HOME SWEET HOME...

Lots to report from the weekend.

I will begin with our general staff meeting at Justice on Friday afternoon (started at 3:30PM and it went to after 6PM). The meeting fluctuated between 10 and 15 people, and was headed by the GM Razak. The agenda was to review the minutes from the last meeting (which was full of staff suggestions for improvements to the station), to officially introduce me to everyone, and for staff to voice concerns. The first to items took about 15 minutes combined. The last item took about two hours.

The station seems to be at a really good point though, as the various departments are beginning to embark upon a new level of cooperation. There is the technicians, there are the presenters (on-air personalities), there is the English department, the Dagbani department, and the marketing department. The trend has been that those who work in one department do not cross over, but it seems that there is a strong effort to have staff contribute in various departments. I think this will be positive, though I recognize that all that was said at the meeting is not all that will be done.

Friday night, my first move was to leave work (I left around 6:30PM) and head to the residence where the American ladies had allowed me to stay. I really wanted to get my stuff and head out of there, as I do not like the feeling of imposing. My searching for a place to stay brought me to the Baobab Guest House, where I was relieved to just lay down and chill out. I was supposed to go out with Janey and her friends, but I couldn’t contact her (which wasn’t a bad thing because I was really tired). Instead, I got some fried fish and jolof rice, went to the store to get some water and crackers, and went to sleep. By the way, the fish was delicious and was gone before I realized that I had finished it.

The next morning, I woke up quite late for my time here. I usually wake up between 5am and 7am, but I got out of my room at around 10am! After a little breakfast and a dose of CNN (it’s the only international news that I can get!), I headed into town. My goal was to see prices for a few things that I would like to get:

- A radio
- Speakers for my discman
- A carpet / mat
- A tub to do laundry in
- A bicycle (I don’t know about that though, because that means I have to ride it and it can get crazy on the roads here – I actually passed by a bad accident down the street from where I was staying).
- Blank cds
- A kitchen knife
- A belt
- A lamp
- Some sweat rags

After checking out the prices, all I bought was the tub for laundry and the sweat rags. I still want to do some budgeting and to see if I can get some better prices (e.g. one guy told me 15,000 cds for one blank cd, another lady told me 6,000). I am really feeling like showing loyalty to the shops that don’t try to rip me off. Speaking of which, I had to deal with some cab drivers who were just being ridiculous. I saw myself getting really upset at how absurd some of them are pricing things and then reasoning it. It’s not really that big of a deal, but I was not in the mood for it on Saturday.

When I did get back, I began doing my laundry for the first time by hand. I had bought the soap, bought my tub, and went ahead with my hand washing and multiple rinses. I then had to ring out the clothing and I hung it in the bathroom to dry.

That evening, I received a call from John who is a minister at Winning Life Chapel (that is the church that I have attended a few times). He gave me a tour of town last week, and is a really genuine man. He works as a teacher, studied English (and a bit of Caribbean poetry), loves God and is an aspiring writer. He was actually telling me of the book that he wishes to write about his life, having been set up for a life of labour without education due to his family situation, it his perseverance and faith that got him through school. John is the person that I have felt the most in common with of everyone that I have met in Ghana thus far.

Above is a picture of John and his motorbike.

We ended up meeting at Radio Justice where we spoke of all kinds of things regarding family and Toronto. I showed him the web sites for York and for Rhema which he like seeing. As well, I was on msn, so he was seeing different friends and conversations I was having online. He was also looking at the blog site; he really wants to do something like that, so I am going to show him how.

After about an hour on the computer, we were going to visit his Pastor’s house. On the way, we stopped for food. We sat outside and discussed the seasons in Tamale as we watched the lighting flashing in the distance.

















Above: The restaurant I spoke of.

Apparently, it will continue to rain for awhile (though the rain is short and infrequent). It’s nice because it keeps the land moist and green (green for Tamale anyway). In the next season, the air gets really dry and hot. You can get sandy gusts and heavy winds from the Sahara. He said it also can be really cold in the night and morning and really hot in the day. As I began to eat, the wind started getting crazy, nearly blowing over the table. We had to go inside of the store and eat, which was nice, as we were all inside together taking shelter from the weather. It was a good feeling, as the restaurant opened recently and they really seem like they are trying to build a loyal customer base through kindness and service. It is also a very cleanly kept place and a good alternative to a lot of other street vendors who take the term ‘street meat’ to a new level for all of us Torontonians.

Above: Refuge from the winds and coming rain.

The evening was concluded with a visit at John’s Pastor’s house where we had a thoughtful discussion on the Middle East.

One thing I left out of the day was seeing Janey in town. I was just chilling out on the street in town when I saw her pull out on her brand new motorbike. I could not look at her straight-on without cracking up. She told already that she was going to get one, but so soon...to me, that was funny. It does make life a lot more convenient, but it is a serious decision. I asked how she feels on the road and she said she is cool with driving it in Tamale when everyone isn’t on the road...that’s when I started laughing again, because there is rarely a time when no one is on the road (unless it’s raining, which is it’s own hazard). She got the joke. Then another joke came. Shannon, her friend from Canada that she lives with came limping over to the bike (no exaggeration). I asked her, why she was limping. She replied, “a motor bike accident”...true story. I’m cool with walking (which is still a full contact sport, requiring all of your awareness) and taxi’s (which keeps you on your toes...unless you want to pay a ridiculous fee most of the time).

Above: Janey on her bike...a brave soul.

After a good night sleep, I woke up to get ready for church. Sunday morning was hard though. I really miss Rhema. I was really feeling alone. God is with me, but Saturday morning and even more Sunday, I felt sorrow in my heart; it is good though, because it is a release of past experiences and it is expanding my perspective. At the time though, I felt quite sad (though God’s peace was still glowing within). I went to church, but it was hard to take a lot of things that were going on. While the last two services were great, this one was challenging for me.

There was this guy opening in prayer, whose mic was way too loud. He was just yelling in the mic, it was distorted, and he was speaking in what sounded like forced tongues to me. Even when I left the sanctuary (as I could not take the noise), and was about 50 yards away, he was still way too loud. Oh yeah, he insisted on singing and it was not pleasant. I know God sees the heart of our praise, but if you can’t sing, don’t do it into the main mic over the speakers drowning out every other thought and sound!

