Another Nice Weekend

















Above: Joycelyn in the movie "Our Song" (a photo that also represents a restful and reflective weekend)

On Friday evening, after work, I headed home and watched Mission Impossible III with Nuri-Haque and Mr. Fresh. I enjoyed the movie, but I missed a lot of it for two reasons: a phone call from home, and one of the discs was skipping for about 15 minutes of the movie. Regardless, I got the overall point of the movie and enjoyed it. On Saturday, I actually returned the movie for another copy so that I can see what happened in those parts that were skipping. These days, as my journals reflect, I have been watching a lot of movies. I have really been enjoying the films (or should I say ‘flims’ as they are called in Tamale), but I want to spend more of my time reading and doing some writing, and even just going out.

Of the phone call from home, it was my Mom. She called me and seemed as if she needed to talk. She apologized for interrupting the movie, to which I told her that there was no need to apologize. We had a very touching talk, about family, God, hope, prayer, lessons that we are learning, and even “Young and The Restless” (which I have also come to appreciate in comparison to the Mexican soap operas that they broadcast here).

It was actually the second time we spoke that day as I had called her earlier in the day for advice about the pain that I have been having in my abdomen. It is not too bad, but I get a cramp when ever I walk fast, walk for a long time, or run. I keep testing it to see if it is not just a figment of my imagination or something passing. It has been happening for the past couple of weeks though (ever since that late night fufu incident). At this point, I am thinking that I need to go to Accra and get some tests done to find out what it is. I went to a doctor in Tamale on Friday after work, but that was not very helpful. The doctor took my blood pressure, tapped my stomach, asked how I handle pepper (which is not too heavy in the food I have been eating) and then he gave me some anti-acids. That is exactly why I don’t like going to see doctors: most times you use a bunch of hours of the day to go and hear what you already know (e.g. take lots of fluids, get some rest, if it persists, come back). I indicated to the doctor that it is in my upper-abdomen and that the pain occurs when I engage moderate physical activity…so why anti-acids? So I amy be going to Accra.

While I don’t want to go out of town again, being that I went to Cape Coast recently, I really think I should go. It will also allow me to get my digital camera looked at, get an interview done that I wanted to do, and to visit the Christian Action Faith Ministries (it’s a mega-church that Pastor Meikle recommended).

Oh, on the camera subject, that is a story. A guy I work with said he knew someone that could fix my camera. I went with him to a make-shift video editing studio in the house of a man named Afa. He was confident that he could fix it, so I gave him a chance. For over a week, I would go everyday to his studio (which is 2 minutes from the station) just following his words that, “it will be ready tomorrow”. To his credit, he did figure out the problem, which is a damaged gear on the lense which does not allow it to open, close or focus. For some reason, he sent it to a friend of his who said that he, “could fix it”.

When I got it back, not only did it still not open, close and focus, but the spring attached to the on and off button no longer worked and I could not view my photos any longer. The screen turns on, but is now unresponsive to the menu buttons.

Afa explained that the man said he could not fix it and was going to return in to Afa with the camera open and pieces out. Afa insisted that he close it. The man did as he requested.

In the meantime, a little drama was brewing on the side. The first time I went to Afa’s studio, he mentioned something about going to the UK to work through some job offer that he got through the net. Yeah right (who offers jobs and visas for the UK to people that they have never met for areas that have nothing to do with their experience). He actually scanned all of his documents and sent them to the people behind the offer, along with some money through Western Union. I explained to him that Government Officials and Immigration Officers do not use Yahoo email accounts. He was reluctant to believe it was a 419 (which is a term used here for fraud originating from the area code for Nigeria – which is 419 – as many of those scams are said to originate from the there). I am sure you have gotten one of those emails that says, “I am the son of some leader and I have millions of dollars, if you just give me your banking information, we can share the money”; I have often thought to myself, ‘who falls for these things?’…people do.

That was the first two times I went by his studio. The next two times he was bringing some other scams that he was hopeful were real. The fact is, he really, really wants to get to the UK, the US or Canada. He feels that he will get the chance to prove his skills and achieve real success if he can get out of the country. This focus and hope is almost blinding.

