With Tattoos Across her Hands

She held out her hands to me, the new gold bangles sliding down her narrow arms. Her eyes twinkled as she grinned at the sight of me, and it amazes me that a child can capture your heart so easily. With one smile I wanted to take her into my arms and cuddle her closely.

Her hands reached up to mine, and she grasped my hand tightly in a greeting. It's then that I noticed her hands, the black henna dancing across the soft brown of her skin. It curled and it wound; it twirled and it curved, delicate flowers and dots making their way across her fingers down to the nails. Her tiny hands lost themselves in my large ones, the patterns all but disappearing. She got up to hug me, and I noticed her feet as they slipped out from underneath the desk. Henna too decorated the sides of her feet, and it seemed to prance as her feet moved closer to mine.

Saturday marked the Muslim celebration of Eid al-Adha, the celebration of Abraham offering his son (whom they believe to be Ishmael) as a sacrifice to God. Locals described it to us as the Muslim Christmas, and when I sat on the roof Saturday afternoon, I could hear the celebrations from across the town. It's so easy to forget that the Muslims students we have in our class are, in fact, Muslims. Sometimes their eyes are lined with thick eyeliner, but other days they blend in with the class, closing their eyes during morning prayer and offering no reminder they serve a very different God than we do.

Until her hands closed around mine, the black henna and gold bangles a stark reminder of who she was and who she most likely always would be. It reminded me of what her life ahead would hold: a lifetime filled with symbolic washing; a lifetime filled with submitting to her husband in silence and reverence. It reminded me that as soon as she leaves school and is back home a headcovering is placed over her hair, and her beauty is cloaked behind fabric and religion.

Beautiful Mardiatu

And my heart cracks a little, for in my mind dances who she could be. I see her smile grinning with the love of a Jesus she talks to all day; I see her beautiful hair and face reflecting a Creator, no longer hidden behind a headcovering. I see her choosing her path in life, making decisions based on dreams planted firmly in her heart. And even farther still, I can see her dancing across the clouds when she's finally called home, the beautiful creation she is with her tattooed hands reaching high above in worship to her Creator.

Because all I see when I look at her, when I see her tattoos across her hands, is beauty and so much potential. And I cling to the hope and pray that someday she will become what she was always created to be, with beautiful tattoos across her hands.

A Week in Northern Ghana

The mud huts we saw along our way up north.

 The sun beats down on our pale skin, making its mark quickly and efficiently as our pale skin deepens in colour. We are exhausted, hours away from our African home, yet enthralled by the beauty we have found around us. Northern Ghana is very different than the southern half; tin houses are replaced with mud homes covered by thatched roofs, and the sounds of churches worshipping down the hill have been replaced by the Muslim call to worship. Instead of palm trees and hills there are huge canopy trees in the middle of corn fields, and although our skin prevents us from ever blending into the crowd fully, we are less noticed and shouts of 'Obruni's!' are few and far between.

These were some of my thoughts as we travelled up North this past week. We found ourselves transported into another world after eighteen hours of travelling over two days. We were exhausted when we finally arrived at Mole National Park, but even in our tired state we were filled with excitement as we pulled into the Park and were greeted by leaping antelopes and scruffy warthogs. We definitely weren't in Asamankese anymore!

Warthogs and antelope!

So excited to go on our safari!

The road that goes to the end of the world (not really, but one can imagine!)

Loving the beautiful drive!

A monkey hiding in the tree.

We spent a few days at the park lounging by the pool, getting sunburned even in the shade, and chatting with tourists we met in the hotel. Our days were marked with baboons travelling up to our tables; monkeys swinging from trees; and warthogs ambling through the grounds and dirt roads. At night, we could walk out of our front door and cloaked in darkness, antelope would peek up at the sound of the door, but quickly return to their search for a midnight snack. We took a safari one afternoon and drove through the bush in search of animals, and although we weren't lucky enough to see the elusive elephants, we were graced with visits from various birds, antelope, bushbuck and waterbuck, and more monkeys and baboons. However, the elephants were kind enough to leave giant droppings and large footprints to remind us that they were hiding somewhere out in the wilderness! To conclude our safari, we saw a baboon running away from our car with its baby wrapped around its stomach!