I found the worship later on to be fruitful, but I was then asked to videotape the service again. I just wanted time with God and was not up to it, but I accepted the role of recording with the handicam. As a solution, I have proposed that they get a tripod for the camera and I made an offer to train as many people as are interested in video taping. As for me, I’m not so interested in playing that role.

I am also being made to sit at the front with the pastors because I am a guest. I just want to be low profile and have personal time with God in a sanctuary dedicated to his glory, I really don’t want to be all up in the front with all eyes on me.

Then there was the service...mostly, the word was a very, very long list of thanks you’s for all of the people who have contributed over the past five years, and the church mandate (in detail), and a letter thanking those who have paid there tithes (this part took near two hours). I had to leave service before they went into the food and festivities to get the last of my things moved out of the Baobab Guest House, so I went to take a taxi...and yes, he tried to rip me off and act like it was nothing. He had no idea what was going on in my heart, but that was just too much.

By the time I got back to the guest house, I was really overwhelmed in my heart. I went back to my room, and tears just fell. One of the girls I met at the hotel where I watch CNN called me and asked if she could come by. Later she told me that she wanted to go and hang out in town. Her name is Jenifer and she is cool, but I did not feel like hanging out. I don’t mind the company, but I have to be so careful not to give her the wrong idea (I showed a girl across the street from the JHR house some photos in an album that I had been carrying to show someone else, and after two more conversations, she asked me if I would meet her parents). I told her that I had to go and bring my stuff to the house that I was moving into and that I was going by Razak’s house later. She was cool with that, and helped me to get my things over to the new spot before heading our separate ways.

At Razak’s house I watched a VCD of X-Men: ‘The Last Stand’. Just so you know, a VCD is like a DVD, but not as clear. The movies are like bootlegs of bootlegs. It was actually funny that Razak and his brother didn’t really seem to be feeling the whole X-Men thing. I tried to explain it, but, like I said, they weren’t feeling it. I enjoyed the movie as they fell asleep.

By that evening, I went to the new place that I am staying at. The place is a nice house, in a good neighborhood. There is a big yard and nice neighbors (Lieta, the Radio Justice secretary lives next door). They have electricity, running water, and a spacious home. I am living with a married couple who have three daughters (19, 4 and 2 years old). They are Muslims, and are very happy that I am ‘a good Christian boy’. They, as has been the case with many other Ghanians I have met, are surprised to meet ‘a westerner that believes in God’.

When I came to the house I had a stomach ache from waiting too long to eat (I also had some ice cream – powdered that is – on an empty stomach). As I drank some tea outside, I watched as they pounded boiled plantain and cassava into fufu. We sat and talked and a few neighbors came by to say ‘Hi’ / ‘Ana woola’...Naaaaa.

















Above: Mama Souka and Teressa pounding the casava for the fufu.

Over dinner, I sat with Mama Souka (the woman whose home I am renting a room in, her husband’s name is Fresh) and we spoke about forgiveness, history, and family. The conversation went from the subject of slavery, which she says still hurts her in her heart, to divorce and marriage. She asked me about when I was planning to get married, and she assumed I was based on my voice and body language from a call that I received from Toronto earlier that evening. She offered advice about making marriage work, while sharing some of the things that she has gone through. Two of her daughters names are translated as ‘forgiveness’ and ‘reconciliation’, names that speak to issues that she has had with her husbands family.
















Above: Suhuyini (Reconciliation - translated as 'one heart') and Champang (forgiveness).

Later on, I began to unpack and organize my room. That felt soooooo good! I did my best to decorate with some jerseys, and I will continue with some photos, some art and other things. The arrangement is 900,000 cds a month (which is around $115 Canadian a month). It includes breakfast and dinner, so that is cool. They know that I don’t like banku, and they really like spaghetti, so that should be pretty good for me.

Above: my bed, my Rhema soccer jersey.

I really feel comfortable in my room, and I appreciate it the way that I should after going through such an ordeal to get there. The family I live with is also very good at advising me on things to watch out for, as they have had some European guests before (so they understand the unique challenges and circumstances that I face here). Fresh also livied in Italy when there were very few Africans living there, so we have been able to speak about making adjustments.





















Above: My desk and my 'Jesus in the City' t-shirt. Some gifts and cards are also set on my desk.




















Above: I don't have a closet or drawers, but this will do just fine (everything is very organized) - notice the Raptor's jersey...I will stay in touch via www.nba.com!

Oh, there is one other story. After getting an unexpected call from my family (which helped to make my first night in my room feel even more like home: it was nice to hear about my Uncle Craig's 40th birthday party, my rapidly growing cousin Rhiannon, and that my parents were watchign Rhema TV on Sunday morning...thats' a first), I got another call that had me less than impressed. Some girl from Kumasi (I have never been there – you can see the distance on the map pf Ghana in the south west) called me at 3am asking who I am. How do you call someone at that time and say ‘hi, who is this?’. It’s not like I called her by accident or something; I don’t even know how she got the number! I asked and she did not explain. I told her I live in Tamale, I’m from Canada, I don’t know her and I am going to bed...and that I did...until she called back and asked, ‘if we could be friends’. I don’t remember what I said after that, but I was not feeling the start of a beautiful friendship.

Today, we have a manager’s meeting and lots of planning for the upcoming week...actually, it has been delayed as a few people are not here today.

One concluding thought I wanted to share was about love for your self. I had two experiences this weekend of feeling really sad, and alone. Later on, I was checking my email and I opened a message from my friend Fadina. She told me that she had started her own blog (actually, a few people have said they started one after I sent them the link to mine...which is cool, because Joy’s blog from France is what gave me the idea to do one). When I went on her blog, I was only skimming it when I came across a poem. As I read it, I was brought back to the feeling I had sitting in that small, stale room full of my bags. The poem asks, “Does being with yourself make you feel alone?”. The answer to that question was for me, from that experience, was “yes”. The last question in her poem inquires, “So, tell me, do you really love yourself?” This also had an answer: “not enough”. It was a beautiful discovery because I know I need to love myself more so that being by myself does not feel lonely.

