Some Words on Suffering

Okay, so this blog post is not words from me, but they are words sent to us by Paul Robinson, the director of the HNGR program, and I found them to be really thought-provoking and applicable to a lot of the things I have been seeing and thinking about. They come from a book People of the Lie by Scott Peck.

Perhaps the greatest problem of theodicy is the question why God, having created Satan in the first place, didn't simply wipe it out after its rebellion. The question presupposes that God could wipe anything out. It assumes that God can punish and kill. Perhaps the answer is that God gave Satan free will and that God cannot destroy; He can only create.

The point is that God does not punish. To create us in his image, God gave us free will...Yet to give us free will God had to forswear the use of force against us. We do not have free will when there is a gun pointed at our back. It is not necessarily that God lacks the power to destroy us, to punish us, but that in His love for us He has painfully and terribly chosen never to use it. In agony He must stand by and let us be. He intervenes only to help, never to hurt. The Christian God is a God of restraint. Having forsworn the use of power against us, if we refuse His help, He has no recourse but, weeping, to watch us punish ourselves.

The point is unclear in the Old Testament. There God is depicted as punitive. But it begins to become clear with Christ. In Christ, God Himself impotently suffered death at the hands of human evil. He did not raise a finger against His persecutors. Thereafter in the New Testament we hear echoes of the punitive Old Testament God, one way or another, saying that the 'wicked will get what's coming to them.' But these are only echoes; a punishing God does not enter the picture ever again. While many nominal Christians still today envision their God as a giant cop in the sky, the reality of Christian doctrine is that God has forever eschewed police power.

Of the Holocaust as well as of lesser evils, it is often asked, 'How could a loving God allow such a thing to happen?' It is a bleeding, brutal question. The Christian answer may not suit our tastes, but it is hardly ambiguous. Having forsaken force, God is [powerless] to prevent the atrocities that we commit one upon another. He can only continue to grieve with us. He will offer us Himself in all His wisdom, but He cannot make us choose to abide with Him. 

...It may seem to us that we are doomed by this strange God who reigns in weakness. But there is a dénouement to Christian doctrine: God in His weakness will win the battle against evil.  In fact, the battle is already won.  The resurrection symbolizes not only that Christ overcame the evil of His day two millennia ago but that He overcame it for all time. Christ impotently nailed upon the cross is God's ultimate weapon..  

pages 204-205

and

...we are all in combat against evil. In the heat of the fray it is tempting to take hold of some seemingly simple solution - such as 'what we ought to do is just bomb the hell out of those people.' And if our passion is great enough, we may even be willing to blow ourselves up in the process of 'stomping out' evil. But...although evil is antilife, it is itself a form of life. If we kill those who are evil, we will become evil ourselves; we will be killers. If we attempt to deal with evil by destroying it, we will also end up destroying ourselves, spiritually if not physically.

...we must begin by giving up the simple notion that we can effectively conquer evil by destroying it...It is in the struggle between good and evil that life has its meaning - and in the hope that goodness can succeed. That hope is our answer: goodness can succeed. Evil can be defeated by goodness. When we translate this we realize what we dimly have always known: Evil can be conquered only by love.

So the methodology of our assault...on evil must be love. This is so simple-sounding that one is compelled to wonder why it is not a more obvious truth. The fact is, simple-sounding though it may be, the methodology of love is so difficult in practice that we shy away from its usage.

[It is as if God says:] 'Through the transforming power of my love which is made perfect in weakness you shall become perfectly beautiful. You shall become perfectly beautiful in a uniquely irreplaceable way, which neither you nor I will work out alone, for we shall work it out together.'

It is not an easy thing to embrace ugliness with the sole motive of hope that in some unknown way a transformation into beauty might occur thereby...How does this work?...

I don't know how because love can work in many ways, and none of them are predictable. I know that the first task of love is self-purification. When one has purified oneself, by the grace of God, to the point where one can truly love one's enemies, a beautiful thing happens. It is as if the boundaries of the soul become so clean as to be transparent, and a unique light then shines forth from the individual.

The effect of this light varies. Some on their way toward holiness will move more swiftly by its encouragement. Others, on their way toward evil, when encountering this light will be moved to change their direction. The bearer of the light (who is but a vehicle for it; it is the light of God) most often will be unaware of these effects. Finally, those who hate the light will attack it. Yet it is as if their evil actions are taken into the light and consumed. The malignant energy is thereby wasted, contained and neutralized. The process may be painful to the bearer of the light, occasionally even fatal. This does not, however, signify the success of evil. Rather, it backfires...'It was evil that raised Christ to the cross, thereby enabling us to see him from afar.'

...To quote the words of an old priest who spent many years in the battle: 

'There are dozens of ways to deal with evil and several ways to conquer it. All of them are facets of the truth that the only ultimate way to conquer evil is to let it be smothered within a willing, living human being. When it is absorbed there like blood in a sponge or a spear into one's heart, it loses its power and goes no further.'

The healing of evil...can be accomplished only by the love of individuals. A willing sacrifice is required. The individual healer must allow his or her own soul to become the battleground. He or she must sacrificially absorb the evil.

Then what prevents the destruction of that soul? If one takes the evil into one's heart, like a spear, how can one's goodness still survive? Even if the evil is vanquished thereby, will not the good also be? What will have been achieved beyond some meaningless trade-off?