The baboon dancing in the branches at dusk.

It's hard to see, but there's a baby wrapped around her stomach!

After two full days at the Park, we boarded a bus at 4 a.m. on Wednesday morning to head to our next destination, Bolgatanga, and from there to a place called Sirigu. It took about four hours, and if it was even possible, the land seemed to get flatter and drier as we travelled farther north. Once we arrived in Bolgatanga, we bartered with a taxi driver to get a ride out to Sirigu. Our hotel, called SWOPA (look it up - amazing place!) was filled with huts painted with bright African murals. We seemed to literally be in the African countryside, and what made it even more amazing was the fact that we could climb up steps to our flat roofs to lay under the half moon and starry sky! There was a courtyard between all of the huts where we were served our meals, lit up by lantern lights hung in the trees. SWOPA is an organization that provides a place for women in the community to make pottery and paintings, and although they offer lessons in their techniques, they also sell their wares for incredibly cheap prices. I bought four pieces of pottery to bring home and it was only 15 cedis ($7.50!). While we stayed at SWOPA for two nights, we spent time sleeping, reading, laying on the roof.

Some of the awesome buildings at SWOPA.

Thursday, our last day there, we hired a driver to take us to Paga. Paga is so far north that it isn't much farther before you reach the Burkina Faso border. In Paga, there is a sacred crocodile pond. Here live about 200 crocodiles, and the crocodiles are apparently so tame that the local children swim in the pond! A guide took us out to the bond, holding an offering to the crocodiles of a live chicken. Everyone began calling out the crocodiles, and soon we saw a small croc swimming through the water before ambling out onto the shores. We each took turns holding its tail, but because it was so small we couldn't sit on it, instead squatting overtop of it for pictures. After we were finished, the croc moved closer to our guide, as if expecting its reward of the live chicken. Our guide tossed it to the croc, and in seconds the feathers and body had disappeared into the croc's stomach.

Touching the crocodile at Paga!

Afterwards our driver took us to a slave camp, where we were taken through fields to see the places in which slaves had been kept in captivity for years. We were shown rocks in which bowls were hewn out for them to eat out of; the field which they were forced to dance and entertain their captors was eerily empty and it was as if you could see their bodies lithely moving in the fields of grass. We wandered the paths which the slaves would have been forced to take, and it was amazing that such beauty could reside in such a place where unthinkable horrors had taken place. Pictures that I took don't even seem to do it justice.

Bowls hewn out of the stone that slaves were forced to eat from. It was survival of the fittest; if you didn't grab food first, you wouldn't eat at all.

After we were finished our tour, we headed back to SWOPA to rest for the long day of travel we were going to have the next morning. We were prepared to leave at 5 am, but in typical fashion our taxi driver arrived late, and then of course got a flat tire. We still managed to catch our bus, however, and made it to Kumasi late Friday afternoon. We spent the night there in a little hotel with an incredibly helpful receptionist named Earnest, and then travelled the last four hours to Asamankese yesterday. We've spent the rest of the weekend so far 'recuperating' from our vacation. It's amazing how travelling hours and hours by buses can exhaust you so!

Beautiful fields at the slave camp.

All in all we had a great week away. We learned so much: we were continually reminded to trust God for travelling mercies, and God continually blessed us by bringing people into our lives at exactly the moment we needed direction or help. We a lot of time just resting; spiritually, emotionally, mentally that  was so needed. I am so blessed by Kylie and Lauren and the way that they encourage me, draw out gifts and remind me of things about myself I never knew were there. We had a great time away, but are so thankful to be back safe and sound and are bracing ourselves for the busy weeks ahead before we all head home.