You can check her blog at:
http://fadina-crystalclear.blogspot.com/

Luv 4 Self

So, you say that you love yourself.

Do you look in the mirror and think "If only..."?
Do you wake up mornings asking "Were we safe"?
Do you flip a rich smile in exchange for a cheap drink?
Do you stay because it would be harder to leave?
Do they say "it's impossible" and you agree?
Does being with yourself make you feel alone?
When He touches your heart, don't you feel loved?

So, tell me. Do you really love yourself?

Doing My Laundry (by hand)

It may not be a big deal to some of you, and to others you may relate, but I did my laundry by hand...and it's clean. No washing machine, no dryer...a bucket, some soap, some elbow grease, rinsing, ringing and hanging.

I have got to say that it was quite satisfying to put on my boxers that I had washed (once they were dry of course). I could feel that fresh clean feeling had come from my labour.

While I wasn't doing it outside where I had to fetch water, it's still a step.

















Here is the first rinse!

Behind me, my freshly washed laundry hangs to dry.

Jamaica's Beloved Miss Lou Has Died

http://www.caribbeancurrent.com/community/story_id_004.html














While at York, I majored in English and Latin American and Caribbean Studies. With the guidance of such professors as Dr. Modupe Olaogun and Dr. Andrea Davis, Dr. Pablo Idahosa, Dr. Sharon Davidson, Dr. Michelle Johnson, Dr. David Chariand, etc., I was introduced to the work of Ms. Lou (the Honourable Louise Bennett) in an academic setting. The Program Director of our campus station CHRY 105.5 FM, Neil Armstrong (who now works at The Gleaner) was also someone who encouraged awareness of Ms. Lou's work, and introduced me to her on a community level. He actually provided me with material to use in presentations in courses that I was taking with some of the above mentioned course directors.

Through her, I was made aware of the academic exploration of Jamaica's rich nation language, and of the cultural icon that Ms. Lou was for Jamaica, the African Diasopra and Canada.

I was blessed to see her speak in person, as she mystified the audience with her stories. SHe needed little planning, but could go with the winds she felt in the moment and would still captivate. The weaving of her content and delivery is sweetly nestled into my memory. I hold the honour of seeing her in person with such experiences with Nelson Madela, Fidel Castro, Maya Angelou and Angela Davis (among others).

I have included her obituary as well as my favourite poem of hers "Bans a killin". The poem highlights how hypocritical it is to claim one branch of the English language as pure, and other branches as broken.

Love you Ms. Lou!

July, 26 - Jamaica’s beloved Miss Lou, the Hon. Louise Bennett-Coverley, has died.

She was 86 years old.Miss Lou passed away on Wednesday, July 26, at the Scarborough Grace Hospital in Toronto, Canada, after collapsing at home earlier in the morning.

Born in Kingston on September 7, 1919, Miss Lou was Jamaica’s premier folklorist, poet, entertainer and comedienne. As a cultural giant, she made Jamaica’s patois an accepted language through her poems. Famous for her radio shows which included “Laugh with Louise”, “Miss Lou’s Views” and “The Lou and Ranny Show”, she was also celebrated for her television show “Ring Ding,” popular among Jamaican children all across the island.

Jamaica’s Consul General to Toronto, Ms. Anne-Marie Bonner has expressed sadness and regret at the untimely death of Jamaica’s Ambassador of Culture.

“Miss Lou was a true leader. Through her courage, she gave a nation a language and a voice with which its people can express its culture. It was not an easy task in those days to challenge the status quo in such a profound way. But this ‘tallawah’ woman did it. She has contributed to our culture through folklore and acting.”

The Consul General called Miss Lou an outstanding daughter of Jamaica, who was loved and respected all over the world and particularly in Canada, her adopted home.

“Jamaicans everywhere salute Miss Lou for a life well lived. Walk good Miss Lou.”

Miss Lou has received many accolades and awards during her life, including Jamaica’s third highest national honour, the Order of Merit, in 2001. In fact, the cultural icon was slated to add to her numerous awards in a ceremony at the Jamaican Consulate this evening. She would have been presented with the 2006 Jamaica Independence Award Hall of Fame from the West Indian-American Association of New Jersey. Several members of the association were enroute to Toronto from the United States when Miss Lou passed away.

Miss Lou, who was predeceased by her late husband impresario Eric “Chalktalk” Coverley, leaves son Fabian and many “adopted” children. Funeral arrangements will be announced at a later date.


Bans a Killin

by

Miss Lou (from Aunty Roachy Seh)

So yuh a de man me hear bout!
Ah yuh dem seh dah teck
Whole heap a English oat seh dat yuh gwine kill dialec!

Meck me get it straight, mas Charlie,
For me no quite understan
Yuh gwine kill all English dialec
Or jus Jamaica one?

Ef yuh dah equal up wid
English Language, den wha meck
Yuh gwine go feel inferior when
It come to dialec?

Ef yuh cyaan sing 'Linstead Market'
An 'Water come a me yeye’
Yuh wi haffi tap sing 'Auld lang syne’
An ‘Comin through de rye'.

Dah language weh yuh proud a,
Weh yuh honour an respec –
Po Mas Charlie, yuh no know se Dat it spring from dialec!

Dat dem start fi try tun language
From de fourteen century -
Five hundred years gawn an dem got More dialec dan we!

Yuh wi haffi kill de Lancashire,
De Yorkshire, de Cockney,
De broad Scotch and de Irish brogue
Before yuh start kill me!

Yuh wi haffi get de Oxford Book
A English Verse, an tear Out Chaucer,
Burns, Lady Grizelle An plenty a Shakespeare!
When yuh done kill 'wit' an 'humour',
When yuh kill 'variety',

Yuh wi haffi fine a way fi kill Originality!
An mine how yuh dah read dem English Book deh pon yuh shelf,
For ef yuh drop a 'h' yuh mighta
Haffi kill yuhself!

