Mercia and Mom have nicknamed this market the Terrible Market because it sells consumable things. You know, food. First we pass nearly ¼ mile of onion stalls. No joke. I have never seen so many onions in one place in my life. And the women are carrying 50 lbs. onion sacks – ON THEIR HEADS. My back aches just watching them.

We park the car and Mom declares “I want to take Kathy to see the giant snails.” Again, gee thanks. Mercia must have read the look on my face because she asks me three times if I’m ok. I stretch the bandana over my hair to tie it all back and assure her that I’m fine. Ok, I lied a little.

This market was not nearly as compact as the one we entered the other day, and in fact it was almost quite pleasant with all of the colorful produce. Well, if you don’t mind the flies. I can’t help but remember the joke I learned as a kid: “How can you tell a happy biker? By counting the bugs in his teeth.” I remind myself again to breath through my nose, regardless of the various odors.

I actually enjoyed this market quite a bit. Most of the vendors were women, and with large amounts of food in baskets, they were not as pushy as the previous markets we had seen. I did manage to find the giant snails. We bought some so that I could get a photo of them, and asked the woman if I could keep an empty shell and take it home to the US. She thought I must be some crazy woman, but my husband, the scientist, will love me for getting this back to the states (sorry to ruin the surprise, honey.) Ah, the things you do for love…

Next, we head to the Cultural Market. This is what I’ve been looking forward to, because I love to shop and it’s 10 days before Christmas. Bargaining, however, is a pastime I regard slightly lower than un-sedated dentistry. But I know that it is how you operate in this part of the world. Mom, however, is the Mohammed Ali of white-woman bartering, so I let her take the lead on the first few purchases. I feel more comfortable bartering in the women’s shops, and that’s basically just because I’m a weenie. But I had a nice long talk with one of the guys about the meaning of all of his statues, and he was gentle to bargain with, so eventually I grew into my own big girl pants.

What I really came to buy, however, was a Djembe. Ok, nerd alert: I’m a traveling music teacher. I already crashed a choir rehearsal this week, so I was looking for a real African drum, made by a real African. Mom took me to a shop in the back called “Thunder Drums”. This was the real deal. The guy made the drums right there in the shop, the skins were all out hanging to be tanned and dried, and was very personable and knowledgeable. We talked wood, rope, heads, and finish. He had some newly created Djembes with the fur still on the heads. I negotiated a price, which I thought was more than reasonable – especially since I know what these go for at your local music dealer – and asked him if I could have a photo with him. He called his brother over, and the next thing I know I’m in the middle of a drum circle. OH MY GOD, an African drum circle….IN AFRICA. He shows me a basic rhythmic ostinato and then he improvises over top, all while Mom is taking video. Seriously, I would have paid double just for the experience. After we were done, he spent nearly 30 minutes cleaning up the drum, shaving any last bits of hair off the head, and applying another coat of sealer for the travel. When I finally made it out of the market, I know I looked like some hippie backpacker shouldering an enormous drum in a patterned sack and grinning like an idiot. I don’t care, as long as it fits in the suitcase; I’m a happy girl.

I’d like to be a Christmas Tree

With lots of colored lights on me

I shine my star so bright above

To tell the world of Jesus’ Love

Immediately I knew that this would be the new song I could teach to the children in St. Paul’s, Akramaman, preschool.  Suddenly, I realized that a Christmas Tree might not be understood. Would they have ever seen a Christmas Tree? Well, for most of the children, many of whom are Muslim, the answer was NO—a Christmas Tree is only for city dwellers—In fact, the teachers were not familiar with a Christmas Tree—Ahhhh, my Western Culture stikes again. So I came prepared. With I-Phone in hand I was able to show them a Christmas Tree. With a few quickly thought out hand signs the song was a success. Of course the red St. Nicholas hat was part of the success.

I have bought many Christmas Presents this season but I don’t think any will be as appreciated and heart felt as the small cross necklaces, candy-canes and pencils. Thank you Gail Huber and Larkspur Middle School, Virginia Beach, for the pencils. Thank You, South Riding Anglican Church for the cards. You have won the hearts of the preschool, Primary School and many other schools in Ghana, as well as my own. The smiles on their faces will stay with me forever.

