Firsts

Lately I have become very aware of how I have been influenced by my culture. We really are the sum total of what we have learned and experienced. We are greatly influenced by the people we come in contact with. Charity went with me by bus to the large city of Accra to attend a funeral and we decided to stay about three days. It is the first break I have had since arriving in Ghana in January.

Charity was raised in the Northern part of Ghana among the mud huts, farmland and the fishing in the Volta Lake region. She never had the opportunity to go anywhere else. Accra has the only mall in Ghana, as far as I know and the only movie theatre. I introduced her to both. She was overwhelmed. She kept saying, “Wow, wow, wow, is this what America is like?”

I told her, “Yes, except that it is much bigger and there are a lot more things to choose from. So many, in fact, that it sometimes takes people a long time to make up their mind about what to purchase or what to do.”

She said, “Really, I want to see everything!” I have never answered so many questions in my life.

I introduced her to Chinese food, pasteurized milk and cheese, yogurt, and a hamburger. Yum! It is the first meat I have had, not counting goat pieces, parts, and the Spam my brother sent.  Her absolute favorite thing was pizza and she ate one every day we were there. We had a nice meal seated at a table with a linen tablecloth and complete place setting. She was beside herself.

I was thankful Charity was with me because everyone assumes that I am rich because I am white and try to overcharge me. It never failed that we would have to let several taxi’s go until we found one that charged a normal price for where we were going. Sometimes I would hide and Charity would get a fair price and them call me to come.

We went to the Cultural Center. I thought it would be a place where we would learn about the history of the culture in the different areas of Africa. It turned out to be the place where one goes to buy African cloth, beads, masks, wooden carvings and the like. We had been told that they would give an outrageous price for whatever you wanted and then expect to negotiate from there. When I inquired of something, the price they gave was crazy, stupidly, high. I had fun watching Charity negotiate because she is tough. On one occasion Charity was haggling over the price and she said, "Please sir, if you give it to us for this price then we will leave you with a blessing. We will remember you in our prayers. You will gain more from this blessing than you would from the extra money you would make." The man said, "While I would appreciate the blessing, it won’t feed my children today." It went on like that for a while. I was thoroughly entertained. He finally looked at me and said, "If your friend were married to my brother, he would be a very rich man." We finally learned that it was best if I acted disinterested then they would assume that Charity was shopping for herself and the price would be more reasonable. We actually walked away from almost everything, however.

Charity has never seen the ocean so we went there next. We had lunch at a little seaside resort; I use the term very loosely. It was built on a bluff right next to the water. Charity ordered tilapia and rice and I the chicken and rice. They always fry the fish whole with the head and the skin on it.

The Baptist Guest House where we were staying had a television and that was an education in itself. There was a show on about underwater fish. Charity said, “This is what is under the water that I just saw?” She was mesmerized. She watched the international news, saw what people looked like from other countries and learned about what was happening in different parts of the world. It was a lot to take in. She really wanted to go to the airport and watch a plane take off and land. We had been hearing them fly over. It would have cost too much by taxi and our time was limited so she did not get to experience that.

Charity’s brother lives in Accra and Charity met his family for the first time. She has two nieces and one nephew. She knew all of them only by talking on the phone. The youngest girl introduced herself as doctor Ella. She said, “I want to be a doctor, an accountant or a pirate.” Isn’t that typical of a five year old. The children crawled all over her and gave her hugs and kisses. Charity was very emotional and had difficulty leaving her family.

One of the shops at the Cultural Center.

Hand made bowls and instruments at the Cultural Center.

A few of the many beaded bracelets at the Cultural Center

Looking east from the restaurant. The fishing village is in the distance.

Looking West from the restaurant. The presidents palace is the white
building sitting by the ocean.

Charity enjoying her fish head.

Charity eating her first chinese food.

The eleven-hour bus ride home turned out to be nineteen hours. We waited about two hours on the side of the road in the middle of the night at one point. We were told the police or military were going to escort us. Since the incident on Tamale’ road, we were happy to be a part of this caravan. I do not drink a lot of water when I travel like this because when we stop, people generally free themselves in any place that is inconspicuous because there are very few bathrooms. Somehow, being white, I thought I might be the center of attention. Needless to say my feet were swollen so much they looked like balloons when we finally made it to Yendi. 

St. John's Fishing Village

Nestled next to the ocean in the city of Accra is the St. John’s Fishing village. Imagine a shantytown, full of wooden shacks, fishing canoes, fish drying in the sun, fishing nets hanging and being repaired, women cleaning and cutting fish to sell, cooking over wood or charcoal fire, and the sounds of the ocean lapping the beach. It sounds a little romantic, doesn’t it? Now add the smell of rotting fish and garbage, urine, and other human waste. The water is actually full of floating garbage. Fisherman swim and work barefooted in the water and don't seem to mind the trash.

