Getting Some Help

A while back I was informed that my cousin Mary Kate, a student at Prospect High School, was a member of an organizing committee for their charity organization the Knight's Way. She informed them that she had a relative serving at a technical school for high school age boys in Ghana, West Africa and that the school could use some assistance.

I was really suprised when I found out that the school had decided to help us. We are a private Catholic institution and they are a public high school. From what I gathered they really did play down the faith aspect of the situation, but thanks to the hard work and determination of Mary Kate it all worked out.

First thing I made sure to do was to send out some pictures of the school for the students to see what the place looked like. I decided that I wanted to try and get some new things for all of the different departments (Auto, Electricals, Building and Construction, and Carpentry). I wanted each department to buy some new textbooks to teach with and also to purchase some new tools for their practicals. I also wanted to put up white boards in all of our classrooms so the dusty blackboards that we could be rid of those nasty old blackboards.(Painted onto the wall BTW) I would also want to get some new things for the English classes as well, mainly dictionaries and text books.

Well, after a long while we received the money raised by the students, about $3,000. I was so excited to get to work and bring some new things to our students and teachers. I was also informed that three boxes of dry erase markers (for the white boards), dictionaries, and Knight's Way t- shirts were on there way to Ghana. I was so happy.

We immediately went out and bought the materials necessary to make the white boards and I divided the funds up between the four departments so that each department received nearly 600 Ghana Cedis. Over the next few weeks the department heads went about buying different tools, new text books, and making plans to begin new projects using parts of their money.

I was able to go and buy new English textbooks and a host of new reading books for the boys. They were all very excited to be receiving all of these things. I made it quite clear that it was all for them and no one else.

It wasn't until just recently that we received the materials shipped from the US since they were hung up in Accra with customs. Thanks to the National Catholic Service Center we were able to clear things up without any major problems.

All in all things went very successfully and the students are pleased with their new supplies and the teachers are glad to have some new resources for their lessons. We at the Skills Centre are so grateful for the generous gifts given by the students and staff of Prospect High School.

I would especially like to thank my cousin Mary Kate. Without her efforts none of this could have been possible. It is quite a rarity for a public school to donate to a Catholic one, but because of your determination to make a difference in the lives of these young men, Mary Kate, you made it happen! God Bless You!

Enjoy the pictures!

Another Story

Back in February I brought you just one story of one Ghanaian. Now I am bringing you another. I met this particular friend at The Last Stop drinking spot and restaurant in Fijai not from Moreau House in Butumagyebu.

Amos – 22 years

“At the first place, I am a young man and I am living with my parents. I schooled at St. Mary’s Boys Senior Secondary School in the Western Region when I was 18 years old.”

“When I was in school, I had an argument with my teachers in school. Having finished not knowing that the teachers had seen us. So they called us and we pretended as if we had not done anything wrong. We tried to defend ourselves but they still sacked us from the school. When I came back home I decided that I would not go back to school again.”

Amos got himself involved in some other bad activities. While he was at St. Mary’s school he became a habitual marijuana smoker. He also told me that he drank alcohol regularly during his first and second years of school.

It was what Amos did after he was sacked from school that really grabbed my attention. Instead of trying to find a way to get back into school or even go somewhere else he decided that he would leave Ghana behind.

In our conversations he would tell me how much he loves Ghana, but then when we talks about Europe or the States he dismisses everything that he previously said.

So one day, after much planning and exchanging of money, Amos jumped ship just off the coast of Takoradi and was headed for Spain, or so he thought. The ship ended up stopping in Abidjan, The Ivory Coast. Luckily he was able to stay on board, but at the next stop he was not as lucky.

Amos, a few other Ghanaians, and a few Nigerians were discovered and thrown off of the ship at Monrovia, Liberia during Liberia’s civil war. Amos spent a few days hiding in the bush before he could get back on another ship. He didn’t want to talk much about his experience there, but he just said that people were dying all around him. He didn’t know how he had survived. He told me that he didn’t sleep for the entire time that he was there.

After his miraculous escape from Liberia Amos finally made it to Spain. He was in Madrid for three days before he was caught by immigration and deported. He told me how depressed he was when he had to return to Ghana. He said, “I no go back to that ****** poor country man!”

“The reasons why I would like to go to Spain and leave Ghana is that staying in Ghana is not easy. You will struggle before you prosper or gain what you want. I know that all human beings struggle before he/she will prosper but staying in Ghana to get something is not easy… In the future I want to be a surveyor to help mother Ghana and also my family.”

About three or four weeks after I met Amos he quit his job at the bar/restaurant. Amos refused to do something that his supervisor asked him to do and then he walked out. At his job he was being paid 60 Ghana Cedis a month and was also put on the National Health Insurance Plan. Many young Ghanaians would do anything for a job like that.

It has been about a month and a half since I have seen or hear from Amos.

Last week one of the other workers at the place gave a me a sheet of paper and said it was from Amos. It was his reflections on some of the things that we talked about, but he left no phone number to call.

