Even Birds

In Ghana they say even birds must return to land. This is a metaphor for the fact that there comes a time for each person to return home. For me, right now, my time to be home in Calgary is now. I’m leaving my Africa home for a while, and trusting that in God’s time I will take flight here again too.


The past week at Father’s House International has been a fantastic experience. I can’t wait to tell you more about it. For now I will tell you I enjoyed every minute of bracelet making, soccer playing (mostly cheering for me), singing, dancing and chit chatting. The Great 8 (the 8 boys at FH), and the fabulous team behind Father’s House, have carved a place in my heart.

The past 7 weeks have been challenging and exhilarating, discouraging and encouraging, and full of the unexpected. To oversimplify I will say it’s reinforced my love for Africa, it’s made me ask tough questions and find even tougher answers, and it’s been an experience I will cherish.

I have just arrived back home...

Cup of Coffee

 I know I promised an update over a cup of coffee this summer, but who am I kidding? I can’t wait that long. And we both know I’m always up for a cup coffee regardless of if you’ve been keeping up on my blog or not. So here’s the update.

Tuesday afternoon Alessa and I grabbed a ticket on a trotro and headed back up to the Keta district in the Volta Region. Dzelukope (the town of our homestay) is in the Keta district, as is Tegbi, the town where you’ll find Father’s House. And it’s Father’s House that drew us back here for the week.

I’ve fallen in love with falling into the daily routine here at Father’s House. There’s no time to bored as I find myself busy reading with the boys, cheering them on in soccer games, and chatting with them as they fly kites (or fight kites! Which has lead to me and alessa joking about kite club. hehe). I’ve found ways of communicating with the boys who speak little English, and most of it involves making silly faces and doing silly dances (which might be my favourite thing to do anytime...). One of the boys (Evans) showed me his ‘monkey’ face, and burst into hysterics when I showed him mine.

Yesterday Alessa and I divided the boys into groups of 4 and taught them to use our cameras. I’m not sure whether this project was more fun for me, or for them, but we’ll see who wants to keep it going longer and keep you updated. For now here is a sneak peek of two photos by Jr.

 looking down the well

homework time

things in a bag

I'm not going to lie. I still find eating things out of a bag novel. Ice cream, yogurt, water, peanut butter, all in a bag...the child in me is thrilled everytime I get to eat these things. The only guess I have is that it brings me back to the days of milk in a bag?

Wordless Wednesday: Keeping Rhythm

draw of the sea

Nonge

last week our group crossed the border to Burkina for a morning...

If you’d asked me a month ago if I could be in Ghana, just a border away from Burkina, and not make my way up to Yako, I would have told you absolutely not. Part of me still wants to give this response. And I’ve been fighting the response that I am now going to give. “Not this time”.

As my program draws to a close (finished today!) and I consider the extra week I’ve given myself in West Africa before flying home, I have continued to pray for direction with regards to where to be. Originally I'd assumed I would be spending this time in Burkina but, I have been trusting God to show me what he has planned. The more I prayed, and trusted, the more I realized God was saying “not now” to my requests for him to send me back to Burkina. I thought about it doing it my way. But, I’m fairly confident he has it a bit more figured out than I do. So despite the fact that I am so close to Burkina I won’t be spending my last weeks in Africa there this year.

I still love those kids with a huge chunk of my heart. So much so it’s inexplicable. Mam nonge fo ( I love you).

One the one hand I have a heavy heart: I am disappointed I won’t be in Burkina. However, as I look back, I can see how God has been preparing me (and my heart) for this shift. Most of all I can see little ways he’s been showing me what else he has planned. So I am at peace.

And I’m pretty excited about what the week after my program holds. It’s a God thing... It’s not what I expected at all, but that’s the best kind of God thing. It’s something he’s placed on my heart in a way I couldn’t ignore, and so I am confident he is asking me to pursue this week, and that he has it figured out.

I’m super excited to share more with you about this coming week. Maybe I’ll share it with you over a cup of coffee in Calgary sometime this summer. Or in whatever, other random way, we tend to share our stories. I can’t wait for it.





Silent Sunday: Shadowman

Elmina Castle

Feet

The tour of the village had been interesting. If it wasn’t so hot, and I wasn’t so tired, and I hadn’t toured a village like this before...maybe I would have really enjoyed the tour. But now, I was just tired. I wanted to sit and relax.


