Tis' the Season...

Tis' the season... for a lot of activity! Between all the church work, government paperwork for Andrew, and holiday preparations, things have been busy. This last month has been full. Two baby namings and dedications at church. A trip to Accra to pick up baby certificates, paperwork, and supplies for the holidays, and stock piling and slaughtering for the holidays.

Yes, that is right, slaughtering. I have been able to add another first to my list of new things experienced as an African missionary. Slaughtering and dressing two turkeys. Our normal turkey seller did not have any birds this year. So she helped us to locate another seller. After traveling way across town, and shelling out a good bit of cash, Andrew and I had two Tom Turkeys in the back of his car just waiting for Thanksgiving day. (The new guys do not do the services of keeping, killing, and preparing that our normal seller does). This meant our kids got the pleasure of not only seeing our live turkeys this year, but also watching the dads slaughter them (well, at least from a distance).

So, for all those that have never slaughtered their own Thanksgiving dinner. Here is our Internet tutorial.

Step One- Selecting the Bird-

We went to a house across town were they raise turkey for sale. This year we choose two. One local turkey (looks like and has the size of a very large wild turkey in the states) The second one a farm turkey (all white and much larger). After selecting your turkey, be prepared to call the owner and to bargain over the price for about 30 minutes. After the said 30 minutes of reasoning, imploring, and talking, then the workers are paid and you get to select the fattest birds.

Step Two- Transportation

After paying everyone and making your cultural rounds of good byes and farewells and so on. Then it is time to tie up the birds legs. (This is after chasing the birds around the compound for about ten mintues). This allows for the birds to be safely placed in the back seat of the vehicle. After traveling for about half the trip, the buyer will then realize that he should have tied up the wings also, since now his car is covered in turkey droppings and feathers from the frightened turkey.

Step Three- The Pot

To pluck the turkey, a person needs the proper pot. In this case a rather large open faced pot, with a lid in order that the water may boil quickly. Our former turkey seller was kind enough to loan us this great pot. Most people will prefer cast iron, but here we make the choice of a nice lead based pot to give it that nice added flavor!!!!

Step Four- Execution

Time for the dirty work. After Tom has eaten his last meal, and prayed his last rights, the pot is good and boiling, and the time is come for ... well you know what. Andrew and I found a nice spot for Tom's last moments were the kids would not watch. So in the famous words of the queen of hearts... "OFF WITH HIS HEAD!"

Note- Turkeys kick a lot and are really strong. So make sure to hold the legs and wings well. Andrew almost got a claw in the face on the second one.

Step Five- The Dunking Machine

This is were the missionary gets his exercise. He lifts the 20 to 30 pound bird repeatedly dunking it in his boiling pot of water. Make sure to cover all the bird, and to scalded your feet with the hot water that is running over the pots lip. This is very important and makes for great story to tell to grand children and at missions conferences.

Step Six- Plucking

This is the fun part. now that Tom is wet and his feathers are scalding hot. Remove him from water and begin to remove all his feathers. This is a good time to call the wife and have her help. About 45 minutes later, you have a nice clean turkey carcase.

Make sure to keep the feathers. They are great for Thanksgiving decoration, Indian costumes, and fake display table items. (Everyone loves when they are told by the missionary that he was given these feathers by a heathen tribal chief as a present).

Step Seven- Surgery

This is not for the faint of heart, or for those that are not totally committed to being carnivores. I am sure that many a vegetarian took a trip to a slaughter house too early in life and therefore have joined the ranks of meat abstainers.

After about 15 minutes the missionary should be elbow deep in livers, hearts, and other entrails and such like.

"I think I got it!"

Step Eight- Clean Up and Packaging

Normal we suggest having running water. So that the reader can wash the dressed bird and his own hands after handling all that poultry, but just to make it fun and to mix it up a bit, on this day the city decided to turn the water off. In the case of this event, let the wives use the remaining boiled water and use it to scald your hands clean and to clean the turkey before packing.

To prepare Tom for his three week wait in the deep freeze, just wrap him in two plastic trash bags, and place him in the freezer.

I hope that the tale about our Thanksgiving preparation has been inspiring and we hope that you will try the Organic Turkey experience for your Thanksgiving celebration next year!