I cannot answer this in language other than mystical. I can say only that there is a mysterious alchemy whereby the victim becomes the victor. As C.S. Lewis wrote: 'When a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards.'

I do not know how this occurs.  But I know that it does. I know that good people can deliberately allow themselves to be pierced by the evil of others - to be broken thereby yet somehow not broken - to even be killed in some sense and yet still survive and not succumb. When this happens there is a slight shift in the balance of power in the world.                                                pages 266-269

A Village Wedding

My friend Shelby had already been in Tamale for 2 months when I got here and she was kind enough to let me spend time on the weekends with her and her Ghanaian friend, Dorcas. Dorcas has a job in Tamale but her family is from a village about a 45 minute motorbike ride away. Dorcas and Shelby go to Dorcas' church in the village every Sunday. Dorcas is a great friend and she loves to give and give. As white friends, we seem to hold a special kind of importance, especially in regards to important events. This last weekend was the wedding of Dorcas' older brother and we were specially invited as two additional "sisters of the groom." This was an honor to us and our presence was similarly considered an honor to those present.

Dorcas had outfits made for all the sisters of the bride to wear for the wedding. She was kind of going for a modern feel and we ended up looking like this:

Let me assure you, we got many compliments from Ghanaian men throughout the day reminding us just how gorgeous we looked.

The wedding itself was definitely an interesting cultural experience. We showed up late which wasn't a problem but it did mean that we missed the processional. However, we heard the vows which were the same as the ones we say. There was music and dancing interspersed. Nearly 30 ministers were present for the event. And I think that most of the village was there too. The church was packed out and people crowded around windows outside and under a tent outside the door. Near the end of the service came the climactic moment: the lifting of the veil. It was funny. The groom started stretching his arms out and  then best man wiped his hands off with a handkerchief. Meanwhile, the maid of honor was carefully wiping away the sweat on the bride's face under the veil. Finally, after several warm-up partial liftings of the veil, he finally did it. And then they hugged. The end!

Unfortunately, the defining experience for Shelby and I (and probably most people there) was sweating more than we had ever sweated before. It was an extremely hot day and we struggled to drink enough water to keep from passing out. We made it and afterwards we were all handed our lunch which contained a nearly boiling hot orange fanta. Not bad actually... haha. After the service, we went back to Dorcas' house and were seated in a room along with the bride and groom. I'm not sure how many pictures we ended up on the edge of!

Shelby and I aren't sure we are up for another wedding anytime soon but it was definitely an experience that we won't forget!

Hair Braiding

For awhile I've been tempted to get my hair braided in the African way. It kind of started when I met another white girl here who had gotten her hair braided and really enjoyed it. She had kept it in over a month and it seemed low maintenance. So when I got to Tamale, the American girl who I'm living with, Shelby, and I decided to do it. We thought it would be fun. Unfortunately we were wrong.

After getting to the hair braiding place at noon, we realized that they were already busy with several costumers but we didn't have a problem with waiting. When they finally started with us, they gave us these huge bunches of synthetic hair to hold in our laps that would eventually be on our head. Then they began the 7 hour process of taking small little chunks of hair and adding synthetic hair to make 121 braids on my head (we counted later when we took them out!). This process was extremely painful as it felt like they were ripping my hair out of my head Furthermore, they conveniently placed all my unbraided hair in a large clip dangling in front of my face throughout the process. But, no worries. Yes, my butt was falling asleep after sitting in that chair so long. But I had been reading Compassion for one of my HNGR readings and so I kept reminding myself "patience...patience, solidarity...solidarity, compassion."

Finally, the braids were done! But then they dipped all my hair in a pot of boiling water. Then they covered the top with shea butter, I think. Then they lit a flame on a can of kerosene and basically torched the top of my head which was mildly terrifying. However, I made it out unscathed! Finally, I thought it was done but a lady montioned me to the back where she yanked up my new, waist-long braids into an updo. It was so painful that when Shelby and I got home, we took a picture, took out the updo, took an ibuprofen, and tried to sleep.

Over the next five days, we got many wonderful compliments from Ghanaians who just loved our new hair. We kind of enjoyed the new look, but we just couldn't stand the itchiness. Apparently your scalp gets itchy both when you have a ton of synthetic hair attached to your head and when your hair has almost been yanked out of your head. We had sores all over our head and finally after 5 days we just couldn't stand it any longer. We took it out and it took 9 hours! We ended up with very frizzy heads. Now our hair is back to normal but I swear I've lost at least a quarter of my hair! Feeling much thinner these days after pulling out so many loose chunks of hair. Pray that I don't come back bald! haha

Got your shock absorbers?

This morning I woke up to my phone ringing. At 7. Okay, its true that a lot of Ghanaians get up and about at 5 or 6, but I prefer not to. Anyway, I answered the phone and ended up hearing that there would be a composer coming to the Dagbani Language Project for me to meet at 8:30. I said I would be there. After jumping in the car with my host father, I let out a complaint about why they couldn't give me just a little more notice! He reminded me that patience is necessary to survive in Africa. He always has a million things to do, yet he manages to do them gracefully until it reaches a certain point. He told me how you can get really worn out if you don't put on your "shock absorbers." It's so true. You need some heavy duty shock absorbers to deal with life here sometimes.

Funny. Shock absorbers sound a lot like God. "Give your burdens to the Lord, and he will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall." Psalm 55:22

I think I've been learning to let my shock absorbers take more of the shock instead of trying to absorb it all myself!