‘Home’

My housing saga continues...I really thought that it was dealt with, but I am taking it well. It’s amusing at this point (though I really do want to get settled). In life in general, I am hesitant to commit to things, unless I feel certain that it is the right situation, and I see that tendency affecting this process. I could be unpacked and settled into a place that I am not sure about by now, but I don’t want to go through such a process.

So last night, I thought that everything was cool with the residence that the ladies from the US are staying in. When I called them after work to say that I was coming ‘home’, they hinted that there might be a problem with that...that I should wait until they came back from dinner as they had to work something out. So, I took the time and walked home from work.

The first part of the walk was with a lady from Holland that is leaving Tamale this weekend after teaching at a local school for around three months and volunteering at Justice where she read the 4PM news throughout the week. She is actually infamous around Tamale as ‘the White woman that reads the news’ (though no one really knows that it’s her by her face).
The greater part of my near two hour walk was alone. I walked through the town centre, along the main street, out into the residential neighborhood that the American ladies are staying in. I strolled along as people said ‘Hi’, ‘Ana Woola’, stared at me, laughed (I don’t know what is so funny), introduced themselves, tried to sell things, practiced their English, etc.

It was a strange feeling to feel alone and the centre of attention at the same time. I just wanted to walk ‘home’. I did well in not letting it get to me and just keeping perspective. While walking back, I must have been a little too focused in peeling my arms length piece of sugar cane, because I later realized that I had walked way past the street I was supposed to turn down. Eventually, I got into a cab with a driver who said he knew the street I was looking for, and drove the wrong way and then attempted to have me pay for the gas that he had wasted (I wasn’t having that).

Very hungry after finally getting to the area, I still had to wait for the American ladies to call me. I waited as I ate a dinner of jolof rice and fried fish from a local restaurant. After getting in contact with them, Abeena said to come by. After getting to the house I found out that there had been a problem with me being there, but that it should be alright for the night. I fell asleep in a chair waiting for a room to be made vacant for me, then was told to sleep on an extra bed in Abeena’s room while she ended up sleeping on the couch.

In the morning, I went through another ordeal where I was snuck out of the house at 6:15AM (thinking that it was near 8AM when I start work). I had to take my bucket shower in the bathtub and get dressed quickly. Walking out of the door, I felt like a fugitive.

From there, being that I had a long time before work started, I went over to a local hotel where I had met some women that work in the kitchen. I was just going to say ‘Hi’, but I ended up having a continental breakfast as I watched CNN. I also happened to sit at a table (even though all of the other tables were empty) with a photographer who had just finished an assignment with JHR. We both were surprised by the timing.

As it stands, after work, I will be leaving from the guest house that my stuff is in, and going to the Boaboa Guest House which has a vacancy. I will also be going over to the house that I should be moving into so that I can finalize and set the day that I can move in (God willing!).

Yesterday at work, I had my first real impact. I met with the head of marketing and suggested some ideas that I have in order to improve things internally and externally with the station. He took the suggestions so well that we actually created a document and a system to be implemented immediately. Razak later heard of this and was quite happy. Ato, the country director, was glad to hear of it also, as I am, “adding value to the partnership”.
Today, we will have the first General Meeting that I will have been present for and there I plan to share my vision and my role as determined by JHR, while ascertaining what the hope and vision is within the staff for my time here

From Liberia to Lebanon

This week, in the international press, there are very few stories that have not been placed secondary to the intense fighting, bombing and rocket attacks being exchanged between Lebanon and Israel. One reason for this is the global divide that has been highlighted in this conflict. And while wars, genocide, disease and famine continue to take a toll on humankind across the globe, there is the sense that a great risk to global security rises with the intensity of the fighting. Many wonder how long the allies of each nation and cause will stand back and watch.

If you have managed to absorb coverage on some of the other major stories taking place at this time, you may have read of the return home for thousands of Liberian refugees displaced in various nations. For most of the past twenty years, Liberia has been gripped in the turmoil of civil war. In the later end of 1996 the fighting came to a cease as Charles Taylor, the most powerful of the rebel leaders involved in the clash, secured his election into the seat of governemnt. His reign lasted until 2003, when fighting erupted once again. Earlier this year, peace was restored and the prospects for Liberia improved with the victory of President Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf, the first woman elected into power in Africa.

In Ghana, where I am currently situated, a mass movement of Liberian refugees has began the trek home. Watching CNN from the dining room of a local hotel where I made friends with the kitchen staff, I had to hold in tears - which seem to be ready to fall so often these days - every time that an image and a voice of a plea to 'stop the war' was added into the news bites about the Lebanon/Israel conflict.

This is the context which made the story of a young man, about my age, who fled Liberia for safety in Lebanon long before the current conflict arose something I wanted to share. As Liberians scattered abroad head home to build their futures out of the possibilities that this moment in time offers, Saide Chaar is stuck surviving through another war.

The following is a journal account that was posted at www.irinnews.org. The photos were collected from MSNBC. The order is deliberate to show the fire of violence fueling the conflict, the smoke that remains from those flames which singe and cloud the lives of those caught in-between, and the light of the possibility for peace and restoration.


BEIRUT, 27 July (IRIN) - Up to 50 Liberians are trapped in Beirut. Many sought refuge in Lebanon after fleeing civil war in their own country 12 years ago. Some are married to Lebanese.

This ongoing narrative is based on a phone interview with 25-year-old Saide Chaar, a Liberian who is staying in a one-bedroom apartment with 22 other Liberians and Lebanese-Liberians in Beirut's southwestern suburb of Jnah.

27 July 2006 - When we got up this morning we tried to call the (Liberian) ambassador in Cyprus and he told us to get to the Canadian Embassy and he would try to get someone to help us. And we got there and unfortunately they told us that they are not ready to help any other nationals, only their citizens. (The ambassador) told us he would try again today and tomorrow to get the Greek Embassy to help us.

Where we live presently the landlord is asking us out because we are too many in the house. He said because four families cannot live in one place and we are so many. Maybe he's doing it because he wants to increase the rent because we are paying 200 dollars and most likely he wants 400 dollars. We don't (even) have the 200 now because there is no work. We tried to ask him, "Please, please help us," and he's like, "No, sorry." He said tomorrow we should leave. Now we are stranded and we have nowhere to go.

