We knew it was going to be difficult.  Clement’s explanation, “It is three hours of climbing”, bounced around in my head as Cyrus and I rode in the back of the truck bed, red dust billowing behind.  Cyrus smiled as we pulled away from the last police checkpoint, their armored vehicle parked in the shade, with soldiers relaxing nearby.  We were heading to the end of the road.

“We are here!” Clement energetically shared.  The road abruptly ended at the foot of a small mountain.  The gleam of metal roofs, high above, marked our first goal.  With excitement, we strode across the small river where children were helping their mothers with laundry.  The climb up to the “hanging village”, provided no warmup.  The trail just went up.  It was not long before our speed up the mountain was regulated by our heavy breathing.  Our strides shortened and our progress slowed as we felt the full strength of the equatorial sun above the clear skies. “Oburoni!” a small child in undies exclaimed as we rounded an adobe house and zigzagged higher thru the dense warren.  Soon, small kids were giggling and chanting in unison “O-Bu-Ro-Ni, O-Bu-Ro-Ni, O-Bu-Ro-Ni” as we labored by.  They returned my occasional smile while gulping for air with vigorous waves and more laughing.

Soon, the Akyode dwellings began to thin, and we joined a trail headed down to a river.  While the hanging village does have “network” (mobile phone service) and electricity, only footpaths connect the town to supplies, from firewood and rice to water.  The rocky trail meandered up and down, and we were thankful for the short break in climbing.  Sturdy children and mothers in the colorful dresses of Africa passed in both directions carrying laundry and fresh water.  Ghanaian children are taught how to persevere.  They are not sitting in the shade, waiting for something exciting.  Life is full.  As we crested an embankment we saw the cool waters below.  Young boys and girls stood tall, waiting for pans of water to be placed on their heads. Eight-year-old girls did laundry with babies on their backs.  Life is now. The children too large to be carried but too small to carry water splashed in the water, playing.  Life is beautiful.

I looked down at the sweat dripping onto my shoes. The trail pushed up through the forest toward the peak. Oof.  The heat and terrain turned the 5.25 mile hike into a very strenuous three hour workout.  The beauty of Ghana and the anticipation of reaching the village propelled us forward.

After several hours of hiking, we could almost smell the smoke of the cooking fires in the village.  A small house!  I glanced at my wrist — three hours had elapsed.  Soon we were crossing an empty soccer field toward a joyful group of youth sprinting toward us. We were almost knocked over as Beauty, the fastest and most energetic of the young ladies leaped toward us.  Beauty had the kind of smile that you cannot turn away from. It was a Psalm of praise written as a smile.  

Our shoulders sang with their own praises as our backpacks fell to the dusty floor and we took a moment to take in and celebrate our accomplishment. Beth and Marianne were already meeting people and starting conversations.  I was trying to reconstitute myself, from a gel to a solid. 

Before long, it was time for the second most important activity, a visit to the Chief.  We were received warmly.  Putting our previous experience to use, we slide from our chairs, squatted, looked down, and attempted to join in unison the requisite replies to the Chief’s greetings.  “We come in Peace” Clement explained.  We were once again offered water and then begin formal introductions.  Forty or so curious children stood quietly nearby, only occasionally needing a “ssssssssssss” (the Ghanaian equivalent to “Shhhhhhh”).  We wrapped up with smiles and a photo.  Our friends have been working in the village for a couple of years. All was well.

A warm and hearty meal brought restoration. Speaking quietly, we learned of just a few of the challenges faced by the small village.  For more than two years, they have each worked tirelessly to reach the people of the remote village with kindness and love to share the Good News.  There are no churches here, just a small Bible study.  The recent conflicts have disrupted daily life.  A few weeks ago, a police helicopter landed on the soccer field and troops walked around the town before leaving.  The show of force has left the town of only 1500 cautious.  School has been cancelled.  Compounding this recent issue, respected authority figures in the community have told residents that if they become educated, they cannot serve the idols spread across the village.  Our hearts are broken for the people of this village.

Yet there is hope. Friends have been sharing peace and showing the youth what Jesus taught – to love God and love your neighbor.  Their faces beam with true joy. The Chief has allowed Clement to show the Jesus Film outside a home.

With an orange moon hanging over the village, Mars, Jupiter, and Venus all made an appearance, lined up across the inky sky.  Chilly and still, the night air breaths vigor back into my exhausted body.  More than one hundred gathered to watch the video in Gikyode (the language of the Akyode).  Beth, Marianne, and I pulled chairs into the darkness, beside the attentive audience, and just soaked it all in, snapped photos, and prayed.  At the end of the movie Clement spoke to the crowd, prayed, and everyone quietly returned to their homes.  Minutes later, we were laying on our mattresses, listening to the sheep.

The School of Fun

After a quick breakfast, we strolled to the school.  Even with school cancelled, about a third of the young children have donned their school uniforms and play outside the empty classrooms.  Their eyes are bright and attentive.  Small grins of curiosity flash across even the most stoic and cautious of the children.  The irresistible draw of learning pulls them toward us.  With the headmaster giving his approval and selecting a young man as translator, Beth steps forward with confidence and smiles.   “OK! We are going to teach you a song.  Boys stand here, Girls stand over there”.  The kids are unsure.  How will they participate?   It feels like as many are looking at each other, to understand how to react, as those looking at Beth.  She starts with the girls.  “You will sing this:  Hallelu! Hallelu! Hallelu! Hallelujah!”.  Before long, the girls are in unison, singing freely.  “Ok, now it is time for the boys” Beth explains.  I moved to a position in front of the boys and young men to help bolster their timid voices.  Sing “Praise ye the Lord” Beth instructs.  The boys have weak sauce.  I flail my arms and belt it out like Pavarotti. Their giggles and smiles provide fuel.  With laughter and joy Beth leads the kids in faster and faster rounds, instructing the school kids to squat when they don’t sing and leap to their feet when it is their turn to praise.   WOW.  Applause and cheers end the song time.

Then Marianne takes the lead.  With a strong clear voice she explains that they will learn a true story from the Bible.  After Marianne shares how Jesus calmed a storm while standing in a fishing boat, we pull together the children to help act out the story.  Six children holding hands form the boat.  A tall young lady in a tidy pinstripe dress is assigned the part of Jesus.  Two small boys tag along as the disciples – our boat was small. Everyone else gets to be wind and waves.    Marianne tells it once again, and again, and again – each time the actors playing their parts with increasing enthusiasm.  With a little prompting, one of the older school kids is ready to tell the story on their own.  We provided encouraging smiles and nods as the young man repeats the story.  How wonderful.

A small village with no electricity, no internet, and reached via a three hour walk from the nearest Ghanaian road.  Two young adults, dedicated to sharing the Good News of Jesus live in that village. The work is hard.  The opposition from traditional authority figures is real.  

The next morning, scattered clouds, high and thin across the sky provided relief from the heat as we followed the trail back to the final river crossing, where Ray was waiting.  As we hiked, my pack was lighter, yet my thoughts were occasionally heavier.  The faith, courage, and strength of the young Ghanaians serving here in Northern Ghana is humbling, and I was feeling the weight of self-reflection.  I know the Ghanaians appreciate that Beth and I have helped them build the BiblePlus program over the last 13 years, yet every trip to Ghana forces me to reflect on the obvious – I learn more from their faith, courage, and strength than they do from me.  The trip was a powerful reminder.  Thank you, Lord.