Lessons at the University

The most fun thing I've been doing the last 2 weeks has definitely been my music and dance classes that I've been taking at the University of Ghana: Legon. Since I'm kind of in an in between phase right now, we decided it would be a good idea for me to get some ethnomusicology experience by taking some private lessons at the Performing Arts School! I've enjoyed every minute of it!

I signed up for xylophone, drumming, and dancing lessons for each day for the past 2 weeks. I didn't really know what to expect, but I've gotten so much out of it. Everyday, I headed out to the University around 8:30. I bargained for my taxi and directed them to the place and mostly didn't get ripped off! And I've gotten really good at explaining to my taxi drivers why I won't give them my phone number or buy them a ticket to America! haha. When I got to the University, I didn't have specific locations to find my teachers at or specific times where I knew I could find them! So I would look around and ask for help until I found my first teacher, and then look around for my 2nd, etc. It was actually not that annoying to track down my teachers everyday, and I met a lot of people in between!

Xylophone
My xylophone teacher was a young guy (I think a graduate student). Each day we carried the heavy xylophones outside under a big tree in the back for my lessons. The xylophone here has wooden keys with gourds of corresponding sizes situated under them to amplify the sound. Each gourd has some holes in it covered with spider web which helps create the buzzing speaker effect. It is a really interesting instrument. And it is pentatonic. At my lessons, I got to learn several traditional songs which I played with my teacher. One person does the lead part while the other person does the accompanying parts. The music is really beautiful! Here is a picture of us playing together:

Drumming
My drum teacher taught me the drum patterns to 3 traditional Ghanaian dances. These were definitely the most difficult lessons I took because I both don't have a lot of drumming experience, and I often found my Western rhythmical training blocking me from easily picking up the African rhythms. I worked really hard though and came out triumphant! It's been a nice challenge to have to throw out so much of my musical education in order to learn this music. A good reminder that musical knowledge is incredibly broad. Much of the drumming I learned was done with both sticks and with hand drumming so I (mostly) learned how to effectively hold two sticks in one hand while hand drumming with the other hand! Tricky. Here's a picture of me playing the drum:

Dancing
I learned the corresponding dances to the drum patterns I learned which was very useful since it both gave me a better understanding of the dancing and the dancing gave me a better understanding of the drumming! I was most excited about dancing because I've always loved African dance. It was no disappointment. My teacher was really fun and she taught me well. She also taught me the songs that are sung during parts of the dances. So we spent a lot of time dancing and singing together! On the side, she even taught me some traditional songs on the flute here too! Here are some pictures of me dancing in the corresponding costumes for each of the dances I learned!

Bima

Gota

Gahu

A long-awaited Update

Hello friends!
I've had many intentions of writing blog posts, but I've failed miserably. I see it's been a month now! Sorry for the long wait. You deserve a bit of an update.

Near the end of August, I left Nkwanta to spend a week and a half in Accra. I needed to see the doctor about a potential blod clot in my arm and then I was going to join up with the Wycliffe Discovery Team for some of their debriefing talks. My visit with the doctor did confirm that I had a clot in my arm so I got passed on to a specialist to see whether it was serious or not. After a 4 hour wait, an hour long ultrasound, and another few hours wait for the results, I found out that my deep veins were fine. It was only my superficial veins that were not working because of damage from the IV at the hospital and the medicine injected into my arm. Fortunately, nothing too serious. Unfortunately, my veins are still not working. Guess it takes quite awhile to heal... (No pain anymore, though, so that's good.)

With all the medical issues I was dealing with, we decided to have me spend a longer time in Accra. Eventually we decided that it would be better for me to move on to a different project instead of going back to Nkwanta. God has been incredibly faithful through this transition so far. When I left Nkwanta, it was actually right after finishing the recording of the newly composed Akyode worship songs. Therefore, I had already a finished a big project there. Right now we are planning on me continuing to Tamale to do similar work with a different ethnic group there. More on that when I know when I'm leaving and where I'll be staying!

In the meantime, I've been staying at a missionary family's house in Accra. Ed and Dayle Lauber are both working at the new GILLBT office here and so I've been able to spend some more time with GILLBT staff which has been valuable since it has taught me much more about the organization that I am interning with. I've spent some times at the office and have gotten to speak with the director about some possiblities of creating an ethnodoxology related program as a part of GILLBT. It has been very encouraging to say how he and others here see this music and arts work as so exciting and so crucial to the further development of the church in Ghana! It is exciting to be here at this time!

At home with the Laubers, I've gotten lots of time to rest and recooperate! They have welcomed me in as part of their family which has been wonderful. Dayle and I have enjoyed playing Settlers of Catan and Cribbage together many times! I've learned a lot about missionary life while being here and it has been really interesting. It's amazing how much there is to learn no matter where you are! Thanks for all your prayers during these past few months!

Food Poisoning

I’m very sorry for how long it has been between posts! I’ve been wanting to blog for a while, but life has been unpredictable and blogging has suffered as a result. Anyways, I hope to eventually update you on some of what has been happening and it all starts with this post!

