of the crackled mud we had been walking on all day. It seemed that everything here came full circle and I felt the chaos around us settle into a peaceful rhythm. We listened to chickens, people and goats rumbling around in the night and finally fell asleep just a half hour before it started to rain. Thankfully, our bus was arriving soon so we packed our things, climbed down from the roof and began our journey home.
It took 6 different vehicles to get us home, but we saved about eight hours compared to our way there. On one of the tro tro drives we stopped suddenly. The driver’s assistant ran back a few hundred yards and returned carrying a four foot lizard. When they threw it in the back of the van it was only mostly dead and I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder every few minutes to make sure it wasn’t moving in our direction. When we finally got home the water wasn’t on, but we were so thankful to be in our “own” bed we didn’t care that we were filthy and fell immediately asleep.

It seems every egg in Tema has hatched in the past week. We have our own ten little chicks running around the back and pecking behind their mother. Walking down the street you have to dodge them - there are chicks everywhere. Our rooster may or may not belong to the neighbor, no one is really sure. He is over here about half the time and I can’t get a straight story on where he belongs. We’ve decided today to take a trip to Mole National Park in the northern region of Ghana. By the time I post this, we will probably be back and I’ll hopefully have some stories to tell that involve more interesting animals than chickens.
In Ghana it is very important to know what day of the week you were born. They may not know what year or month they were born, but they all know the day of the week. There is a masculine and feminine name for each day of the week and many people go by this name. John and I are Kwame and Akosia – Saturday and Sunday born.
The movies are full of scandal with occasional scripture quotations and conversion experiences. Most of the films they watch are from Nigeria and have the same 5 actors in them. The plots usually involve someone cheating on someone or backstabbing their best friend and end abruptly with a confession, forgiveness or a sudden death. I suppose the mix of friction and faith is somewhat congruent with a lot of Old Testament stories, so it’s not too inaccurate. It is still very confusing to watch the ease with which they accept the clash of piety and corruption. The other day I saw the African remake of “A Walk to Remember”. It was the exact same story line only with worse acting (I didn’t think that was possible either, but I assure you, it is.) Strangely, some of the most annoying cultural things are also very endearing.
These are just a few of the curiosities of Ghana we have found especially interesting. My list of store names is growing, so here’s an update: “Come to Me Cold Store”, “Clap for Jesus” kiosk, “Blood and Fire Fashions”, “Thy Will Chemicals”, “Divine Providence Cosmetics”, “Jesus is my Manager - Collections” “Jesus Say Yes”, “Phobia Enterprise”, “Redemption Barbering”, “Goodness and Mercy Chop Bar”, and my new contender for best yet, a fast food stand called “I Shall Not Want – Jollop Rice”.
I wrote this before our weekend trip, but am posting it now. Today was a good day of emails, being gone for a few days it’s nice to come home to some encouraging words from family and friends. I’m going to go home and take care of John, but I’ll try to write back in the next few days. Sending love you all.

