Beth and I are preparing.  Today we will trade the daffodils, tulips, blushing magenta magnolias, and intense thunderstorms for the sparkling smiles, laughter, sweltering heat, and drum rhythms of northern Ghana.  

Yet even as we untangle wires, pack camera lenses, and find our malaria pills – tasks listed on pages of spreadsheets that Beth and I have curated over the years – I find myself considering the unknown unknowns. 

We are preppers – a spare microphone, lollipops, a sim tool, my journal and fountain pen.  We page through the list of supplies we left in Ghana – soldering iron, mosquito netting, clipboard.  We work to manage the known unknowns.  If my laptop power supply were to fail, can I use Beth’s? When we get ill, do I have the right antibiotics? We attempt to pack for the unexpected.  Yes, I can hear your giggles :-)

But in the darkness before dawn, as tasks loop and swirl through my thoughts, I consider how I have been prepped.   My parents, church, schools, summer camps, friends, family, and of course my long list of often misguided adventures are all part of my prepping story.  

Yet then, as I look back through the years, I begin to see a different storyline, one punctuated with reminders.  A plot that is richer, deeper, and broader — the unknown unknowns are the plan.

2014:

On our second recording trip to Northern Ghana, when Beth and I were still trying to learn the rhythms and customs of the local communities, Ray received a distressing phone call.  After a brief discussion, our plans changed. We loaded into the truck and bounced across the dry mud roads to Pastor Joseph’s traditional home.  

When we arrived, we found him sitting with friends and elders from the church, recounting the events of the previous night. While riding his motorcycle home after an evening church visit, he was brutally attacked by men with a rifle.   Leaving his motorcycle behind, Pastor Joseph fled into the bush, even as they shot into the dark. To everyone’s surprise, the motorcycle was recovered the next morning. We prayed together and made new plans.

2016:

Over New Year’s in Naperville, I alternated between fever and chills.  Violent coughing spells finally pushing me into the hospital. A blood culture revealed grim news – I had a serious blood infection, and my heart was inflamed. We were just weeks away from a trip to Ghana.  Flights were cancelled and Edwards hospital asked me to stay a while. A plastic tube, a PICC line, was inserted into the brachial vein near my bicep and carefully threaded toward my heart.  

The IV port remained taped to my arm for a month. Each day I had an appointment for an antibiotic infusion.  After the treatments ended and the tube removed, calendars were once again explored. New flights were booked. New plans made. In April, we traveled to Ghana.

2017:

On January 4^th, with friends and family gathering and praying in the lobby at Edwards Hospital, a surgeon replaced my defective heart value and ascending aorta.   

Rehab was quick, and by the summer, new plans and new plane tickets were assembled for another October trip.  Yet once in Ghana, we needed a different kind of valve repair.  While traveling north from Accra to Tamale to meet us, Ray’s Nissan Hardbody truck lost oil pressure and the engine overheated. A new engine block?  Here, in the remote small villages of Northern Ghana?

Yet laying on the sunbaked red dirt in a local mechanic’s scrap shed was a Nissan Hardbody engine block.    Within a few days, the engine block and pistons were humming away – all for the discounted price of $500, including labor. New Plans.

2019:

The Fulani are the world’s largest nomadic people group.  More than 20 million Fulani are spread across the Sahel.  While in a neighboring country, hosted by a Fulani community, we were shown the greatest of hospitality – food, fellowship, and friendship.  We learned so much on that trip — “Don’t buy a fish in the river” and the six characteristics of the Fulani.  While driving back to Ghana, our plans were in jeopardy.  In 2019, the blog simply mentioned “The journey to Navrongo is a very long tale, best told in person :-)”.  It is still best told in person, but including crossing a closed border, late at night, with the help of a friend.  I admit my faith was weak, and yet the plans changed — they were perfect.

Punctures? Delays? The easy stuff….

2020:

Harmattan? Who even uses that word? Is it weapon wielded by a elf from Lord of the Rings? No. It is the wind that blows across the Sahara desert and into Northern Ghana. It can darken the skies with red dust and shut down airports. Plans? Wait until the Harmattan is over. How long? Ask the desert. Plans change and the work continues.

2021:

We try so hard to prepare. Lists, schedules, logistics, and organizing are Beth’s superpowers. I might see a problem and imagine how zip ties, duct tape, and bungie cord can solve the problem.

Beth prefers to plan carefully, attend to scheduled maintenance, and avoid last minute diversions. But unknown unknowns are difficult to schedule.

In 2021, on the day our flight was to leave for Ghana, we realized Beth needed emergency laser eye surgery — she had torn her retina while preparing our gear for the airport.

After prayer, frantic calls to eye hospitals, and a very kind doctor in Wheaton who was willing to repair Beth’s retina, plans changed. A few bursts of a laser and Beth was dashing out of the eye hospital. A friend had loaded all the bags into her car, and was waiting for Beth to emerge. We left my car in the parking lot, and our friend zig zagged through traffic. I looked at Beth, and we both pondered. Really? This was the plan? Laser eye surgery and a Mario Kart ride to the Ohare? We arrived at our flight’s gate with 30 minutes to spare.