I got to have my first experience of a third world hospital which is probably an experience I could have done without. However, it’s just too good to deprive you of some of the highlights. About two weeks ago I got violently sick after eating something and started throwing up. A lot. After throwing up several times at 5 minute intervals, I decided that maybe it would be a good idea to go to the hospital. I might have been wrong about that. Anyway, I went to the hospital and the doctor looked at me and had me brought to a solitary room to give me some shots and hook me up to an IV. They also gave me a bowl to throw up into which should have been bigger. In some ways, I was rather lucky. I had a room to myself instead of having to share it with about 6 other women. And I had my own bathroom. The plus was that the toilet flushed. The minus was that the sink and shower did not have any water coming out of it. The following might be a more fun way to describe some of my experiences:

8- number of times I threw up

2- number of days that I had an incorrectly placed IV in my hand which was effectively pumping liquids into my tissue instead of my vein

13- number of times that the nurses tried to insert the IV without success

1- number of bugs that might have crawled up my leg while trying to use the bathroom while also carrying my IV

23- approximate number of visitors I had at the hospital, several of which I had no memory of ever meeting

0-number of times I was offered water to swallow my pills given to me by the nurses

3- number of nights spent at the hospital

2-number of doctor visits in Accra as a result of damage from the incorrectly placed IV in my hand

Worst advice given to me by the doctor: When you have diarrhea, it is very bad to eat bananas. Instead you should eat fried yams.

I’ll be honest and say that the hospital was a horrible experience. I would strongly hesitate before going to the hospital again. However, I do think I learned some important things!

1) Remember how the Bible said something about visiting the sick? Well, even though it can be tiring, I don’t know how I would have handled 3 days in the hospital without all the visitors. It was so nice to have people stop by and spend time with me to make me feel better and remind me that I wasn’t alone.

2) The experience gave me a new found appreciation for doctors and hospitals in the US.

3) As my advisor, Paul Neeley, wisely said: “Serving with the rural marginalized poor means that the health care, education, training of pastors, and more may also be marginal. Serving the marginalized poor is glamorous for about 2 minutes each day!

A Small Story with Big Implications

I want to tell a story. Just a small story. But one that keeps on coming back to me over and over again as I think about the importance of using your heart language to worship God. It is easy to say that music is meaningful to us as humans for the most part. And it is easy to see why music should be used to worship God. But for those of us who go to churches with music we enjoy, it is hard to imagine what it would be like to worship to music we don’t like, much less music we don’t understand. For many Christians around the world, this is their reality. And it is even accepted by them because they have been led to believe that their music is intimately tied to their sinful past. As a result, God becomes a foreign God. A God that cannot speak in their language. And a wall is placed between people and God that prevents them from being able to worship and understand God in meaningful ways. This story helps demonstrates the reality of “heart music.”

One evening, the power went out at the house (which is fairly common). Since we didn’t have enough fuel to use the generator, my host father and I were just sitting in the dark with our flashlights on. When I realized that my computer still had plenty of battery left, I decided to play some music from my iTunes to amuse us for awhile. I was picking and choosing songs, some were World music, some were more American, and I was trying to see what would catch his eye. After awhile he stopped commenting and was just laying on the coach, not paying much attention. Then I remembered how I had a multi-ethnic worship song by Izibongo that merged an Akyode-style song with Chris Tomlin’s song “Forever.” Not being a huge fan of Chris Tomlin, I had still listened to the song with interest because it was such an odd combination. I decided to put on the song and eagerly studied his face while trying not to give away that I was waiting for a response. There was no need to wait because the response was instantaneous! Seconds after I turned it on, my host father’s entire demeanor changed. He sat up and tilted his head and looked at me and realized it was in Gikyode. He ended up really liking the song, even though it was mixed with something foreign (aka Chris Tomlin). This struck me because I know so many of us Americans would listen to the song and write it off as weird because it is not exactly what we like to worship to. But for someone who has only had limited experience with worship music in his heart language, even a Chris Tomlin and Gikyode combination was exciting and wonderful. Furthermore, his instant change from unengaged to engaged when the music came on speaks volumes. I have witnessed the same reactions in church here multiple times. The worship team may play some Africanized English hymns but everyone sits in their chairs, unresponsive. But as soon as they switch to a local song/dance form in their language, everyone is on their feet, singing, dancing, clapping. It’s amazing!

An Africa Day

So when I created this blog, I told you that I would share some West Africa Wins Again stories and I have failed at doing that so far. But, lucky for you, today has plenty of great examples.

1) The cultural mishap.
We have a relative visiting the house right now who is doing political campaigning to run for a parliamentary seat. He is always meeting with important men on the front porch talking about politics. So this morning I needed to go outside to ask my host sister a question and I had to go through their little meeting to get to her. I didn't want to disturb them so I quickly went through, looking at the ground. When I got through I realized they were yelling at me! "Why didn't you greet us? You should always greet people!" So I proceeded to try to greet all of them. So much for not interrupting their meeting. West Africa Wins Again.

2) The normal chore.
Today is Saturday which is clothes washing day. I'm continuing to get better at handwashing though my host sister always takes pity on me and helps. This morning the water was actually working and so we went to get water from the pipe, but it was brown. Not good for washing clothes. And then when we finished washing, the clotheslines already had clothes on them so there wasn't enough room for everything. And then it rained in the middle of the day and all the clothes got wet again. And now they are inside and are still very wet. And I have nowhere to hang them up. So much for dry clothes. Even my sheets and pillowcase are wet. West Africa Wins Again.

3) Africa time.
I was supposed to meet with my drum teacher at 11 today to make up for a missed lesson (because people don't go anywhere or do anything when it is raining here). However, it was 12 and he still wasn't here. I had given up hope and eaten lunch and was ready to go on with my day. And then he showed up at 12:15. I told him I figured he wasn't coming and all he did was remind me that we work on Africa time. West Africa Wins Again.

