Looking Up!



Look up, or look down--the choice is yours!


When you come to Africa, you have two choices, you can look down at all the poverty, the disease, the smells and the corruption, or you can look up and see beauty in everything—the beautiful people, the beautiful country, the beautiful spirit round about. Your mission then, becomes what you make of it; essentially you choose. No-one can describe Africa and really do it justice. The best way to describe Africa is really to say it’s indescribable. To step off the plane coming from America, one becomes quickly saturated and sensory overloaded. The climate immediately envelopes you as you feel the sweltering heat and humidity—it can smother you, or it can warm you. The choice is yours. 

You open your eyes to see the reality of living in a country riddled with disease and poverty—a beggar on the street with long-ago contorted limbs from polio on one corner, and on the next a man urinating in the gutter (could you please just turn away from traffic!). You can blink and in the next instant have your vision filled with a beautiful young mother walking down the sidewalk whose dark flawless skin sets off a contrasting huge beautiful smile; a baby strapped effortlessly to her back soundlessly sleeping, a basket of eggs balanced effortlessly on her head, and a basket of laundry in her arms. You'll see what you want to see. The choice is yours.

The smells can abhor you or delight you. At first you may notice the air in the city wherever you go smells just a little off—like standing downwind from a dump and the wind just never changes direction. The gutters truly do smell like sewer. Well as far as the smells delighting you—this is coming I’m sure, because that’s what I’ve been told, so I’m just going to keep “looking up” until I find that delightful smell. The choice is mine (ok, give me some time, I'm working on it).

One can avoid the native tastes altogether because there is always chicken and rice. You might say that chicken and rice can be your savior (when it comes to food that is). But you might say that chicken and rice can be a safety net that one clings to, not allowing you to experience the cultural delicacies: fish-head soup, goat soup, fu-fu, banku, and our new favorite jollof rice.  The choice is yours.

Your ears will experience a wide range of sounds—the birds are boisterous for lack of a better term. There is a pair of large black birds with very long tails that sit next to each other on the roof in the morning, each bobbing counter to the other while emitting the loudest, screechiest, funniest noise you have ever heard. The bats are humongous and when they fly in swarms you hear what sounds like a freight train of high pitched screams. You hear a man caning his child by the side of the road. You hear people sweeping their yards, you hear the hawkers yelling at traffic, you hear the never ending torrent of horns of the traffic (You can drive a car without doors. You can drive a car without an engine—trust me it just takes a couple of men pushing. You can drive a car without any traffic rules whatsoever. You can even drive a car with a goat strapped to the top, but you can’t drive a car if the horn is broken!) You can walk by a church and hear the most uplifting music you have ever heard. It’s not that anyone really sings on key, it’s just that everyone sings with their whole heart and soul. You hear everything, but focus on what you want. The choice is yours.




Africa is beautiful--need I say more!



A village on Pediatorkope Island

Heading out on the Volta River

That said, we had the most wonderful experience on Tuesday. I think we’ve seen the best, the most beautiful, and the worst, the most heart-wrenching, parts of Ghana all in the same place. We had the opportunity to travel to Pediatorkope island. We toured the health clinic. We toured the school. We met the most happy people I have ever seen! This place is an island on the Volta river (about three hours west of Accra—close to the Togo border). The island is about 12 miles long and has several villages. There is no power. There is essentially no running water. There is a health clinic and a school. We went for two reasons: first to see one of the humanitarian projects at the island school. The second is to see the little boy I wrote of previously with a hole in his neck--he goes to a nearby school.

I’ll start with the best part—the island school (about 250 kids).  We were so touched with the children. I’m not really sure how to describe it—it’s kind of like walking into the temple where you are so warmly greeted and welcomed. Everyone is happy and smiling! You could just stand for hours watching the kids play, and have the best entertainment ever. Once the kids see you however, you get swarmed. Boy do they love to have their pictures taken. The experience truly was indescribable—that’s all I can say. I’ve never seen a poorer people anywhere. I’ve never seen happier people anywhere!



The Island School (after the kids went back to class)





These kids swarm you when you bring out a camera

Another Beautiful Face

And Another



The Kids are Eating Corn  and Bags of Rice



I can't help it, we've got tons of photos of these kids.



My favorite--the photo of the day!

The kids were crazy over the camera.



The school has no electricity, hence the humanitarian project. There is a company called empower (started by one of the senior missionary couples from a few years ago). Anyway they have engineered a merry-go-round and a swing-set that turn a generator. The generator charges a large battery in the school and this in turn charges about 40 or 50 lanterns that can be taken home for the kids to study in groups of three or four. It’s amazing.

On the path to the island school



Merry-go-round charging generator



The people on the island gather clams from the river. Really they dive for them. We passed all these fishing boats on the way. Each had an air compressor and a garden hose with someone on the bottom of the river clamming, while they breathed from the garden hose. The villages were paved with the shells, and in the center of each little family compound they usually had huge mounds of clam shells.

Old water cisterns--they bury them half in the ground to collect drinking water

We met with a man named Jacob who is a nurse stationed at the Pediatorkope clinic. He is very kind. He must be very charitable and compassionate, for he took this assignment when most others wouldn’t. Apparently is very hard to find someone who accepts the assignment to the island clinic. The clinic itself has a solar panel so a few of the rooms have a light. I just don’t know what to say—again it’s indescribable. We walked through this place and were delighted on one hand with the people and their caring nature, but aghast at the conditions of the clinic. I can’t say anymore. It was so surreal-like watching a movie. The clinic contains a nursery (antenatal room), recovery room, delivery room, exam room, the instrument tray, the laboratory, and the dispensary. I’ll have to write in my personal journal my true feelings and just let the photos describe to you the rest.  I’m not sure what kind of time restraints we have, but we hope to come out with a few missionaries and a couple gallons of paint and spend a few Saturdays there in hopes of improving the conditions a bit. We really need a new roof, new paint, new supplies, new bedding…the list is long, long, long. You really can’t describe it. The pictures really can’t show everything. Our hearts wear torn. We were truthfully glad to hear that most mothers had their births at home, rather than in the clinic. In a way, it was kind of a sacred experience. It’s inconceivable to see a people so primitive and yet so incredibly happy. I just can’t say any more.

The maternity wing

The single exam room



Exam room in the maternity wing

The nursery

The instrument table

Actually a pretty nice immunization room

We saw Andrew as well. He has a whole in his neck. It bothers him. He is losing weight. Sometimes food comes out. Sometimes it hurts him. About a year ago, he had a boil on the front of his neck that was lanced by a village healer, and the wound never closed. I saw him. His teacher brought him out of class to see me. He seemed embarrassed. He was shy. I took pictures and video. Our hearts broke a little more. We have another project here with Andrew. He needs a surgery that I’m not sure we can provide here in Ghana. He is a beautiful kid. I could go on and on, but will save it for another day.

Over all our hearts are full. We stay busy.

...Elder and Sister Fife