I’ve come to realize that usually the sacrifices God asks us to make aren’t the ones we were prepared for. It might seem backwards but I was always ready to sacrifice creature comforts; suburban life never appealed to me much. Giving up a house, a dog, occasional trips to Starbucks, and hot showers didn’t scare me, in fact, the idea excited me (ok, the hot showers part I’ve changed my mind about.) I always thought that since I didn’t feel very attached to stuff and I wasn’t tied to any place in particular, that I made the perfect candidate for God to use me in an unusual way. Surprisingly, I found someone with a similar detachment from the clutter of life. It seemed like when I found John there was nothing stopping us from changing the world through passionate faith, simple living, and revolutionary ideas. Why would two people with such an uncommon shared interest be meant to do something ordinary? (if there is such a thing.)So we made our plans following what seemed logical, and what we thought was certainly direction from God (I still believe it was from him, but not for the reasons we thought.) We had a few road blocks along the way, but we persevered through and continued to pursue a big move overseas to see what the master plan was for our lives. We were sure to find it in some remote village in Africa, weren’t we? We certainly couldn’t have gotten to this point if we hadn’t been dealt a good handful of divine intervention, and there are countless events that confirm in our minds that we came here for a purpose. As we spent the summer traveling and preparing for the next adventure, I felt certain this was going to be our last stop. Nomads no more. I knew it would take some time to settle in, but once we got our bearings we would be set for a life of service in Ghana. Unsettling though, was the fact that I felt John pulling in the opposite direction (ironic because before we left the states I was anxious to just explore and he was feeling the tug to settle). I told myself he was just resisting change and would get used to it and realize this was a preordained plan.
Since moving to the US for college I had thought I would just be there a few years and then would find where I was meant to be, in some exotic location. I felt out of place and thought I would somehow feel more at home anywhere else. I now realize that I came to Ghana for selfish reasons. I came here to fulfill some void in my own life. To feel needed, to have a purpose, to feel accepted and to feel that I had something to offer. Now I see that I do have these things, but not the way I expected. The kids here don’t need American love, they don’t need white love, they don’t need foreigner love; they need LOVE. Ghanaians are just as capable of loving them as we are (actually more so.) Ghanaians are more capable of creating change in the systems that generate trafficking of children here. And they better understand the cultural influences, social pressures and economic realities (we have known these things intellectually for a while but this experience has made it sink in to apply heart-wise). They just need to be enabled to do so through the freeing up of resources that they may not have access to. We do.
The things we have to offer are only the gifts we have been given ourselves; our education, our opportunities, our connections to others and resources. We knew we have been given much, and that much is expected of us. We just prepared for a very different much than God has asked us to give. So we are choosing to use the graces we have received to redistribute them to others. We aren’t exactly sure what that will mean in the long term, but for now, we are following a sign to return to Florida and further our education so we can get a better handle on how this will work. We are also excited that we have the opportunity to continue working with the organization in an administrative and development position stateside.
Maybe I’ve just played the ultimate reverse psychology trip on God and I’ll get what every girl dreams; to be the suburban wife, white picket fence, soccer mom, with occasional interruptions of chaos, but generally just being the typical American. But now I realize that he is asking me for a different kind of sacrifice than some; the sacrifice of an idea, a dream, and a mindset. I don’t know what will happen next, if he’ll give it back (as he often does when we let things go), if he’ll use me in a completely unexpected way (he usually does), or if he’ll just give me a new contentment with being ordinary (which I’m beginning to think would be alright too).
Thank God he uses our idiocy for his purposes. Only he can do something good with something that was purely selfish. He chose this place to reveal a new vision for us that we couldn’t see from where we were. This, from Donald Miller’s “Through Painted Deserts”, has been amazingly reassuring to both of us and incredibly timely:
“…everybody, every person, has to leave, has to change like seasons; they have to or they die. The seasons remind me that I must keep changing, and I want to because it’s God’s way. All my life I have been changing. I changed from a baby to a child… I will change into a husband to love a woman, into a father to love a child, change houses so we are near water, and again so we are near mountains, and again so we are near friends, keep changing with my wife, getting our love so it dies and gets born again and again, like a garden, fed by four seasons, a cycle of change. Everybody has to change, or they expire. Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons.
I want to keep my soul fertile for the changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it is time for things to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently.
…And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is that your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?
…It’s interesting how you sometimes have to leave home before you can ask difficult questions, how the questions never come up in the room you grew up in, in the town in which you were born. It’s funny how you can’t ask difficult questions in a familiar place, how you have to stand back a few feet and see things in a new way before you realize nothing that is happening to you is normal.”
And so I am assured that what we are doing here is not useless, and that maybe we just have a lot more questions in our minds than some, and we needed to step back a bit further than most to ask them; that we had to leave in order to change and in order to realize that we are meant to return.
So that is what we are doing. I understand if you think we’re crazy, it isn’t far from the truth. We’ve made a lot of unusual decisions and we’ve followed a lot of overgrown trails, but we’ve followed believing that we will get to where we are meant to be. Or maybe the going, the following, the journey itself is where we are meant to be. I don’t suppose, in this life, we have a specific destination to reach. Just to keep seeking, keep following, keep knocking, and walking through the doors or jumping through the windows that are opened to us. Thanks to our families and friends for supporting us, and for knowing our hearts well enough not to question our sanity. We couldn’t do any of the things we do if it weren’t for the love we receive from you.