TonightKathy and I attended a Mother’s Union meeting. It was outside with all the noise from the traffic, the music from a pub and a choir rehearsal at St. Andrew’s Anglican church. It was all I could do to hear. Being a music teacher, Kathy could not resist checking out the choir. I joined her and I can honestly say in my more than 50 years of singing with choirs, I have never been so challenged. All the music is hand written in solfege ( you know do, re, me, fa….) It was all I could do to follow along and I’m a soprano —How Kathy kept up with the alto part was a miracle.

Here, try your hand at O Little Town of Bethlehem.  Blessings till tomorrow. Debi

PS. Thank you Matilda–they loved watching you sing.

Today we traveled to our projects in Akramaman. As Queen Mother, before doing anything, I must attend ceremony with the Chief, Nii Akrama, and his council. I have attended many ceremony days but rarely get to share this with others. Enjoy a view from the outside.

Kathy

“Oh dear, they are going to put the sheep in the van.” That’s probably the most normal thought I have had in the last hours of this afternoon. In our crowded 8-passenger jitney van, I’m trying to recount the day.

The drive with our full company took about 90 minutes, I’m guessing. There isn’t much to gauge the passing of time in West Africa and the haze created by the dust often hides the sun’s exact spot. There should be a special name for the color of the dirt here. It’s not really brown, or red, or grey, but all three simultaneously. Crayola needs a sub-Saharan Clay crayon.

At a small town near the village, Mom whispers to Mercia “I just remembered, we have no spirits for the chief.” I’m not really sure what this means, but we stop at a bright green hut and send one of the guys in to buy a bottle of Schnapps.

We drive up to the village, which is comprised of many cinderblock structures – some half built, almost none with paint. The women and children in the village immediately start running alongside the van and waving. Mom is waving back with a full-faced grin. We stop the van and begin to extract ourselves. Mom begins to hug the villagers, introducing them all by name to me. I’m astonished by how many names she knows. AND she knows the names of all of the kids. “This is Prince’s Mom,” or “this is Joshua’s Mom,” I hear over and over again. While Mercia notifies the Chief that we have arrived, Mom takes me on a tour.

We turn down the sandy path to the right that leads to the well. This was one of her first projects in the village: a 50-foot hand dug steel well for fresh water. The market area consists of approximately six stands with thatch roofs where you can buy or trade for food. Mom indulges a few of the children by showing them her digital camera and taking a few photos. We meet one 11-year old who no longer attends school because she has special needs. Slight cognitive disability, I’m guessing. We are greeted by several others villagers who are taking advantage of most of the children being at school and are bathing. I experience my first National Geographic moment as a topless grandmother shouts for our attention and wants to talk to Mom.

We run into a special guest, Mr. Thomas Okine, the Assemblyman for the District. It is an election year, after all, even out in the bush. He summons us all to the Chief’s house; it is time for the welcome ceremony.

So far, I’ve already been given some hints on cultural mores for this village, but I have to admit I’m completely terrified that I will offend someone by doing something stupid, you know, like crossing my legs in public. There are eight people sitting on the porch, seven men, and Topless Granny’s neighbor. I recognize the Chief in his bright blue robe. He is last in line. We are to shake everyone’s hand as we enter. Mom whispers something quickly that I interpret as “two hands for the Chief, one hand for everyone else.” Ok, go with the flow. I watch and imitate exactly what everyone does in front of me. After the hands are shaken, we all take seats. Mom, the Queen Mother, Naa-Aku-Shika II, and the Chief, Nii, are seated in the center. Mercia is to Mom’s right. As tradition states, I gather, neither Mom nor the Chief are allowed to speak during the ceremony. Mercia speaks for Mom, and then whispers translations in my ear. The Queen Mother does manage to yell at me to remove my hat. Moms will always be Moms.

First, we present the “spirits” to the Chief. He lays hands on it and it is accepted. Next, one of the village elders pours some of it onto the ground for the ancestors. He is shouting and the small congregation is punctuating what is being said with traditional Gaa responses. Mercia is telling me that he is wishing health and prosperity to us and the village, and bad things for our enemies. I have to admit; I had a slight keep myself from chuckling as I imagined he was saying “one for my homies,” especially as his cellphone was ringing from his back pocket. Can you hear me now?