Love to you all back home,

Angie

A little bit of everything

Tomorrow marks exactly ten weeks of being on African soil. At times it has seemed to pass by slowly; and other days, it passes like the wind, and I fear before I know it I will be stepping out of the airplane into the brisk, cool winter air.

Concentration during a test! Look at those eyes!

School is keeping me busy and on my toes! Last weekend I spent quite a few hours marking midterm reports for my students. Since it's something I have never done before, I jokingly remarked to Kylie and Lauren that I felt like I was twelve again playing teacher! But I spent a lot of time going through the kids' marks and really trying to look for not just negatives but positives about each student too. As difficult as it is to sometimes teach, these kids are beautiful creations in all of their crazy-ness. I find myself caught up in the little moments of the day, like when one student, Mardiatu, always somehow finds herself in my office, asking if she can have her examinations today (because that means of course, a sticker!). Or when I, exhausted by two students who would just not stop wrestling, grabbed both of them and playfully joined in, and then the whole class noticed madame on the floor, and all of a sudden we had twenty students and a teacher in a pile up! Or the moments I am in awe of a few of my students' eagerness to help clean up the books, or wipe off the white board, or sweep after lunch. Even amidst a crazy class I find rest in these moments, and I am acutely aware that when we have eyes to see, we can see God anywhere.

One day the girls and I decided to dance in the rain with the kids.

Saturday night we took a break and invited two of the ladies we work with at the school, Rytha and Dora, and Belinda to join the three of us girls out for supper at the one restaurant in town, First Stop. It marked a very important night for us in recognizing a Ghanian custom, that when you invite someone out for dinner, you are expected to pay! Luckily between the three of us we had just enough cash to cover the bill and our taxi ride! But even despite that awkwardness, we had a great time, got to have some Western food, and dance to some African music. I am in awe that everyone here has some sort of ability to dance - I wish it was that easy for me! :) But it was still a lot of fun.

Right now I am sitting outside, under a beautiful night sky, and the crickets are chirping loudly. Just moments ago a church service was loudly announcing its presence to the community, with prayers and songs and cheers being heard for the past few hours. It is never quiet here. Although there are times when I long for the quietness of home, the sounds and noises have become familiar and almost comforting here. You are always reminded that you are never alone, the community around you a constant presence.

Ghana has been a place where I have learned so much in the short time that I have been here, and my heart swells with the stories I have heard and the smiles that I have felt touch deep within me. I am amazed at the laughter that we share in our small little home even amidst times of homesickness. I've fallen in love with our rooftop that overlooks Asamankese, where I have gathered in my batik fabric (the only 'blanket' here in Africa I suppose) with my Bible and journal in my lap, and found that God doesn't just listen when we pray, but He loves to talk with us, too. And how, when we come to know God, He never restricts us, but shapes us more into the person we were always meant to be (and isn't that flipping amazing?!).

Well, it is getting late here for this exhausted Kindergarten teacher, so I must head to bed soon. But know that I miss and love you all and you are all in my thoughts tonight.

With love,
Angie

Happy Thanksgiving & Other News!

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving!

In some ways it is so hard to believe it is Thanksgiving, and we are creeping slowly towards the middle of October! It was a tough weekend to be away from home, and I've felt a bit homesick for the past few days, but we managed to celebrate all the way here in Ghana. Saturday we spent the afternoon visiting the largest tree in western Africa, and although it might seem like a silly thing to visit, it was quite spectacular! It was about a 40 minute drive from here, and so we hired a taxi to take us there. The tree was huge! We spent probably about an hour wandering around it, visiting with other tourists and Ghanaians who had stopped to see the sight. At the foot of the tree was a giant shrine where people left things and made a wish; Kylie left a pesua, Lauren left a euro, and I left a Canadian quarter :) I can't tell you what I wished for though, just in case it doesn't come true! :)