A Good Friday and a bad Friday

I should apologize for not keeping this up as well as I should have, but our internet cable was stolen again two weeks ago and Ghana Telecom is still deciding whether or not they are going to replace it.(We think that they might finally place an armed guard out there.) So that makes it five times in the past four months I think.
Anyway, let me tell you about my Holy Week and Easter. We decided as a house that we would attend all of the masses and services during Holy Week at St. Peter’s Regional Seminary in Pedu, Cape Coast. I had heard of the place many times, but I had never actually seen the place.(For the group that came here last July-August the Seminary was right down the road from the Church that you attended for the Fante Mass.)
So we traveled out to Cape Coast on Thursday afternoon for the 8pm Mass at the Regional Seminary. When we arrived on the campus it was dark and you could see all these seminarians walking around in quiet contemplation. I remarked to Fr. Bob that they looked like ghosts floating around in the night wearing their white cassocks.
It was a beautiful night with a nice breeze blowing every now and then. The moon was full and the stars were out in their numbers. We took our seats in the back of the chapel since the rest of the seat were going to be full of seminarians. I found out that the Seminary currently has about 277 seminarians. I think Moreau Seminary at Notre Dame has about 25.
So eventually the place was full of the young seminarians and in the back five rows were all of the visitors and Roman Sisters. I leaned over to tell Jude, one of the young men in the pre-novitiate for the Brothers, that is was pretty inspiring being around all of these pious men.
Well, I think that was the reasoning behind going to the seminary for Holy Week. The liturgy was flawless and traditional. The singing was superb. The experience was wonderful.
I do not have many memories of going to stations of the cross or veneration of the cross on Good Friday, but the memories I made form this past Good Friday will be very important ones for my future.
Some people out here call Good Friday crying day. It was definitely an emotional day for me. I kept thinking throughout the stations if I would be one of the people who condemned Jesus after welcoming him joyously into Jerusalem. Would I have had the courage to cry out against the murder of an innocent man? These kind of questions ran through my head all day long. It made me feel like crying since I wasn’t sure if I would have stood up for Jesus. He gave his life freely for me and for all…how have I said thank you?
I kept thinking about that subject for the next couple days. I began to apply it to my life and my work here in Ghana. Am I doing everything I can out here? Am I standing up for those marginalized? How much am I really giving of myself? Am I seeing Christ in the poor, the afflicted, and the sick?
It was this kind of critical reflection that honestly made me feel that so much of what I do is selfish and inadequate. So on Easter Sunday I resolved to myself to change all of that. I will give even when it hurts. And when I fail in doing this I will try again and again.
I will prepare myself to risk much for the well being (spiritual and physical) of my brothers and sisters around the world.(It is funny how this all worked out.) I resolved that I am going to prepare myself for a life of selfless service.
So the following Friday the day started out rather strangely. I came out of my room at about 5:30a.m. to see a mad man running up our hill to the house. He was screaming, “I’m not crazy Teresa! Hey, white man! There is a dead body down there. Come and get the body!”
Now ever since the Damien Mental Health Clinic in Fijai shut down many of their former patients have not been receiving any medication so they have really been losing control and wandering all over the area since their families refuse to care for them. On more than one occasion they have come to our house. There isn’t much we can do for them when they come and sometimes they are so hysterical when they arrive that we just have to send them away. It’s a sad situation.
That morning at school I heard that two of our students got into a fight. One boy badly injured the other after hitting him in the face with a t-square. We took the wounded boy to the hospital and the other boy was nowhere to be found.
At around Noon that same day I heard a loud ruckus outside the school library where I was working with a student. I turned to see a few students running across the assembly area towards the canteen just outside the campus grounds. As I walked out of the room I saw about a hundred of our boys gathered around the canteen outside the campus.
I knew what it was before I got there. It was what I feared…Ewee. In the Fante language Ewee means thief. Now why does that cause me to fear? Stealing in Ghana, or in Africa, for that matter is a pretty serious crime. The thing is thieves aren’t turned over to the police, in fact, the police sometimes don’t ever hear about the incidents. When a thief is caught he faces mob justice which usually ends up with the thief being beaten, humiliated and then lynched, drowned, or burned to death. The general justification for such brutal punishment is that to steal something that someone has worked their whole lives for is like taking that person’s life; so you should be killed for doing such a thing.
Anyway, the story is this. A young man was caught trying to steal a TV. antennae in Anaji, where our school is located. The small mob stripped the man naked and beat him severely. They walked him down the road humiliating him in front of all who were present until the thief ran toward our school for some vain hope of refuge. His accusers continued to beat and insult him outside our school grounds.
When I finally got to the scene I was overcome with anger. There were my own students laughing, insulting, and encouraging the other men to beat the thief. Once of the students ran up to me laughing like a jolly fool, “Hey Bro…look look Eweeo!” I shoved him to the ground and started screaming at the tops of my lungs for the students to go inside. I don’t think they ever saw me that angry because they all scattered and ran inside. One of the teachers came out behind me and helped me to get the rest of the boys back inside.
I turned back to see the thief crying and begging for his life whilst bleeding all over. His accusers stood over him holding big sticks and shovels. They were shouting insults in the vernacular and slapping him across the face.
They wanted to kill him. I felt sick. I couldn’t stand it so I stepped up to the accusers and begged them to let him go. At first they didn’t mind me at all. Almost as if I wasn’t there, but eventually they began to move away from the thief until there was only one man left. He still stood there holding his stick threatening the thief by slamming it on the bench behind where the thief was sitting. I looked at the man and told him he was sick.
All of the students were still watching from inside the campus. I had to do something for the young man. I took off my undershirt and gave it to the poor naked criminal. We made eye contact for about one second before I turned and headed back inside the school.
As I walked back into the school all of my students with impatient tones demanded to know why I would do such a thing. “Bro why would you give that man your shirt? He is a thief.”
I was so bewildered by my mixture of rage and discouragement that I could hardly speak, but I did manage to answer their question. “Because I am a Christian.”
I don’t think they understood me.