Final Farewell

Pending some amazing experience in the next two days this will most likely be the last post of this blog. I hope that you have all enjoyed reading and getting a first hand account of life in Ghana. I am excited to finally return home to Sara and Baby Syd whom I have missed dearly these past 5 weeks. I thought that I would throw together a quick slide show of many of my pictures from the trip. You may have already seen some of these, but I hope you enjoy a compilation. I will say that it is mostly directed towards Sara and Syd, and I thought about just sending it to them, but know that the rest of you would like to see the pictures too. So you will have to just put up with the mushy song. To Sara, I love you and can't wait to see you again!

Thanks everyone for your love and support. I will see you all soon.

Jeff

Handing out Underwear

I headed west on Wednesday. Today I ventured east. With my supervising attorney, his wife, and another young couple here doing non profit work, I explored the Valta river delta. If you look on the map from the previous post you will see the really big lake. That's Lake Valta. Follow the river south until you get to the ocean. That's where I took the pictures below. The trip has so deeply appealed to Dave (my supervising attorney) and his wife (Kathy) that they love the excuse to head out there anytime. This trip was their fourth, and they were not complaining. Dave and Kathy met in Jackson Hole way back when they were my age. They were both working summer jobs and sought after adventure. They adventured into one another and the rest is history. Dave attended law school and became a successful lawyer, while Kathy taught school and raised a beautiful family. They have now left the family behind but continue in their other capacities, Dave supervising legal activities for the church, and Kathy volunteering at orphanages and schools around Ghana. They truly are some of the greatest people. The pictures below will speak for themselves, and there was no real amazing story or theme to pass along. As we were loading the boat Kathy had a large sack of cookies with her. I thought it kind to bring us treats, but we definitely did not need a whole bag. I only understood why when Kathy saw skimpy clad children along the beaches begging for us to come to shore. When Kathy saw a large enough crowd she directed the boat to dock. The children literally rushed the boat with excitement. She handed me the bag with the smile, "I will let you hand them out." Because I was distributing the cookies I didn't get any pictures, but I did get some of the other couple handing out underwear. It was touching. I've never seen anyone so happy to get underwear. We got a tour of the island from our guide who was very kind. I hope you enjoy the pictures. I enjoyed the experience.

Democracy at Work

I got some field training today. At the suggestion of my BYU advisor I asked my supervising attorney for an opportunity to spend a day or two with the local counsel for the church. In other words, I did "real" legal work today. I don't really how much I am allowed to talk about, especially in such a public place as this blog. But essentially, the church had an option on property adjacent to the church building which fronted the road. Through the course of much runaround another owner built a small temporary business on the property. To put this in a polite way, the business was "counter the interests" of the church and "desecrated" the property. Today we met with the city council to try and resolve the issue. The adventure began when I found out the city was a three hour drive and the meeting was scheduled to begin at 9:00. So it was a 5:00 am walk up call this morning. I jumped in the 96 Mercedes of the local counsel, Ted Goh, and off we went to Sekondi-Takoradi. You will see it at the bottom left of the map you are looking at.

The drive took us along the coast and was not short on good scenic views. I've decided that Africa never sleeps, and even at 5:45 in the morning the streets of Accra were packed with vendors and cars. I have never driven in a 3^rd world country before, and frankly I am not going to complain about it. All signs and lights are only suggestions in an attempt to keep some order. Commuting in Ghana is nothing short of Darwin at his finest. Survival of the fittest. At one point we past a speed limit sign of 50 kilometers per hour, I happened to glace at his speedometer – 160. You math majors can tell me what that is in mph, but it felt like 130. We did get pulled over at one police check point. But when he saw we were lawyers, he just laughed, told us to slow down, and sent us on our way. Ted told me it's because they know they can't ask lawyers for bribes. Ted spent his high school years in Minnesota on an exchange scholarship. He came back to Ghana after graduation and attended law school here. He has done fairly well for himself, considering the state of most of his fellow Ghanaians. We talked politics a little. He was interested in Mitt Romney, and wanted to know how he made all his money. When I told him that he was a professional clean up man, we joked about how much it would cost to get him to Ghana. The presidential elections in Ghana take place this coming December. Various organizations and groups have posted banners urging the people to have a peaceful election. Ghana fell victim to a series of military coups through the 80's and 90's. Only since 2000 has there been a peaceful transition of power through democratic elections. Ted said he respects America for what they are able to do. He knows that the problems of Americans differ in many respects than those of Ghanaians, but admires the country's commitment as a whole to democracy. As we drive we pass under a bridge with a left over 50 year celebration banner from last year's festival Ghana's independence from Great Britain. Ted speaks of how, after 50 years of owning their own land many of the same problems that existed then remain. If the people respected democracy as American's, he thought, these problems would have been solved years ago. The people would be respected and helped by their government, not enslaved and exploited.