For more insight and further thinking on the subject of African development and our role in it, I found this article helpful, and I have a handful of others if you are interested.
http://burnsidewriters.com/2009/09/21/advocacy-and-africa-we-cant-all-be-celebrities/all/1/

why I don’t like post titles and other ramblings

Today I discovered a blog option on my word processing program so I thought I’d try it out. And apparently blog posts are supposed to have a title – oops. I’m not so sure I am such a fan of the title idea though, it seems a little forced. I know people who sort of live with this philosophy for communication in general, as if every conversation or interaction has to have a subject and purpose to be accomplished. It never seems very natural to me, as if they are more concerned with their achieving something than knowing you. I understand the need to be direct at times and agree with the need to be challenged and honest about things that may not easily come up in conversation, but it’s a fine line. This is a frequent problem in evangelism, I think, because people know when you have an agenda. I always know when someone has a goal for their time with me or if they just want to be with me. I feel the same with email subjects – most of the time the actual subject of my email isn’t even clear to me and probably not to the reader either. I don’t write an outline for how I’m going to have a discussion, tell someone about my life, or discuss theirs… and I don’t think it’s usually helpful to try and plan all that out. Now I’m going to have to go back and change my blog title which is no longer relevant. I was going to title it “on Florida” which was going to be my subject, but now I’ve added such a long prelude to the actual post that it’s completely different. I rest my case about why titles are pointless.
I actually began this blog in 2007 when we were about to move to China. But plans fell through and we ended up in Florida, and I thought, people don’t want to hear about Florida. But what’s so much more exciting about China? It’s just another place to think about life, and why we’re here and what we are supposed to be doing, and trying to do it, whatever it is. And Florida turned out to be very different than I imagined. We arrived there in crisis and all our thoughts were on weathering the storm and getting out. We had our minds set on living overseas and decided we would just get through this setback and move on. So when, through a series of miracles, we emerged from our depression, economic and emotional, we followed a lead to move again. I was searching for something, somewhere, that would make me feel comfortable and accepted. I was so certain I would find it internationally and my impatience kept me from seeing how God had already put the people in my life that I had been searching for. I was still set on leaving, and did so. We spent a long, wonderful summer, traveling, camping, visiting old friends and making new ones, celebrating rites of passage and enjoying the familiarity of home. We flew over oceans and rode trains across countries and ended up in Ghana where we thought we would stay. Only then did we see that what we had been looking for had been right in front of us. In Florida we had been near John’s parents and made the best friends who accepted me just as I am; Angie, the free spirited sister of my soul – we seem to have some mental connection that is unexplainable, and Lesa, a role model of motherhood, committed friend, sister, sounding board for all my ridiculous thoughts and the Martha Stewart of my life (we seriously miss your cooking too…and Chris Baker’s cookies), a wonderful small group and connections that we know will be long lasting. You have no idea how many times I’ve looked over the scrapbook you made us and thank God for each of you there. I know that we’ll never feel completely comfortable or accepted on earth because it isn’t our home. And what we strive for is not to achieve a goal, there is no goal to reach, there are only relationships to build on, new people to meet, things to think about and rethink, love to pursue, and trying to figure out how to live right and help others. So I see that Florida, for us, was the unplanned plan God had for us. Isn’t it funny how the things we think are the biggest mistakes turn into our best memories?