4) The shower.
I never have luck with showering here. I know I am lucky to even have a shower instead of just a bucket bath, but I don't think people who wash their hair regularly were ever meant to rely on bucket baths. I sure don't know how to clean mine with just a bucket of water. Anyway, the water seems to enjoy not coming through the pipes quite often. So whenever this happens, I just shrug it off and decide to wait to shower the next day. Sometimes this happens for too many days. Today I was definitely due for a shower. I got in, quickly realizing that my shower was soaking wet and hanging on the clothesline outside. Great. And then, while I was trying to wash shampoo out of my hair, the water decided to turn

off. With my hair not even remotely clean and no towel, it was a really successful shower. And I couldn't even get a brush through my hair afterwards. I'm hoping the water comes back on before church tomorrow... West Africa Wins Again.

Don't worry, even though West Africa tried to bother me today, I still managed to have a great day. Probably because I'm learning to find joy in smaller things now. Doesn't necessarily make for good stories, but does make for better days!

If I were rich...

Money. It is always the thing everyone needs more of. And the thing that, apparently, Americans have endless quantities of. But today I had a rather surprising conversation about money with my 12-year old host brother. He was saying how I would make a lot of money in a few years because I had good education. And I was trying to explain how the work I wanted to do would not make me rich even though I had a good education but that it was worth it anyway. And he understood. But then he started talking about what he would do if he were rich.

He said "If I were rich, I would only take what I need and then give the rest of it away so that I could help others." And I said that was great. And he told me how important it is to give cheerfully and willingly because then it will both bless you and the other person. And he said that he would not give away the money itself but buy stuff with it. And I cut in on him saying "Oh, that's great. Like you would buy certain items or food and give it to people who can't afford them." But he said, "No. No, I would buy a corn mill and then let everybody use it for free so that they could grind their maize into flour without having to pay for it." Wow. If only we thought like this more often. Instead of giving money or things, he said he would give something sustainable, something that could assist so many people. 

Words of wisdom from a small boy. 

On Praying For A Broken Heart

God has been showing me how to love these people. He is gradually giving me new eyes to see with. And as I am beginning to see these people more like Christ sees them, he is breaking my heart for them.  And I pray that it will remain broken. Because I do not want to become numb.

As I have shared before, I have realized how some people, such as my 12-year old host brother, tend to think they are less than Americans. They think they are not capable of doing many things that Americans can do. And they practically adore any white person, especially Americans. I have found this difficult to handle because, I want to be appropriate and accept the honors they grant me, but I also feel sad and embarrassed that they find me so important. Although I understand that I come from a position of power and cannot get away from that, I wish that people could understand that I am just as human as them. But people here really do think that white people are a higher form of human as evidenced by certain questions I've been asked or things that people have told me:

Do white people lie?

Do white people get angry?

All white people are rich.

White people are more intelligent.

We think white people are spies, because why else would they choose to come to a place like this?

And so today I realized that even my host father, who is a bible translator and has worked with several different Americans for many years, still thinks that white people are better. Today I tried to explain to him some of my discomfort with feeling like people thought more of me than I deserved. He didn't understand because, I realized, he thinks we do deserve the attention because we are white. As he has told me before, Ghanaians think most highly of Americans, then Europeans, and then, lower down on the list, are the Chinese. I told him that it would be easier for me if I knew that people were just honoring me because I am a guest, a visitor, that if I knew that a Chinese guest would be treated the same way. He explained that they give honor to white people because they were their colonial masters. I tried to show how this was not a good thing that the Europeans did. And he understood, but said that nevertheless, our culture is better, more worthy of praise. He explained that God made us black and white so that we could clearly see the difference. He made them eat fufu and us eat other food so that we would know we were different. And I said that yes we are different but it is good. God has given us different cultures because he values our diversity.

I presented my argument, my passion, my heart. My plea that he would see God's love for diversity. That deep inside we are no different. We all lie. We all get angry. We all get jealous. We all have sin. And we have all been forgiven and offered redemption. I tried to explain how each culture is also equal. Each has its good and bad parts. Each needs redemption. Each will be redeemed. That God wanted there to be diversity. I said how God knows meets us where we are. That he can't expect us to understand him through a foreign way. That he wants to be incarnate in your culture. That we need each other to gain a more complete picture of God. That I came here because I really believed that there were things I could learn from Akyode Christians. And that I am learning. He listened. But responded that yes, surely we are all equal as people in a spiritual sense. But materially, culturally, we are not equal. We are behind and trying to reach the good point that your culture is it. My heart broke. I realized that even though he understands that his music is good for worshipping God and that using my music doesn't make sense, he doesn't believe it for the rest of the aspects of his culture. I hope and pray that if anything is accomplished during my time here, it will be that I will be able to give dignity to their culture. And that they will accept it. That they will begin to see more fully the love God has for them as Akyode people and they will find the passion to make let Jesus into their culture and start his redemptive work instead of waiting for the day when they will be like Americans. 

So I pray that God will keep my heart broken until they discover their worth as Akyode Christians.

"Heal my heart and make it clean.

Open up my eyes to the things unseen.

Show me how to love like You have loved me.

Break my heart for what breaks Yours.

Everything I am for Your Kingdom's cause.

As I walk from earth into eternity."