We arrive at the government offices at 8:59. In a bit of a hurry we jostle up the stairs. The chief executive has not even arrived for the day yet, neither has the opposing counsel, nor the other members of the city council. In fact, the secretary has no idea what "meeting" we are talking about. I smile and think about what Ted said about respect for democracy. Ted has to show her the letter that scheduled the meeting and then push her to get everything organized. We are let into the chambers of the executive to wait. At 9:16 he shows up, and graciously greets us as if nothing is wrong. He decides it would be best to wait for the other counsel. After an hour and a half, we are told that the notification letter was never delivered to opposing counsel. Accordingly, they most likely will not arrive. (Ted later tells me that the opposing party is a son of a prominent man. He thinks the non-deliverance is an effort to thwart the churches efforts). Ted pushes to do the meeting without them, to let us present our case. It's a good thing he does too. The meeting lasts about 30 minutes in which Ted presented the churches arguments. They all seemed to agree, and since no one was there to disagree, they directed us the steps we needed to take to resolve the issue. We left with smiles. I begin to realize that Ted understands life as a lawyer in Africa.

Next we stop at the recorder's office in this same city to retrieve some records regarding another dispute. Ted had dropped off a formal retrieval request the week before. The manager does not remember ever seeing any such request. Once again, Ted pushes. The request is found, but nothing has been done on it. Ted asks how long will it take. He tells us to come back at 3:00 that afternoon. Ted says we will see him then. As we walk out the door, I ask if we are going to wait. "no," he says, "but I want it to be ready next week."

By now the sun had risen and the heat soaked the car. We next drove to Cape Coast to try an locate more documents for another dispute going on in this district. Ted has established a little more amicable relations with this registrar. In fact, there was a long line outside his door. But like the traffic, lines are subject to other right-of-ways and we walked straight in and received an audience. I forgot to mention that Ted carried 4 cell phones with him. One for each provider in the country. Depending where you are he uses a different phone. This whole time he has been switching through phones trying to talk to someone back in Accra. Our last stop is the High Court Building in downtown Cape Coast to get a copy of the docket from a case a few years ago. I get to see my first courtroom. The bench where the judge sits is nice. Fine wood, polished and shiny. I look to where the people are to sit. Well, the picture will speak for itself. I think about the state of the democracy again.

Because we are close Ted invites me to walk into Cape Coast Castle. It is actually an old slave trade fort. I believe it is the only one in Ghana open to the public. They wanted 8 dollars to go into the dungeon, but we didn't have time. I looked out over the ocean and tried to imagine what took place here just under 200 years ago. In fact, the reason Britain ended up colonizing Ghana was to arrest the Ashanti people from selling other tribes to illegal European slave traders. Evidently their problems with democracy have a long history. But who am I to judge. It took millions of lives in our own country in the most savage war of our short history to end slavery. The authority of a democracy was a primary, if not the controlling issue of the conflict.

Well, this has gone on too long. Eventually we made it home. At one point it rained so hard that I literally could not see the break lights of the car in front of us. The highlights of the drive was our lunch at a beachfront resort. Dressed in my tie I felt like a CIA agent straight from Alias or something. I also enjoyed the "Lion King trees." At least that is what I called them. I tried to get a good picture, but the speed of the car and the height of the trees made it difficult. Eventually, around 6 pm we strolled back into Alema Court. I thank Ted for his generosity. I invited him out to Utah sometime and tell him I'll buy him lunch at Burger King. He laughs and says he would like that. "I don't think there will be a Burger King here anytime soon."