Today we hardly see any plane in the area around here but they are still bombarding the south area. People are just on the street - crazy. They have nowhere to go. Most people are sleeping in the park in central Beirut with mosquitoes, no bathroom. Everyone is displaced. They have nowhere to go. Thousands. Thousands of people that fled from south Lebanon.


It is very hot, very, very hot in here where we are. And without electricity we don't have a fan. We are on the ground floor. We are just managing to put (water) in a small reservoir. It will last us from now until tomorrow morning. We can go out and get water from neighbours to flush the commode.We don't have food. And even the baby (Levi) the food is all finished. We are trying to go and look for medicine for him. In the evening he gets sick and gets a hard fever. The medication of the old people is finished for them. Everybody right now is sad and some of them are crying - no job, no money, nowhere to turn. We have nobody to help us.

In Liberia it was home. We knew our way around, we knew how to make it (during the war). We knew how to get food. We could grow food. There, the United Nations was helping. They were providing rations - food, whatever we need, like cornmeal and rice.

There is no one to help us here. We are strangers.One thing I don't understand. They have thousands of other nationalities in this country. They're evacuating the people but I don't know why a handful - we are only less than 50 Liberians in this country - I don't know why they find it so difficult to help us. Anyone could have helped us. Even the United Nations - we came to seek refuge in this country. The Americans could have helped us. They should have helped us. When I went there I knew that, ok, when I get to the American Embassy they are the last chance and hope we have because the Americans have helped a lot of Liberians during the war in Liberia. A lot have been resettled in (America). They have took thousands out. Unfortunately, when we got there, there was no help from them. We were told they evacuated their citizens.

Right now the time is about 7 o'clock in the evening and we have nowhere to go to ask for help. I just want to sleep and just pray and ask God to lead me because I don't know any way out. I haven't eaten anything. We are just waiting to see what the night will give us.

Doo bi chani ka labdi nyenga (a man does not take a major step forward, then retreat)

Just when I thought the housing situation was solved and behind me, there was still much more to face.

I told Razak of my plans yesterday afternoon and all seemed well. When we returned to his house, I was going to get my things together a take a cab to the guest house. Before I went inside, Razak remarked, “look at the new moon”. There it was: a very thin slice up there in the sky. I realized that I had not seen the moon in Ghana yet. I told Razak that the new moon was my favourite phase to see, even more than when it was full. For me, I always feel like it is the beginning of a new cycle. I often ask, ‘what is the sky saying about this moment that we are in?’





As I went into Razak’s house, it hit me that the timing was perfect as I was beginning a new phase of independence, heading out to the guest house. Razak, meanwhile, went around to his family members and informed them that I would be leaving. He began with his father, and then his mother. He then told the others. After closing up my bags and packing up the few things that I had left out, I was greeted at the door by Razak’s mother. She was there to offer me greetings, ‘that my heart would find peace where I go, and that I would be filled with wisdom’. She also advised that, ‘I stay on the straight path with God’. She spoke in Dagbani and Razak translated; she also said a lot with her hands which had the posture of prayer at moments and praise the next.

Razak’s brother had a different approach. He said, “the news is going to kill the old man”, referring to his father. He insisted that I stay and take the unoccupied room in the compound. He seemed to wonder if I felt it was not good enough for me, and could not understand my explanation that I needed some time alone to adjust and clear my mind. He said, “you can go in your room and be alone”, and asked, “why? you can’t be clear in your mind with us around?” I tried to show him that I was following the guidance in my heart, but it didn’t seem to stick with him.

When the cab arrived, men and children helped me to bring my things out, and the women that lived there stood around to say ‘bye’. There was about fifteen people...I felt really sad, and it wasn’t until the dirver barked, ‘close the door’ that I could go. I felt like I was doing the right thing, but I felt misunderstood and as if I had committed and offence that hurt them, and that they would forgive me for...but still hurt them.

When I discussed this with Razak, he said, “this is how people should feel when you leave. It would not be right if we were not sad to see you go”.

And then the next challenge came. We went to the Catholic Guest House and it was full. So was the TICS guest house, and the Baoabab, and a few others. Every time that we arrived somewhere, the news was the same. I began to get discouraged. I was praying and wondering, ‘did I make the wrong choice? Should I have stayed? Should I go back? Are they all full now (knowing that they had vacancies a few days before) because I wasn’t supposed to leave?’. Yet, that did not feel like the answer. Razak must have seen my discouragement, when I put my hands in the air like, ‘I don’t know!’ as we walked back to the cab driver who thought this was pretty funny.

Razak said, “Doo bi chani ka labdi nyenga”, and then asked me, “do you understand what I said?”

I replied, “no, what does that mean?”

He said, “A man does not take a major step forward, and then retreat. We will keep going.”

Then it came to me: the ladies from North Carolina! I scrolled though my phone and found the number for the residence that Abeena and Lilly were staying in. When I called, Abeena was given the phone and she said in her warm southern accent, “I was just praying about you. Is everything ok?”

Before I said very much, she told me to come stay by them. They had an extra room. We were actually in their neighborhood and I went there. I gave the driver 50,000 cds for what (if the first stop worked out) would have been a 10,000 cd cab ride and said ‘goodnight’ to Razak and his brother who had followed us on a motorbike.

After getting some food down the street and listening to the ladies and their many stories, I settled into a room and a bed by myself. I had a good sleep, with a lot of dreams, and I had time to think and feel in solitude. I prayed, read the word, and thought about a lot of things. That was very, very refreshing.

This morning, I felt great, and just as I stepped out of the door, ready to take a cab, there was Razak with his motorbike to drive me to work...

Day Nine

Day nine in Ghana, day five in Tamale and day three at Justice FM.

Since my arrival in Tamale, quite a lot has happened. In addition to losing Janey, staying at Razak’s house, and going to the Tamale prison (to visit), a few other things have happened.

Monday night, I took two retired American ladies from North Carolina out for dinner. I met them on the airplane and we have stayed in contact. The dinner was nice (they had fried rice and chicken). After that we went to check out the 5th Anniversary celebration of the church that I went to on the Sunday. They really enjoyed it, and one of the ladies went up for prayer to get saved! She was singing a song called “Hallelujah” that the choir had been singing for the entire ride home.