Here are a few other pictures from the last two weeks:

Cultural Death- Denial Stage

The funny thing about going through denial is that a person can only see it after they have passed through it. It is the nature of the problem. There is a proverb in West Africa that says, “A bird that flies from the ground onto an anthill does not know that it is still on the ground” Many times as new missionaries we think our activity means that we have accomplished something, but in reality we have not even gotten off the ground.

I remember this stage well. I thought that because I had left America and traveled to Ghana, that I was… well, done with the struggles and on to the victory. For a new missionary on deputation, departure is the big focus. That is what everyone asks him -- “So, when are you leaving for the field?” After awhile, he thinks that if he can just get to the field, everything will be fine. Departure is the end. The checkered flag will wave, and he will be the winner. But, departure is just a jump onto the anthill. It is a beginning, but he is not in the sky yet.

I remember when we got to the field. The first night in Ghana I was scared out of my mind. I laid awake all night thinking, ‘What in the world are you doing????’ I kept looking at my watch -- it had the ability to keep two times, and it was set for America and Ghana. I remember that at about 3:00 in the morning I finally set the American time to Ghana time. I remember that I went to sleep after that, and I thought that I had won my battle with culture shock. Yes, in one night, I was high in the mountains of cultural acceptance, but I had no clue that I was just sitting on the anthill of denial.

The next months went by quickly. We found out that we were not going to live in the port city of Tema and would not be working with a veteran missionary. God guided us to our present home of Kumasi, and we began to live in the home of a Nigerian pastor and began our work in his church. The months were filled with new colors, languages, foods, and feelings. But through it all, we marched in this foggy stage of half-awareness.

I still remember our arrival in our local apartment. It was a three bedroom local style place on the third floor in the midst of Anloga community. (I will take the time here to describe our first home- Anloga is a local community that is made up mostly of Ewe people, a sub-group in our city. It covers about ½ square mile, but is densely populated, probably about 20,000 to 25,000 people. They are mostly people living in square one-floor houses, with no in-house toilets, and each room being occupied by one family. All five to ten families in these compounds share the courtyard of the house. The courtyards are always open to the sky. Our house was different in that is was a half square and multi-stored. Our portion of the square was walled off with a half wall and door for more privacy. We had three rooms, two of which were bedrooms, (One for Patty and I, and one for Pastor Samson), and there was also a kitchen that consisted of a table, refrigerator and wall faucet for water with a drain. The bathroom was two parts, one room being a pit shower, and the other room being the water closet with a toilet. It was very local, but we have a lot of fond memories about the months that we stayed there.)

Back to our arrival -- the veteran missionary that helped us for our first few months showed us around. When we got to the shower room, there was a huge red cockroach on the wall. Brother Mark just smiled and said, “That’s George, our pet cockroach, just turn on the light and splash some water on him, and he will go away!” Well, his humor helped, and we laughed and took it all in. The first few months were lived in a smiling stupor. Everything was great! Cooking on our one electric burner was an adventure, washing and bathing from a bucket was exciting, and the constant smell of cook fires was exotic.

Please understand, I do not regret anything, and to me they are normal now, and I have never suffered much as a missionary, but I mention all this to make a point. I was in a totally new place, with new ideas, new sounds, and new experiences, but I was in this stage of denial. I thought that it was all great! I was at home, it did not matter that everything was different; I was not going through culture shock.

But just like with grief, things started hitting me. I had to admit that things were different and that I was going to have to adjust. Here I will relate two stories to the reader. One is quite funny. I think that I had been in Ghana for about two months, and Patty and I were trying very hard not to get malaria. I had gotten a new cell phone and was trying to call my family. The phones at the time did not have good antennas, and I had to sit outside to call because of the concrete house. So here I was, it was hot season in Ghana, about 95 to 100 degree, it was 7:00 pm at night, and I had to go outside on the balcony to make my call. But what about the mosquitoes? I really wanted to talk to my family. So there I went. I think Pastor Samson must have thought I was crazy. I had running pants on, socks and sandals, a tee-shirt, a hoodie, and was wrapped in a blanket from head to toe so that I could not get bitten. I was cooking alive; the sweat was rolling off me, as I made that 20 minute call. Finally, I got to my room and sat in front of the fan in just my shorts for about 10 minutes. (Luckily we are not so paranoid after six years). That broke through the fog! I was starting to dislike all this wonderful mission field stuff.

