I started writing my "Final Update" from Africa and it is pretty much 1.) taking me forever and 2.) practically turning into a book. I'm also not sure how to organize my thoughts right now because there are so many of them. SO to the convenience of many (for the most part convenient) I am breaking it down into multiple notes (when I say multiple, do not doubt me, I mean multiple...... you may see these notes still coming a year from now :P). ANYWAYS, the first 3 notes that I write are just going to be on my Family in Africa........ or families. I feel like I have 3 of them and the next 3 notes will describe them to some extent. Sorry for the length...... and possibly some repetition. I hope that you all enjoy them though!!!
If only my Eyes were a Camcorder, Ears were a Voice Recorder, and Brain were a Scribe
So this note would be so much easier to write if my eyes were a camcorder, you could see the live scenes of the true Africa. If my ears were a voice recorder, you could hear the sounds of the ocean, jungle, rain forest, and laughter of the children in the village we played with (and the Lion Sleeps Tonight all 100 times we sang it with Nana). If only my brain were a scribe, you could read every thought, I wished I could have captured the aw, pain, suffering, laughter, hurt, excitement, contentment, shock, and every other feeling I had while walking through the jungle, lay sick in bed, or playing with the children. This note would be so much easier to write if it was that easy…. but it’s not so I have had to sit here and think of what to write.
It would be easy to tell you exactly what my thoughts were on Africa. My expectations would be easily transferred into writing. I’d be able to sit and talk for hours (which I could do anyways and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to talk about). It has taken a while for me to just sit and think about my trip. It still feels like just a dream at times. It is still sinking in and hasn’t quite hit me yet that I spent a month of my life in Africa. It hasn’t quite hit me that the beautiful African children I have seen were not just from a magazine but I have actually held hands with them, held them, carried them, played with them, and I have seen their beautiful smiling faces in person. In some ways (sadly) I feel almost oblivious to the fact that I’ve walked through a jungle in Africa, and I’ve been in a mud hut, not one that was in a museum. If I feel like this, how am I supposed to answer the question “How was Africa?”?
As a friend said it for me, do I just say “It was amazing and life changing” and then pray that nobody wants to hear more about it? Should I feel like a bad person because I haven’t just sat and meditated on the experience? Am I already back to being a master procrastinator or am I just not ready to face reality, that the hurt, pain, poorness, and suffering that I saw really does exist in this world, not just in a third world country or in National Geographic? It exists in the most powerful nation in the world, but we just don’t always see it. We have all that we need and more, do we need all that we have? A friend and I were talking about her son’s birthday and what she was going to buy him. She was giving him the “boring gifts” like clothes and the things he needs. Isn’t that the way it works though? Do most kid’s here want what they really need? Do they really need what they actually want?
We have so many “things” here that we just HAVE to have: computers, internet, cable TV with hundreds of stations we don’t even watch, iPods, cell phones, clothes that we buy and then never wear but won’t get rid of. The first thing I did when I got back to Manhattan was move. That was when I realized just how many “things” I really do have but don’t NEED.
Proverbs 15:16 “Better is a little with the fear of the LORD
than great treasure and trouble with it.”
This is where my note gets really long so brace yourself. I am going to break it down for some people because it may be too long to read in one sitting and it would also be easier for me as well. SO, takeaways from Africa and the stories to go with them. Some, if not most, of them have been written previously in another note but everybody is still asking “How was Africa?” (I’ve also come to the conclusion that I’m a better writer than I am speaker, therefore I’d advise you to read the note and THEN ask questions if you still have them). Ghana… oh Ghana. I’m not sure where to start with Ghana. Although I was a tad-bit overwhelmed when I stepped off the airplane, I was immediately embraced by the people there (So was Obama, the only difference is, we didn’t have banners on every building saying “Akwaaba Obrunis”).
I have said it before I was blessed to the point of feeling spoiled at times. The family I stayed with was amazing (which I will go into greater detail later). I can now say that I have lived on campus, if only for just a month. I had the opportunity to live on the campus of the University of Ghana with Dr. Joseph Kwasi Nimako-Boateng, his lovely wife Akua, and their two and half year old son Nana. I can not tell you how much God blessed me through this family. Anything I needed, different types of food such as vegetables and fruit needed in my diet, medicine when I was too sick to move out of my bed, anything. They did everything they could to make my roommate Briana and I comfortable. Nana usually provided the entertainment. I refer to him as the smartest two year old I’ve ever been around (what other two year old can run a TV, DVD player, turn on a computer, knows what a hexagon is, or can say cinnamon, spaghetti, or animal the correct way?). The “Lion Sleeps Tonight” was his favorite song and if he wants you to sing it, you’ll be singing it with him for hours. We taught him to sing the “Na na na na hey hey hey goodbye song” which he loved considering his name was in it. His face would light up when we started singing it. Memories from just time with my family will need to be listed by family member.