Next, the elder passes the Schnapps to a younger man who is hold a shot glass. Each person, in turn, is poured a small shot of spirits. I’m a little confused, because some pour the drink on the ground, and some pour half on the ground and drink the rest. I make two conscious decisions: 1. Even though I am having serious health concerns about sharing a drinking glass with villagers in the bush, if given the opportunity I am going to drink from this glass because nothing like this is ever going to happen to me again, and; 2. I will do whatever the Chief does – just to be safe. To my delight, I think, the Chief takes a shot. When it is my turn, I pour a drop on the ground and drink the rest. Everyone applauds. Then there are a lot of murmurs while the rest of the crew takes a shot.

Laughter. Lots of laughter. Nii Aramah leans over two chairs and informs me that they are discussing my name. My what??

Ok. Since my Mom has been installed as the Queen Mother of the village for her humanitarian work here, and I am her daughter, I am to be named. Or, at least I think that is what I understand. I have flashbacks of band camp and fraternities, and wonder if I will be escorted off the porch while they discuss the name. It wouldn’t matter anyways as I don’t understand a word being spoken. They keep repeating something that sounds like “Natalie”. I’m actually still unsure what my name really is, but it sounds cool and we all repeat the drinking ritual while toasting my new name. The elder stands up again and wishes me grace and the strength that my mother has, health and prosperity to me, and harm to my enemies. I’m humbled, honored, and little buzzed from the Schnapps and the heat.

Next, the Chief’s spokesperson stands and begins to speak while a sheep is dragged in to the middle of the gathering. My first instinct is panic: oh Holy Moly; are they going to slaughter that thing right here? I am really hoping that I am wrong – and I am. The villagers present us with a large sac of cassava, a branchof plantains, and the sheep for us to take home. Mom asks permission to break tradition and speak her own words. “I am humbled, and I do this not for rewards or gifts, but because God has called me to work for your people.” It is welcomed and everyone applauds.

Everyone stands to leave, I think, but my arms are grabbed for me to sit again. Everyone comes around and shakes our hands, and finally we are all allowed to get up. I look at the sheep, he looks at me, and it suddenly occurs to me: How do we get it home?

After we unpack the van several hours later, 8-year old Joshua names the sheep Ben. I suspect that we will be enjoying some Ben stew tomorrow night for dinner.

All photos by Debi Frock

Well, the day has arrived and we are sitting at the airport waiting for our flight.  So far United has assured us that we will get to Dulles–from there, who knows  Plenty of prayers are with us.

I thought you might enjoy a look at us today in our Ghana wear.  Unfortunately for Zach, Bruce, Ian and Scott all their shirt were too small.  I think the tailor was without his glasses when he read the measurements. We will get a new tailor next year.  See many of you tomorrow morning, somewhere.

This is my fourth trip to Africa, third to Ghana, and fourth to Kakum Forest and Elmina Slave Fort. Africa, Ghana included, is the most beautiful place I have ever been. God’s creative imagination is so evident here; everywhere you look, the fingerprints of our Creator can be seen.

I am terrified of heights and yet when I am walking on a catwalk walkway above the rainforest, suspended by ropes no thicker than my pinky, all I can think about is how stunning my surroundings are. Set below me the rainforest sprawls as far as the eye can see, disappearing over the mountains, which are shrouded in mist. The sounds of the animals sing a wild praise song. My fear is lost and my heart gives thanks to our God for such beauty.

The slave fort is hard for me. The idea that humans can be so cruel and intentionally inflict so much pain and suffering on one another is difficult to grasp. The fort still reeks of human waste, sweat, death, and suffering. And yet in the midst of all the reminders of the evil that we can do to each other, the tour ends with a reminder that the fort now stands not to open new wounds and ignite new hatred but to show us where we have been and tell each one of us the power of forgiveness. Even in the midst and memory of unspeakable injustice and evil, God is still good.

And nowhere can I see God’s hand better than in the smiles of children as they reach out their hands to take ours as we walk to the school to be with them. Each time I am in the village, I am overwhelmed by the love the flows from us to the children and from the children to us. Jesus said to let the little children come to Him….. and I am glad he shares them with me.

By Sarah Hall

Today was so much fun. After waking up at 5 in the morning, we traveled to Cape Coast. We went on the canopy walkway at the National Park. We saw army ants (which can de-flesh a human in 3 minutes) and climbed a mountain. We ate cocoa pods and coconuts.