I followed my group to the shade of the big tree and and smiled at the girls sitting near by. When I gestured and asked if I could take a picture they were overjoyed and we were instant friends. We had three words in a shared language but they didn’t seem disturbed by it, I wasn’t either. We hi-fived a lot, shook hands, I’d snap a picture and they would smile. They taught me a new handshake and would giggle everytime I did it with them. It was awesome.

And then they looked down at my feet. They were filthy. Marked by traces of sandal lines, and sweat, after walking all afternoon in the dust my feet had attracted an array of dirty, colourful, lines and dashes. The girls picked up some leaves, and pretended to clean their feet with them. I thought about it, and wondered what my chances were of waking up the next morning with a rash, or swollen feet, because grabbing random leaves just doesn’t seem like something you should do here – or anywhere. And then I wondered if it would hurt that bad, and if letting them help was better.

I took the leaves. And when I started rubbing my feet with the bottom of one, each of the girls grabbed a handful of leaves too. It was funny, I thought, having the kids clean my feet for me. And there was something simply beautiful about it too. Maybe, they didn’t even realize it. Something felt reversed about the girls wanting to wash my feet for me. Maybe because it’s easier to do than to let others do something for you? Whatever it was, somewhere between learning a secret handshake and my clean feet, I decided once again that this place is awesome.

Wordless Wednesday: Making Shea Butter

Photo Updates

Here's a few updates from the past weeks in photo...

 Meeting the sacred crocodiles in Paga, Ghana.

Photo cred for this one goes to Alessa U.



 A canopy walk in Cape Coast...

eating from a bag - you can eat everything from a bag here. icecream tends to be my favourite.

Photo cred to Alessa U. 

And finally...it's paper writing time.

West Africa's Market

While in Kumasi I spent a few hours in the largest market in all of West Africa. It was intense and exhilarating.

As I wound my way through aisle after aisle I encountered just about everything you would think anyone could ever want or need to buy. See this gentlemen selling jewlery:

There were whole aisles dedicated to singular goods, particular fabrics, machetes, slingshots, or tshirts. An entire section of the market was dedicated to foodstuffs. I thought I’d found something exotic when I disovered fist-sized, living snails. And then I found these: (yep – roasted rats. This guy is smaller than a lot I found, but more “artistically” displayed.)

This market would have been overwhelming to me if I had needed to find something in particular. It was thoroughly enjoyable however to get lost inside and simply enjoy the new sights, sounds, and smells (okay, not all the smells were enjoyable). Most enjoyable were the people, I would have loved to spend the day simply making my way from conversation to conversation.

Everywhere we went the aisles were packed with people buying, selling and moving products. It was a constant shuffle of feet, and ducking in and out of stalls. There were people of all ages working, mothers with babies strapped to their backs, others with kids playing near by. These mothers were excited when I chatted with their kids:

Tree Fort

My time in Ghana is a lot of school work, but also a lot of fun stuff. My favourite of these fun things was just this week. When after an afternoon of "Safaris" (in which we had some bad luck and saw just an elephant and some antelope) a few of us from our group headed out to spend the night in the woods.

"We need to leave at 5" our guide told us "if you leave anytime later than 5:30 or 6 it gets dark when you're hiking, and then it's too dangerous to be out."

We agreed. And eventually set off. At 6:20 - which means our hike to the camp was a very brisk walk through the woods, while watching the sunset. We made it in "record time". It was fantastic.

Our camp was a treefort, hovering above the forest. And from our perch we could hear all the animals throughout the night. My favourite was waking up and recognizing there was a hyena hanging out right near our fort, and many more calling to it in the distance.

Black Stars!

Not even the rain could keep me away from the game on Friday. And rain it did! As we searched for ticekets, and made our way around the stadium, a great, tropical storm, opened from the skies. And by the time I was seated in my covered seat I might as well have jumped in a swimming pool – I was drenched. All the pushing and shoving (which I have to admit – I told one man “hold your horses sir!” when i got frustrated with all the shoving) ended with everyone watching the game. We had fantastic seats and a great view. Ghana 3, Congo 1. Go Black Stars!

Thanks!

My friends the McLeans have been a big support to the work of Sheltering Wings and my time in Burkina and were generous in donating toothbrushes and toothpastes to my time in Africa this go-round. Although the original intent was for the brushes to come to Burkina Faso, when I contacted the McLeans about my change in plans they suggested the items could go wherever I saw fit.

While in Dzelukope I traveled with Mamy, my host mother, to visit the school she works at – the Keta Business Secondary School. There I met her class and was able to give them all toothbrushes and toothpastes to keep their smiles looking beautiful. It was a mostly female class as it was a home economics class, and the girls all cheered when I told them my friends in Canada had sent a little gift for them. They send their blessings.

