Our plans for Ghana in 2021 have been delayed by COVID-19. We have been vaccinated, and we hope that later this year we can travel back to Ghana and continue the work. Until then, we work from home and use WhatsApp to connect with our friends.

Red: Our uSD card burner for making duplicates

Green: A pile of new solar powered BiblePlus+ units, charged when it was sunny, and ready for action

Yellow: Beth working hard into the night, loading files

Pink: Boxes ready to pack and ship with travelers to Ghana

Our last trip was in February, right before COVID-19 stopped the world. You can read about our 2020 trip here.

A strange photo to begin the blog, and a strange day to begin a trip.

Getting to today was a ten year journey. Our first trip to Ghana was in 2011.  Emily and Paul joined us, and we stayed in the south, in Accra, helping Ray Mensah and learning about the beautiful and colorful culture of the west African nation.  That first Ghana blog brings back such sweet and beautiful memories! Our job has always been simple — help Ray, a local pastor in Ghana, as he ministers to the tribes of Northern Ghana.

Over the last 10 years we have helped record material across the country, in six different languages: Komba, Mampruli, Dagbani, Bimoba, Fulfulde, and Gonja.  Each culture is unique, from Muslim nomads of the Sahel to the smaller, marginalized tribes sandwiched between the more powerful.  The curious can look back on our previous trips.  The materials we recorded and assembled help local pastors bring joyful singing of African choirs, locally told Bible Stories, and community health information to the most remote villages.

COVID 19 delayed our normal dry season trip in January.  So we replanned for October, the end of wet season, with hopes the roads will be passable in a 4×4 truck.  We packed and prepped furiously over the last couple of weeks. We also had a chance to host Emily and Ian’s kitty, Osa, who visited for a few days.  Her only help was to occasionally stroll across keyboards and chew on ziplock bags. 

Beth has perfected the art of planning and complex logistics.  Emily, Paul, and I joke that her secret super power is planning.  I’ve wondered what kind of lycra supersuit a planning superhero wears.  Hmmm.  During the summer, Beth’s dad helped unpackage hundreds of the solar-powered BiblePlus+ units.  Beth’s friend Kelly, who has been an instructor at Ray’s school of missions in Ghana, volunteered her father Don and friend Lorrie to perform final assembly. 

The devices are loaded and ready to play the audio Beth and I recorded on previous trips.  We are traveling with 400 solar units, 980 microSD cards for mobile phones, and a load of other gear – 320lbs in 6 suitcases.  We have the essentials, but also some fun.

The crescendo of activity for a trip begins quietly, months before the trip, and usually ends with an exhausting grand finale at 2am the night before we leave.  But this year, it was different. On Tuesday we had beer with friends and went to bed early. As we turned off all the lights Beth explained that sometimes, when she looks in a certain direction, she can see bright white sparkles in her sore eye.  What!  Two days prior, Beth was weighing one of the 50lb suitcases when the scale broke.  The metal pin attaching the luggage strap to the scale handle sheered right off.  The bag dropped harmlessly, but Beth’s hand, still holding the scale, recoiled upward and she gave herself a 50lb smack to the eye.   While painful and bloodshot, within a day everything seemed fine.  Suddenly, we were grabbing our phones and double checking our eye injury suspicions on the Web.  Our friend Denise was going to stop by at 10am to drive us to the airport.  In an instant, the entire trip seemed impossible.  We agreed that in the morning, Beth would visit an eye doctor.

Beth drove my car to a 9:00am opening appointment at DuPage Medical Immediate Care, while I participated in one last 8:00am telecon.  Before I knew it, Beth was explaining that Immediate Care had no ophthalmologists available until the afternoon.  Beth started driving west and I phoned the first search engine result after typing “emergency eye surgery.”  Wheaton Eye Clinic listened to my rapid and pleading explanation of Beth’s situation.  The young receptionist said she would immediately call the triage team, and call Beth as she sped toward downtown Wheaton.

Beth soon called back… they had a 10:50 appointment for her.  Our flight was not until 1:45.  Beth had asked Denise to come at 10:00 because we had 6 large suitcases, at least one of which was a dangerous scale breaker.  I started playing the hopeful scenarios in my head… A quick visit, the doctor tells Beth it was a minor issue, and we could make our flight to Africa.  But what if it was not so quick?  Or Beth couldn’t fly?  I wandered in my thoughts a while before snapping back to my own triage planning mode. 