While the beginning of the trip started with adversity, the end of the trip was hard. As Beth and I worked with Ray in Northern Ghana, we received a difficult text message from my mom — my dad was unexpectedly in the hospital, and then immediately moved to hospice. His message to Beth and I? “continue the work”. Dad passed away while Beth and I were in Ghana. His plans had changed, and he was finally home.

Prepping is useful, but Way Making is essential

We must prepare. Our church, friends, family, jobs, and adventures all contribute to shape and prepare us for the work ahead. I may see unknown unknowns, but I am not the Way Maker.

I’ve been pondering this beautiful verse:

I pray that as Beth and I board our flight later today, we remember that we can prepare, but the plan is not ours. There will be new wonderful things. Hard things. Adversity will join our adventure. But we can have peace. The Way Maker is doing something new — how beautiful.

We get stretched.  Sometimes it is with anticipation, excitement, and willingness.  At other times, a soft prelude of anxiety plays in the morning before dawn — the stretching is coming.  

Wednesday morning, we left our oversized luggage garden and began the trek to Northwest Ghana. Our friend Laurie picked us up at the airport and provided a spare bedroom.  We know the accommodations and hospitality well, and take the opportunity to clean up, nap, and sort through the nine assorted bags of gear and gifts.    

The hard work begins tomorrow, but we took a break to drop off some of our supplies and meet up with staff at the Philip Centre.  The normally locked gates were flung open in anticipation.  Bright Ghanian voices rang out immediately upon our arrival.  

“You’re Welcome!”

Beaming smiles, sweaty hugs, and laughter suddenly teleported thoughts lingering in the suburbs of Chicago to the soul of West Africa – people.  Even for frequent travelers, it is all too easy to be distracted by scarcity and see razor wire, unpaved roads, and open sewage in gutters. But abundance is everywhere – love, joy, and peace welcome us. I consider the abundance my heart pursues. Can I be stretched?

The colorful new banners mounted on the walls at the Philip Centre are splendid!  Before long, the staff shows off the new studio, where music, videos, and podcasts are being recorded.  The work here is more vibrant than the colors of Africa – full of enthusiasm and compassion. Wow.  

This morning we fly to Wa, a city in the Northwest corner of Ghana. Ray has spent the last two days driving the old truck north from Accra to meet us.  The rough roads have exhausted him.  When we arrive, I will take the wheel for the remainder of the trip and give Ray a break.  The entire journey will stretch us – physically, spiritually, and mentally.  The 2000km path will traverse through some of the harshest bush in Ghana. A heat wave is approaching.  Temperatures will often be well over 100F, and the rains are threatening to arrive.  The prelude has faded.  The stretching has arrived. 

“I’m sorry, the gas is done” said the young lady standing beside our small breakfast table at the guest house here in Tumu.

Beth and I glanced at the standard breakfast setting — plate, mug, instant Milo packet, instant coffee packet, tea bag, instant creamer packet, a fork wrapped in a serviette (napkin), and large electric kettle with boiling hot water.

After rolling the phrase “the gas is done” around our heads for a moment longer, we realized there was no cooking gas today. Instead of eggs, we each enjoyed two slices of thick white break and a mug of Milo. Clement, Cyrus, and Ray soon emerged from their hotel rooms with smiles and eagerness to start today’s work.

Yesterday, while I zigzagged around dips, holes, and yellow yellows, Beth explained that today would be the Cyrus and Clement show.

“C & C Productions” as we playfully refer to them, continue learning the skills needed to create BiblePlus recordings with their own traveling studio backpacks that we brought last October. Each backpack is equipped with a laptop, tripod, good studio microphone, wireless mics, handheld mic, and a fancy Samsung phone and gimbal for video capture. The gear fits in a small waterproof bag and can be easily transported via their moto.

Cyrus and Clement are quick to learn the technology and the leadership skills needed to organize the community. In the months prior to our visit, C&C have carefully trained local speakers to share community health information, Bible stories, and local choirs. Here in Sisaala land, the territory around Tumu and into Burkina Faso, Cyrus has spent time preparing churches and medical staff. On the Eastern side of Ghana, where Konkomba live, Clement has done his preparation.

But like most rhythms, change should be expected and welcome.

The plans to record the community health audio tracks and “exhortations” (pastors speaking) have changed — a large local funeral has diverted pastors and plans. So we leave malaria, postpartum depression, and the other topics that nurse Zenab prepared for tomorrow. Today we hear Bible stories and pastors David and Saani.

Sanni is a schoolteacher in the town of Tumu. The kids are on break, so the dorms and schoolyard are eerily lacking the sounds of laughter and sports. Instead, goats. guinea fowl, and turkeys wander into our outdoor recording studio to disrupt the work.