And about that ride home. I asked a cab driver whether he knew of the place that the ladies lived and he said yeah...he didn’t know, nor did he speak English at all. We were on our way out town when I realized. Eventually we found our way there, and then I returned to Razak’s house. The driver after all of that, for what should have cost 30,000 CD’s (paying the tourista price) asked for 60,000 CD’s...he didn’t get it.

What was funny is that I had been here for three days and I was being a tour guide for these ladies and translating between their accent and English for others, as well as Ghanian English for them. Not to say that I have it down...my friend’s cousin (who I met in Accra) sent me a text yesterday that said “Hey, do u know that most times I don’t know what u r saying? I just say ‘yeah’.”

Last night I went to the town centre after work. I was getting food for Razak and I, but had to wait for him while he was getting his motorbike fixed. I was sitting around by myself downtown and these two ladies selling apples told me to come and sit with them. I learned a lot about the whole breakdown of what they do on a day to day. We spoke (though it was not easy for them to understand me) about the purchasing price, the profit margin, the obstacles to advancing in business, their dreams (they want to open a store selling clothes and shoes). One thing that I noted was that they have this dream, but have written it off as impossible. Rent for a store is 3-15 million cds a month, they make 500 cds profit off of each apple they sell and you can eat for the day for about 10,000 cds and pay rent for about 50,000 cds...so the math doesn’t work. But there was no plan. Ideas of going to Accra and making the big money kept coming up, but I kept thinking of the Amnesty International presentation that we saw in Ghana which spoke of the intense exploitation that often happens of women from the North of Ghana heading to Accra to make it.

Eventually, Razak came to meet me on his new motorbike. Cruising along the main road, all of a sudden Razak turned and began to go the other way. In a flash I noticed, we slowed down and some police grabbing a hold of the handle bars. I stepped off of the bike and saw two officers, one with a big gun in his hands, very upset. They asked if they Razak wanted them to hit him in his head.

They brought the bike over to a little roadblock up ahead where a few other riders were negotiating and pleading with a group of about five officers, one of whom was a woman. I stood aside and waited, watching, but not worried. This was my second run in with the police (the first being at another road block that they had waved us past until they saw me in the back and figured they could get some money...the main officer settled for the phone number of the one young lady in our entourage before a truck crashed into the barricade allowing us to get out of there).

After about 15 minutes, they let us go. Apparently, we had been stopped because Razak had no helmet. He explained to the officers that he had just bought the bike that day, that he was from Radio Justice (which has a good relationship with the police via a friendly futeball match that they play againt eachother), and he was continually pointing me out to the officers saying, "look at him, he looks so sad". It worked. No money needed to be exchanged, but the bike would not start, so we had to walk it. While walking, Razak said "the reason that I slowed down was because they would have shot out my tires". I told him I don't want bullets coming near me for any reason. I don't think they really would have, but thank God he stopped...

As for Justice, I have a few story ideas and had a meeting with Razak and with Ramadan about some of the work that we are going to do.

To let you know, Ramadan works at Justice and is a very enthusiastic, very ambitious (and very popular) news reporter at the station. I think he is the person I will be working with most often, though there seems to be a few other people around who have an interest. Razak (as I mentioned before, is the station manager).

Ramadan really wants to get started on some stories and he seems like he is also keen on traveling for some stories. I have already spoken with them about adding an international news report focusing on Africa via the http://www.irinnews.com/ site.

Razak wants to see some workshops and he and I were speaking about some contacts in the city around human rights. As well, we were discussing some co-sponsorship ideas with community events and the station.

Oh, in terms of the home front aka the housing situation, good news...I have a plan! I am moving out of Razak’s place tonight. He seems sad to let me go, but he want me to do what’s best for me. He offered me a place in the compound he lives in that they could fix up. That’s love! However, I am going to stay in the guest house tonight in order to have some space and time for myself. I need to just have that. Yesterday, I went and saw a place that was basically everything that I was looking for (running water, electricity, a bed, a desk, a kitchen, and a nice area ). It is a room in a house with a family here, and is such a nice place. I really like the area, my only hesitation was not being out on my own. After being shown some big, empty places in the middle of nowhere with no water or electricity, I figure that the only way I am going to have my own place that I will be comfortable with is to stay in a guest house. The cost is literally ten times more per month at the guest house, which is still not dramatic; but the difference means more flexibility to travel.

Radio Justice (it's not as political as it sounds)

Let me introduce to you, where I work. Justice FM aka Radio Justice in Tamale, Ghana. When you pull up to the front gate, this is what you see.
















Quite the mandate.

















This is the actual building. The station itself is on the upper floor.
















This is the reception desk that is at the top of the stairs. There are a number of offices throughout the floor.
















Here is a glimpse of the on-air studio. There is also a guest studio in the next room.

Pearson Airport

This really should have been one of the first entries (and if I figure out how to rearrange the order, it will be).

The airport...that was a day. I woke up and my first thought was, 'I am leaving for Ghana today'. It didn't seem real, but I knew it was. At church I soaked up all of the atmosphere that I could. My Pastor prayed for me at the end of service, afterwhich I spoke with some of the church elders. One thing that stood out was when one of the elders that I played soccer with last year asked me, "so is this your first missions trip". I told him, I'm not doing missionary work. He replied that no matter where you go, and for whatever reason, you go with God.

After that, I headed to a funeral for the mother of a good friend of mine. I really wanted to spend the afternoon with her, but I still had to finish packing. When I got home, I was feeling stressed as I still needed to get some medication and run some quick errands. Ok, I will write something that I might not have normally typed. After returning from my errands, I was listening to the CHFI in the car and Alicia Keys was singing "Some people want it all..." At that point, with the service, the funeral, the reality sinking in, the rush, the delay (everything seemed to be taking too long), thinking I lost my cell phone, not being packed with a half hour to leave and being there alone in my driveway - plus the deep sense of purpose, change and growth I feel about this all - I just started to cry. My heart was just so full.

After going inside, I started to get things together. With the help of Denice, Alison and Joanne, I got all packed and headed to the airport.