Fabric and Beach Holiday

Today is Ghanaian "Republic Day." To celebrate the office closed down today. With the day off I finally made it to a fabric store for all those wonderful ladies in may life who live and die by quilting. Brother Woodward and I also tried to approach "Oso Castle." It's not really a castle, but an old Danish Forth that has been transformed into the seat of government. It is kept off limits, and photographs are not allowed. I did take a picture facing the other direction, down the beach. You can see the garbage along the sand. Ghanaians have not really realized the concept of "beach front property." Well, not real fun stories today. At the beach three little boys, I'd guess around 10 or 11 followed us around, laughing and giggling. Elder Woodward took their picture and they thought it was the funniest thing to see themselves inside a little silver box. I spent most of the day online searching for summer employment for next summer. If any of you are looking for a fairly average summer legal associate, let me know. Alright, on to the pictures, the real reason anyone checks this blog.

The Barter System

I don't really have too much to add today. I was hoping for a more eventful Saturday, but when both sister Westerby and Sister Woodward both fell ill Saturday morning I knew I was on my own. I took advantage of the down time. I read, went shopping, wandered through town a little. I bought a few souvenirs at a local market and braved a few more photos. The local artisans (and wannabe artisans) have gathered themselves into small groupings of shops. The "pit" which I spoke about a few weeks ago is one such place. I visited another today. These small commercial areas rely more upon charity than any good economic theory. Every little "shop" carries the exact designs over and over again through there is some variety in quality. One could literally spend hours without moving more than 20 yards and see hundreds of the relatively same carved lion. The sheer volume of supply makes negotiation almost too easy on the part of the buyer. I have now learned that I should start the bidding. If I let them start, I would almost feel bad lowering it down. They usually start up in the 20 dollar range for things we would find at the local dollar store. That said, these people live in meager circumstances and the majority of the salesmen also create the items by hand. So I play the game. On this particular outing I purchased Sara some bracelets and a necklace. At the necklace store we bartered back and forth. I originally offered 1 cedi (which equals 1 dollar) for a blue beaded necklace and a key chain in the shape of Ghana. She smiled, laughed a bit, and in a soft, polite tone acted shocked. Normally the necklace is three Cedi all by itself she said. The logic behind the pricing was quite natural. The necklace 3, the bracelets 2, the key chains 1. The game began. Having had the logic explained I offered 3 for both the necklace and the key chain. She hesitated. I had offered her 1 cedi less than she was hoping for. She glanced around the area. Customers were fairly scarce. In fact I had not seen a single other person looking to purchase anything. I was probably the only customer she had all day, if not all month. "3.50" she replied. She was taking some chances. I thought about running my usual routine. Normally, having had my price rejected, I put the items down and begin to look at the next shop over. This almost always works, yet I am a bit hesitant this time. During her hesitation, I too had noticed the absence of customers. I accept the offer. I give her a four 1 cedi bills and ask for change. Diligently she sets out looking for fifty cents in the back of her shop. After about 3 minutes she immerges holding the money out for me to take. She is honest, and I appreciate that. She could have said she had no change and tried to force my hand for the full 4 cedis. I smile and tell her to keep the change. At this her eyes catch fire as her smile would have lightened even the darkest of those shops. As I walked away I wondered what 50 cents would buy in her world. In the end she got her full four cedis, but I got to play the game and pretend to be generous.

A few minutes later I arrived at another shop with fairly stylish bracelets. I start off with my usual offer of 1 cedi. He laughs, and tells me they are usually 3. I smile, and continue to examine the products. He has a second bracelets that is not as good, but comparable. I offer 3 cedi for the both of them. "It's buy one get one free day" I say to him. At first he hesitates, "no, no promotion today" he says, as if there are days when it does happen. This time I go through the routine. I set the bracelets back on the table and thank him for his time. As I begin to walk away, as always, he stops me. "you are a nice man. Just because I like you I will give you your promotion." I got both for 3.