Nana could tell Briana and me apart for the most part. There was a lot of “I want to go to Briana” or “I want to go to Sharina”. The day I was sick and resting in bed, he followed Briana into the room and proceeded to tap me on the shoulder to tell me I was sleeping. The before mentioned songs that we sang and the “25 most popular Sunday School Songs” will always remind me of Nana, as will anytime somebody uses a banana as a gun or a microphone. Oh Nana, dimples that might just break hearts some day. On to my roommate and sister Briana Marie Naylor, I think God pointed his finger and laughed when he saw the opportunity to put together as roommates Briana Marie Naylor and Sharina Marie Schaller, who look similar and in some ways probably acted similar, a difference being Brown and Blonde hair. My roommate, two words: Savage Garden. A few more words: Valium and dihydrocodine, Disney and 90s music, and the phrases “How did they get here?” and “There really is a monkey on the side of the road”. I can say I miss falling asleep to Savage Garden at night. Thank you for helping take care of me when I didn’t feel well and your assistance in convincing Kwasi it was okay for me to have ice cream. Also, way to ATTEMPT to explain blonde hair to Kwasi and the phrase “drop it like it’s Hot” to Godwin.
To the parents, Kwasi and Akua, two people who blessed me a tremendous amount and showed me what servant hearts look like. How do you explain blonde hair to an African who SUPPOSEDLY can’t tell the difference between brown and blonde? Pretty sure we were stumped also other than telling him that blonde was lighter than light brown hair but darker than white. I have never had anybody roll on the floor laughing when I tell them I had never seen the beach before that is until I told Kwasi. The question “Really?!” was asked many many times in disbelief. I forgot that not all people know that Kansas is in the middle of the U.S. and the ocean is 1000 miles away in every direction. We had the lovely dr.-patient relationship when it came to my diabetes and checking my blood-sugar and then there was the parent-daughter relationship when it came to sugar… and ice cream. Thank God mom was on my side otherwise there wouldn’t have been a whole lot of ice cream eaten by me. Life almost was a musical with Nana singing to Psalty, Mr. Hand, or the Lion sleeps tonight; Kwasi would walk around singing “Don’t be a chicken pa pa pa PAA!!!” and Akua could just flat out sing.
Such a beautiful thing, this family. An open house to anybody who they ministered to. I think I could consider Kwame, Michael, Parkwasi, Kakra, and Obed as part of the family as well. (I know I didn’t spell some of those right so if somebody would like to correct me, that would be great ;)). Kwame and Michael, two young men Kwasi discipled, were there every night for supper and spent a lot of time with Nana. Obed worked for the Doctor, the dining room table being his “office”. While the other Ghanaians were laughing at how LITTLE the Americans ate, Obed was usually busy making fun of us for eating all the time, or whenever he saw us (every time he walked in the house we were eating breakfast). Kakra and Parkwasi also lived in the house and helped with just about everything such as the food, dishes, cleaning, and laundry. They also had the duty most nights of giving Nana a bath, which in itself was entertaining due to Nana’s threats to beat them while they washed him. One phrase that may not be the best to teach a child: “I’ll beat you”. Since Nana (and every other African child it seems) is great at imitating everybody, if that was said to him, he would usually throw it right back a few minutes later.
A beautiful family with wonderful hearts for God. Patience and making sure everybody they could help was helped. Two examples: Speed Racer and the water boy. Speed Racer, aka Alex, was our “driver” for almost the first four weeks. The family paid him to be our driver while his taxi was being fixed due to the fact that a cow jumped on it, no joke. The water boy story goes as follows: one night we went to the Pharmacy to get medicine for me (and ice cream). On our way back on to campus, a young man who had been selling water to people sat dejected on the side of the road and it was obvious why as there were water bags broken and spilled everywhere. Kwasi called the vendor over and paid him for the spilled water. He proceeded to tell us the possibilities of what would have happened had the vendor gone home without money for the missing water: no supper, a beating, or both. Talk about putting others before yourself, I think of
While there, Briana and I were privileged enough to celebrate multiple birthdays. Kwasi’s mother and father celebrated their 60th and 70th birthdays. Kwasi also celebrated his birthday. For the most part, that is it for the family. As stated before, I am very blessed to have gotten the opportunity to live with them while in Africa. I have been blessed to have seen and experienced servant hearts like their’s.
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