-from Hosanna by Hillsong

Obruni Life

I am a white person, as I am constantly reminded when children chant “obruni, obruni!” at me (or sometimes they try out their English and chant “white man, white man” – too bad I am a woman. Haha). As much as I may try to learn how to live and behave like a Ghanaian, I am always going to be an obruni. Here are some stories to illustrate:

The first thing that I noticed was that everywhere that I went, people offered me a chair. It drove me crazy because I was tired of sitting all the time and wanted to stand, or walk around. However, I also realized that there was probably a reason why people were so concerned with me always sitting. I asked my host father why people always told me to sit and he said that people feel tired for me when I am standing. So now I have learned to accept the chair more often, accept the honor of it, and accept that my sitting will put others at ease. But, I also know how to say “I will not sit” in Gikyode now! Mankyena!

People still have a hard time believing that I eat Ghanaian food. This always surprises me since I have been here nearly a month now. Of course I eat Ghanaian food! Yet they still say “You actually know how to eat fufu!” I reply yes and they laugh. And then they say “And you like it?!” And I say yes and they laugh some more.

People like to laugh at me. I’ve learned that they laugh because it is ridiculous to see an obruni try to act like a Ghanaian, not because I am doing things wrong. I just seem to be able to provide endless entertainment to Ghanaians just by doing the normal things they do everyday.

Sometimes I try to go down to the river with my host siblings to get water. My host sister can carry a huge amount of water in the pot on her head. They gave me a small bucket and filled it halfway. It was still too heavy. Haha. Unfortunately, the bucket was see-through so everybody enjoyed pointing out and laughing that my bucket was only partially full while I was walking back to the house! However, even if I could carry as much water as my sister, they would laugh because I am a white person trying to act like them. But they also love that I am trying. They all greet me and remember me and laugh and it is good.

This same thing happens if I try to:

1. Help with cooking (this also brings marriage proposals)

2. Do any type of manual labor

3. Wash my clothes (this also brings marriage proposals)

4. Ride on a motorbike (though I admit that I looked ridiculous enough to laugh at)

But people don't seem to laugh at me if I wear Ghanaian clothing. I'm considering this to be a good thing. 

HNGR. That's what this is called isn't it?

As we learn before we leave, our HNGR internships are just life. And I have been living here in Nkwanta for two weeks. And I have stories to share soon, some funny, some sad, and some are just interesting. But yesterday I got to thinking about what HNGR stands for, Human Needs and Global Resources, and I started thinking about what that means to me in this context so far. So here are my thoughts:

It is hard to explain human needs and global resources here sometimes. When I think of poverty in Africa, I think of not having enough money to feel yourself and your children. I think of people dying from diseases that could be easily prevented. I think of war and political corruption and all the pictures you see in the news. Children with bloated stomachs from starvation. Civil Wars. AIDS Statistics.

Here in Nkwanta, people do not have it easy. But there is not an AIDS epidemic here. You do not see orphans everywhere. Most families are eating enough. Children do not have distended bellies. The political climate is generally peaceful. People have never experienced the horrors of a civil war. People lives in houses with good roofs and electricity. They have ways of getting around besides just their feet.

So, with just hearing that, it is possible to say that things are good here. But as it becomes more and more apparent, Ghana and America are like two different worlds and this can make it difficult to explain one place to the other.

My family is well-off in Nkwanta. They have a house with 3 bedrooms, a living room, a dining room, a small kitchen, and even a bathroom and a shower. They have concrete floors, electricity, and ceiling fans. They have a tv and satellite. They have sturdy furniture to use. They have a water pipe to get water from inside and outside the house (although this water is not necessarily “clean”).

My family has a car which is a bit of a luxury here (then you don’t get so dusty riding in dry season or wet riding in rainy season). They eat three meals a day and get adequate protein. They can afford to buy some filtered water to drink. They currently have health insurance.

However, the electricity continually fails. The water pipes continually break or get blocked. The water sources are not safe. The meat they eat would be snubbed by most Americans.

The roads are so horrifically bad that the car continually breaks down and the family struggles to pay to fix it. You must pray that your farm does well so you have enough yams to eat. My family can only afford filtered water for the father and I. The children drink unclean water and sometimes they get sick. And sometimes they do not have health insurance to bring them to the hospital for treatment. The hospital which only has two doctors and fairly low standards of sanitation.

I see the women working outside. All day. They work and work to sell things to make money. And then they work and work to make each meal. When they are sitting, it only means that there are no customers. And I look at them working, working, working and it seems joyless to sit next to that hot fire boiling some yams. Then pounding some yams. Etc. And I wonder “What do they think about their life? Do they feel fulfilled? If they could dare to think of a different life, what would they want? Where would they live and what job would they have? Or do they like this way of living but just wish that it were easier to give their children better food and more opportunities? I don’t know.

And the men. They put immense pressure on themselves to be able to fully provide for their family. No help wanted. It would be shameful to have your wife help pay for the food. And so you work. You work with whatever job you get, whichever one pays the best. There is not rooms for dreams of doing work that you really love or doing fun activities that do not lead to money. And I realize that my major is teaching me to play an instrument that I will never make much money off of. I am playing because it is fulfilling. Because I love it. Because we have room in our culture for an appreciation of art for arts sake. And if you did get a dream job here, the dream job was one that has a big salary. And you probably had to pay a lot of money to get the education for that dream job, like to become a doctor. And then you left. You left Ghana because you could. Because you could make more money in America and that was more important than keeping your traditional ways here, than staying close to your extended family.