This trip has been one of the most revealing experiences of my life so far. Through the culture, our work, and John (who is endlessly knowledgeable about everything, it seems - really!) I have been learning about development from a whole new perspective. Development in Africa, particularly, and all the complexities of the economic and political systems of the west and how they influence (read: control) the stability and progression of so many nations over here. The issues are so vast and complex that it’s easy to feel like there is no way for us to make an impact. There has to be systematic changes that come from political decisions made by the US and other countries to not just give aid, but to forgive debts which are keeping these African nations in permanent survival mode. The profits generated here are immediately being poured into someone else’s economy and are not benefiting the locals. So many things are imported that Ghanaian industry is not gaining and all the cash flow is leaving the country. The cost of living is high, wages are low, and inflation is sky rocketing. I have never been too interested in economics but it is really revealing to see this global disenfranchisement in motion. It is apparent to us every day.
This is an excerpt from the Daily Graphic newspaper here about what Ghana’s president said at the UN General Assembly (and John has been telling about me since we arrived);
‘President John Evans Atta Mills yesterday stressed the need for rich countries to put in more effort to meet existing commitments to aid and debt reduction to African economies. He said they should also accelerate disbursement of the access to existing financial facilities in order to ease the impact of the global financial crisis on African economies. “Unfortunately the current global trading system discriminates against developing countries, hinders their participation in the global economy and damages the earning opportunities of farmers and rural communities in poor countries. “’
Still we keep fluctuating between alternate feelings of inspiration to meet the challenges put before us and throwing our hands up in defeat (more on this later as we are figuring out the role that may be best for us in this development process.) Still, my mom reminded me to keep the starfish story in my mind and we are trying to make what little difference we can for even one (and trying not to infect the rest with all our blunders in the trying.) John is continually renewing my faith in the message of love we have and the impact of simply caring. He does this daily through conviction and wisdom and puts them in motion with every interaction.

After a month here we finally went and did a little bit of sightseeing. Friday we took a trotro to Accra and did the tourist thing (there is absolutely no way to blend in here so we embraced it and went all out; camera, souvenirs, the whole shebang!) First we went to the National Cultural Center, which is really just a market, similar to khan el khalili, where you bargain hard and the shop owners all conspire to get your money. We spent a long time talking to a few of the vendors, which of course meant we had to buy a few things, but had some really interesting conversations with them and enjoyed getting to know each other. I absolutely love the fabrics here so it is always hard for me to resist those, but we found a few unique items and made our first for-fun purchases since our arrival (okay besides chocolate, and I did get that one fabric a few days ago…). They love Obama here, and since his visit in July there is an insane amount of Obama paraphernalia and incredibly huge posters all over the city proclaiming their affection for him. I am trying to at least get pictures (impossible to upload with this connection) of what I can’t purchase; “Obama Biscuits”, yes, tiny packages of cookies with his face and the American flag on them (and are actually quite tasty), textiles, t-shirts, and bags are everywhere. It is quite hilarious. I even saw a Michelle Obama bag.
Another funny thing is the slogans, which they plaster to cars (similar to the Egyptian fetish for stickers) and are often introduced as “Motto:” For example “Such and such Preparatory school – Motto: Knowleg is Power” (I am not kidding; Knowleg!) I mentioned earlier the Christianese as store names, but it goes way beyond that – I have to admit I have begun calling a lot of things here faux- Christianity, I know it’s not right to judge, but I have to be able to at least make a distinction in order to keep my own faith. Of course I see the similarities to a lot of pop-Christianity in the west (there’s a Winner’s Chapel here – I’m not going to mention of who it reminded me of in the US, you can probably guess.) It’s all warm fuzzies, name-it-and-claim-it, believe-in-yourself, your-enemies-will-all-fail-miserably and so on. Of course there are some very sincere and grounded people too, but sadly, the most vocal ones are the ones you remember.
We went to a couple of slave forts which were right next to each other in Accra. It was a really sobering experience, as you can imagine. Unfortunately they were in great disrepair; in order to get in you have to duck through a tiny door, wake up a doorman-turned-tour-guide, and negotiate a price for him to “show you around” (which has varying degrees of meaning ranging from a fairly detailed tour with a small museum and historical facts, to occasional, unintelligible noises and something about someone who was here at some unknown point in time). But really it was horrifying and very powerful to see. It was interesting to view it from an African perspective and to realize how intertwined our histories are. We were amazed to find out the places had been used as prisons until very recently (one was used in 2005 to hold 200 Sudanese refugees who left Arabic graffiti on the walls of some cells) and they are supposedly turning them into museums, though they are at different stages of this process.
Today we had a football tournament. Ghana vs. America, were the teams. The games are frequently interrupted for injuries and whenever the ball got kicked over the wall (every 2 minutes) and there were also random intermissions for dancing.
We are conducting some interviews with the kids, which are enlightening and confusing at the same time. There are several new volunteers arriving this month, most are staying for a few weeks at a time. So it should be fun to have some new people around, though we aren’t sure exactly what the plan is for their time here.
Not much else to report right now except a continuation of my list of store names; “Christ in the Vessel Fast Food” “Jesus First Fast Food” “God Can Do It Communication and Snack” ? Thanks for reading. 