And then, Kylie being the adventurous one, convinced Lauren and I to go walk through a trail with our taxi driver in the woods/jungle/whatever you call places filled with trees here in Ghana. It was a short walk but it was really amazing, because the forest was incredibly different than home - different trees, vines, plants, unidentifiable fruit. We had a fun adventure. And then the adventure continued when I went home, collapsed into bed for a nap, and woke up to a lizard crawling across my chest. To say I was scarred is an understatement and I may still check under the beds to make sure he's gone before I slip into bed at night ... maybe :)

Sunday marked our actual Thanksgiving celebration. Mary's mom was amazingly gracious and sent us a Thanksgiving meal from Accra! We had turkey, mincemeat patties, veggies, and a sweet rice for our meal. I decorated the table with construction paper leaves and we went around the table and did our thankful lists. Auntie Jo and Belinda joined us, which was wonderful to celebrate a Canadian holiday with them!

Things are busy here with school, as the two kids we suspended are back in the class. Parent teacher interviews are next week Friday, so I am busy figuring out marking and report cards.

And this leads me to my biggest announcement: although my original plans were to stay here for the full school year, after a lot of prayer and discussion with everyone in charge of my internship I will be coming home in December after the first semester is finished. I love being here in Ghana; but I am not prepared to be a teacher without any formal training. Being a kindergarten teacher, to a class of 33 students, who speak very little English, is incredibly hard. I'm doing my best but I know that a teacher with experience and training is what this class needs, and so I am learning that there is strength in knowing our limitations and understanding that Plan B's are not always a bad thing.

Anyways, I am looking forward to what these next two months bring and I am excited for whatever adventures I may find myself in. I am learning so much and blessed to be here, whatever the timeframe that may be.

Love to you all! Happy thanksgiving!

Angie

The Strange Thing

Thursday morning I travelled to Kofuridua to get my Visa updated. I needed to meet Kujo at the lorry station for six a.m., so I taxied there in the cool morning air. I found the Kofuridua tro-tro's with ease, as it was the second visit in one week to get things with my Visa sorted out. I sat down to wait on a bench for Kujo (oh Africa time!) and watched the chickens fluttering around, as they so often do everywhere you go. They are so much prettier here, with bright reds and oranges and sometimes even flecks of green. They love to prance around, with little chicks flocking behind them. To the side of the lorry station I watched as shopkeepers opened up for another soon-to-be busy market day, and as I got lost in my still tired mind, I heard a woman's voice close to my shoulder.

"One cedi," she insisted. "One cedi." I looked to her, unsure of what she was trying to sell, but when I saw nothing in her hands, I shook my head. "Pacho." She was insistent, offering her 'please' in Twi. "Pacho." I shook my head again, and with a hesitation, she turned away, already briskly walking towards someone else to ask for money. I watched her, seeing it happen again and again, her boldness growing. She would walk up to men, poke their shoulders, and beg for money. In response they would yell, sometimes pushing her away, and I even saw one of the ticket sellers grab a ruler and threaten to hit her unless she left.

What struck me were my thoughts. Being a foreigner and a white traveller has made my defenses rise; I instantly hate the assumption that because I am white and different I am incredibly wealthy. So it makes me draw back, and not give at all. Which isn't good. And I wrestled with that as I watched her move from person to person, begging.

That could have been me. It could have been me begging for money, so lost and anxious that I was driven to beg complete strangers for money. And I know she could have been asking to feed a habit, I know that. But she could have also been asking because she was hungry.

And so I sat on that bench and I wrestled. I wanted to go find her once she left and give her something to eat; I wanted to offer her a hand and let her know that someone cared.

But instead I worried what others would think; I worried what others would think when the obruni, who is already strange to begin with, chased after the beggar to offer her a few cedis. And in the end, those thoughts won, and when our tro-tro finally left the station and I saw her wandering between the tro-tros, my heart hurt.

Because I should have done what Jesus would have done. I should have run after her, and I should have given her a hug. I should have given her something to drink, something to eat, because even though others would have thought is strange, sometimes the strange thing is the right thing.

And so even though I know that now, I still am haunted by her voice and her face and I pray that God would bring her back into my path so that I might have the chance again.

To do the strange thing. To do the right thing.