After explaining how I knew that the other ‘opportunities’ were also scams, the tone changed. He then showed me a documentary about his life that he made for a woman from the US that he met online. The point of the piece is to point out why he needs to go to the US and be given the opportunity to do so. He began to make his case to me of why I should sponsor him to come, adding that I could make money off of his business when he comes to Canada. (Ironically, no one approached me about a visa for a month then like 5 people did so in three days).

I told him that I was not going to commit to that and that I don’t know how those things work, and that I have met a lot of people in Ghana already, and I am not going to tell him that I am going to do something that I won’t really do. I told him that I will show him what I know and answer any questions that he has. I brought him to the real immigration websites and showed him that this is the hard way to do it and the real way to do it. He really appreciated my honesty. It was actually very encouraging for both of us, to really respect how important it is to keep your word and not to speak words that you can’t keep.

Oh, I have to add the characters that come by that studio…there is “Rasta” who is a high-life artist (without dreads) who I only saw on tape praising Halie Selassie I, and – clearly intoxicated with a beer in his grip – calling Afa Halie Selassie the II for the way he has “helped his career”. And there is “the miracle man” who apparently does all kinds of “miracles”. When I was introduced to him I told him straight, “I deal with God and He is the only source of miracles that I ever need…I don’t need a miracle man, I have prayer”. You can see a lot in people’s eyes, and I looked at his, though he seems nice, I could see a lot of things that I will have no part of…I don’t plan on spending much time there. Actually, I don’t plan on spending any time there.

I was also surprised at work by an unsolicited appointment with a young man named Hamza. He had met Raegen (the previous JHR placee at Justice) with an idea for an NGO, but she was about to leave when they met. She let him know that he could talk to me about his idea when I came, which I found out when he came to the office. He brought his proposal and explained his plan. Basically, he wanted me to get some of my friends from Canada to pay for their own plane tickets, and to come to Tamale and pay $700 a month so that they can volunteer here and learn the culture. As for where they will volunteer and who is going to teach them the culture, no real answers. I made some suggestions, then he rearticulated exactly what I had said to him as if it was what he already had planned to do. The money includes a guarantee of your own bed (note: not your own room, a single bed), and your food. To put that in context, I live in one of the few areas up here with running water and electricity, I have my own room in what is a very nice house, I live with a family that cooks spaghetti and fried rice (which are rare in place of kenke, banku, fufu, tizat, etc) and I pay what converts to $110 Canadian dollars a month. For $700 dollars a month…let’s not overdue this point. But that is part of the reality in Tamale, everyone wants to start an NGO. I told him that I don’t have any friends that would do that.

So that was Friday.

Saturday was nice. I slept in, woke up for breakfast, and then went back to bed for a nap. While I was sleeping, I felt so much laid on my heart to say to my Grandfather. I have not seen him in quite awhile, and due to issues with his health, I was unable to visit him before I left Canada. With all of this on my heart, I went to town with one priority, which was to type a letter that I would send home. The letter ended up being eight pages long; I poured out a lot of my heart and, in the process, discovered a great deal about where I am in life right now.

After that I came home for dinner (I had one at Auntie’s house and one at home), and went to Lieta’s sister’s house. Everyone calls her Auntie, and she lives with her younger sister. At the house was Auntie, younger sister (don’t know her name yet), Lieta, Nuri-Haque, another brother (don’t recall his name either). We were going back and forth between the Miss Ghana Pageant and a Nigerian movie called “The Deceivers 2”. I was cracking everyone up when I was doing my imitations of some of the more amusing contestants. I used a water bottle as my microphone and did my little perfomance. One other funny thing was that I made the mistake of mentioning that Contestant 17 was my favourite; as a result, they were more interested in watching me – to see my reaction – when she came on stage then watching the TV. All in all, it was fun, though I have to add that the storyline of the movie that focused on two women using curses and charms to mess up this one man’s life urked me a bit. It just didn’t feel good to watch.

