Sunday morning was a celebration. The small church had no ceiling fans or amplified speakers. No live video feed.  A drummer with a pair of small sticks beat out a rhythm.  Clapping along, a row of young boys sat on a discarded, rough-hewn plank spanning three cement blocks.  The small unfinished building was overflowing with humble, honest, praise and worship.  Like a sweet aroma carried by a gentle breeze, the music began to fill the village. Families approached and joined. 

Dancing in celebration, men and women took turns shuffling across the smooth cement floor. Each tribe, each people, with their own beautiful language, movements, and rhythms.  Bringing our unique and colorful threads, we are embroidered into a single, united choir, the children of God, singing and praising God. One church, one family, praying together, rejoicing together, and at times, mourning and suffering together.  We thank God today for our brothers and sisters, the global church, coming together unison.

In the afternoon, we bounced over muddy red paths to a small homestead and set up in the lush green studio of a clearing sheltered by a woven grass roof and blue tarp.  We arranged the small choir, drummers, and marimba and prepared for our first choir.  Each of the songs was authored by the lead singer.  As their energetic praises started, so did the first rain…we frantically shuffled around the equipment as leaks began to pour through the tarp.  I slammed my laptop shut, and we surveyed the damage.  I was ready to scrub the whole session, as I looked up at the uniformly dreary and wet sky.  Timidly, the choir suggested, “We should wait.”  Last night, wave and wave of fierce and relentless rain had pounded our guest house, beginning at 2am. I tried to be optimistic, but instead imagined everyone randomly grabbing microphones, laptops, and cameras should the skies unleash a last declaration of wet season fury.

The drizzle began to wane, and my optimism improved. The choir reassembled and the mellow tones of the marimba began to once again join the choir of crickets singing from the verdant jungle surrounding us. Each time I looked up from my laptop I could see Beth smiling and nodding to the beat.  I closed my eyes and took in the fresh, cool and moist air.  How wonderful that Beth and I can vacation here in Ghana, teaching Clement and Cyrus to record the joyful songs of the Birifor, Bible stories, and prayers, and spread them across the most remote villages in Birifor-land.

We returned to the clearing late in the evening, to record one more choir.  By 8:00pm, we were set ready, looking up at the starry sky, Jupiter slowly rising above the horizon.  The cool night air refreshed the cats and dogs who had slept the day away in the shade. Puppies and kittens energetically chased moths and small beetles.  It was time for Clement and Cyrus to move from watching, to leading.  Clement and Cyrus stepped forward and gathered the choir, drums, and marimba into formation around the tripod.  The music began! 

After Clement and Cyrus had their first end-to-end choir recording, we celebrated, prayed, returned to the guest house to wind down and wrap up with observations and suggestions for our next outing.  We completed 31 recordings today, adding to the recordings we did in January. This will complete the Birifor language. Whohooo!