I called Denise.  I would pack the Honda Pilot now, Denise could arrive, and we could head to the Eye Clinic in Wheaton.  It was 20 minutes closer to O’hare, and we would have to leave my car in the parking lot.  I put on a TobyMac song that seemed apropos.  Beth called… she had been doing her own triage planning.  “You should quickly repack a few bags and go to Africa by yourself.”  I told her we could talk after she saw the doctor, but there was no way I would leave my honey behind.

I keep learning, over and over, that situations are often outside of our control. We must plan, but God has made his plans, and our wants are never as good as His plans — even the painful ones. We texted some friends and family to pray.  Zooming around the house, I snapped off lights, tossed items from the “packing table” into bags, and tossed heavy bags in our SUV.  In Ghana, we have encountered a cracked truck engine block, flat tires, nighttime border crossing excitement, and a dust storm that grounded all flights.  Bonked eye?  Hmmm. 

With a great big smile Denise pulled into the driveway and we sped off to the clinic.  As we pulled in, Beth called.  The doctor had dilated her eyes and found a tear in her left eye.  The ophthalmologist was direct – do a laser repair now, or there is a 50% chance the retina would detach.  With the surgery, the chance the tear would grow was less than 5%.  Easy choice!

I walked into the clinic.  I paced the waiting room.   I looked at Doctor Anderson’s picture on the wall.  I sighed deeply and looked around more.  A wonderful wall hanging caught my eye.

Beth emerged looking dazed (or rather lazed), and unable to focus her newly laser zapped and dilated eye.  In retrospect, I should have hugged her, and told her how much I loved her.  Instead, I grabbed her hand, and we walked briskly out the door and into the car.  I got behind the wheel and we rocketed out of the parking lot.  Beth explained that she had asked the doctor several times, “Ok, is it foolish to try and go to Africa after this procedure?”  The doctor told her no, so Beth asked again, and the doctor told her “I already gave you an answer”. :-)

At O’hare, we thanked Denise for her help, quickly hugged, and got our 320 lbs of checked bags to the ticket counter.  Beth was not allowed to lift bags, so I took the two carry-on bags and did my TSE Precheck thing.  Once through security, we walked to the gate, put down our bags, and thanked God and texted our friends.  Within moments we were boarding.  Wow.  I just checked, and our luggage was ticketed at 12:38, loaded on the flight at 1:18, and we departed at 1:45.  Whoohoo. 

While I’m not certain the remainder of the trip will be easy or uneventful, we can be certain the plan will be perfect – suspenseful to us, but without real drama.

Landing in Accra was easy, but the paperwork to navigate the COVID testing was complex. Fortunately, once again, the lycra clad superhero of planning had us zipping through no less than 11 document checks. From passport to covid test payment receipt to duty declaration and actual attestation of covid fee entry. Wow. Of course when two people push 6 monster bags through customs and they ask “what’s in the bags”, it is always a bit tense. After my first explanation, the agent said, “Oh, there is a duty for that”. Then we opened a bag and turned on a BiblePlus+ unit. Beth proudly declared, “Oh, that’s Fulfulde, for the Fulani people.” I started to turn it up but the guard waved us on. Nice!

It was a quick ride to the Korum’s house, our missionary friends in Accra! We unpacked and did some quick Uber rides to get a Vodafone SIM card for my modem.

As everyone knows by now, Africa is not frighted by bold colors that jump out and dance. As we waited for our Uber, we wandered through one of the more famous fabric stores. In Africa, even fancy mall shops sell raw fabric, so you can create your own masterpiece.

Just wondering… If Americans could embrace this kind of bold, colorful, and outgoing fabric, could we get past the whole red and blue thing?

Beth has been feeling great. Thanks for your prayers. We are trying to keep her from schlepping suitcases or practicing the headstands she learned in superhero school. Tomorrow we fly to Tamale, and meet Ray. Then the real action begins… We can’t take everything North, so we are leaving almost all the BiblePlus+ units here in Accra, for distribution in the North later.

