I hate to
sound like Sally Struthers but it is inconceivable to a North American how far
a single dollar can go. We have completed our first day at the orphanage and
the most challenging aspect of being here and realizing how such minuscule
amounts of money are required to significantly upgrade the quality of life for
its thirty or so permanent residents. We'll get to that soon, but first - a
little background (or as they say in the local language a little boonga boonga).
Ghana,
like many other sub-Saharan countries, have two major elements visible to even
the most casual visitor - religion and poverty. And it's hard to tell who's
winning. Both play a disproportionately large life in most communities. There
are churches (not the Notre Dame model; more like Our Lady of Ramshackle and
non-Redemption). The typical institution of worship consists of a corrugated
tin roofed cinder block building the size of a EEE shoebox. No air conditioning
but inspirational names such as Residence of our Almighty Saviour. Sort of pictured more upscale digs for JC but
even He would be embarrassed to be living in a split level condo around here.
Not every block has a church on it, though. Some are home to mosques.
There
does not seem to be significant tension or animosity between the two distinct
groups. I think that they pray too often to have any time to get into serious
warfare; but as the Moslems continue south into Ghana as global warming keeps
extending the Sahara, one does not know what bodes for the future. To date we
have not seen a Chabad House but we haven't yet been here on a Friday.
Poverty
abounds and there appears to be an inverse corollary at play here. The less you
have the more devout you are. I can quote chapter and verse my thoughts on
their symbiotic relationship (Revelations 23:17) but will leave those musings
to another day.
More
about the orphanage. It is situated in the outskirts of Kasoa. Access is an
hour drive on a modern 6 lane highway due east from Ghana's capital Accra
(accent on the second syllable. [In you best Maxwell Smart voice say the
following...."So you're Accra"]). You then reach Kasoa and hang a
right onto a dirt road with almost as many potholes as Sherbrooke or Peel. Half a
kilometre in, you begin a twisty turn of maze-like roads, turning left and right
at the type of landmarks that only an African guide could fathom.
We are
staying at a guesthouse owned by the founder of the orphanage. He lives here
with his wife and three sons. It also serves as the domain of the six
volunteers who are presently here on similar missions. Lori and I have the only
queenish sized bed, the others share dormitory-like quarters featuring bunk
beds. To say that we are in modest surroundings would understate. To say that
Leonidas, the great Spartan general, requested an upgrade when visiting is a
closer approximation. Our room has a bed and a wooden plank for a shelf. I went
out and spent some money to upscale it. The four stick-on wall hooks have added
a certain je ne sais quoi to the
place. Meals are provided and are primarily starch based. Yams, potatoes, bread
with meats and sauces accompanying. Filling and basic but not quite Toqué.
The
founder and driving force behind the orphanage is a gentle soul named Patrick.
He was a teacher and chicken farmer who one day woke up with a calling. Like
every other Ghanaian he is devout so the calling was local, not long distance.
The Lord presented him with a mission - to provide comfort, succour and
education to those who needed it most. Unfortunately God's mission was not
accompanied by God's credit card. Patrick was perplexed and asked for guidance.
Within a few months an old Ghanaian friend living in Baltimore called Patrick out of the blue saying that he
wanted to do something to give back to the needy of Ghana and wondered if Patrick
had any suggestions. This was manna from heaven, so to speak. Patrick and
friend laid down money on a rental property and began the mission of beginning
a mission. Within a year Baltimore dried up and Patrick was in dire straights.
He and his wife spent every cent they had but it was not enough. They cried
themselves to sleep every night. He then locked himself in a room for seven
days, fasted and preyed for a solution. On the eighth day while walking in
town, Patrick came across a woman from outside Ghana. They began chatting and
his tale of woe was woven. The woman had experience with volunteer
organizations and suggested that Patrick contact International Volunteer
Headquarters, based in New Zealand. They specialized in sending volunteers to
those in need. Patrick thanked the woman for her suggestion and then asker her
what the word ''volunteer' meant. Fast forward a year and a half and there are
now 30 orphans living and cared for and schooled by Patrick and staff; there
are an additional 130 day students who attend class and there is an ongoing
vision in Saint Patrick's head to increase its size, set up a secondary school,
and continue his god given task to make life better for those in need. I'm not
the strongest believer in God and organized religion, but whatever it was that
spoke with Patrick and whomever was responsible for hooking him up with
Baltimore and IVHQ should come out from behind the curtains and take a
bow.
Labels: Gonna Gota Ghana