So things are not easy here. Money makes a mess of things. We need it and it is hard to get. And so your life suffers. And there is need for development. Something that nobody in Nkwanta can really do anything about. You must wait. Wait for the economy to gain strength. For politicians to one day see the needs of the masses and do something about it. Because, until that point, most of these needs will remain unmet.

So how does a Ghanaian feel when a white man comes to his town, to his Ghana? They seem to have a sort of reverence for America. America and Ghana share some ties and Ghana sees America as their goal. They want to have an economy like ours. Development like ours. And they think that all white people are rich. The thought of a poor white man is just ridiculous. And the thought of non-whites in America is also ridiculous. Don’t people turn white when they go there for awhile? For them white is not just a racial identity but also a status, a way of living. That is why someone who lives like a white man should, by all means, become a white man.

So I am struggling when my host brother tells me that it is hard for him to believe that there is a poor white man. So I show him pictures of homeless white men and I explain what their life is like. He tells me that he does not believe that there are people of color, people like him, living in America so I show him pictures and statistics. But it is still so hard for him to process. What is missing in our education systems?

And then he tells me that he does not believe that there are African men who can do some of the things that white men do. It is just not possible. He points to my computer. He says, that was made by white men. And so I try to show him how anyone with the right training could make this. I tell him that we are different colors but have the same inherent abilities. That right now neither of us know how to make a computer, but both of us could possibly do it. And so I work to find information about influential black men to show him that they can accomplish things too. Important things. Things that they figured out before white men. I make him promise that he will try to think differently. That if he tells himself that it is not possible, that that is only putting himself down. And I see that possibly one of the worst problems here is a lack of information. Information that affirms the lives of all people, the abilities of all people. And then I also remember that this cannot change completely unless people are given opportunity. My host brother is smart. He could do many things but does not have the opportunities. And neither does anyone else around here. How is he supposed to think that he can do anything substantial if nobody else around him is able to? But the white men are. How do we change this?

Introduction to GILLBT

So, I wrote this for the newsletter for the newly accepted HNGR interns but I thought it might also be a good introduction to the work I am hoping to do with my organization while I am here!

My placement is in Nkwanta, a rural town in northeastern Ghana. Nkwanta is the market town in its district and is home to about 20,000 Ghanaians from several different small ethnic groups. I will be working primarily with the Akyode, an ethnic group of about 15,000 who live in Nkwanta and nearby villages. I am interning with the Ghana Institute of Linguistics, Literacy, and Bible Translation (GILLBT) which is an organization that works to provide translated Scriptures for the 60+ languages in Ghana. They have several focuses which include promoting literacy and using translated scriptures in different ministries to promote discipleship. The promotion of literacy is important because many of the smaller language groups have difficulty surviving because of their size. When these languages die, people lose some of their cultural framework and are less capable of interpreting the word of God in a culturally meaningful way. I am entering this context as an arts advocate in order to help people develop culturally appropriate forms of worship.

            In Nkwanta, I am working with a branch of GILLBT which is called the Gikyode Language Project. This branch consists of three men who are working with the Akyode to translate the Bible and promote literacy. These men form a powerful community as they accomplish everything through collaborative work and strive to make all decisions together in unity. They have graciously adopted me into their team and I am hoping to add an artistic element to their translation work. We are starting by meeting with church leaders in the area to discuss their needs for new Scripture songs. Since there are not many Akyode Scripture songs, we are asking these chuch leaders whether they have certain Scripture passages that they would like to see put to song. Our hope is that these new songs could help expand the church’s worship vocabulary and strengthen people’s faith because the Akyode songs will touch their hearts in a different way.

            I will also work in collaboration with different composers in the area in order to create these new songs. Some of these composers are in the church while others are well-known for their musical abilities but are not Christians. We hope that this collaboration will lead to interest in the Scriptures being set and that good discussion will come about as a result of these songs. It is exciting to think of what might be accomplished through this work.

            Last night I went to my first event associated with GILLBT. Four times a year they host a prayer night for all Akyode people at a village. It was programmed to start at 8pm and end at 12pm but I knew well enough that the scheduled times would not be followed. What I did not know was what a prayer meeting would be like in this context. I was excited and ready to spend time in prayer since my time here has not been easy so far, and I hoped to learn from the faith shown by the people in this community. However, the prayer meeting was different than I expected. First of all, I felt so conspicuous as tons of children crowded around me and stared at me, one of the first white people they had ever seen. When the meeting finally started after 9, worship began with drumming, singing, and dancing. I felt lost as people sang strongly in languages I did not understand and with music that did not touch my heart. For a minute, I was disappointed because I did not know how to participate and actually felt distracted from communicating with God. However, I soon remembered what I was here for and was able to celebrate that Akyode are using worship forms that speak to them culturally! The fact that I felt lost and disconnected proved how important it is to translate the way we worship across culture. In America, we often forget that the way we worship would not mean so much to people in other contexts. We forget that the songs that speak to our hearts might feel lifeless to others. It is so important to express our love for God in ways that connect the heart and the mind. As I experience being a minority and learning to worship in a new way, I hope this will strengthen my desire to see all nations worship God in beautiful diversity. 

Are you excited?