The second story centers around our meat shop. We had been in Ghana about nine to ten months and Carey was about six months old. We have shopped at this same meat shop since we have been in Ghana. On this particular day it was really hot, and I was not in the best of moods. I was really starting to feel the culture crunch. The youngest of the three brothers that own the shop was waiting on us. He was about 19 years old then, and he made this comment: “Pastor John, give me your daughter, I want to marry here, she is very beautiful!” Now remember my daughter was only a few months old, and this guy was a teenager. My wife says that I just started fuming; the smoked poured out my ears; I got this hateful look in my eyes. I remember the rage that I felt. I was thinking, “What in the world, is this guy some kind of pervert, I am going to kill him!” I was shocked! After a curt response, I had to go outside to cool down, even though it was 105 degrees in the sun! After we got in the taxi, Patty looked at me with one of her concerned looks, and asked, “Are you ok?” To which I said, “I’m fine,” I was still seething inside, “It is that guy that has a problem. I mean what is his deal? I just don’t get it!” The fog had finally burned away.

Here in Africa, when a person travels in the early morning he will see fog everywhere in the bush, and everything is cool and wet, but by 8:00 a.m. the sun will begin to shine brightly and the heat will make all the fog disappear. This is just like cultural death. At first everything is cool and foggy, but once the sun beats on him long enough, that fog will disappear and he will pass to his next stage, ANGER!

I did not know that I was in denial until that day, until the anger surfaced, but I was! I had been setting on that anthill, looking down, but when the ants bit, I knew. If the reader is a missionary in this stage, he will say, “That was you, but that is not happening to me!”

My response to them is simple: he might not see it now, but soon he will. There are always signs when a person is in denial. The greatest sign is their quest for the ‘normal’, the things that reminds them of life before the mission field. They just want to forget the loss and hold on to the past. A new missionary will love to search for American foods in the grocery store; will love watching movies and shows from home; will obsessively email, write, and call friends and family; and most of all he will hunger for fellowship with people from his home culture. All these things point to the same undeniable fact -- he is in denial! He wants the old, but is stuck in the new.

At this point a missionary will make some very important decisions. He will seek to isolate himself. As the Congo proverb says- a single bracelet does not jingle. He will not have to think or hear the sounds of cultural difference if he just stays in his single world view. Or, he will realize the problem and start to deal with it. He will force himself deeper into the cultural waters and swim to the other side. But no matter what he does, if he stays in the foreign country he will pass to the second stage.

Fun before our Bible Study

Well I can finally say that I have arrived as a missionary in the minds of all the people that support us. Yes, most people that support African missionary imagine us daily fording rivers filled with crocodiles, marching through elephant grass and fighting lions, as we go out to preach the gospel, all while we single-handedly have spiritual duals with witch doctors. Though I do not fit these Western mindset of a missionary I think that I have finally filled one requirement. I have killed a snake!

Yes, this last Thursday night I had the privilege of killing my first snake. I would like to tell you that as Andrew and I where walking to visit a green mamba jumped out of a tree in front of us, and tried to bite us, and I like Indiana Jones, pulled out my machete (that people think every missionary wares on his/her back) and cut off it head with one blow, but sadly this is not what happened.

After visit some of our people and reminding them about the night meeting, Andrew and I saw a taxi driver that had stopped his car and was running to look at something. The driver was trying to kill a green mamba, that was crossing the road. (Africans do not have the same regard to preserve species as most environmentalist would like them to, here they have a simple rule: when a person sees a snake, they do not stop and ask if it is endangered, they know it will be deadly nine times out of ten, so they grab the first stone available and kills it, then finds out what it was afterwards). So knowing my social duty, I did my part, I grabbed a big rock and crushed it's head.

Over all it was a new experience. After killing the thing with the stone, all the Ghanaians around gave us pats on the back, and we got to go to the people already gathered, and rehearse our story. The wives where not as happy to hear about the presences of the snake as the men, but overall we had a chance to puff our chests and tell our warriors story!

Being Spent for Them-

2 Corinthians 12:15 And I will very gladly spend and be spent for you; though the more abundantly I love you, the less I be loved.