By then, a small entourage was waiting to see me off. Asking how I felt, I don't know if I really told them much. I was just enjoying seeing them all.
















We relaxed in a restaurant at the airport until the last minute. I was actually the last person to board the plane. Walking through the customs set up, is a moment that I can see so clearly: saying 'bye' to everyone there was...I felt calm, and overwhelmed, but on purpose. I didn't want to leave them (I had been prolonging 'see you laters' before I left) , but when it was time to go, I was on my way.

Where In The World Is Tamale?

This is not a deep revelation or observation, it's just in case you are not sure where Tamale is. It the primary city in the northern region of Ghana.




















For those who aren't the greatest with geography, you can find Ghana at the bottom of the hump that sticks out at the top of the map. It is right in the middle of that part of the coastline.






















You can see Tamale just above Lake Volta. It is about 15 hours by bus from the capital city Accra. Some people say Ghana has three capitals:

Accra - the official capital
Kumasi - the cultural capital
Tamale - the northern capital

















This a more detailed map of the region surrounding Tamale.

Razak's House

One of the most challenging aspects of coming to Tamale has been finding a housing situation that works for me. I don't want to live in a hotel. The guest houses (which are sort of like motels) are nice, but I don't intend to stay in one of those too long. I have been brought around to see different options and many of them were not sitting well in my heart. The first two places that I saw were very big, completely empty, without water and electricity, on the outskirts of the city with no one that I know nearby, partially falling apart with the promise that, 'we'll fix it up and make it nice'. I don't plan on waiting on the fufillment of that promise.

While that is about where I plan to stay, I will share with you where I stayed for the bulk of my first week in Tamale.

This is Razak's house, where he made me welcome and to feel like his brother. He refused to allow me to stay on his couch, and insisted that I take his bed. The room was large enough for the two of us to chill in the evenings, eat on a small side table, and watch his TV, before going to sleep. I bathed here, brushed my teeth outside, pressed my clothes, etc...it is where I began and ended my days.

The pictures below are of the grounds.


















This is the row of rooms that Razak's family compund is made of. His room is through the door to the right of the fabric and left of the goat.















These are the bathroom facilties. The first door is to 'pass water', the second door is for bucket bathing, and the third has a hole in the floor and bricks to stand on to 'ease yourself'. The two children are his niece and nephew. They are quite sweet, and I was surprised by how mature the young girl is in the way she goes about her choirs and responsibilities.
















This is the centre of the compound where laundry is hung, where those rocks are surounded by coal and wood for cooking, and the structures in the back are home to some goats and chickens.
















These two rooms are used for cooking and other domestic choirs.
















This is the street outisde of his house.
















This is a shot of the view down the street.

This was the first place I considered home in Ghana (though it was a short stay). It was sad to go, but I know I needed the space to adjust and to grow.

DAY ONE AT JUSTICE

Today is the first day on the job at Radio Justice in Tamale. Our frequency is 98.5 FM and we are one of four radio stations in the city: the others being FILA, Diamond FM, and Savannah. Justice is connected to Joy FM and Luv FM which are two major stations in Ghana (especially Joy FM). You can get a feel for what we do through listening live at www.myjoyonline.com (though their station is much more established and funded, has more expereinced staff, a wider market, more advertisers, and no Dagbani programming).
















My day has gone as follows:

Razak (the station manager and I arrived together at 8:30am – we were running a little bit late).

He went to the studio to give Abeena and Lilly (to ladies from North Carolina their promised shout outs), while I was getting aquatinted with my office. It is nice and spacious. There are glass doors, a view of the street that the station faces, a large glass boardroom meeting table, a desk for writing, and a desk with the computer that I will be using.

I was handed a folder of documents that Raegen (the last JHR rep to work here – she was also the first at Justice). I was also shown her folders on the computer. I have set up my own and I have began sort and checking the emails that I got behind on.

Throughout the day, people have trickled in to say ‘welcome’. Some conversations were brief, while others were quite lengthy. Everyone is asking me how Raegen is doing. I think they are disappointed when I tell them that I don’t really know her very well. As I meet people, I am compiling a list of the staff and their positions so that I can remember who everyone is and what they do.

For lunch I met up with Janey and John. John is wrapping up his stay in Ghana, which concludes in two weeks. Janey is also up in Tamale with me at Diamond FM. I lost her after we got off the flight as I gave her the wrong cell number and she did not have hers up yet. I was glad to reunite with her. We all went to a spot called the cultural centre where I had ‘red, red’ (fried plantain and beans) and chicken.

On the way back to work, we ran into the infamous Mohammed aka Mo’ – who is known for his school book hustle (he claims to need money for school books and uses the money for whatever else he wants when he gets it). After finding out that I am a good friend of Janey, he gave me a necklace as a gift. It’s pretty nice, and he said he made it.

We were supposed to have a managers meeting this morning, but it got post-poned until 3:30PM. I’m not sure if it will happen though, as news just arrived that a friend of the station lost his father.

On another note, my housing arrangement has not worked out the way that I thought it would. Currently, I am living with the station manager in a compound with his family. He has really looked out for me over the past few days. A bunch of his friends and the children in the area have come by to meet me. A lot of the people seem to be really surprised to see me there, especially when I’m outside brushing my teeth or walking with a roll of toilet paper to ‘ease myself’.

In the evenings, we watch Nigerian movies, eat Ghanian food and sleep in Razak's room. I am longing to have my own place though, and I should have that worked out by the end of the day. I can't wait to unpack!!! I am about ready to be done with living out of a suitcase for awhile.

Tonight I will meet with the ladies from North Carolina for dinner, and will be attending another dinner on Wednesday. I have also been invited to 5th year anniversary celebrations at the Winning Life Church in Tamale taking place all this week. That is the church which I attended on Sunday, and one of their ministers is featured on the radio on Sunday mornings. Going to church turned out to be a double blessing, as I followed the group to go to the Tamale prison where they handed out supplies and prayers for the prisoners. That was not expected!