Yesterday was a national holiday, so the kids were home from school. It was the first president of Ghana, Kwame Nkukrumah’s, birthday. We spent the morning attending to open wounds, ring worm, and twisted ankles. John tackles most of the really nasty stuff here, he has the stomach and the heart for it. I can’t seem to muster enough courage to do much beyond applying band-aids and giving sympathetic looks from across the room. John has been instrumental in getting a few of the serious medical issues resolved here concerning a couple of kids. The medical situation seems to us to be the most urgent need; some basic medical education for staff and kids would really help and is painfully lacking.

After lunch we went to Community 1 where the main market is in Tema. Everything there is so bright and lively that it takes quite a bit of energy to concentrate on doing one thing. Thankfully we went this time with the main goal of observation and only a short list of things we wanted to buy. We purchased our essential veggies and fruit while dodging the colorful chaos that is the market; vendors carrying head-balanced trays of eggs, mamas in vibrant mismatched patterns with babies wrapped effortlessly to their backs, African hip-hop blaring from passing taxis, the smell of fresh fish and the buzz of a hundred sewing machines hard at work. I found some beautiful batik fabric which I’ve been eyeing impatiently since we arrived and am looking forward to a visit to Naomi, our neighborhood tailor, so she can make me a little more African.

We’ve been seeking more insight into the future of the projects here and feel a bit more confident in our roles and vision. I will elaborate on this more later, but for now, suffice it to say that God has really revealed some incredible new ideas to us and has pricked (or pummeled) our hearts to a new awareness of things we never felt passionate about before.

If you’ve ever wondered what happened to an old t-shirt you decorated for a college pep rally or summer camp way back when; we have located all such discarded items. The used clothing (and used everything else) market here is remarkable. Ghanaians proudly display their Salvation Army cast-offs and declare to the world that the senior class of 2005 rules the school! I am pleased to see that westerners constant consumerism has some benefits for the less commercial world, though they are also the victims of some horrible fashion trends from decades past such as the one where every other teenage girl in the States proclaimed their sense of self-worth (or lack their of) across their chest with bold letters stating their beauty. I saw a very African woman wearing a shirt that proclaimed in bold letters “Help me, I’m blond!”

In other news, today I spent the afternoon cutting 24 small, dirty sets of finger and toe nails. Most, if not all, had never been cut by anything but a razor blade before. There are some things my western mind just can’t come to terms with, and one of them is the use of double edged razor blades by small children. They use them for lots of things and think I’m so paranoid for insisting they use scissors or cutting every single piece of paper myself just to keep the blades out of their hands. The hygiene and safety factors here have been affecting us in different ways. We keep telling ourselves that millions of people live this way and survive, and then again their life expectancy is much shorter than ours. We are dealing with a lot of health issues for the kids and are looking into the different possibilities for their health care and testing.

John built a compost box with some of the kids the other day and we are hoping to get started on some garden boxes soon. Locating good soil is a challenge (which is part of the systematic problem of production here) but we are hoping to grow as much of our own produce as possible to cut costs and improve the kids (and our) diet.
John has been doing an amazing job of organizing nightly football (soccer) matches for the kids, which they absolutely love, and is quite a task to accomplish. He has taught them how to count off into teams and play in shifts, which seems to be working much better than the alternative. Sometimes he takes them down to the closest “field” where he incorporates the local neighborhood kids into the games and draws quite a crowd of fans.

