New Town...

The more I encounter the people of Ghana the more I want to experience. Last night my partner Deb and I were out in a particular area of town called Tema-New Town, not much more than a slum fishing village. The streets are always teeming with people, goats, and these cumbersome carts with car tires that are usually loaded with fish. The smell of sewage mixed with not-so-fresh seafood is staggering as we weave our way down the paved 2 lane road between vendors and taxis. When we arrived at the church there were no lights, the dam that supplies the hydroelectric power to the city is low on water at the moment so electricity is being conserved. It's the beginning of dry season which makes me wonder what the further implications of low rainfall will be for the city and region. Already the people are without power for 12 hours out of every48 hours.

We usually bring our stuff into the church and then in keeping with the African way of doing things...we wait (for the people to come, for the power to be turned on, for a breeze to cool the stagnate night air, etc.). A lot of life is waiting I guess...it makes me think of the Dr. Suess book Oh the Places You Go " ...everybody is just waiting, waiting for a pot to boil, waiting for a fish to catch, for a second chance, for a better break, waiting for their uncle Jake, everybody is just waiting".

So I am sitting out on the dark steps of the church...waiting...and 5 little girls wander over. I start conversation with them "How old are you? How many years do you have? Do you go to school here?" The usual questions I ask kids (which are probably very boring adult question in their way of thinking...I really ought to think of some better questions). The 5 children soon turned into 7, which turned into 10, a few more children joined the group, and a few more and a few more and before I knew it I was surrounded by about 20 little dark faces all peering at me with curiosity...and so I stared back at them. I can never figure out how they know that there is a visitor in the area, they just appear out of nowhere, it's amazing to me. I stopped asking their names when I realized I am never going to remember all 20 of them, besides when I return to the church next week they will all be wearing different clothes and I really won't be able to remember who's who. I usually try to color code them...Sandra's in the red top, David's in the yellow, Patricia in the flowered dress, little Naomi the brown dress 2 sizes too big...but that system only works as long as they wear the same clothes everyday. Not knowing how to continue conversation I started to sing a song in Twi, one of the local dialects, and they all joined in. So there I was sitting on the uneven stone steps of a wooden clapboard church in the dark with 20 precious little children singing a praise song to the Lord in a language I am only vaguely familiar with...and I thought '”life is beautiful". We invited the children inside and continued to sing with them, Kennedy our translator had the children recite Bible verses they knew by heart. We prayed for the children and sang one more song as we waited for one of the women to return with the candy Kennedy had sent her to buy for the kids. It didn't matter that we were late in starting; nothing really seemed to matter at that moment except those children. It's a beautiful thing when the truth of God's word is quoted from the mouth of a young child. Jesus made time for the little children and I think he must rejoice when he sees us delighting in these little one...they are so precious.