Snapshots in My Mind

We just got back from a fun weekend at the youth camp this afternoon. We had a great time hanging out with the high schoolers and university students and really got to grow close to some of them, which was awesome. The camp facilities were a definite luxury. It reminded me of the place we stayed in Guatemala; the dorm facilities had these great courtyards in the middle of them where we could all just hang out and talk in our down time. And the showers were excellent :)

We played more of a participating role in the camp than an official leadership role, since most of the camp was planned out before we even came. But in the Bible studies and workshops, we got to share a lot with the students and they with us. A few of us, myself included, shared some experiences from our time in Swedru and some devotional thoughts with the group, so that was cool.

I realized the other day that there have been a lot of little stories that haven't quite made the posts as of yet, but definitely deserve mention. Some of them are kind of funny, others not at all. Since I have some time now, I wanted to share some of those.

A Walk on the Beach
Part I: Goat Face
Matt and I went for a walk the night before we left for Swedru. I was thinking we might just go around the neighborhood, but we soon decided to cross the main road and see what was on the other side. Turns out, the ocean was on the other side. After climbing down a small, trash-covered embankment, we were on the beach. It was a fairly humorous scene. Two white guys climbing down a hill of refuse amongst pigs and goats, all to dip our feet in the ocean. All the while, some nice old man trying to explain to us the best way down. Pretty funny. We got to the water and it was relatively warm. We walked along the beach and came upon an even funnier sight. A boy, probably about 14 years old, was dragging a goat by its hind legs down the trash mountain. The goat was very much alive and was being dragged on its face. I like animals a lot, but this was too funny to feel bad about. The boy and his goat reached the ocean and they both went in together, the goat face first. I have no idea what that was about. A bath maybe? Either way, hilarious.

Part II: A Year in Prison
As we walked along the beach, numerous people came up to greet us. We stuck out a little. Everyone was very friendly and all of them parted company with the same word of caution: "Do not take pictures of the castle. There is a big fine and you will go to prison for a year." This would be followed by a series of hand motions that would nonverbally reiterate the warning. We crossed a bridge (more of a balance beam) that passed over a sewage canal and found ourselves right next to said castle. By the way, we later found out that the castle is the current residence of the president, Atta Mills. Three fishermen, at least two of whom were drunk, were very happy to see us and kindly greeted us. They told us a lot about purchasing fish, and I'm pretty sure they offered us a ride on their boat sometime. Then they, too, gave us a lengthy warning about the castle. Admittedly, Matt and I both took pictures of the castle from a distance. Apparently there's a radius of safety. But try to keep that on the DL until we're out of the country.

Part III: Lost in Accra
When Matt and I left the castle, we found ourselves in a sketchy neighborhood. I wasn't really sure what to think about it, but there were a lot of kids out playing so I figured it couldn't be that bad, right? Of course, some of the six year olds invited us to gamble with them a couple times, but whatever. We had been walking for quite a while and we weren't exactly sure where we were in relation to our home by that point. So we stolled through the area, trying to find the main road. Along the way, we got several "Obama" calls. If you hadn't heard, President Obama made his first trip to Africa the week before we arrived and the country he chose to visit was Ghana. The whole country was and is very pumped about it. There are billboards everywhere that say "Akwaaba (Welcome) Obama." So we'd answer with a smile and a thumbs up and keep on our way. It was starting to get dark by this point. It's winter in the southern hemisphere, despite the 85 degree weather and 5000% humidity, and the sun sets around 6pm. So Matt and I were in a pretty rough place in the dark and, in all honesty, really didn't have a clue where the house was. We kept on walking in a direction that seemed right, relative to the ocean and went for a long time. We passed things that we recognized, but couldn't recall exactly where they were in relation to the house. After a little over an hour, I was feeling pretty confused and a little nervous, but never unsafe. For me, the main concern was just looking like an idiot if our host family had to send out a search party. People continued to be really friendly everywhere we went and I was confident we could get to the Navs Office, if nothing else. Matt and I were both praying that God would get us back. Finally, I recognized a building that was across from our neighborhood and we made it back alright. It was a little freaky, but a good adventure nonetheless.

Hands
Grandma McVeigh has told me on numerous occassions that I have very soft hands. Now, they may not be up to Alex Ogle caliber, but still, they're pretty alright. When we were in Nkum, the children would come up to us and just want to touch our hands (ok, so it wasn't just my hands). They were fascinated with us. I was told that it was a combination of our color and the softness of our skin that did it. In Nkum, life is hard, so much so that even the young children have rough, calloused hands. I was twenty years older than some of these kids, but our hands proved that they had endured much more in their few years than I had in over two decades of life. Theirs were hands that worked on their parents' farms in the jungle, that weilded knives to carve their own toys out of wood, and that lifted them off the hard floor each morning after a night's sleep. I'm OCD, claustrophobic, and not all that cuddly, but I'd put all that aside in a second for those kids to get a temporary escape in their captivation with our hands.

Crouched Around Bowls
I don't really know what it means to be hungry. I've missed lunches for Dental Care lectures. I've given up peanut butter for Lent. I've even fasted a few times. Sometimes my stomach even growls. So maybe I do understand what it means to be hungry, but I certainly do not know what it's like to go hungry. I have a picture in my mind that I will never forget and that I would never want to catch on camera. The third night we were in Nkum, I had some leftovers from my dinner. It was hardly anything at all, just the bones from my chicken wing and a little rice. So I went outside to scoop it into the trash. Godwin stopped me, though, and took my plate into the yard. There were children gathered there, as usual, but they weren't looking for high fives or a chance to be thrown in the air. They were hungry. Godwin gave one boy my bowl and told him to share, and then I watched as seven little kids crouched around my bowl to split what I was about to throw out. They shared. They were literally starving and there wasn't much food in my bowl, but they shared it anyway. There are starving children in Africa. I've heard that a lot. But now they have faces.