Afterwards, we went to the Monkey Sanctuary with the amazing Dutch couple. They are the sweetest people ever and it’s so amazing that they built this area for so many animals. They keep all animals safe no matter how creepy or crawly. It was so fun.

Then we traveled to Elmina to see the slave castle. I saw the slave castle last year, so instead Bruce, Scott, Ian, Jackie, and I all went to a different Ft. St. Jago across the town. It was fun and we got to explore on our own and climb onto the roof. It was really neat to see all of the history.

Then finally, we went out to lunch at a lovely hotel. The food was good… until the pepper exploded. But it was still fun because lunch is fun with good company.

PS More bathroom drama today stopping at a gas station……… very interesting. YAY GHANA!

Becki+ and Stephanie stayed at the hotel with illness, Tana stayed to work and poor Sarah R came along but suffered from the bumpy ride. Michelle+ was such a dear and stayed with her as we did the canopy walk.  Humm, could she have planned that?

Hopefully a few more photos will make it before our long plane ride home tomorrow.  Thanks to everyone who has made this trip possible.  It has been awesome!!!

For more about Elmina, Slave castles and Forts go to http://www.ghanaweb.com/GhanaHomePage/tourism/castles.php

Public Bathrooms Anna Rossmeisl

When you think of public bathrooms, What do you think of? If you’re thinking about an old gas station toilet with no toilet paper and water everywhere, you would be like a god to the Ghanaian people. Today I had to use the Ghanaian Public Bathroom. It was interesting. First, when we pulled over on the highway, we had to walk about ¼ mile across the nasty parking lot. Let me say that the parking lots in Ghana are totally different from America. They don’t even pave the roads much less a parking lot. Not to mention people probably don’t even know what a garbage can is so there is garbage just strewn about. Everywhere. And I was wearing open-toed shoes. Anyway, back to the Bathrooms. When we finally got there, We walked into the lobby area and an atrocious smell just washed over you. There was a guy on the “Front Desk” who said there was a small charge for just peeing. He said to get a bucket of water from outside and bring it in with you. I was disgruntled but I shrugged it off, kinda. As IM walking into the bathroom I realize there were no lights and no windows and there was absolutely son air flow so the smell just sat there. In my head I was just thinking, “This is where germs are created”.  Then I realize there are no doors on the stalls. It just was wall, stall, wall, stall. The stall itself was horrendous. There were no toilets. None. The stalls were holes in the ground. When I finally got over the fact I was going to pee in a hole. I got on the ledge and maneuvered myself to do my business and I just went. As I was sitting there, doing my business, I was only thinking two things. (1) Please Lord, don’t let me fall and (2) Thank the lord I brought Toilet paper.

All in all, the experience is something that was worth doing but I would never do it again. Ever.  Anna

Speaking of Bathrooms, Scott and Bruce fixed one bathroom at St. Paul’s with this toy wrench–tools are at a premium in the villages

Today was the final day of Reading Camp and as things go in Africa, there were a few changes.  Stephanie and Michelle had planned this wonderful program for the parents to attend along with a small celebration but St. Paul Preschool, Akramaman, had to delay their graduation, until today, due to a funeral. So, plan B had to be put into action. The camp was taught for about an hour before the craziness began. Everyone, including children, sat for 2 hours waiting for the graduation. It finally began-2 hours late-. So now 4 hours after we closed the Reading Camp, we were able to give the children their shirts, bags and cupcakes.

Observations from Meghan:

Today was very fun we got to watch the pre-school graduation, which was really cool. The graduates danced and it was really cute. They did tribal dances in full costume including tribal paint. It was absolutely adorable. It was really sad seeing Emma, Mary, and Anita while our bus drove away. Leaving the village brought tears to a few of our eyes. Hopefully I will return next year and see all of the lovely children again.

Ian met Moses last year and is happy to see him alive and well.

Those who followed us last year will remember Victoria. She is also going well-Sarah Hall was delighted to see her again.

