First Teaching Day

My first teaching­ day was awesome. We have been trying to figure out our places here in Abomoso, so the days before had been slow and we may or may not have even left the house (it also helped that Douglas had to go to Accra, so he wasn’t around either). We all looked forward to Friday, where Beverly and Allan would teach in Nkurakan, and Garrett and I would teach in Amonom.

Douglas told us that considering the size of the meeting in Nkurakan, the class would be 20-30 students. The meeting we had in Amonom was smaller, and although we wanted everybody to know, the elders of the village had kept the class quiet so only their family could get a loan. We quickly changed that, hoping that no damage had come to the class size.

I hopped on Douglas’ motorbike while the others took a taxi. The order of the cities going west is Abomosu, Sankubenase, then Nkurakan. In Nkurakan, you take a left off of the main road which takes you to Amonom, Akokom, Akwadum, then back to the main road in Ekorso north of Abomosu (try and keep that straight!). We were first to arrive in Nkurakan, so we drove to the school where the other two would be teaching to set things up. Douglas asked one of the school teachers to translate for us. He agreed, which freed Douglas to help us in Amonom.

We journeyed not far down the road to Amonom to the school house there to find Garrett and Zandra waiting. It looked as though the school had just expanded with several new classrooms, and we were to teach in a new one. A side note, Stephen, Sr., has graciously built schools all over the area with his organization World Joy. There isn’t a village here that doesn’t have a yellow schoolhouse with a large globe painted under “World” and between “J” and “y”.

Douglas expected our class to be about 30 people, but I assumed it would be smaller. People started to trickle in, knowing that seeing the obrunis meant that it was getting close to the time. Garrett wisely started taking everybody’s names for role, and just when he started, a huge line formed behind him that never seemed to get smaller as Garrett penned names. Finally, after delaying a bit because of the amount of people piling in the classroom, we started the class.

I looked over the room excitedly, looking at all of the dark, expecting faces. Every desk was filled, the back wall was covered, and even the glassless windows were used as seats. We counted the role and found that 73 people had shown up! It was incredibly thrilling!

The lesson went very well. Maybe it dragged on a bit; I can imagine that a desk designed for small children isn’t very comfortable for adults. But I think we made a good impression with them all. Garrett and I would take turns teaching predetermined sections, all the while Douglas would translate our words into Twi (pronounced Twri (say it quickly)).

We taught the overview of our program, what we do and how we do it, as well as some of the beginnings of the program. We spoke of Muhammad Yunus, author of Banker to the Poor, which inspired the idea for the program (I think). The book is the reason I came here, too. It is a great read, and I suggest it highly. We also talked about brainstorming, although I don’t think it translated very well. Our lessons are supposed to be one to two hours, and we finished in 90 minutes.

The coolest part was when we were asking for feedback. We wanted to see what people’s ultimate goals were, so we asked and asked until we got to the point. Several wanted to build houses. Many wanted just to pay for school fees. I loved how much of the class was very into it. As I was listening to their responses, I found myself getting closer and closer to the front row of students because I was so intent on hearing their response, even if it was in a language I can’t speak.

Teaching was so satisfying! The lesson developed well, especially with Douglas, who is very familiar with the program, as translator, and we finished with everybody excited to come back. Unfortunately, we do not have the funds to get everybody a loan. Many of the class will drop out, at least according to history, and we will probably end up with a smaller class of only 20-30. From there, we will perform due diligence on their loans, figuring the viability of the loan and calculating the trustworthiness of the potential recipients. We may fund only a small group of ten people, but with 70 to choose from, theoretically, we hopefully will get the best of the best.

On the way back to Abomosu, I must state I am a bartering fool. I got the taxi to get us there with only five cedis instead of seven. Bam, suckers!

On our walk back to Stephen’s house, we stopped at Elder and Sister Dalton’s place, which is on the way. Sister Dalton was home, and she gave us chocolate chip banana muffins and banana bread. Oh, how glorious it is to have American food! Not that it is specific to the States, but it is something familiar and sweet! A man came to the porch and starting to as us obronis for money for his ill son. We can’t tell his intentions, but this is exactly why what other good-intended people have done historically is bad for the people. The people here associate white people (obronis) with gifts or free things. People come and give food, money, medical care, etc. for free, which creates a dependency on such free lunches. We receive so much attention everywhere we go, and with such kindness, because they want to get the free money from the obrunis. Sister Dalton said that missionaries do not have money to give, but she will send a prayer (Imagine if the humanitarian program was intertwined with the missionary program. Disasterous!). We said that our program must be bought into; you have to pay interest (48% annually, I might add) to purchase the loan. Our business loans help people become self-dependent, not reliant on outside sources that may fade out over time (usually white men do not stay for more than a vacation). And it is working, by the way. I have seen it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears from the mouths of recipients. It really is amazing!

*Gets off soap box*

At the Abu's house

When we arrived at Stephen’s house, we had already discussed the day’s events: Bev and Allan only had 18 students! The taxi from Abomosu almost hit a girl who was crossing the road. Zandra got bored and hot at the lesson, even with the charge of taking pictures. Douglas pulled up on his bike not long after; he bought us chalk for the chalkboard! (Even though most of the people are illiterate, I like to use the board.) Just as we sat down inside, the power went out. Stephen came in and told us that a powerful storm was coming, so he hurried to get ready to leave on his Rhino for church meetings. Just as Stephen stepped out the door, the heavens opened and let out waves and waves of rain. The droplets danced on the tin roof, creating a deafening roar inside the house. I loved it, and I am sure that the obobibis (black people) were annoyed at our excitement because, heck, its rain! It slowly darkened, and we sat for dinner amidst an electric lantern, illuminating the delicious curry and chicken (Meat! Blessed meat!).

After dinner, Stephen talked about his life, which is so fascinating. I half payed attention because I was working on a paint-doku puzzle my mother gave me. By eighth o’clock, I was nodding off and headed for bed. Lightning had started to strike by then, flashing in the windows and sending thunder roaring through the sky. The lightning struck so close to the house several times, the crack sounding almost instantaneously after the flash. I found it soothing and thrilling at the same time.

The canoe river crossing; the river rose significantly after the huge storm

This pattern occurred the whole night: rain murmuring on the roof, crescendo-ing then fading; flashes far, then near; thunder rumbling distantly, then right outside our window. I woke up several times to soul-shaking thunder. Oh, the spectacle! I can hardly complain, even though I was sleeping, because the show was awesome.

Saturday was a lazy day. Power was not restored until two in the afternoon, but wise Stephen Abu has many large windows to let in natural light. I worked a little to condense information so we can use it to catch up collections.

As I finish, I want to council those that are home: love football while you can. I sit here, longing to watch my Aggies play, wanting to participate in the Holy War, dying to just watch a play! ENJOY FOOTBALL WHILE YOU CAN! YOU MAY END UP IN A COUNTRY WITH SLOW INTERNET AND NO FOOTBALL PROGRAMMING. LOVE IT WHILE YOU HAVE IT!

*Gets off soap box again*