There is a rhythm, a pattern that I seem to rediscover each time we begin the journey to Africa. The blue “Purchase” button on the United Airlines website is the critical first step.  Commitment.  We will go. Ambiguous phrases such as “we are hoping” and “we intend to” or “it might work out that we go to Africa” are suddenly replaced with words that make an anxious tug every time we speak them aloud to family, friends, and colleagues: “we are going to Ghana on January 12^th”.  From that mouse click until arrive in Africa, we are preparing – our hearts, our gear, our work. Commitment.  Preparation.  Ray and the team in Ghana prepare local choirs, Bible stories, the 4×4 truck, guest houses, and local pastors.  From our side of the planet, Beth and I focus on logistics and technology, from the spare microphone to the azithromycin.

Growing up in Galesburg Illinois, surrounded by farms, prairies, and a patchwork of hardwood forests, I often dreamed of worlds far away. Heinlein and Asimov took me to planets with clever robots and blasters. I joined Heyerdahl sailing the pacific on a raft of balsa.  Wonderful stories, both imagined and true. Narratives that cracked open the possible.  Yet for me, those stories focused me on the technical – the gear, the maps, the skills required.  Read the appendix of “Through the Brazilian Wilderness” by Theodore Roosevelt if you want a meticulous, if not occasionally tedious, explanation of expedition outfitting, from the books and maps to the knives and clothes used by Roosevelt during his harrowing exploration.

Africa has taught me that the most essential preparation for the work in Ghana is my heart.  Preparation has a list.  My heart? There is no checklist.  We have spreadsheets and timelines for gear and travel.  But is my heart ready? No. Adrenaline, anxiety, and nine checked bags keep me planning and preparing.  Thoughts about work at the Lab keep the nooks and crannies of my mind racing. My narrative is still physical — an unfolding story driven by Roosevelt-style provisioning and learning.

My heart. I’m unprepared.  Time for prayer and quiet. 

A quick summary of a long day. It is easy to forget the remoteness of Northern Ghana. After a short one hour flight from Accra we were in Tamale, looking for our bags. It is hot and dry. No rain. No clouds. Just equatorial sun and smiling faces. Look a Ghanaian in the eyes and offer an energetic Good Morning, and a beaming smile will always be returned. Beth and I decided it was the opposite of walking down a the street of a large American city. In Ghana, people are eager to engage.

Mike and Joanna are doing great on their first trip to Ghana. They have learned our expression “That’s just the way I like it,” which we eagerly call out after someone points out something uncomfortable or difficult.

I took over driving from Ray, so he could get a break. He had driven all the way from Accra days earlier. Driving is always a challenge (and that’s just the way I like it). Even with intense focus on the road, looking for hidden holes, speed bumps, and goats, I occasionally struck a hole hard enough for Mike to get bumped out of his seat and whack his head on the roof of the truck (which is just the way he likes it). We were thinking I was maybe averaging about 16 miles per roof whack.

Throughout the day we noticed many brush fires set by hunters waiting to club grasscutters and large rats. Ray explained it is not legal, and very dangerous, since the fires can easily get out of control and burn huts and towns.

Clement is one of the OneWay Africa missionaries. He spends his days engaging with the people of Chereponi, a village among the Anufo people. He met with the pastors and leaders of the churches in the area to prepare them for our recordings. People practiced telling their testimonies, Bible Stories and teachings as well as Community Health Information. Oh, and of course one of our favorites of the recording trips, the choirs! Today we presented him with a gift from OneWay, a “Vista 500,” which contains everything needed to show videos in the bush from Jesus Film Project and LUMO Gospel Films. In the evenings, he rides his motor bike off into remote villages to show these movies. Good job, Clement, preparing the people for the recordings, and sharing God’s love with the Anufo people!!

My heart is full. I’m prepared for Sunday morning.

Such a wonderful Sunday. Hard work. Long hours, and worth every moment. Pictures first, and **movies** (they are fun!), story below.

WOW! Such a wonderfully full and joy filled day of solid work. Thanks to the amazing work of Clement and the local pastors and choir leaders from all of the churches in the Chereponi area, we were booked solid, all day, just the way we like it. In our first day of recording, we left with 33 tracks. From early morning with a small church where Mike preached, to a hilltop where we recorded choirs and Bible stories into the night, we were busy dancing, recording, and learning about the unique Anufo people. Every tribe is different. Sometimes it is easy for me to think of the many languages across Ghana, and forget that each culture, each tribe, has their own customs, music, and food. In many ways it is like Europe, with French, German, Italian, Norwegian, and Portuguese all getting squished into a country the size of Oregon. Naturally, there are many similarities, but also wonderfully unique styles. The Anufo enjoy dance music. Talking drums, rattles, djembe, gourds, and large clay pots are all part of the celebration. We recorded most of the choirs outside, because they were just too loud for any room. The dancing and shaking brought the music alive, and a cloud of red dust began to swirl around the singers as they moved from song to song, stamping and spinning.

It is humbling and heals my heart to see the authenticity of joy shared by the Anufo today.

I apologize for the late post, but we were working well well into the night, and we were just too exhausted. Catching people up with photos, movies, and then story… The captions provide some context.

We are safe, just exhausted.  We have been working well into the night each day. Morning comes too soon.  We know, this pattern is not sustainable, but there are so many people we hope to record, we just can’t turn away the joyful music, Bible stories, and community health messages.  

We bumped over rocks and across bowls full of fine red dust. We are fortunate it is dry season. I can’t imagine these roads after a few days of rain.  When we arrived in the small small village, a few choir members were sitting in the shade patiently waiting.  Waiting is part of life here, and nobody taps their watch expectantly or flashes a scowl when activities start long after everyone expected.