Tearful good byes

Photos by Debi Frock and Marjie Mack

Blogs by Marjie, Paige, Anna and Meghan

Can you imagine wanting a single toothbrush so badly for your child that you would push and shove to get it? That is just what happened when Debi, Paige and I visited the village of Kodjo Ashong on Thursday. Dr Cynthia had arranged for us to talk to ladies about how basic hygiene helps keep us healthy. There were only about 20 mothers with their babies waiting there for us when we arrived. Well, they were unsmiling, wary of who we were and why we were there. This reminded me of when we started working in Akramaman village five years ago. The ladies were wary of us and didn’t really understand why we were there and why we were interested in their children.

By now, we have done a number of hygiene and health clinics for women and children at Akramaman. The ladies trust us and

we are honored guests in the village. It is so exciting to see the children run to greet our GMH van as we drive into the village and to see the ladies waiting patiently for us, smiling and waving. Hopefully, the mothers in Kodjo Ashong will learn to trust us like that also. We really got a good start today. By the time we were done with our program there were over 60 ladies there. We started handing out a small washbasin, bar of soap, dishtowel, toothbrush and toothpaste to each mother, and we were mobbed! The ladies were grabbing, pushing and shouting, trying to get these basic items, especially the toothbrushes after Paige did her fun program showing a girl how to brush her teeth after cramming marshmallows into her mouth. It reminded me of how basic and pervasive the needs are here and how much we have that we can share. We had planned to go to two villages today but we ended up giving out all our items just at this one so that everyone could have one and peace would reign!

Each mother was also given a beautiful and colorful handmade baby quilt. These were handmade by the ladies of both Redeemer Quilters (All Hallows Episcopal Church in Davidsonville and Christ Episcopal Church in West River) and Galesville Methodist Church. Both mothers and children love these quilts and absolutely refuse to share them! Before we left, these ladies actually asked us if we could come back and teach them basic nutrition and breast cancer awareness on future trips. Just as at  Akramaman, they told us how helpful they found our programs and how grateful they were to us for coming.  Marjie

Health Mission by Paige–Due to time, we only visited one village for Health Education

Thursday was a success. But I wish I could have had the chance to see the second village, although we did have the joy of seeing the one. This place was filled with so much dirt and trees.  There were so many different sick people that needed help and guidance. That is why I came here, to show different ways to prevent  the germs that cause different diseases such as worms.  It’s important for them to always wash their hands and have good nutrition.

I have observed that the children are verywell behaved and they pick up things that are taught quick. The children are really adorable they get so excited when we arrive and it excites me that the kids can’t wait to see us. I have learned so many things like songs and hand-games from them such as tutti-ta and the moose. Overall I love this trip so much and as so as I get back home I am raising money to come back next year and I would recommend everyone to get involved with Ghanaian Mothers Hope Mission.  Paige

A note from Debi

Paige decided to use marshmallows to demonstrate the mouth with 32 teeth.  We asked for a volunteer to place 32 marshmallow in their mouth. Well, marshmallows are not common here.  At the Reading Camp, the three volunteers could not wait to spit them out.  At Kojo village the little girl tried to eat them but it was not nice. We finally found 3 adults who loved the marshmallows so we gave them the bag.

How is it that a person who considers herself to be a home body, with a well defined mission serving a most wonderful church in South Riding, Virginia, who hates to fly, finds herself celebrating a second birthday in Ghana? The answer is twofold – God, and people. This is the third time I have heard God call me to Ghana; I love the people here!

For this trip I was called to run a teacher training workshop for preschool teachers. While my background includes 25 years of teaching experience with the appropriate degrees, I haven’t taught in a classroom for a very long time. I needn’t have worried, God showed up, in the person of Sue Ulrich, who has current experience, and a big bag of tricks to share. God also showed up in my thoughts as I prepared materials. And, God showed up in the 19 beautiful Ghanaian teachers who came to the training.

While Sue and I taught our Ghanaian colleagues about child development, reading, math, social studies, and science, God was teaching me about commitment, dedication, and the deep love he has for all people. The Ghanaian teachers came long distances, getting up very, very early to get to the training, held at GMH’s St. Paul’s Preschool in Akramaman. I had to wonder how many of us, back home in our comfortable environment, would do the same. These teachers want to improve the quality of their instruction, and they were willing to make sacrifices to acquire more training.