"Are you excited?" This is the question I remember being asked over and over again when I was getting ready to leave for HNGR. I never knew how to answer. Yes, I was excited. I had known about HNGR since I was little and had wanted to do it myself for nearly as long. I was finally going. My life would change and I would not be the same. I would learn so much and find community in another place with another people. But I also knew that HNGR is not just rainbows, that there would be struggle. There would be something called culture shock that we would all experience and it wouldn't be fun. So I was also intimidated. I knew that I did not really know what I was getting into and that the growth would be through struggle, that relationships would take time to grow. So I felt mixed.

I got to Africa, to Ghana, with a knot in my stomach and sleepy eyes. I met the man who is my father here and felt overwhelmed with the fact that I would actually have to live here. For 6 months. I was scared and homesick and very, very hot. But I found this man, Emmanuel, to be kind and understanding and I saw hope. And so life continues. Each day, learning more about the culture, meeting new people. Feeling that I would never make friends and that 6 months is a ridiculously long amount of time.

I travelled to my town, Nkwanta, and entered into a completely new way of life. Dirt roads, motorobikes, concrete houses, women with babies on their back and pots on their head. And many children staring and smiling at me, the "obruni." (what Ghanaians call a white person). I was and still am a novelty. I went into my house which is very nice for Nkwanta as I am blessed to have a toilet and even a shower. But everything starts to hit you and you realize that you are not in America anymore and how do you live life here? How does this work? What do you do? The men are busy talking and the women are busy cooking and you are told to sit. Sit with the men and so I listen to them talking in various languages I do not know. And they welcome me and then continue to talk. I talk to my host siblings and mother and they laugh at the thought of me wanting to help cook.

But they are starting to get used to me and I am starting to see life here. I am learning one word at a time, I am meeting people one handshake and one "you are welcome here" at a time, I am feeling out my place here little by little. And people are so friendly and kind and smile and give me reason to laugh. I am recognizing that their laughter at me is because I am absurd. I do not make sense. Why do I try to carry water on my head like they do? I am white. But their laughter is not unkind and somehow it encourages me to keep going. I am develping relationships and finding joy and hope and peace in this context little by little. And God is here with me. And somehow it all is good.

So now the question is "Am I excited?" Am I excited to be here and enthusiastic about what I am doing? The truth is that I am still scared by the thought of 6 months. But each day I see more and I know that I am doing this "learning by doing thing" that I was so excited to do. And I give myself, my emotions grace and keep going. So I am excited to see what God will do with this, with me, while I am here!

Anticipation

I got home a week ago and all my time has been focused towards getting ready to go on HNGR. During the end of the semester, people kept on asking me how I was feeling but I was so caught up in schoolwork that it was hard to really sort out what I was feeling. I would answer "I'm excited but also intimidated because I know HNGR isn't going to be an easy journey." This is pretty much how I am feeling now, but I've gone through a whirlwind of emotions since then! Home has been great because I really needed some time to relax and focus on preparing. My family has been great in helping me process all the new information I keep getting and so I feel so much more prepared! HNGR will not be easy, but I am beginning to see how the layout of HNGR really allows God to work in so many ways. I am excited to see how he will work in my life and the lives around me as I live and serve in Nkwanta, Ghana!

Tomorrow I will get on a plane and travel through the night to arrive in Accra, Ghana in the middle of the afternoon. I will have a few days in the capital to adjust to the new time and to get some things I need before heading to Nkwanta, which is more rural. Hopefully the next time I write, I will have a lot more interesting experiences to tell you about!

West Africa Wins Again?

My blog titled is a commonly used phrase by expats in West Africa. West Africa Wins Again (WAWA) is used to express frustration in a joking way when your plans change in ways you had no control over. In West Africa, your expectations cannot be trusted. I have already had a few of these moments in preparing for HNGR and I am sure I will have many more while I am in Ghana. I hope to share some of these experiences on this blog in between everything else. It is usually best to laugh at your failed plans than to mourn them and I would love for you to laugh with me as I walk into uncertainty!

Some Background Information

I am getting ready to go to Ghana for a 6-month internship that is part of the HNGR Program at Wheaton College. HNGR stands for Human Needs and Global Resources and it prepares students to do a 6-month internship in a country in the Majority World (also known as the Third World). My HNGR requirements in Ghana consist of an internship, an independent study, and a Global Christian Perspectives course. These together will hopefully guide my time in a way that will allow me to be a learner in the new culture, be able to serve through my internship, be able to help my internship through an independent study project, and read materials that will help me process the journey that I am taking.

In Ghana, I have an internship with an organization called the Ghana Institute of Linguistics, Literacy, and Bible Translation (GILLBT). This organization is associated with the Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL). Since Ghana has over 60 different languages, there is much need for bible translation as more and more people become Christians. I will be involved with a section of the organization that is titled "Scripture In Use." This department takes translated Scriptures and uses them in different ways and in different ministries to increase discipleship. I will specifically be working with the newly translated scriptures for the Akyode (pronounced Ah-cho-day) people who are a small ethnic group (about 15,000) in the Upper Volta Region. I will be working with this ethnic group and possibly two other small ethnic groups in the area in the production and distribution of indigenous Scripture songs. There are many different ideas of what kind of musical work I may be doing and so I will let you know as we figure things out!

I will be living in Nkwanta which is a town in the Upper Volta Region. My guide book describes it as "the most developed town in Upper Volta although it is not very developed at all!" This town has about 20,000 people and regularly receives people from nearby villages because it has a weekly market. More information to come later!

http://www.ezilon.com/maps/africa/ghana-maps.html