Early on as a missionary a person is called to serve people. This all seems so glamorous as a missionary is preparing for the field and traveling on deputation. The thought of self-sacrifice and surrender is romantic and in the future. Then the missionary arrives, and the spending begins. And like always the flesh begins to rebel as the cost mounts and the mind begins to take tally. The hardest part of serving is the spending, and the hardest part of spending is the spending of self. The missionary finds out early that it is much easier to pay all the bills, pass around the money, then to spend himself. If he is not careful this is just what he does. But, if he is really going to reach them with the gospel and not his money, then the greatest thing that he needs to do is close the wallet and open the heart. Stop spending money and start spending time. I got a great reminder of this, this past week.

My wife has been witnessing to a young lady named Martha for months now. Martha is very close to accepting the gospel and we have been praying for her for sometime. About a month ago Patty found out that Martha was sick and needed to go to the hospital. After visiting a specialist, Martha was told that she would need an operation. Patty really encouraged her to have the operation, but there was a catch that seemed to be holding her back. She had someone to watch here son for the days that she was in the hospital, but had no family to look after her. See here in Ghana, the hospitals do not prepare food for there patients, and the nurses generally have about 100 patients to care for each shift. So the fact of the matter is if a patient does not have family members then he/she will not eat, have bed sheets changed, or clothes washed, for the time that they are in the hospital. Martha is from the north, and has no family to help her. The father of her child has abandoned her and the child. She really needed the operation but had no one to help. So my wife and Gifty (a good Ghanaian friend of Patty’s) offered to help.

When Patty came home and told me, I was excited that she would be able to help, but I had no idea how much she was going to spend herself over the next five days. Here in Ghana, the hospital has two visiting times. The morning visits are 5:00 am to 7:00 and 4:00- 6:00 pm. The hospitals do not have microwaves or any way to heat up food, so each morning at about 4:00, Patty would get up and cook the food. Ghanaian food and needs to be hot and fresh, no cereal and sandwiches here. Each morning at 5:30 when I would get up, Patty would be heading out the door, basket in hand, so that she could meet Gifty and give Martha here morning food. She would take the 30 minute mini-bus trip across town, and visit Martha. Patty said that is was quite interesting to see all the people staring. They have never seen a foreigner serving an African before. They would wash the dishes from the night before, change the sheets, and get the night clothes form the day before, so that they could be washed. After that, another 30 minutes trip home, time to get the kids ready for school. Teach, and back to cooking again for the evening meal. Jump in the mini-bus again about 3:30, and start the process at the hospital all over again. She would get home in time to start cooking dinner and to get ready for the next day.

Overall, it was a very busy five days. I thank the Lord for my wife. I am glad that the Lord has given me a wife that is willing to be spent for the people that God has called her to.

A Missionary Interpretation of 1 Corinthians 13

If I have the language ever so perfectly and speak like a native and have not His love, I am nothing.
If I have diplomas and degrees and know all the up-to-date methods and have not His touch of understanding, I am nothing.
If I am able to argue successfully against their religions and yet have not His wooing note, I am nothing.
If I have all faith and great ideals and magnificent plans and have not His love that sweats and bleeds and prays and pleads, I am nothing.
If I give my clothes and my money to them and have not His love for them, I am nothing.
If I surrender all prospects, leave home and friends, make the sacrifice of the missionary career, and turn sour and selfish because of the daily annoyances and slights of missionary life, and though I give my body to be consumed with heat and fevers and have not love that yields its rights, its leisure, its pet plans, I am nothing.
If I can heal all manner of sickness and disease but wound hearts and hurt feelings for want of His love that is kind, I am nothing.
If I can write articles or publish books that win applause but fail to transcribe the Word of the Cross in the language of His love I am nothing.

The Long Way Around!

As missionaries, we always appreciate mail. We are very blessed that we have family and friends that send us mail on a regular basis. One amazing thing about Ghana is that our post office is more effective than the United States post office.

But, we do still have problems receiving our mail at times. We have come to learn, though, that most of our mail delivery problems are caused by ignorance. For example, in my small home town of Northern Michigan, the post master has sent my sister's packages to Guyana, South America, instead of Ghana, West Africa. He would label it with the computer, not knowing that these two places are very different indeed. Once a letter is sent to it new location, it disappears to the unknown world of lost mail. We even had a letter marked Ghana, South Africa, that made it to us.