As church leaders started organizing, a shady spot beside the school become the studio.  Benches were carefully arranged into a “U”, and I set up a small table at the entrance, with the microphone on the tripod.  Drums and shakers are normally quite loud, and they can easily overpower the voices of the singers, so I asked the percussion section to stand behind the benches.  As the regally dressed choir members started sitting down, small children and families from the town started gathering as well, to watch the spectacle. 

I asked the choir leader, a strong and distinguished man with a deeply weathered face and a powerful voice to start a song as practice, so I check the sound. I also indicated the leader, or “caller” would need to stand close to the microphone to balance his single voice against the whole choir. So he confidently strode up to the mic, folded his arms, and started belting out some magnificent praise songs, while the choir sat anemically on the benches, disorganized and clearly without zeal.  After a bit of translated discussion, it became clear — choirs don’t sing.  Nope.  Choirs dance, and then happen to sing along to their dancing.

Ladies arrived with large basins of water and wet down the dusty red dirt surrounding the lead singer. Moments later, the choir had left the confining benches and pressed in toward their choir director.  The percussion section pushed forward into the back of the scrum, and before we knew it, the dancing turned into joyful singing.

As each song grew more intense, more joyful, and more fun, the assembled audience pressed in closer. Anufo songs are simple. They are repeated phrases, 1 or 2 sentences long. So the audience found themselves either singing along or grooving to the music. 

Before we knew it, 8 to 10 songs had been recorded, and the choir was packing up to leave. Wonderful sweet music can’t last forever, but it was a joy while we had the chance to drop in and experience the culture of the Anufo.  So why were we up so late?  I’ll have to write that up in the morning, it’s 1:00am…

Full days. Great days. Exhausting days. Days with adversity — just the way we like it.

Quickly catching everyone up….

Yesterday (Wednesday) we drove across Ghana, from East to West.  From Chereponi, just a few miles from the Togo border, we meandered back down to Tamale, and then on to Tuna, on the far West side of Ghana.  We are less than 20 miles from Burkina Faso and Ivory Coast. Once again, to give Ray a break from driving the punishing roads of Northern Ghana, I sat behind the wheel as we dodged goats, donkey carts, lorries teetering across speed bumps, and holes that can swallow wheels and break axels. 

As we pulled out of Chereponi, we had prepared a surprise for Ray…. Even with the greatest care, Ray’s Nissan HardBody pickup truck has been beaten, battered, and bruised over the years.  The hard life of Northern Ghana quickly rattles everything loose, from the rear-view mirror and battery cable to the passenger’s kidneys and teeth.   Ray’s CD player stopped working years ago.  So as we pulled out of Chereponi I turned on the Bluetooth speaker we brought into the cab, and from my phone, fired up the Wheaton Gospel Choir: Legacy 25  – one of Ray’s all time favorite CDs.  The first song is ideal for a 10 hour trip across harsh paths to land of the Birifor. The lyrics begin:

Who will go?
I Will…
Who will go? 
I will…
Who will go?
I will…
Carry on!
Take his message of love to the Nations, every man, woman, boy and girl
[…]
I need to go, wanna go, gotta go…
Carry on!
I need to go, wanna go, gotta go…

You can listen to the track below…..

Or use this link, if embedded player above does not work: [The Link]

Ray’s shocked look of joy said it all… It had been years since he had the music he loved playing in the truck.  Within moments, we were all singing and clapping along to the album.  Still, even with great music, a dangerous and rough road can be exhausting. But we took the opportunity to talk, sing, and learn each other’s stories.  Did you know Joanna enjoys linguistics?  Who could have known that Beth broke up with me in College, and then realized that even though I was socially inept, I had potential ? ?  Did you know Mike worked for Caterpillar designing control systems for massive machines and can explain how solenoids are designed?  How about that Ray tried to propose to his wife with a letter?   When we weren’t wincing from a massive pothole strike, or singing along to music, we shared great conversation.

About an hour away from Tuna, we passed the Mole National Park.  As if on cue, a troop of baboons crossed the road.  At the final junction, we met Cyrus, one of the OneWay Africa motorcycle missionaries in this part of Ghana. Cyrus worked with Emmanual, a local pastor who speaks the Birifor language — our next “nation”.  Cyrus earned a degree in Petroleum Engineering, before answering the question “Who will go?” with “I WILL!”.  

Today (Thursday) we started our work at small local church.  Chickens clucked and goats wandered around the small home of Pastor Emanual, as we set up the tripod, microphone, and began our work.  In the nearby church building, Mike gave a three-hour training class to about 10 local leaders.  

The highlight of the day was recording the small church choir.  Pastor Emanual provided accompaniment with a locally built Marimba (which they call a Xylophone).  In the 10 years of trips to Ghana, this is the first Marimba we have heard.  The mellow tones of the rich brown wooden keys resonated into small gourds hanging below each note. Crowded around the microphone, two men and two women sang. Behind the colorful quartet a drummer provided rhythm. This first set was “praise music” — fast and energetic.  After a few minutes of resisting, the others in the church broke away from their seats and began bouncing, shaking, and stomping to the music.  

After a water break, the group moved into their “worship music”, which was slower, and more reverent. I closed my eyes and just soaked it all in. The singers raised their hands in joy and sang out, not with perfect intonation or precision multi-part harmony, but with heart, with joy, with arms lifted up, with thankfulness.  

We finished our work at about 11pm this evening, and I’m up trying to get some photos uploaded and equipment charged, By 7am, we will be starting again. 

Long days. Hard days.  Full days. Great days. Thankful and joyful days.