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?