On the walk home I wonder about the ethics of bartering poverty. That night, I show the bracelet to Sara and ask her what she thinks one would pay for it in the US. She guesses between 7 to 10 dollars. I guess I did a good job of going directly to the source.

Here are just a few more pictures from my walk.

Love you all - Jeff

Some pics of work and worship

This is where I worship

This is where I work

An American Party in a 3rd World Country

I am a few days late, but I thought I would give you a little update on my past couple of days:

Saturday night I got to socialize for the first time with a General Authority. As some of the couple missionaries were headed home in the next few weeks, the Area Presidency hosted a party at his house for all the expatriates and missionaries who work at the office. All three members of the Area Presidency are either in the first or second quorum of the seventy making them official "general authorities." I spoke a little with all three, but mostly with an Elder Goldman. He was a charming man from South Africa. The whole evening struck me as a great contrast to the morning I had wondering around some of the poorest areas of Accra. I sat and looked around the room. A wide assortment of colorful dishes decorated the tops of the three tables that had been cleared for the party. Cookies, chips, hot rolls, avocado dip, fresh vegetables, pasta salads, potato salad, just to name a few. And it didn't just look good, it tastes delicious. The whole affair, in the spacious house with vaulted ceilings evoked emotions of guilt. I looked around the room again. All white. Except for the maid. I am not sure what it is about prosperity that makes us feel guilty. I mean, I don't think celebrating in a manner customary to Americans is inappropriate, even if it is a bit glutinous. So what that just less than 3 miles away there were young children huddled up under a shanty in a feces infested slum? What would I have us do? Stop celebrating? Stop thanking God that we are not the ones down at Jamestown? Would God have us all go without until we all have enough? But then I realized that of all the people in that room only two were being paid for their work. Everyone else, including myself, had paid their own way, emptied their pockets, and drained the blessings of prosperity that had so abundantly been given them, in order to serve the people of Ghana. And they served them in the best way they knew how: they taught them the Gospel of Jesus Christ. At this humbling thought my vision changed. I no longer viewed those around me as rich, boisterous, glutinous Americans, but rather humble servants who had undoubtedly given up much grander parties, including births, marriages, graduations, first words, first steps, first dates. These were saints. They had come together to remember why they had come to Ghana in the first place. We would that all could celebrate with vaulted ceilings. They worked everyday that one day all can enjoy a wedding feast with much higher ceilings.

On the way home a beggar tapped on the car window asking for some money. As always King Benjamin preached in my heart, "are we not all beggars?" We gave him some cookies.

On Sunday I decided to sleep in and go to the local ward which commenced at 10:30. The chapel is located on the temple "compound" (that is really what they call it). It is a nice building. A two story building, the stairs are on the outside. The chapel itself is located on the second floor and has a modest wood venire. There were 4 pale faces in the congregation, and none on the stand. Myself, a councilor in the mission presidency, his wife, and a BYU nurse here doing an internship. The meeting was nice, but not as memorable as the previous week. Rob might be interested to know that yes they had a Kawai piano, but it was an electronic and doubled as the organ as well.

Well, I don't have the cord to my camera on me right now so I can't post any pictures. But I will get around to it. Here is at least one more from Jamestown that I didn't put on before

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The City Latrine

This morning Elder Woodward and I went down to find a lighthouse we had read about. Along the way we saw both the "sky scrapers" I had read about (it really did look like a modern city) and what I have termed the city latrine. It used to be a British harbor, the deepest in West Africa so I am told. As you can see from the pictures it has become a slum. Ironically the British named the place Jamestown, just like in Virginia. This economic venture however has turned out disastrously worse. Unlike the Chesapeake, this area stinks of sewage and fish. The people were friendly, and some of the children screamed for us to take their picture, which of course we did. I wish I could tell you more about it, but I just don't know. In the picture below in which Elder Woodward is walking away from me, you can see the prison in the center of the picture. Well, I don't have much time to elaborate today. Hope you like the pictures. Love ya,

