My two colleagues and I left from our homes in Ghana at 5am to get to the airport. All of us got up much earlier than that to put the finishing touches on our packing. I packed pretty light for this trip because I find it easier to pack light and wash than to pack heavy. Our departing plane on Virgin Nigeria was on time and we landed in Abuja, the capital of Nigeria, about 20 minutes late because of a VIP landing (they closed the airport; it’s a whole other story).
From here everything looked the same but different. It felt like I had been in Nigeria before because the buildings had a similar look to Ghanaian buildings. But then some of the architecture was, I guess, strictly Nigerian. The roads in Abuja were smooth and relaxing like Accra, but there were very little street vendors.
When we arrived at our first destination, Jos (which incidentally got its name from when it was first settled by missionaries and stands for Jesus Our Savior), the streets were congested and looked the same as Ghanaian streets, but they were different because Nigerian police had stands in the center of intersections to direct traffic. There were many Nigerians zooming by on machines (their word for motorcycles) like Ghana, but Nigerians were bundled up because it was in the high 60’s. I was and am cold, like the Nigerians. I guess Ghana has made me weak and thinned my blood.
Africa is strange like that. Everything is the same, but different.
One day I took 3 children from the orphanage to the doctor for a checkup. This can sometimes be an ordeal. They see a pediatrician at the hospital, but you don’t make an appointment. You just wait your turn like the 20 other mothers. Two of the children had used the bathroom before arriving at the hospital, but the third had declined. Finally, we were up next; I knew this, because we were the only ones left in the waiting room. Suddenly, the third child jumped up, holding himself and crying. It was obvious he needed to go, immediately. I awoke an employee to ask directions to the nearest restroom; the employee just pointed. Not being able to find the right door, we went downstairs to the information desk to ask.
We must have been quite a sight, me with 3 children in tow, all holding hands so no one would be left behind. We were then directed to another building. We stopped and asked again in the cafeteria and were given vague directions to follow the guy who just went around the corner. Unfortunately, not a single door was marked with a sign identifying it as a bathroom, and I wasn’t about to just open a door into an examination room. I finally gave up and took the children to a small grassy area where they all relieved themselves. Although this is usual practice here in Ghana, I flushed in embarrassment. Unfortunately, when we returned to the waiting room, we had to wait again, this time for the doctor to return from his break.
On the way back down south from Parakou, we again stopped in Cotonou, like we did when we came into Benin. This time we had a little more time to kill and had some friends who knew friends on the Mercy Ship docked in the Cotonou harbor. (Its always nice to have friends of friends. The adage about who you know might be more important in Africa.) So, we made our way on over there to get the grand tour. And a grand tour it was.
I felt like I was going through a bit of temporary culture shock as the ship was very nice from the operating room to the Starbucks cafe. Wow! They have about 15 Toyota Landcruisers (which is loaded onto the ship each time they move from port to port) sitting outside the ship for teams to go on village medical trips. They currently have six surgeons on board who perform tons of surgery each day.
I wish Tywonn had been available to see it. We are hoping that Tywonn might be able to take a break to make a trip there next year as it will be docked in Togo, which is right next to Ghana. We’re on an amazing journey! We’ll see…
Part of traveling the world is that you are introduced to other cultures and traditions. And of course, we meet African culture head on most every day, from the eating of various ethnic foods to the varying types of transportation and traffic rules (and guidelines). But we also meet other cultures that accompany missionaries who serve with us. Take for example the interpersonal skills course I did in Senegal in May. There were 13 cultures represented from the missionary community. Talk about a wide range of traditions in this group.
Here in Benin there is a large contingency of Canadians. And luck would have it that I arrived during the time that Canadians celebrate their Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving in the U.S. is my favorite holiday and I think it might be in Africa, also. We were able to get most of the same foods that we have been deprived of since we came: cranberry sauce, ham, rolls, pumpkin pie, and green beans. By the end of the night I was full beyond measure and feeling a little Canadian. O Canada…
This is a post dated blog. I wrote this on Thursday night after arriving in Parakou, Cotonou.
Wednesday was an early day. I mean really early. Actually, I felt like I was back fishing with my Papa is how early it was. I was up at 4:30am getting prepared to make an eight hour bus ride to Cotonou, Benin.
The drive began auspiciously enough as a person—my partner and I couldn’t tell if he was Ghanaian or Nigerian—began the trip with an animated, some might say, Pentecostal message and prayer blessing the trip to come. It felt surreal to say the least. Next came breakfast that consisted of fried chicken and rice. These two things set the tone for what was an interesting trip. The night concluded with a dinner on the beach in Cotonou with one of the best meals I’ve eaten since I’ve come to Africa. It was phenomenal.
