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Kasoa, Ghana
Back in the day, the old-days of the New Testament, it was honorable to be a disciple. It was so honorable, in fact, that a disciple would leave everything: house, friends, and family to learn to be exactly like the rabbi. During these times a blessing developed: “May you be covered in the dust of your rabbi.” Right out of college, two girls decided to pursue the call to teaching in Africa. They invite you to join their words and thoughts as they shake the dust of their chacos off on their blog, hoping to reveal to you all that God is revealing to them.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Picture to Come? Perhaps....


Ghana celebrated her Independence Day last Tuesday.  Our students celebrated by participating in an all-school marching competition on Monday.  I woke up on Tuesday, planning on celebrating our day off of school by drinking some coffee on the veranda.  Jamie walked out and saw me looking a little disgruntled.

Why, you ask?  Because in my peaceful corner of the world, next to the goat pen, our friend Peter was butchering a sheep.

So when Sister Lillian and Monica suggested we celebrate by going to Tills’ Beach, Jamie and I eagerly agreed. Way more exciting than watching Peter pull the skin off of one of my beloved friends.

Together the four of us headed into Kasoa, and found a tro-tro. The tro-tro wasn’t overly crowded, and the only worry was when an almost passenger threatened to kill the driver with his bottle of Malta. Oh well! The driver keep going. Good call, Sir.

Tills’ Beach was slightly more crowded than last time, but the weather was excellent and you couldn’t beat the amazing people we went with!

Monica and Lizziey at Tills
When our day was over we took a taxi to Agoti junction. Unfortunately, our taxi driver had been cheated by his previous clients, and then our taxi broke down! But with some magic spray and some prayers, the taxi was back in service and we soon found ourselves at the junction where we hopped on a tro-tro back to Kasoa.

On the tro-tro, a fellow decided to ask me why I wanted to blow up Israel.  Luckily, I read the NY Times headlines just enough to know that the Israeli prime minister had recently been in the US, that he was concerned about nuclear weapons in Iran and I was 99% confident the US was not planning on going to war with Israel anytime in the near future. Next time, I’m telling people I’m from Luxembourg.

I deflected the best I could, but in twenty minutes time we discussed nuclear warfare, GOD (he meant gold, oil and drugs: not the Creator of the universe), racism, and agriculture. Jamie put her head down to keep from laughing. Monica and Lillian shot each other looks. I did my best to give out my mere opinions, but I really had to keep it in check when he made some racist comments and when he said, “I don’t understand why people plant things like grass and flowers. On my farm we plant only things you can eat.”  After a quick briefing on how the eco-system works, the man said he’d come by sometime and show me some documentaries.

He hasn’t stopped by yet, and I seriously doubt he will.  But hey, I’m all for a good documentary every once in a while.

From the butchering of the sheep, to traveling to the beach with great friends, to random slightly misinformed political conversations in the back of the tro-tro, I am thankful for Ghana’s independence. More importantly, I look at our days, typically crazy and typically exhausting and am glad to be a part of something more.


Saturday, March 10, 2012

Dirty Dancing.



Jamie and I decided to play ballerina using an electrical pole in our "back yard."