Other than that we’ve been tearing through books in the evenings. The kids go to their rooms at 8pm (I would say they go to bed at 8, but our bathrooms are connected and I can hear them playing around long after 9 sometimes – which I really don’t understand how they have the energy to do because they wake up at 4:30am, don’t take naps, and some of the kids are only 5 years old!) at which time we usually retire to our room for reading or sometimes on an exceptionally long day we take a walk down to the local establishment (which we’ve affectionately dubbed, Our Lord’s Pub, but is really just a window from which a sweet, plump older woman serves very cheap drinks and there are some tables and chairs set under a corrugated tin roof canopy) for some refreshment.

We are thankful to have found a few more affordable grocery stores and vendors where we can save a few pennies here and there. We aren’t technically supposed to be paying for food right now, since we have a cook here, but our stomachs are begging us to buckle down and make the investment in something familiar and nutritionally valuable. I am generally pretty tightfisted, I’ll admit, but when it comes to eating, there are some things you just have to pay for. The other thing we have been spending a lot on is communication. Internet usage and phone calls, which add up, but are definitely worth it and make a big difference for our sanity, which could seem questionable, depending on what hour, or minute, you catch us. We’ve definitely been on a rollercoaster ride of emotions since we arrived.

Emails and phone calls are some of our best encouragements here. Thanks for the updates and support, we really couldn’t make it without our relationships all over the world that keep us lifted up. Keep them coming, please!

Please excuse the ever-changing font. We’ve been having some trouble posting at all, getting error messages and having to reformat. I’m not sure exactly how to fix it so for the time being we’re just going with the default settings. Actually, I’m having second thoughts about this whole blog all together. It’s a bit frustrating because I’m not exactly sure who I’m talking to or who is actually interested in reading it (except for a few who have made it clear –thank you). It can’t be too personal, because it’s public, but there’s also no point in being too generic or you could just read a book and get the same information. I am not such a fan of constant email updates because those get annoying, if too frequent, so I figured at least with a blog you only have to view it if you’re interested. I guess it’s just part of the trend toward passive relationships/gossip fodder where you might know the details of someone’s life who you have no personal contact with; of this facebook is the ultimate offender (yes, I have a love/hate relationship with it too.) So feel free to weigh in if you feel so inclined, or if you even read this…

We are trying to take an anthropological approach to the situation here and take a lot observation time. Also reflecting on our value in who we were made to be in relationship to others and not just in what we do and accomplish. We want to earn trust in the community and in the new relationships we are forming, not having an agenda or ulterior motives with the kids or the staff here but really taking the time to invest in people and understand their felt needs.
I was encouraged by this today from Henry Nouwen;

“But what we do not see and do not want to see is the care: the participation in the pain, the solidarity in the suffering, the sharing in the experience of brokenness. And still, cure without care is as dehumanizing as a gift given with a cold heart…Our tendency is to run away from the painful realities or try to change them as soon as possible. But cure without care makes us into rulers, controllers, manipulators, and prevents a real community from taking shape. Cure without care makes us preoccupied with quick changes, impatient and unwilling to share each other’s burden. And so cure can often become offending instead of liberating. It is therefore not so strange that cure is not seldom refused by people in need. Not only have individuals refused help when they did not sense a real care, but also oppressed minorities have resisted support, and suffering nations have declined medicine and food when they realized that it was better to suffer than to lose self-respect by accepting a gift out of a non-caring hand.”

So we are using every ounce of self-control we can muster to not correct, suggest and alter things that we think could be done differently. We are doing the best we can to care for those we are here to care for and not just seek an instant cure. I am painfully aware that ego often takes over in non-profit work, and that the reward of financial success in the for-profit world, is replaced by the “reward” of self-righteousness of those who, all-too-easily, adopt a savior complex. We are also keenly sensitive to the fact that coming in and trying to “fix” things before jetting off to the next adventure is ineffective, at best, and completely counterproductive, at worst. This kind of attitude usually does more harm than good and we are trying to make sure we keep ourselves in check.
In other news, as a part of my “research” I am compiling a list of Christian store names, which I referred to in the last post. My favorite so far (I have to give John the credit, he spotted it from our taxi) is “The Lord’s Pub”! There is too much to say about this one, I don’t know where to begin… I am hoping Jesus comes back sometime soon so we can sit down for a cold one with him in His pub, I’m pretty sure he would get a kick out of it too.