The graceful Boeing 787 gently kissed the tarmac and then braked hard.  Beth and I looked at each other as we considered both the pilot’s runway manners and our arrival in Accra.  We knew the next few days would be a flurry of activity crammed into long hot days, but we were both smiling.

In about 90 minutes we would know if we would complete the primary purpose of this trip – to deliver the six enormous bags crammed with gear to Ray and the team.  Last October, 30 to 40 nurses and technicians lined the long arrivals hall to perform $150 Covid tests as we arrived.  We strolled past the now empty booths and simply presented our Covid-19 and yellow fever vaccination cards as we entered the immigration area.  Within minutes we were waiting impatiently for the six bags, each with an orange fleece ribbon tied to the handles.

Recently, I’ve been re-reading Corrie Ten Boom’s “The Hiding Place” for about the fourth time.  It is a such a fantastic book.  While on the flight, I re-read this passage:

“When Mietje appeared the following morning, I took a small banknote from my purse and tore off a corner. “This is for your son,” I said. “Tonight he is to go to the Gravenstenenbrug. There is a tree stump right next to the bridge—they cut down the tree last winter. He is to wait beside it, looking into the canal. A man will come up and ask if he has change for a bankbill. Your son is to match the missing corner, and then follow this man without asking questions.”

The story of the matched bank note came to mind as the 250 passengers from the 787 and 30 to 40 Ghanaian baggage handlers swarmed like bees around the conveyor belt as it burped out luggage. Ray had arranged a baggage handler to help guide our two overloaded luggage carts through customs. But who? I had no torn banknote to match. Almost every one of the local staff sizes up the foreigners and then insists on helping pull bags onto carts. Yet as I turned back toward our luggage cart with a bag dragged off the conveyor, I looked up to see a Samsung smartphone displaying a picture of Beth, Paul and I posing with Emily and Ian at their wedding last July. A smiling young man said “hello, Ray asked me to help.”  Ray had sent the photo to the baggage handler both to identify me, and to be used for me to confirm our contact.  My fancy dress shoes and suit so proudly worn for the wedding photo did not match my long-haul flight attire, but I suppose we stand out here in Ghana.

Our new friend asked us “which bags have clothes?”  He continued, “We want to put the clothes bags on top, so if they inspect, they will open the first bag and then pass you through.” I laughed.  My three shirts, three pairs of underwear, and spare pair of pants were all in my carryon.  The six bags were ALL chock full of electronics, a motorcycle jacket, projector, 600 solar-powered BiblePlus+ units, and tucked in Beth’s carryon was $5000 worth of micro-SD cards in a quart-sized ziplock.  Hours and hours of Dagbani, Komba, Mampruli, Bimoba, Fulfulde, Gonja, Chakali, and Wali choirs, Bible stories, and community health recordings were ready to jump out from the fingernail-sized black memory chips. Putting our clothes on top to cover the electronics was just not possible.

We were waived into separate lanes.  I answered the questions about my suitcases, explained that I would be doing some training, and was waived through.  Beth was asked to open a bag.  Within moments, several officials were watching Beth as she proudly held up one of the solar units.  I was told to exit with my cart full of bags.  Moments later I was outside, looking back through mirrored windows and trying to catch a glimpse of Beth in the airport. Beth had documentation explaining the electronics were donations to a registered non-profit, but duty fees can be, shall we say, fluid. I was not worried for Beth, but my stomach was tense as I considered Beth trying to negotiate an appropriate fee.  Moments later, beaming with a large grin, Beth pushed her trolley through the double doors and into the hot and humid air of Accra.  

With joyous laughs and hugs we met Ray and filled the back of his pickup with bags.  Anticipating the afternoon rains that occasionally fall in this season, we covered and tied the black tarp across the bed. Once in the truck, we breathed a sigh of relief and paused to pray and thank the Lord.  The primary purpose of this trip was already done — Beth and I had arrived with the contents of the six bags.

Within minutes we were at the newly purchased OneWay offices, a converted home in a residential neighborhood of Accra.  Beth immediately started working with the local staff, and Joshua and I set up to record a video. We have been working with Joshua for about seven years.  Our first meeting was up in Mamprusi-land, before Joshua had even started working with Ray.  After he joined the team Joshua spent five years bouncing across the most remote parts of Ghana on a motorcycle. He has grown into a leader, and at the end of 2021 moved to Accra and is responsible for the Recording Backpack, which gives the team a mobile studio for audio and video recordings anywhere in the country.  In March, Joshua shared this Urban Missions video he recorded and edited.

In the relative less-hotness of the afternoon, Joshua and I set up to record Essie share about life and purpose.  Quietly, timidly, she began to share about her own journey. After several more times practicing, punctuated with nervous laughs and shy glances, her voice steadied and Essie delivered a powerful message for young people searching for purpose.  It was a wonderful bookend to the day, from uncertainty to purpose, from hope to confidence.