So, for three days we sang, we chanted, we read stories, and we counted. The teachers asked wonderful questions, and shared with us all. When the teachers asked for things we had not brought, God provided an internet connection and I was able to find materials on the internet to ad lib our planned activities. And today, after spending 3 days with these dedicated teachers, with eyes filled with tears, I handed them certificates as Sue gave them gift bags. These women and James, who greeted me this morning with “Happy Birthday,” even before I got off the buss, ended our time together with hugs and thank you’s, and handshakes. They were so grateful, and so were we.

Our day ended today with a wonderful party at Mercia’s home, complete with birthday cake for this birthday girl. It’s been a day of blessing after blessing, in a week of blessings.

I see Jesus reflected in the faces of these dear people, and I pray fervently that they see a glimpse of Jesus in those of us who come here to serve.

In Christ,

Becki Neumann+

“So far my favorite part of this trip has been seeing the same children who attended camp last year. It has been so fun playing soccer (football) with all of them. It has been a very fun experience because they have improved majorly from last year. I’m looking forward to the monkey reservation and hopefully the cultural market once more. At the cultural market earlier this week, Sara and I ran into David, our drum-making friend. It was really cool that he remembered us from last year.

Mabel also remembered me from last year when she told me that she was thankful for me. If anyone read the blog last year and remembers the incident with Moses and the burulei ulcer, then you will be happy to hear that he has recovered. On the first day he was proudly showing off his scar and he acts just like normal Moses.”

Ian is not the only male on the team. Zach is teaching and will write tomorrow but Bruce Neumann and Scott Lyons also traveled with us.  Their mission was to repair the playground, made by PlayMart, USA. The high impact plastic has split in two. They have admitted to faulty manufacturing and sent replacement posts to us in Maryland. We had to ship it to Ghana and bare the cost of the shipment as well as send two people to do the repairs.

Bruce Neumann:

“This is my sixth trip to Ghana. I’ve come as a Cursillo team member, to paint and help with construction, to assist with a reading camp, and this time to repair the playground at St. Paul’s preschool in Akramaman.

We had sent repair parts ahead in a container. The container, even now, sits at the port, so I was concerned that we would not be able to do the job we had come to do. I needn’t have worried. When we arrived at the school on Monday we saw how badly the plastic supports had failed. It was far worse than I had imagined.

Since our tools were also in the container still sitting in the port, Scott and I went scavengering for tools. We visited local hardware “stores” (think garden shed sized buildings), and found a pickaxe, a shovel, and a sledgehammer. We examined the footers at each leg, and found 18 inches of concrete buried under 5 – 6 inches of soil.  The soil was nearly as hard the concrete, requiring the pickaxe to break it up.

We were able to remove the climbing deck and make repairs so the slide can be used. Our other successful repair was to the climbing wall, which we removed so we could repair the supports. That also required a trip to a local lumber seller to get 4x4s.  Two 4×4’s each 8 feet long (and specially shaped for us) cost 10 Ghana cedi’s (roughly $6.70 U.S.) We also bought concrete from the concrete seller.

Scott and I were able to concrete the new support in place, and leave a lasting impression in Ghana (our handprints in the concrete around the new support). We hope to find screws tomorrow so we can complete the repair to the climbing wall.

All along the way I can see God’s hand at work, providing what I needed to get here, and the materials to do the work he had for me here. I thank God I can be Christ’s hands in action to those who have so little materially. “

From Scott Lyons:

” This is Scott coming to you from Ghana, West Africa to tell you a little bit of my experiences working on the two member construction team of Bruce Neumann and myself.  Our original goal was to take down old swing set and rebuild it with new   materials we had sent over in a container months ago.  Red tape and new governmental regulations has tied up the container for another month at the port of Tema.

After several hours of digging , swinging sledge and pick ax. We were at a point of freeing old main support.   The problem was we had many children dying to play on the jungle gym and wanting to watch two old white guys swing a pick ax and wondering who was going to collapse first; the jungle gym or the old white guys. To their disappointment, we had to leave for the night and told them no one is allowed on the gym.

    After two days, we completed our task and the kids rejoiced.  So now on to the next problem. Two broken toilets.  Doesn’t that sound like fun.  Tomorrow we tackle the problem of buying toilet flush valves and no Home Depot.  Gods just loves giving me these challenges but with your prayers, we will overcome.