Jeff

My Little Maid

I got to sleep in today because the Woodward’s had to pick up a nurse at the airport. I took my time getting out of bed. I awoke an half hour before my alarm, but didn't get up until an half hour after. It was nice to finally rest the legs a little after that long journey through the city. I walked into the bathroom, as we all do at this time in the morning, only to discover that I had guest in the house. Most of us, at least those of us in the desert, are used to household visits in bathroom from our friendly neighborhood bugs. But of all the bugs I have ever seen in a bathroom, this was a first. A lizard. I sat pondering what to do. He was no larger than a quarter. A large spider would give him a fight he would probably lose. But for some reason squashing him just didn't seem right. It is customary, almost expected among arachnids that if they are got in the bathroom they end up in toilet paper and down the drain. I wondered if such customs held true of lizards in Africa? I pondered if I had it in me, to kill a lizard. The small reptile wasn't moving much, so maybe my job was already done. Could he have died there throughout the night? I didn't want to touch him, and didn't have any shoes on so I picked up a nearby empty toilette paper cardboard roll and gently tossed it towards the lizard. It bounced nearby. No movement. "It is dead," I thought, partly rejoicing that I did not have to smoosh him. But to be sure I started tapping the empty role nearby, hoping to startle movement. Nothing. That was why it surprised me to see it jump when I actually touched it with the cardboard. Not much, but enough to be sure that it was indeed alive. I looked closer and could see it breathing. It was suddenly very clear that we were both nervous. He knew his camouflage and small size, the natural defenses had failed him. Yet, he seemed confident and did not run. Almost as if he was unaware of my pondering to send him to a watery grave. This of course brought me back to my original predicament. Could I really kill a harmless lizard. But is it really harmless. What if it had diseases? Could it climb into my bed if I left it here? (I don't know why I always fear bugs in my bed, but I do). As the fear was building, I realized I would have to execute the trespasser. I pondered possible procedures which would avoid actually feeling the bones crunch and a mess on the floor. Starvation seemed possible. After all what would it eat in the house. If I did just leave it there, surely he would starve and die. No, there are too many bugs and flies in this house. He surely would not starve. It was this train of thought that lead to my ultimate conclusion. I realized that having a lizard in the house had many possible benefits. I was fairly sick of many of the bugs, the little ones, like fruit-fly size, that somehow had made it into the apartment. Having a pet lizard to roam about the house wasn't dangerous; it was like having a miniature little maid to clean up after the dirty little bugs. I didn't have to kill this guy, I should thank him. In fact, he probably knew he was helping me, that's why he was not scared. I stood up. My decision was made. I would get dressed, go to work, and let him tightly up the house while I was gone. Surely he would disappear into the cracks and follow the food back out from wense he came. With that, I left the bathroom, got dressed, and went to work.

I had forgotten all about my new maid by the time I made it home this evening. But he had not forgotten about me. When I walked into the bathroom there he was, right in the exact same spot. "Some maid" I thought. He had not even moved one inch. I was so puzzled by his activity that I decided it deserved a blog entry and some pictures. I went through the same thought process all over again. Tonight I would be a kind employer and give it another day. I took some water in my hands and created a small puddle on the floor next to him. I figured he would want to bathe or drink or something. With that I turned out the light. I assume he is still in there, probably sleeping. Maybe I'll see him in the morning. Hopefully he'll quit and go home. If I couldn’t kill him, how am I supposed to fire him?

Ghana Accra Temple

For my presentation I needed some pictures. As such I took the time to wander around the temple grounds a little. Here are some of my pictures I thought you might enjoy.