Yesterday, I went to my post office box to check mail. When I checked my box I found a surprise. The mail men in the States had done it again. Here was a letter sent from Saginaw, Michigan, on the 3rd January, that instead of being sent straight to Ghana, it had been misdirected and was sent to... wait for it... Thailand! Yes, that is right, Thailand, southern Asia. Lucky for us, a nice postal worker over there in Bangkok, knew that Ghana was in Africa, and sent it to us.

So I believe that we have now made a record. I think that this letter has traveled farther than any other letter to arrive at its destination. We want to thank the people in Thailand for the forwarded letter, and we want to thank our friend in Saginaw that sent us the letter and pictures.

I have attached a picture of the letter so that you can see.

New Year, New Missionaries, New Paperwork!

Wow, it has been a busy new year! A lot has happened since my last post! We have a new president in America and Ghana. We have new missionaries with us, the Andrew Aaron family. They have been here about two and a half weeks. In three weeks I have been to Accra five times. We have new passports (at least they are in the works), new Ghana government paperwork, a new phone (our old one just died), and new responsibilities! All this new stuff amounts to a lot work!

We are having a great time and are trying to find time to remember to breath! Today was another day packed full. We had our second youth activity tonight. We had 25 teens there and about 20 kids came to watch. The teens had a blast, and Andrew did well with his preaching. Overall it was great! We got home about 10:00 at night.

We have enjoyed the newness of this year, but are very eager to get back into our normal routine!

The First Flag...

Yesterday, I was buying some food for my family and waiting for our food to get finished (we do not have fast food here, so this took about an hour) while I was waiting I saw part of a movie that they had on at the resturant. The movie was about Iwo Jima, and the man that raised the flags on the island. If you do not know the story you will know the picture. Though most might know the basic history, like I did, they might not know the twist in the story that makes it so interesting.

Second Flag over Iwo Jima

The picture that became so famous, is not the first flag that was raised on the mountain over the island, it was the second. The first flag had been placed a few hours before and was being replaced by a larger flag that was easier to see when this second famous photo was taken.

The truth is that all the men in these two picture are heros. Ira Hayes, Mike Strank, Rene Gagnon, Harlon Block, Franklin Sousley, John Bradley of the famous picture, and Charles W. Lindberg, Ernest I. Thomas Jr., Henry O. "Hank" Hansen, and James Michels, of the frist unknown picture, where all great men that fought for our country. By the end of the battle all but three from the second pictured died in Iwo Jima for our freedom.


First Flag over Iwo Jima

Now you might be wondering what this has to do with missions, I am coming to that part. According to history the three surving men where flown back to the states for the 7th Bond Drive. President Roosevelt, thought because the picture was so popular it would help raise the needed funds for the war effort. So they set these three men all around America to dinners, meetings, towns, and where able to raise 26.3 billion dollars in War Bonds.

As James Bradley, historian and writing of Flags of our Fathers puts it, these three men never really felt comfortable about the whole thing. They knew that they had fought for their country, but they where not the first flag raisers, they felt like they had been honored for a sacrifice that should have pinned on another. They felt that the men that should have been honored, never got the spot light. No pictures, no names, no dinners, they just did there jobs, and never asked anything in return.

I have to abmit as I watch this movie, and they told how these three marines felt about the honors given to them, I could relate. As a missionary you are flown back from the fight, and taken on a tour. The missionary is treated to dinner, meetings, he has his picture taken, and is praised. But, I know I feel like these guys. Here I am being praised, but I am just a part of the 2nd battalion doing my job. I did not raise the flag of Christ the first time, on this enemy shore, I was just sent up to put in a replacement.

Modern African missionaries are fighting for the Lord, and many have made great sacrifices, just as these three men made, but today I want to remember the 'others'. The men and women that went before. The missionaries that did not have the hope of long live, but packed their belongings in caskets, because they knew that they would most likely be dead in three years. The missionaries that many times died with only a few converts, and never had the chance to see what their sacrifice would mean.

Today we honor them, the missionaries of the first flag! We of the second generation could not be on this ground without their sacrifice. So we say, thank you!

The Importance of World View

You know, until I moved out of America, I never much thought about that term 'world view'. I did not have to. Everything around me spoke to the fact that mine was the right and only 'world view'. The people that I cared about, the country I was from, the faith that I have, all supported, all upheld, all confirmed that I see the world as it is. There was no such thing as another view of the world. There is only one world, and with a world that fit these views so well, how could anyone ever see it differently... And then I became a missionary!