This place is a stones throw away from millionaires’ homes and these people are living in poverty. The city of Accra is an unusual mix of modern buildings and conveniences and the old way of living and doing things. There are no mud huts but there are wooden shacks everywhere in some areas. I kept thinking, “I cannot believe I am seeing all of this.” I am so thankful that I went.

The fishermen build each canoe by hand. They start with a large tree and hollow it out to make a strong bottom. Then they mold the wood around the top and sides. Tar is added to keep the canoe from leaking. Most are painted bright colors and have religious sayings. The canoes are very heavy and it takes several men, working with the waves, to pull them to shore.

I was standing by a large canoe and I heard voices behind me. I looked inside and found two men, sitting in the bottom of this deep canoe and working with marijuana. I asked, “Is that marijuana?” One man said, “Yes, we are going to sell it.” One lady who was standing near by said, “I am waiting to buy some.” .This is not something that I see everyday.

A large lighthouse sits at the top of the hill overlooking the ocean and the people living in the village below. Children played on the beach, doing flips, and sommersaults. Some of them were naked. I am amazed at how the ocean sounds and smells the same not matter where you are in the world. 

Canoe Building

Pulling a canoe ashore. Notice the trash in the water.

Canoe Building

Cleaning fish to sell for 60 Ghana Cedi's

Those are fish drying in the foreground.

Fishing Nets

Mending a fishing net.

The city of Accra in the background.

Canoes sitting by the shore

Frying Fish

Burning Idols

Mark has been praying for his nephew for a long time now. He has been concerned about him because no matter what Mark taught him about Christ, his nephew decided to become a fetish priest. It is interesting because he believed the idols would bring him fortune, yet his crops did not produce like he had wanted and he spent every penny he had on buying fetish objects and animals to sacrifice. He literally sold everything but the clothes on his back.

Another man, who was a more experienced fetish priest, was helping him. One day they were in his house sacrificing to a particular idol and they accidentally broke a pot they were using. The nephew began to have a loud ringing in his ears. When he inquired of his friend who was helping his friend became very afraid.

The helper said, “Something is wrong. Something very bad has happened.”

“What do you mean, something bad has happened?” The nephew asked.

The helper said, “The demons in this idol are very dangerous they can do bad things. We will know very soon, what has happened.”

About that same time a young boy in the village died. The parents were understandably upset. It is the custom here to go to a soothsayer and ask him or her the reason why someone died. They went to talk with the soothsayer about the death of their son. The soothsayer told them, “The child died because someone in your village made a sacrifice to this certain idol and it was because of this that your son died.”

The parents went back to their village, and upon investigating, learned of the sacrifice, and confronted Marks nephew. They angrily asked, “Why did you ask the idol to kill our son?”

The nephew assured them, “I did not know the idol would do that. I made the sacrifice so that I would have a good harvest.”

Marks nephew continued sacrificing and praying to the many idols that were in his house and a short time later his uncle died, too. He began to realize that the things that Mark had taught him about idol worship and demons and Satan were true. He decided to give his life to Christ.

Mark went to his nephew’s home today and three people gave their lives to Christ, Mark’s nephew, his uncle and the other fetish priest that was helping. They took all of the idols, sacrificial pots, and fetish objects out of the house and piled them up outside. They dug up what had been buried under the house and yard and even those placed out in the fields. They burned everything.

Mark said, “They were very excited and happy!” All three of the men are on the way to Dora’s to stay with her and received deliverance ministry. They are looking forward to going to church!

An area used for animal sacrafices. Notice the blood on the wall and fetish objects.
A pot is usually kept with blood and fowl or the sacraficial animal and water.
It is mixed with herbs andgiven to people to drink as "medicine".

This was the idol they were sacraficing to when the young boy died. The pot
on the pole is covered with blood and feathers and ash.

This is Marks nephew. He is cleaning up the idols and fetish objects to burn.
He is wearing the only clothes that he has. 

L to R - The nephew, the experienced fetish priest, the uncle

The fetish idols and objects piled to burn.

Children in the village.

The villagers have banned the fetish priest who was teaching Marks nephew from ever coming to the village again. I’m sure, in time, the Lord will make a way for them him to return. The church nearby will not let him attend. The pastor of an Assembly of God Church has invited him to be a part of his congregation.

We have put together clothes to give to Marks nephew.  The Lord is already blessing him with more than he has ever had! Praise Jesus! 

An Unusual Ending

We recently attended a funeral of a colleague’s father in a place on the outskirts of Accra. It was the most unusual funeral I have ever attended. Four large black and red tents were set up on both sides of the street outside of the house or compound. Everyone was dressed in black or dark brown. The family was dressed in clothing made of the same material. We walked in and shook hands with each family member. Someone pinned a picture of the deceased person to my lapel.  We walked through the bedroom with the body and the mourners who were crying very loudly. We were eventually seated under one of the tents outside. Music played from large speakers. Someone’s laundry was hung out to dry on three lines directly behind where we were sitting. The body was placed in a coffin and the coffin was situated on the road between the tents. The interesting thing was that no one blocked the road so cars and trucks simply drove between the tents and right by the coffin all during the service. Some of the family realized that more people had come than they had anticipated. Many people were sitting in the hot sun. This would not do of course so a dozen men began setting up another tent while the service was going on. To be honest, I was fascinated watching the men try to figure out where the tents poles went and how to make it all go together. People were walking about and talking to one another. I was distracted from the entire Presbyterian funeral service.