The next day began a little later, let’s say 5am to catch another bus that would eventually take us to Parakou, Benin. This trip wasn’t as long, didn’t have a preacher begin the day with a message, nor did it include fried chicken and rice for breakfast; but by the end of the day, I was tired. Tired from two days of long travel and hitting the ground running. Once we arrived in Parakou, we were whisked off to our first counseling session. It was in this and most counseling sessions I’ve had with missionaries, that confirms why we are here. I am energized and fulfilled.
Our schedule continues to fill up. And I’m off to bed.
I made my first trip to Akropong on Saturday. I traveled on a bus for a few hours with a group of roughly 20 Ghanaians for a medical outreach. When we reached Akropong, we split up into 2 groups. Two-thirds of the group helped at a blind school while I joined the group serving the village near the chief’s palace. I admit that I chose not to serve at the blind school in case many of them didn’t speak English, because they also wouldn’t be able to follow my hand signals. I’ve encountered the language barrier before, especially in more rural areas, and hand signals have been very helpful in the past. I just didn’t want someone to be assigned to me as a translator for the whole day.
In the village, I worked the pharmacy area—helping to distribute free medication to nearly 175 people with varying complaints and illnesses. The oldest person I served was a 98 year old lady being led around by her husband since her cataracts caused her to go blind. It was a sweet sight. I told my friend ahead of time that I’d never met a chief before. There really weren’t any introductions made, but my friend pointed out the chief. He wasn’t elaborately dressed that day, but he was the only one in his group with gray hair. However, the group of volunteers was treated to snack and lunch inside a room in the large, white palace. The small room where we ate contained the chief’s throne. Like an obruni and foreigner, I just had to take a picture!
This is a talk by Wade Davis, an anthropologist. It is a fascinating speech, especially on the idea of ethnocide. Its a little long, but well worth the time, if you want to stretch yourself.
The other day I (Alan) was sitting outside with our day guard, Jaffa. He is a character and by the far the most talkative of all our guards. I’ll try and get a picture to post so you can see Jaffa for yourself. Anyway, Jaffa told me the story of why bats fly at night. It goes something like this:
One day there was a nest in a tree with a bird (Jaffa pronouces this bud) in it. One day the bird fell out of the tree and hit the ground injuring himself. So all the birds gathered asking if his family was around. His family came, claimed him, and took him home. Another day there was a bat in a tree. The bat, like the bird, fell out of the tree hitting the ground and was injured. Again the all the birds gathered to see if his family would come forth. But when they looked at the bat, they noticed that it had fangs and tits (Jaffa’s words) like a dog. They exclaimed that this was a dog not a bird. So, all the birds left leaving the bat on the ground. Soon, the bat became well enough to fly, but swore he would only fly at night when the birds were sleeping.
So, there ya have it. Another mystery answered. But really, I think it displays how Ghana is a shame based culture. The bat was shamed and held a grudge against the birds. Thoughts? What other countries are shame based?
Greetings from Ghana where the sun has come out very strong and hot!
We have a personal need we would like you to consider contributing towards. It is about our passports. Back in July, I needed to renew my visa which allows me remain in Ghana. Now, both of us recently had to do it again. But we were fined this time. They change the rules and guidelines here so frequently our Ghanaian friends and colleagues even cannot keep up with them. So we were required to pay $250 to stay in Ghana until December when we leave. If you would like to take the opportunity to help us with this unexpected cost there are three ways:
My two colleagues and I left from our homes in Ghana at 5am to get to the airport. All of us got up much earlier than that to put the finishing touches on our packing. I packed pretty light for this trip because I find it easier to pack light and wash than to pack heavy. Our departing plane on Virgin Nigeria was on time and we landed in Abuja, the capital of Nigeria, about 20 minutes late because of a VIP landing (they closed the airport; it’s a whole other story).
One day I took 3 children from the orphanage to the doctor for a checkup. This can sometimes be an ordeal. They see a pediatrician at the hospital, but you don’t make an appointment. You just wait your turn like the 20 other mothers. Two of the children had used the bathroom before arriving at the hospital, but the third had declined. Finally, we were up next; I knew this, because we were the only ones left in the waiting room. Suddenly, the third child jumped up, holding himself and crying. It was obvious he needed to go, immediately. I awoke an employee to ask directions to the nearest restroom; the employee just pointed. Not being able to find the right door, we went downstairs to the information desk to ask.
On the way back down south from Parakou, we again stopped in Cotonou, like we did when we came into Benin. This time we had a little more time to kill and had some friends who knew friends on the 
I made my first trip to Akropong on Saturday. I traveled on a bus for a few hours with a group of roughly 20 Ghanaians for a medical outreach. When we reached Akropong, we split up into 2 groups. Two-thirds of the group helped at a blind school while I joined the group serving the village near the chief’s palace. I admit that I chose not to serve at the blind school in case many of them didn’t speak English, because they also wouldn’t be able to follow my hand signals. I’ve encountered the language barrier before, especially in more rural areas, and hand signals have been very helpful in the past. I just didn’t want someone to be assigned to me as a translator for the whole day.