I still had many toothbrushes and toothpastes and was able to give the rest to Father's House International to support them as they continue to provide for vulnerable children in Ghana.

Thanks so much McLean family!

va

This woman was older, but not too much older, than the other women in the market. She was beautiful in a non-traditional way: her eyebrows tattooed on with greeny –black dye, and forehead marked with designs in the same ink. Her voice was commanding, and she was speaking to me.
“Va.” She said as she waved her hand in the air. She’s speaking Ewe I reminded myself.

“Va? Come?” I said. And I did. I stood in front of her mesmerized by the fluid movement of the deep lines in her face. She said something else, the wrinkles wrippled, I heard the word konan. She must be asking my name I thought.

“Unkonane Adjo.” I said. Her lips parted, the lines on her face moved upwards in a brief moment of togetherness, a smile. She spoke again, pointed down the market row, and I told her the names of each of the other girls I was with. I repeated the names until she could say them, and corrected my name to Adjovie (little one born on Monday) when I recognized one of the girls was also born on Monday (and is older than me). She loved this correction, and chuckled. And then she said

“Unknonane Bockboa.” I practiced saying it, and struggled with the pronounciation. That was it. The others were walking away, I waved to her, and turned to leave. Bockboa turned to the woman beside her, and I overheard her say “il faut y aller pour-“.

I swivelled on my heel. “You speak French?!” The past few minutes of struggling through conversation, the way in which I’d marvelled at the simplicity and beauty of that moment in the market when there was no common languge, it all went swirling around in my head as she smiled again.

“Well, a little.” She said.

“Me too, a little.” I replied.

“I used to lived in Cote d’Ivoire.” She told me.

“I used to live in Burkina Faso.” I said. She let out a loud cry.

“Burkina? Oh, oh.” She said. She was nodding vigorously. “My husband is from there. Those countries are so close.”

I smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you Bockboa.”

“See you tomorrow.” She said.

As I left the market each vendor (not that there were many) turned to me, and whispered ‘goodbye adjo’. Some spoke to me in Ewe, others in French. A few shook my hand.

And I marvelled at this world we live in. I can’t explain it, except to tell you it’s beautiful. And we’re all a lot more alike than we are different.

Futbol 4

Hopefully you've all had a chance to read about Father's House International Ghana. If not you can read my post (scroll down!) or follow this link! Father's House is where my fourth One World Futbol is.

As soon as I spent my first afternoon at Father's House I wanted to bring them a One World Futbol. The boys are so active, and play so much soccer, that I figured the ball would be put to good use. On my last afternoon at Father's House I entrusted Jake&Chanda with a One World Ball for when the boys need a new ball.

They knew what the One World ball was right away. The founders of Father's House have been looking at them online and talking about how awesome it would be for Father's House to have some! I'm super excited I get to be a part of Father's House trial run of the One World balls, and look forward to hearing how it goes!

The boys play soccer on the beach, so here is a picture with a beach soccer game in the background.

Father’s House International Ghana

A week or two ago a friend of mine invited me to go with her to an orphanage. It sounded like fun, but I nearly didn’t go because of other things that were going on. Despite my hesitation I soon found myself walking up the beach towards Father’s House International Ghana. (Do click that link! There's so much information about this awesome organization!).

The children from Father’s House had run ahead of our group and told Jake (one of the in-country directors) that the “white men” were coming. Jake and his wife Chanda didn’t believe them, and were shocked when five white girls showed up at their doorstep. I explained that we were students studying NGOs and they welcomed in for a tour and history of the place.

Father’s House is not an orphanage as we'd understood before arriving. It is rather a home for children rescued from child slavery. Learning this fact was both shocking, and amazing to me, as it ties in very closely to my research project (and issues very dear to my heart). I can’t help but believe God wanted me to be at Father’s House that day.

Father’s House has been a long time in the making, and the ministry has been on the ground for several years. Just this year Father’s House accepted the first 8 boys. From hearing just a little of the story of how constructing Father’s House has been a God-walk, chatting with Jake & Chanda and having a chance to interact with the 8 boys currently housed at Father’s House, my heart has been truly touched.

I had the fantastic opportunity to spend the morning in church with the boys and the directors (affectionately called Mama and Pappa by the boys). I chose to sit in their children’s service, and worship with them, and hear the story of Joseph and the coat of many colours. I was struck by how powerful that story can be for the children of Father’s House.