We will try and catch everyone up with better local photos tomorrow…. Maybe I’ll have some time for the drone :-)

I love jet lag.  At 3am, I was sprawled across the bed, enjoying the cool swirl of air and mechanical ticking of the ceiling fan directly above us. For that instant, I almost felt cool.  The branches of the mango tree outside made a lovely stage for a duo of singing birds.  The polished tile floor was a cool gift to my feet.  I made some instant coffee, dressed, and crept out of our room with my journal.  A couple of hours drifted by while I wrote in my journal, read, prayed, and listened to the roosters competing with the mango duo.  This afternoon, when the equatorial sun is roasting the pavement and I’m woozy and dehydrated, I’ll crack open an authentic Coke Cola, made with cane sugar, something I only enjoy in Ghana.  And this evening, when we arrive at a guest house, sticky, salty, sleepy, and wondering how our luggage got so heavy, I’ll revive myself with a bucket of cold water shower.  Jet lag is a wonderful gift.  If only I could enjoy jet lag as my daily routine in the burbs. 

By noon we had paid our excess baggage fees at the airport and boarded the flight to Tamale, in the Northern part of Ghana. Ray had been tied up and was still driving, so Joshua and Enoch hired a car and met us at the airport in Tamale when we landed. Joshua is Mamprusi, and has worked with us in Ghana more than anyone else. A few years ago, we left him a small lapel microphone and digital recorder, so he could start filling in audio tracks that we had missed, for example in Gonjaland, when we could not find a qualified nurse to provide the community health information. Joshua uploaded the tracks to the Internet, and we added them to the BiblePlus+ collection for Gonja. On this trip, we hope to teach Joshua and Enoch even more, and encourage them to start developing a library of content in the many languages of Northern Ghana.

The driver took us to the guest house where the rest of the team was working. It was a joyful time of catch-up, learning what everyone had been doing since the last time we were in Ghana 1.5 yrs ago, and meeting the new team members. I’ll take their photos in the morning.

At golden hour, about 5:00 here near the equator, Beth and I went for a walk in the neighborhood surrounding the guest house. We immediately made new friends from the Dagomba tribe. Their mother tongue is Dagbani, but they older girls had learned some English in school.

After a period of intense shyness and even some tears as we walked toward them, their fear turned to smiles. They brought us to a circle of chairs in a dusty red dirt road in front of the mosque and asked us to tell them a story.

We also took a walk around the neighborhood. New friends. They grabbed our hands and giggled and laughed as we walked. How easy it is to make friends after fear is overcome. A smile and holding the hand of a new friend. Life can be so simple and beautiful.

It’s past midnight here, and I just finished my cold shower. I’m still hoping for jet lag. Good night.

Stepping out of the room early in the morning was like that first bite of a crisp, tart apple.  The perfection is in the simplicity.  The rich golden colors of the early morning and the coolness carried forward from the evening make dawn the most glorious part of the day. My jet lag is waning, and I wish I had the time to fall asleep at 9:00pm each night so I could rise at 4:00 and take in the simplicity of the African mornings.

The night before, we had commissioned Cyrus, the newest motorcycle missionary to join the team.  He replaces Joshua, who is coming off the field for a new post.  There are six riders now, each with the tools to minister to even the most remote villages.  The newer motobikes are “jungle” models, designed with greater wheel clearance and ruggedness.  Our friend Afrifa, who has been on the field about 5 years, is now the leader of the riders.  We gave him the new Lumo gospel films for Komba, Wali, Dagbani, Mampruli, Anufo, and Fulfulde and from his office in the summer hut, he copied them to each of the rider’s waterproof 128GB “pen drives”. Afrifa is gentle and quiet, with the broadest of possible smiles. We hear he has also become a good preacher.  Beth and I wish we had more time to spend talking to each of the riders.  Their work is arduous and quite dangerous.  One of the newer riders was explaining a recent tribal war that just ended. One of the tribes had hired mercenaries from another country, and the local police were overwhelmed, requiring the military to enter the villages to enforce a curfew.  There has been peace in that region now, after two chiefs agreed on a settlement, but tension is high, and the famously friendly Ghanaians can be cautious when someone who does not know their mother tongue approaches on remote a motorcycle.  