There were two other funerals on the same street that day. I walked by each one before our funeral service began. The ministry church van was there so the family asked us if we would mind taking some people to the graveside. The pastor said, “It is very difficult to get to the burial site, however, and we encourage people not to go.” Now, I was curious. 

The coffin was placed inside a Hurst but it was too long and stuck out of the back of the vehicle. A coffin from one of the other funerals was placed in an ambulance. The third coffin was place in an open cargo truck. We followed along behind in the van up through some mountains and deep into the jungle. The further we went the more the jungle took over and the road worsened. The pallbearers had to get out and push the Hurst because at one point it got stuck. That wouldn’t do. When we reached a clearing we stopped and took some seats out of our church van and placed the coffin inside so we could continue to the gravesite. Now we are riding with the body. Our van has oversized tires because we travel in the bush so much.   This was one of the worst roads that I have ever traveled. We passed by gravestones on the right and on the left in different places but everything was overgrown and unorganized. When we could not travel any further by vehicles we all got out and began to hike the rest of the way. The pallbearers picked up the coffin and carried it up a trail on the side of a mountain. They had to put the coffin on the ground and stop and rest about half way. 
There were several other graves there when we arrived. A large hole had been dug but that was all. The men climbed down into the hole and wrestled with the coffin until they could put it inside. The coffin had mirrors on the top and sides and I noticed that several of them had been broken on the journey. The pastor said a few words along with a prayer and then put three shovels of dirt into the hole. That was it. It was the shortest graveside service I have ever seen, taking only a couple of minutes. More pallbearers followed bringing another coffin. We did not stay for the other two funerals.

The hurse with the coffin sticking out

The pallbearers pushing the Hurse

Taking a break!

The final resting place.

Preparing food for the funeral guests.

Dividing charcoal to sell or trade.

We returned to the family home, which had a concrete courtyard and very nice rooms. The family went out of their way to be hospitable. We sat in chairs that were situated around the walls of one room. I did not see a dining room table anywhere. We were given Fu Fu or Banku to eat. I was given fried rice and chicken because they know I do not need to eat the African dishes that have been prepared with untreated water. I ate with a fork and everyone else ate with his or her hands, which is customary. We were also given some sort of sparkling juice to drink and a Coke. Coke is one of the things we look forward to. Sometimes it is what we drink if we cannot find water.  

Living Together

            Gladys and I had an interesting conversation with one of our young pastors the other day. His name is Adams. We have been using the ministry tractor to plow land for women who could not afford it otherwise.  Adams is a farmer so I asked, “Adams, how much money do you hope to make from farming this year.

            He replied, “Nothing.”

            Gladys explained, “Adams is a Kunkumba. All of the children do the farming for their father. They are not allowed to farm for themselves unless they get married and start their own family. Even then, they all must live in the same compound with the father”

            I replied, “Wait a minute. You are telling me that even if a son gets married, they must all live together?”

            Adams said, “Yes. We cannot go out on our own. The oldest son may go out and start a new village if he is old enough and his family is large.”

            Curious, I inquired further, “When you get married, your new wife will have to live with you in the same compound with your parents, her in-laws?”

            He said, “Yes.”

            Gladys added, “The women always pray they will have good in-laws. There is a lot of conflict and fighting in many compounds.”

            I directed the conversation back to farming and inquired, “Do you get anything at all from the crops that you plant?”

            Adams said, “I get a token, if I am lucky. Maybe I will get a little grain to sell or a little money but I usually don’t.”

            I asked, “Then how do you live? Do you just make sure you show up at the hut at meal time?”

            He said, “Yes. It is not easy since I am also trying to look after the churches I am responsible for.” He just smiled at me.

            Gladys said, “The Kunkumba men want to have many children so they will all go and farm. That is why they want more than one wife. The more children they have the more money they will make.”

            I reminded them, “The more mouths they will have to feed.” Both of them laughed.

            Adams said, “Yes, but that is the way it is.”

            I was probing but decided to inquire further, “Adams you could pick anyone to marry, just so you would be able to have a wife in order to make money for yourself. As a Christian, you are not doing as other Kunkumba men are doing, are you? You want to marry one woman only and marry because you are in love with her. Am I right?”

            He said, “Yes, It is my prayer everyday that I will find her. I am looking.”

            I think Adams understands that things could be done differently but he is trapped within his culture. Walking away from the African Traditional Religion and becoming a Christian was a bold move. Choosing to marry for love and to only one woman is courageous. His boundaries are pressing him but he is pushing back. I do admire his courage.