Monday I spent the afternoon at Father’s house. The boys were busy building things (see the car they built after watching ‘Little rascals’ below. Inside the car is a guitar and laptop.), and Jake & Chanda tell me this is a frequent occurrence. They want the boys to experience childhood and are encouraging them to just be boys. It’s beautiful.

That afternoon when I had a foot race against one of the younger ones, soon I was racing 4 of them across the beach. And after not too long we were all in the sand, digging holes, and burying each other waist deep. I taught the boys to say “What’s up” and “not much” . Jake told me this was fun for the boys, as they’re big Bugs Bunny fans, but have never put together what “What’s up Doc” means.

Chanda and Jake were super supportive of my research and put me in touch with some great resources, in addition to being great resources in and of themselves. Academic standpoint aside it was fantastic getting to know them and to be encouraged by them.

I only spent a few afternoons with Father’s House but I was terribly sad to leave monday when the time came. The boys gathered in a circle around Alessa & I and prayed for our journey before we left. It was a touching moment. I can’t wait to see how God continues to move in and work in the lives of those involved in Father’s House. It’s a fantastic ministry.

Father’s House prayer requests:

Please pray for Father’s House’s continued ministry in Ghana. Pray for them as they continue to minister to the community, and as they fulfil their new role as a refuge for rescued children. Pray for the continued establishment of the home and for everything that remains to be put in place. Pray especially that God would provide God-fearing staff for Father’s House.

Futbol 3

Before leaving Accra for Dzelukope we stayed in a hotel across the street from a church and school. On our last day we had lots of time to kill before heading out of the city, and I came up with the (questionably) brilliant idea to go play with some of the kids at the school. Their recess involved a lot of sitting around and they had no idea what to do with us, and so I ran back to the hotel to grab one of my one world balls. Soon as I got back into the school yard the kids were called back to class. I was crushed! But I couldn’t walk away with the ball, after coming with it. So I presented it to the teacher, who told us the kids would really enjoy it. And I trust they will. As I’m sure you can see from the picture – they’re adorable! And I’m sure they will enjoy having a futbol around the school yard for recess in the future.

Photo credit to Alessa U.

A case of mistaken identity and other updates

My time in Dzelukope came to a close this morning. It was a wonderful, crazy and challenging time. My time was been full of classes, research and cultural experiences. The research has taken some eventful turns and it’s been intensely challenging. The challenge has been found in an element of the research I never expected to be dealing with, one that’s emotional for me, as I suspect it would be for many. Not to mention the fact that this shift in my research has forced me to recontextualize my research, define new terms, and question my goals (in addition to my sanity). This is vague, and I know it is. I’m hesitant at this point to lay it all out here, but I’m never shy to talk about it.

My cultural experiences have been varied. Most involve dancing, as it seems to be not just the Ghanaian pass time, but the Ghanaian way of life. While I find this enjoyable, let’s just say I’ve had one too many conversations that go like this:

Dance partner: “You know in Ghana we dance to the rhythm.”

Me: “You know they do that everywhere. I’m trying. It’s not something I was born able to do.”

Most of my dance partners nod, and try to teach me how to dance. It’s fun, and I have to think I’ve improved a little, but I will never be mistaken for a Ghanaian when I dance.

Oddly enough I am mistaken for just about everyone else, all the time. I am constantly called by the name of one of the girls in our program, although we look nothing alike. I have several times been called ‘chinese’ or ‘korean’. And my favourite was when I was asked if I was African American.

“Am I African American?!” I asked.

“Yes. Are you?” he said.

“Only half.” I replied. “My father is African.”

He smiled. “Oh, oh! Well WELCOME HOME then!” I told him it was good to be back and he agreed that it was good for me to be back in this place. I never corrected him, but I told the story to some of my Ghanaian friends later, and we all laughed so hard we could hardly breathe.

As I leave Dzelukope I’m sad to be leaving behind new friends. We’ve spent more than two weeks here, and the town has grown on me a lot. That being said I’m excited for what the next 21 days of my program hold. We’ll be travelling to at least 5 different cities and doing ‘research on the fly’. The different cities are across Ghana, so I’ll have the opportunity to see much more of the country than just the coastal region I’ve seen thus far. That part is exciting. There’s an element of intimidation when I consider what needs to happen between now and then.

Here are a few pictures from my time in Dzelukope/Keta. Also be sure to check out the Paramount Tugbi post and The Fort post for updated pictures.

Laundry day near Emancipation beach

walking along keta beach

hanging out with highschool students in keta