Love,
Jeff

Ghanaian Hospitality

Today I hit the one week mark! To celebrate I thought I would go on tour. I have been fairly productive at work and felt ahead of schedule. As such I didn’t feel too bad about taking a half day and spending the rest of the afternoon wandering around Accra. I packed my bag with a pair of street cloths, and headed off to work at the usual 7:00 am. Wednesday is “going out to lunch day” for Elder Woodward, and he graciously invited me to tag along. It ended up being EW (Elder Woodward), Me and another expat named Steve, an accountant here for the church. We went to a very western style diner and had chicken kabobs. While we are eating I notice that at every meal I have gone out for so far (a total of 2) I am the only one who uses the local sauces. This one was labeled as “Portuguese hot sauce” and it had a pretty nice kick on it. As most of you know about me, I love mixing and so hey end I had made a fairly consistent and tasty sauce of my own with my Portuguese pepper sauce and American ketchup. It beat even the best article circle fry sauce. The meal was good, and about $5.50, but that included bottled water. It seemed about what you would pay at any such restraint in U.S., but maybe slightly cheaper.
After lunch is when the real fun began. After we returned to the Area office I finished my project that I have been working on (the boss said he was “blown away” by it by the way) and took off into the town. My original intention was to head west into what I have read is “modern Accra” with even “sky scrapers.” Mind you, this was the first time I braved the wild alone and I only had a map from my book that I brought with me. The map didn’t instill great confidence however, because the author himself says that he is yet to see an accurate map of Ghana and Accra. So with that, a bottle of water, and my Lake Powell sandals on, I started west in Accra. I wondered through roads and allies for what seemed like 30 to 40 minutes. I could see from a few blocks distance the “sky scrapers.” (see photo below to judge for yourself). Well, to make a long story a bit less long, I ended up taking a wrong turn and missed Akaraba (modern Ghana) by about 1 km. But lucky for me that I did. I ended walking into the neighboring town of Ossu. Ossu is also a fairly modern part of town, just instead of sky scrapers they have the soccer stadium. As I approached I noticed a small crowd gathering and entering the stadium. I stopped some police officers (actually they stopped me, but all in kindness) and asked what was going on. They explained that Ghana was hosting an Olympic qualifying match. (I later found out that one of the teams playing was named “Olympus” and I think that is what they meant). I thought, it might be fun to take a peak into an African soccer game. I wondered how much it would cost and if it was even worth the walk across the street. While pondering I continued walking, but it didn’t take long until a friendly man dressed in a security guard uniform hailed me down. This is not uncommon, people love to talk to the white’s, usually because they want to sell you something, but also sometimes just to talk and meet someone from another country. He didn’t seem to have anything to sell, and like me, must just be walking home from work. We started talking and introduced one another. This whole time we were walking adjacent to the stadium. After about 5 minutes he asked if I would like to go to the soccer game with him. Now, I am thinking, he wants me to buy him a ticket into the game. I was not against the idea, but the cost needed to be within reason. I told him I would like to go, but only had so much money I could spend. “How much is it” I asked. He thought for a moment and said, I think around 40 cedis (the exchange rate is nearly 1 to 1 so $40.00). Well, there was no way my curiosity was going to pay that much to go to the game. Disappointed I told him that I just didn’t have the money to spend like that. He said, “that is ok, we will see what we can do, follow me.” I little hesitantly, I followed him across the road, thinking maybe he will try to cut us a deal or something. We walked right up to the front of the line. I noticed that as we walked everyone parted to the side letting us pass by…even the guard at the door, just let us walk right by. Then I noticed the guard and my friend were wearing the same uniform. Then I noticed I had just been escorted (or snuck if you prefer) into a soccer game in the Ghana stadium. He walked me right up to the tunnel leading into the stadium and said, “go, find a seat.” I asked if he was coming. “yeah, I coming, just go do something.” Thinking he was sincere I walked up and took a seat.
I really was surprised when I never saw him again. It was about 20 minutes into the game that I realized that the initial offer to go to the game was an offer to sneak me in, not to go with me. I chuckled to myself how easily he flopped from 40 to 0. I wonder if he just wanted to do it, to prove to himself that he could. Or maybe I really did make an impression on him, and he wanted to just be nice. Well, to shorten the end of this. The game was fairly boring. Anybody who thinks that “flopping” in the NBA is a problem should spend 20 minutes watching African soccer. It seemed like every play they had to stop because someone fell over and grabbed their leg. It didn’t take long until the fans had enough and started booing. I made friends with Sam, a local middle school teacher. He too is Ghanaian, but wants to come continue his studies in America. This time there was no offer to sell, buy, or sneak anywhere, just pleasant company. I wonder if my other friend sent him from his post? I ended up leaving the game just before the end. I spent most of it trying to plot my way home on the map I had. The walk home took about 3 ½ to 4 hours. I walked back up through Ossu, where we had gone to lunch earlier. I noticed a bakery which sold French baguettes and thought I would try one. I was disappointed. So much so in fact that I gave the whole thing away to the first person who asked for it. He asked which country I was from, I told him US to which he responded “I knew it, it is always US who do stuff like this. Not German, French, or anything, but always US.” I admit that made me smile. He soon had a pack of teenager around him devouring the bread. I was a target through the shopping centers, and at time had 5 to 6 vendors calling me friend and begging me to come into their shop. I knew how to get back to my basic residential area, but I was unsure about the exact location. As it got dark and the malaria mosquitoes started coming out I thought I should begin asking for help. I asked a vender on the street if he knew a my apartments. He said no, but immediately ran about asking everyone around, eventually flagged down a taxi and explained to him how to get there. I gave the man 30 cents, and after 4 hours of walking paid 2 dollars for a taxi ride for the final 3 blocks. I simply could not turn down such good service.
If anything, my tour around the city today put me at ease with where I am. Honestly, by the end of the day I felt safer here than in down town SLC. I mean, if I were in SLC there is no way I would get a free soccer game, king like service at every shop, and a personal concierge. I guess that is just Ghanaian hospitality.