The team gathered for breakfast before we hugged, laughed, prayed, and rode off in different directions.

Malaria and Typhoid really hit Ray hard this year, and he was quite ill for weeks.  He is still catching up and trying to mend.  He asked me to drive the 6 hours from Tamale to Wa. The diesel Nissan Hardbody is the perfect vehicle for this terrain, and I don’t mind doing the driving so Ray can rest.  Those first few minutes sharing the road with an excited hornet swarm of buzzing, honking and swerving motorcycles was like waking up with a triple espresso and frosted cinnamon bun.  I weaved through the middle of Tamale and headed out of town. As the traffic slowed, I looked over to see Ray asleep.  Either he really trusts my driving, or his attestations to being almost 100% healthy are more hope than reality.

Under normal circumstances, a drive through the remote countryside of Ghana is something I cherish. It is the end of rainy season, and the verdant backcountry and the rich tawny soil make the Ghanaian bush feel so alive. However, Beth and I have been a bit worried about the continued healing of her eye.  She has not detected any issues at all, and we thank everyone for their prayers, but we remember that roads in Ghana can be quite rough.  Technically, she is to avoid bumps and jars.  Memories of hitting potholes hidden by a shadow at 60mph cause me to be on edge.  I drive by continually scanning the road, trying to read the colors and textures for clues to guiding us as we zigzag across both lanes at 60mph in search of the smooth path.  The truck is heavily loaded with 5 people and luggage, and at some point while coming out of small dip we hear a strange rubbing sound.  As it grows, we realize that we have a flat tire.  Ugh.  

This is not our first flat in Ghana, but the weight of the vehicle and position of the road call for some improvisation. Nevertheless, David and Joshua show their roadside skills and within minutes the spare tire is ready and we continue on toward Wa.

In Wa, we spill the contents of the truck onto the ground and take the gear into each of our rooms.  Beth and I have four suitcases and three backpacks of gear, from laptops and recording equipment to cameras and tools. It feels like everyone should eat a hearty dinner of jollof rice and relax in their rooms, but we have an appointment to record a choir.  Our first recording is always a bit more complex, as we plug together equipment, find cables, and adjust microphone gain.  

While adjusting the tripod holding the microphone, we lift it up to tweak one of the legs. The ugly sound of a metallic crash rang out.  We had raised the microphone up, directly into the ceiling fan that was only about 2 feet above my head.  The microphone looks like you might expect it to when you toss a microphone into a spinning metal fan.  It was our best microphone, and it appears pretty destroyed.  My heart sinks, and for a moment I think about what would have happened if I had raised my hand up above my head instead.  I felt defeated.  Sweat was dripping down onto my hands and laptop as I paused to take it all in.  

Fortunately, we have learned that critical components always need a backup, and even a double backup.  I pulled a spare microphone from one of the other backpacks and after several minutes, was watching the audio amplitude display on my laptop throb.  My salty, sweaty, discouraged, and exhausted frame was revived as the choir leader stepped forward and pierced the night with a bold song.  Within moments the choir joined in and begins to clap.  Is there a more beautiful sound?  

The choir decided to sing all of their pieces together, into one long song.  The choir leader seamlessly transitioned from one piece to the next.  For fifteen or twenty minutes we enjoyed the concert.  I watched Beth just grin and occasionally close her eyes.  I know this is the part she loves the most.  She grew up in a musically talented family, and appreciates the simple rich sounds of an a cappella choir singing praises to God.

We topped the spectacular evening by handing out one of our dum-dum lollipops to all the choir members. Yes, a small thank you, but everyone likes a treat.

Back in the hotel room I go work attempting to fix the microphone. I learned a lot from my dad about how to disassemble and repair electronics, and at first, I was a bit giddy with confidence that I could fix it.  It looked like the metal screen had taken the impact.  But once disassembled, I found that the central portion of the actual microphone element was bent.  Spares are good.

Tonight’s blog post was written using my second pair of reading glasses.  I put my spare pair into service after hefting luggage crushed the pair in my pocket.  We are only a few days into the trip and have managed to need three spares.  Oof.  I’ll try and slow down.  But then again, it’s 1am and the beautiful colors of dawn are just hours away.  What will Sunday bring? Thanks for your continued prayers for the team.