Being in Ghana for the two weeks I have been here have afforded me great personal growth. One of the primary reasons that I am here is because I know that God is bringing me to the next level of my life through this experience. There are things that I need to see, experience and overcome that this setting is providing. It feels right.

What I have included here are various photos of me doing different things...check it out!






















Here I am chilling on the steps of the JHR house talking on my celly. Gotta thank Joy for hooking up the phone that she used in France. It's funny, because this model is the most common phone in Ghana, most people have it. I was on the line back to TO and took the photo myself.















Here I am in the Ackerson kitchen having some tea (shouts to Melezia for linking me with her family). I love drinking my tea, but no one drinks mint tea here...please send me some...the Lipton Yellow Label is good though...still, I love my mint tea!


















At a training session in Accra...during this media orientation I got the presenter to speak about the soccer/futeball league in Ghana which starts later this month(a lot of the group was displeased, and the other part was not surprised...lol). While Tamale as one of the better teams, rowdy fans got the team a punishment of playing it's first three home games away...that means I have to wait twelve weeks for a home game! I'm buying season tickets though....can't wait!






















My first week, and I went outside to find someone. The excursion ended up in a conversation that was a couple of hours long. The result was about 20 mosquito bites. I don't know if you can see the shape of a cross with two a bit below my elbow and the four above. Oh, don't worry everyone, I have been taking my malaria meds (which, thankfully, have not produced the potential side effects of halucinations, visions, and vivid dreams).

















Here I am in Tamale on the back of a motorbike. There are a few forms of transportation here associated to class. Walking, Cargo trucks (people pile inside the back of them), Tro-Tro (you could call it a bus, just more packed, run down, privately owned), Bicycles (very common),Taxi's (used mostly for people going to work or in a rush to get somewhere), Motorbikes (shows that you are doing fairly well), and Cars (which are rare - especially the odd Beamer or SUV that you see). I have told the drivers that my family and friends would flip out if they saw me on the back of this motorbike with no helmet and traffic the way it is (and no, I don't just trust anyone to get on their bike). Anyway, I prefer taxi and walking.

THE ACKERSON FAMILY


Before I came to Ghana, I made sure that I spoke to a few of my friends that have family in Ghana for contact information. One of those friends is Melezia, and her family were the first contacts that I was able to connect with.
















Above: (top left to right) Melezia's eldest brother, Anita and Kwaku. (bottom left to right) Mr. Ackerson, me, Mrs. Ackerson, Emmanuel (Micheal was taking the picture).

I was given the cell number for Anita who came the same evening that we spoke with her brother to come pick me and bring me to there home. The drive was a nice one (about 40 minutes away) along the coast. They live in a nice area right near were many of the national ministers are housed. One intersting thing is that there are certain positions that have locations attatched to it. The police live together in a particular neighborhood, as do national ministers.

















Above: this is the view from the Ackerson home.

Over a period of four days, I came to their house three times. The first time was brief; we talked a bit before they brought me home. The next two times included looking at photos that I brought from Canada, dinner, and walking around their area to go and get some cocoa and kosi (it's like porridge and fried dumplings, but the flavour is much stronger and not really as sweet).
















Above: Micheal, myself, Emmanuel and Anita.

It was on the second night going home that I had my first encounter with the Ghanian police. They had waved us past a check-point when an officer saw me in the back seat. He then had us pull-over and acted like he hadn't waved us to continue driving. The officer was clearly looking for money from us, and -after attempting to reason with him for about 10 minutes - we were about to pay about 150,000 cds when Anita came up with a plan. She began to talk to the officer about 'being friends'. After they exchanged numbers a truck knocked over the police barricade accidentally. That was our chance to get out of there.

Upon driving away, Anita asked if I liked her plan. She told me how police tend to like "hanging out with young girls". She then commented, "see what Ghanians have to deal with?". The next night we took a different route to ensure we did not see them again.
















Above: this is the view of the drive along the coast.

They continue to stay in touch with me, and are looking for me to come back and visit when I come back to Accra.
















Above: chillin with Mrs. Ackerson.





















Above: Anita posing for the camera.

















Above: There I was about to eat with Micheal and Anita.

I AM A CHRISTIAN

Many of you reading may notice that God comes into nearly everything that I write. I realize that people's impressions of church, God, the Bible, Christianity, and so on can have a lot of confusing or negative associations.

I just wanted to include this poem written by Carol Wimmer that articulates a sentiment that is in my heart.

I Am A Christian
By Carol Wimmer

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin."
I'm whispering "I was lost,"
Now I'm found and forgiven.

When I say..."I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need CHRIST to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
and need HIS strength to carry on.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
and need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
but, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain,
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
who received God's good grace, somehow.

Many have been told that Maya Angelou wrote this poem, but she didn't.





















(I still like the photo of Maya Angelou)

JHR HOUSE IN GHANA

Our arrival off of the airplane is a strong memory for me. From the airport where I left an entourage of loved ones (Chin, G, Rifa and the Samuels, Karyl, Sho and JoJo) until landing on the runway in Accra, it was a gradual feeling of it all sinking in and becoming more real. Stepping out of the plan straight into the humid evening air made it real. It was an exciting feeling. Walking through the airport and gathering our luggage was a mixture of feeling incredibly comfortable and trying to stay aware, while discerning what of the things that we were told (from training, friends, and random pieces of input) are true and what was to be left at the airport.

Shortly after collecting our things, we were escorted into a a van and a car and brought to the JHR house. While it was night, this is what we saw when the drivers came to a halt:
















This is the driveway (it's the red one on the right)





















This is the gate that is never locked and has a security guard that I don't think I saw; I did see a couple of people from time to time, but I they might have been working in the office on the grounds.
















This is the actual house...I like it.
















This is the view from the balcony which was outside of the room I was sharing with Matthew.















This is the view the other way off of the balcony, and a glimpse of the area. It is a diverse spot. In the direction that this view is facing, their is an area called Kuku Hill. It an area that is made up of a lot of rooms, tin roof structures, and compounds put together. If you go in the opposite direction, you come across an area that is very nice; it has a few art studios and some well planned homes inter-mixed with greenery. Not far from us is a main street called Oxford that has some western spots, a lot of market sellers, and is just busy most of the day and night.