A road in town I walked down

A shop: cutting coconuts for drinks
The skyscraper
the soccer stadium

Daddy Day!

I am a bit late in getting these posted, but in lieu of writing I have spent the time talking with Sara and Sydney. I just wanted you all to see, that dispite my being in Africa I still got chocolate cake on Father's Day. Sara and I enjoyed a nice conversation and Sydney sang to me (see Sara's blog for the video). Love you all.

"Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods"

Ghana has two missions and several stakes. The Woodwards (the senior couple that live below me) invited me to attend church with them this week in the furthest remote ward of the stake. That is the ward to which they are assigned and go to every week. Always up for some adventure I accepted the 7:00 am whistle and traveled to the city of (well I don’t remember, but it was an hour drive west). The ward building (pictured below) was standing room only, and those who showed up late (many did) often endured the embarrassment of wondering around the small room. The church rents the building for them to meet in and a new chapel will be completed by the end of July. It was a fun meeting and I enjoyed all three hours. I found the title of the first talk interesting “Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me.” Once again, I was taken back by the boldness of the sister declaring that there was too much worldliness around us. I couldn’t help but wonder “if she only knew” or “what is she talking about?” I guess it just goes to show that worldliness isn’t what you have, but what you aspire to have. I found the setting for the talk most enjoyable and enriching. I would have never have come away with the same message had I been sitting in my Provo ward. After church I tagged along with the Elder Woodward as we went on Elder’s Quorum visits. I think only 1 out of the 5 we tried to visit were actually home, but I never went up to the door. I just walked with them down the streets (mud paths). Elder Woodward drives one of the only 3 cars in the entire ward. So when he comes down they try to use him to get out and see some members of the ward. I actually had a partner who decided to endure the extra driving in exchange for a ride home. 20 years old, he too had been a member his whole life. As we crossed over a mud washed road he commented, “not like in America, where everything is clean and proper.” I told him that it is true that the roads are paved but the families are often falling apart. “What do you mean” he asked. I attempted to explain the best I could some of the failings of capitalism. The marking mantra that more products equal more happiness, and the extent people go to try and buy happiness with things when the "things" happiness requires is right in front of them. I tried to explain that people spent money they did not even have. At this is mouth literally dropped. “How,” he gasped, “how can someone spend money they do not have?” I don’t think he quite grasp what I meant by “sub-prime,” and I didn’t want to start pointing at people as examples. I admitted that America did offer more “opportunity” to people of all classes, if they are willing to work hard and take some risk, but that sometimes, people have abused this opportunity and suffer great loss.

I am not sure what he thought of America by the end of our conversation, but I hope he felt maybe a little less envious of the image that we sometimes portray. In truth, I wish there was more I could do for him. He thought I was rich. I told him I was $16,000 dollars in debt for school. He asked if I had two meals everyday. I blushed and walked on.

The Road the Church Building is on

A literal "tree house"

Over packed truck

The Church Building

Going in Visits

Crazy, Cool African with his Cart in a Roundabout