Newsletter 2 - Ghana

Dear friends and family,

Where do you usually spend your Sunday morning? Thomas' church is called Okaishie (formerly The Church with No Walls), and has recently been able to boast, not only of walls, but also a ceiling and some fans. They meet in an area of Accra called the Arts Centre, a giant market selling local crafts, food, and clothing. Most of the sellers have decided to make it home as well. After their goods are packed away in the evening, a curtain is stretched across the front of the wooden structure, and the transformation from fruit stand to family home is complete. The church building is a concrete structure with three steps across the threshold and a raised section at the farthest end of the building acting as a stage. Wooden benches are brought out to accommodate the sixty or so people that show up for the 10am service. They have a band and several instruments, and a podium for the pastor to rest his Bible on. If you arrive at 9am, you can join in the Bible study where the nearest English speaker will happily translate the Twi (local dialect) for you. The service begins with prayer, which usually lasts for over half an hour. Everyone prays out loud at the same time, and some with microphones. So you can imagine the level of noise, especially since the women like to accompany their prayers with tambourines. But the amazing thing is their discernment at falling completely silent with one accord at the end of it all. These people know how to make a joyful noise and how to stand in silent awe of their Creator. Prayers close and the band begins, reverent in worship and dancing in praise. The children are eager participants: 7 yr old little girls with infant brothers held on their backs by a swath of cloth and young boys watching their elder counterparts closely, mimicking every jump of joy and every tear of brokenness. And the majority of these devoted followers and expectant children probably slept on the curb the night before. Okaishie is made up of street people who heard the message of Christ and grabbed hold with all their heart. Don't flippantly believe they took hold of the Gospel because of its promises of blessings, prosperity and grace. They acted on their revelation of Jesus Christ. They don't serve God despite their poverty; they serve Him in their poverty.

It was day seven, my first time in the city centre at Thomas' office. He wanted me to be involved in some of their street ministry, so the plan was for me to join three leaders from Okaishie and head into Tudu, an area of Accra known for its drugs and prostitution. We left late (time doesn't mean very much in Ghana), and after a walk and a taxi ride, found ourselves in a packed open-air market. Passing the local mosque, distinguishable by Arabic inscriptions over the doorway, we took a left down an alleyway and entered the heart of Tudu. The walls were lined with people of indistinguishable age, but a familial likeness of wasted body and empty eyes. I primarily filled the role of onlooker, taking part when English was discovered as the common language. With 50+ varying dialects in Ghana, most locals speak at least two or three languages, and the people of Tudu were no exception. Everyone was eager to practise their English and shake hands with the white madam. Their words were brief and sad, but their countenances spoke volumes.

One of the women, whose name I discovered to be Ami, caught my eye. She stood apart from the group and watched us interacting with her neighbours. Her beauty would have attracted much attention under other circumstances, but the weariness of her being enshrouded her features. I waved, and she walked over slowly, extended her hand, and introduced herself. She said I was very beautiful. All I wanted to do was cry. I told her that was exactly what I had intended to say to her when I had invited her to come over. She smiled shyly, and apologised for not being better dressed, that she wasn't expecting to be seen by us. I told her to always come just as she is and that beauty isn't determined by what she wears. She said thank you and excused herself to go check on her sleeping baby girl. Although we have been back to Tudu, I have not seen Ami again. Please pray that she will get involved in the small group that now meets in the centre of Tudu to encourage and pray for each other. Pray also that any generational curse on her life will be broken, preserving her precious little girl.

I realise this is a lot to absorb - and these two updates have been written from the experience of my first week alone! Much has been left unwritten, chiefly because I haven't had time to process everything personally. For now, however, we'll move onto lighter subjects. I'm sure you'd like to know what it's like to live here day-to-day, so here is a snapshot of my life in Accra:

I'm living above the orphanage, in a room in Thomas and Felicity's home. My room has a double bed, a set of shelves, and a ceiling fan (the most important part of the room). No, my fellow Americans, there isn't any AC. They also don't have hot water and I wash my clothes by hand in a bucket. I'm glad I only brought five outfits! On cleaning day (usually Saturday), I sweep my room with a broom made from tall, dried grass, and I mop with a floor cleaner that, strangely enough, smells like bubble gum. Their staple food is rice, and the most common meats are chicken and fish. Felicity is an excellent cook, and I've eaten strictly Ghanaian since day one: Half a fish in peanut soup with rice, fried plantain (jumbo bananas), and waakye (black-eyed peas with rice, seasonings, and hand-crushed, hot pepper sauce) are just a few examples.

Driving in Accra is a lot like sitting in the car your 7 yr old boy is controlling on his Game Box. Although they certainly have a highway code and driving tests, most Ghanaians operate their vehicles according to these two rules: If you're moving forward, don't hit the guy in front; if you're moving backward, don't hit the guy behind you (this assessment of driving skills is courtesy of Keith Jaggers). Among other hazards to watch for on the roads are the street sellers. They have taken advantage of the congested roads, and hawk everything from plantain chips to chirping plastic birds, as they move in and around the idling cars. I find the disparity in classes to be most obvious in this setting. A street man crippled from polio will propel himself with his hands while sitting on a makeshift skateboard, begging at the window of a Lexus, where an ample-waisted, wealthy Ghanaian fingers his gold cufflinks. I don't mean to imply the prosperous Ghanaians ignore their suffering neighbours - just that this scenario is a painfully common part of life in Ghana.

Difficult doesn't begin to describe this place. It may seem overwhelming and hopeless, but these people would rather see you help their neighbour than watch you walk by both of them and give nothing.

I was going to write about my trip up to the village in the north of Ghana, but I think this enough for one week. Thank you to those of you who have taken the time to respond to my last update. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, and helps me to process again the things I've experienced. This is my confessional, and I am grateful for your ready ears. These past weeks have been the most painful and trying time I've experienced in my life thus far. I'm not yet able to express what I've been going through; it's something akin to the teaching of life's truths to an eager, rather naive child. God is the teacher, I, the child. Yes, probably over eager, but the teacher smiles at such precipitate readiness, calms the excitement, and asks first for a ready ear. Molding and shaping is painful; ideas, notions are corrected and reformed; beliefs are more fully developed as trust is built. If I can maintain a teachable spirit for the rest of my life, I can then come a little bit closer to following in Jesus' footsteps. He did exactly the bidding of His Father, and every action was performed with Him in mind.

Thank you again for your prayers - I ask for strength to make it through these next three and half weeks, and wisdom in knowing how to live each day according to this verse: "I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." Galations 2:20 Please lift up these precious Ghanaians as well, thanking God for their unquestioning faith and declaring His promises over their lives.

Until next week and with much love,

Rebekah