Note: Pete sent texts and pictures and I created the post. — Joe

“My English is Small Small” one of the Fulani pastors explains as we tried to plan the day’s work. They have warmed to us, and while still shy, and prone to look away rather than approach us with a broad smile, they enjoy meeting us and hearing about where we live, what we do, and what kind of food we eat.

Like other places in Ghana that we have visited, the food is 80% a starch (rice, noodles, or other grain), 15% an oil-based sauce, and 5% a chunk of meat, such as a small fish or walnut-sized piece of chicken. However, for lunch today, we had a Fulani staple that the hurders take with them to the fields. Millet is ground into a flour-like consistency. It is then boiled and steamed. A stick is used to flatten and work out the chunks until it becomes like small couscous. The small pellets are then mixed with fresh milk (something the Fulani have plenty of in their fields). Sometimes a small bit of sugar is added. While I think it might taste even better with absolutely fresh milk, the young lady responsible for cooking our meal boiled the milk and then let it cool, so we could enjoy some, even with our weak American stomachs. We enjoyed it so much we asked if we could have it for breakfast. The Fulani were thrilled.

Most of the day was spent in what Ghanaians would call a “summer hut”, a small round hut with straw or bamboo walls and a thatched roof. Throughout the day, the pastors lined up for their turn behind the microphone. I sat behind the laptop, and Beth managed the whole process, carefully tracking each speaker and their topic. We work together well.

Tomorrow, we will be recording the medical / health information. Each time we record a language, the unique culture of the tribe or nation is represented. BTW, Westerners have become uncomfortable with referring to tribes or nations, and now opt to say “people group”. Of course when we say “people group” here, the Fulani scratch their heads. Anyway, another example of Western sensitivities perplexing the rest of the world. Anyway, because the Fulani are herders, they decided that in addition to medical / health information, they would like us to record veterinary information for flocks and herds :-) Indeed! So tomorrow we will be recording a nurse as well as a vet.

The Fulani have a strong identity, spanning all the countries south of the Sahara. They are herders. They brought Islam to this part of Africa. We recognize a faint echo of facial features from North Africa — Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia — in the tall and slender herders. his evening, Beth and I took a walk into the village at Golden Hour in order to get some photos. In the rest of Ghana, people are eager to have their picture taken. We were warned several times, however, to approach with politeness, and ask if we can take a photo. We have yet to be refused a photo, but there is some initial hesitation. Usually, immediately showing the photo I took to them evokes a quick flash of a smile, followed by shyness. While walking through the village a man named Suliman, who wore a heavy winter coat approached us and spoke a little English with us. “Small small English”. We showed him pictures of the snow back home, and he pointed out the cattle returning from their fields. We explained we were from Chicago, and he shared “Chicago Bulls”!. Which, I suppose for a Fulani, is particularly funny.

At the bridge, past the small village, a once large lake continues to shrink each day as the rainless dry season continues. The water is used for irrigating tomatoes and other vegetables. As the sun dipped down and golden hour was coming to a close, two fishermen with nets waded through the shallow waters of the lake turned puddle.

Back at the training center, we enjoyed dinner by cell phone LED. The power to the village was out. A spectacular dinner and story telling under the stars was enjoyed by all. Wow. I thought the evening was not going to get any better… but with the power out, the young adults had all left their rooms and carried the benches from the church out under the stars, forming a large circle. About 25 singing and dancing Fulani grooved to a homemade drum… clapping, howling, and stomping around in a tight circle. Beth joined in under the stars and the moon began to peak up over the trees. Then everyone sat and shared concerns and heartaches, joys and sorrows and took turns praying for each other. So beautiful!