The equatorial sun baked the tawny ground and Beth and I worked to stay hydrated and alert. 102 degrees. Small breezes are a gift. Layers of clouds occasionally wandered overhead. I admit my weakness; I work to muster the drive needed to continue encouraging and helping Clement and Cyrus as they record each track.

As C&C recorded, I strolled around the expansive schoolyard to snap some photos. Small golden-headed lizards scurried through leaves and raced up and down the trees. Baby goats bleated and chased after their mothers. As I stood in the shade under a mango tree, a large black bull rounded a corner and startled me. As I backed up, he dropped his head and walked directly toward me, closing the distance quickly.

I’ve had more experience avoiding black bears in Canada than peering into the eyes of large terrifying bulls. I spoke in my gentle, scared, American voice — to reassure the bull.

Saani approached, reached up, and plucked some leaves and a hard, unripe mango from the tree above. Moments later the bull was enjoying a snack and following Saani away. Suddenly, I realized why the trees had very neatly pruned branches, with none hanging more than about 7′ off the ground — the height of a bull foraging for green leaves. Saani explained that the cattle were part of the school’s agriculture program — and ranged free. But he also warned that not all cattle are friendly. Heh.

Cyrus is adept at recording. He carefully positioned the microphone, loaded up the software, tested the sound levels, and provided careful instruction to Sanni, David, and Ajara. While the goats and guinea fowl occasionally called out from the distance, Cyrus and Clement made quick and expert progress.

Beth stayed behind to carefully log the tracks and provide occasional guidance and strategy suggestions as Sanni, Ray, and I drove into town to take care of some errands.

The first stop was for medical help — a fabric store.

I know, you are all scratching your heads wondering how the heat has dehydrated my brain. Yes, it could also be that my electrolyte imbalance has me a bit woozy, but the issue is a bit more serious.

We are not sure how or why, but I have some significant red, swollen, and fluid filled blisters in several patches on my legs. The two largest itchy patches are maybe 6cm in diameter. If I were not in Ghana, I would assume it was Poison Ivy. There is a local moth and “blister beetle” that can cause contact dermatitis. It could also be a form of severe heat rash — but somehow given the localized and severe patches, it feels more like a toxin. Whatever the cause, it is a problem.

Even my thinnest nylon pants are sticking and trapping heat. My merino base layer is comfy, but my legs are shouting for thin cotton pants. While the local shops sell plenty of used blue jeans, something lightweight is required. Tradition will save the day!

It takes only a few moments at a local fabric shop to find some suitable cotton materials. By noon we are visiting a local tailor, who quickly unfurls his tape measure and begins sizing me up.

“Up and Downs”? Sanni asks.

My expression gives away my confusion.

“A shirt to match the bottoms”?

In Ghana, matching tops and bottoms, or matching a top with your wife’s skirt is common.

“Sure!” I reply.

Ray asked for “a rush order”, and suggests the Tailor finish today. Indeed. Fabric, measurement, and some quick tailoring. Perfect.

Our final stop is the local all-purpose auto-truck-moto-and-tire repair shop. The driver’s seat is broken. Yesterday’s drive was a bit more Safari-like with the seat leaning and rocking unpredictably as I swerved around holes. Forget the bolts — the solution here is obvious… weld it. After carefully threading an arc welder cable across the passenger seat, the local welding artist was ready… The fire boy was called to stand watch with a bottle of water, ready to extinguish the carpet or seat. The truck was soon better than new.

The internal strength and resolve of Ghanaians is remarkable. This morning we had 2 pieces of white bread. At 2:00 we snacked on a few airy and dry biscuits with a soda.

By 4:00 the heat had completely melted into my body. Maybe I was actually swimming in a 102 degree bowl of warm goat-scented jello. Sometimes it was hard to know.

The Ghanaians just kept working, never mentioning the shortage of food or complaining about the heat. I sat and helped; could it have been a slow motion dream? Water, even warm water, kept Beth and I going.

All the while, Beth sat with a broad grin, carefully tracking the progress and providing tips for the recording.

Janet smiled easily. Her cousin Ajara provided some additional tips and soon Janet was flying through the Bible stories.

The shadows from the mango trees grew longer and suddenly the heat lifted, and clouds began to roll in. A few drops of rain passed overhead. A fresh cooler air settled. It was 85. Ahhh, how wonderful.

As darkness fell could see flashes of lightning off in the distance. Cyrus and Clement continued working via mobile phone light. Wow. Our first day was nearly complete.

By 8:00pm we were all sitting in front large plates of rice or banku served with chicken or tilapia — our first real meal of the day. Laughter and joy, exhaustion and discomfort, perseverance and peace. The joy of God’s people, brothers and sisters, from tribes across Ghana, Europe, and the United States, working into the night.

So… the spiffy new cotton outfit? Well, clearly it is time to start a fashion house — I just need a catchy name.

My new attire will fit in perfectly at Church tomorrow.