Sunday morning, the plan was to meet Nuri-Haque at Auntie’s house to go and play basketball. We were supposed to meet at 8am, but thinking that I was still sleeping, he ended going back home. Though I was up (I actual was in and out of sleep from about 5a,) and I wanted to play, I was okay with not going. When I woke up, I really felt like going to church. It had been three weeks since I had been last (due to my trip to Cape Coast) and feeling exhausted the previous week. So, I pressed my clothes and made my way over to the church.

Upon arriving, I was glad to be there. The singing was nice to hear. Though I still don’t like being sat in the front of the church based on being a visitor, I was glad to be there. The message was taken from Ephesians 6, and focused in verse 17. The scripture in question deals with the subject of “putting on the whole armour of God”. Apparently, they have been dealing with that subject for a couple of weeks now. Specifically, the pastor was speaking about the “helmet of salvation”. He began by speaking about the mind and how it controls the body. He then connected the central role your mind has in your body to the central role that your thoughts have in your life. When you understand what it means to have salvation, it transforms how you think and, thus, how you live. He gave a lot of examples of people confused and being caught up in conflicting worlds. He addressed a lot of issues specific to the area: people seeing soothsayers and saying they are Christians, or even people in the church who have become chiefs and have made oaths to various deities. I have enjoyed hearing the word applied to issues that are not as common in Toronto.

After church, I was approached by John (one of the ministers) and introduced to the various Sunday school teachers. They are planning a celebration for the children and they have a role that they want me to play…not quite sure what that is yet, but “Chris love the kids”, so I’m down.

In the afternoon, I headed into town to do a few things where the highlight was getting my haircut while watching Brazil vs. Australia in the Women’s Under-20 FIFA World Championship tournament. Though the haircut is nice, I want to include some shout-outs to my barbers at home who I miss: Ryan (worth the drive to Pickering – I will see you, God willing, in April), Garnell (though you need to learn not to harass your own customers…joker), Ray (you have been clutch for me), and Andrew (thanks to Chin, when all else fails, I get a solid haircut and a solid meal at one of my favourite plazas in the world…Vicotria Park just north of Finch).

Heading home had a nice feeling, though sharing a cab with three ladies who spoke no English but who kept catching jokes made the ride memorable. When I got it I went to my room to clean and put some things in order. After about an hour of listening to some Donnie McKurklin and getting some things in order, Nuri-Haque came to my room with Malimba. That one Malimba is sweet but I don’t get her little two year old self; at night she is my best friend, running to me, falling asleep on me, and in the morning she is always shy of me, usually running away from me. When Nuri-Haque came with her, I was finishing an important catch-up call with GC. That’s’ my brother, so you know how it is.

When I came off the phone, we had a serious conversation. Over the past two days, I had been feeling a lot. September is an anniversary of two very unexpected passings: Dudley in 2003 and Letisha in 2005. On Saturday night, I was praying and tears just soaked my face as I thought about Letisha and the Samuels family. While in church the pastor’s message brought Dudley to mind. So that evening, Nuri-Haque and I spoke about them. I am not doing the conversation justice, but I can say that it was a blessing.















Above: a picture from the 2000 film "Our Song"

The rest of the evening was spent watching “Rules of Engagement” with Samuel L. Jackson, and a very moving film called “Our Song”. The second film is a story of some young girls set in Queens. It really touched me and brought me to miss home; the young girls in the movie really reminded me of the young girls at Driftwood (especially the girls in GTA – Girls Take Action). I really feel it for them. What they have to face is not easy and they need ALL the support and guidance and love that we can give to make it. As tired as I was, I could not sleep. I had to write and I composed a poem that I will post. The poem is called, “Show Me Something Beautiful”.














Above: another photo for "Our Song"

Oh, if you are reading this, it means that the consistently inconsistent internet hurdles of this morning have been overcome!

P.S. I had the best sleep that I have had in awhile as I moved the mattress to the floor. The bed frame was not offering support which was hurting my back. So that was reason to smile!

Today, we continue our AIDS series and we are going to work on some Human Rights public service announcements.