After breakfast at the Four Villages we drove about half an hour to the Pentecostal Church in Kumasi. Held in a large corrugated iron and cinder-blocked structure adjacent to where the old church roof had recently collapsed. Some 150-200 joyous attendees, women on the left side and men on the right, sang, danced, prayed and shouted amens during the pastor's sermon. Women wore brightly-colored dresses; some played tamboreens. Everything was alive with joyous prayer and dance. Everyone seemed engaged and self-possessed, participating without reservation.
Three times during the service, people paraded up to place offerings into containers at the front, which immediately after each time were taken to the side, separated and counted by two women. (Some of the people only appeared to be depositing something.)
We were special guests and Dick, Peter, Alex and I were seated up on the "bimah" with the pastors. The pastor delivered/shouted his sermon in English, so that we could understand, and it was immediately translated into Cre for the others. As this was the conclusion of Youth Week at the church, the sermon had to do with what the congregation, youth and adults, had to do in order that the youths might be pure and good. The content of the sermon seemed rather didactic and, if I was reading the body language of the congregation correctly, the sermon did not transport them in the way that the rest of the service did.
The service lasted a couple hours, after which we set off in our , thankfully air conditions, SUV, towards our next destination, the village of Nimpa Nnkae (the translation of which appropriately enough, means, "man does not remember"), to dedicate the well that Carol and I donated "from Jewish friends in Evanston, IL.". Eight of us were a bit snug, but not too uncomfortable, in our vehicle.
Arriving at the village, we were greeted by the head of the village and the assemblyman in whose district the village was located. We walked over a dirt path through brush to see where water had been gathered before the well, which was a still puddle of dirty water. Returning to the village, we sat with a small gathering of villagers, who listened while Peter read the translation he'd done of the short piece that Rabbi Rosen had adapted for our use from a mikvah ceremony,which spoke of joyfully drawing water from the wells of salvation, and asking The ahoy One of Blessing to carry us to new shores, new beginnings and new life, speaking of this as a new cycle of rebirth and asking that from the Well of the Living One our eyes may be opened to new possibilities, to comfort and healing. I added a few words about the privilege we rely in being able to share this and of the respect we had for their religion and the service we had just attended.
We were thanked by both the head of the village. In a familiar pattern, first thanks was given to God, who was responsible for all this happening. Then profuse and sincere thanks were offered to us. Finally, requests for more help, in the form of additional wells, health facilities or schools was requested.
We then all walked over to the well, which Peter had had decorated with blue ribbons, which Carol and I cut with a scissors. We then removed the dedication plaque and pumped clear water, which flowed easily from the well.
Carol and I had spent half an hour with Laary Marks, who taught us the Israeli song and dance to Mayim (water), which we had planned to teach to people in the village. We had brought a CD, and Peter's men had arranged for a CD player, which they hooked up to electricity. I was concerned about whether the dance would work, since, though the village people had listened attentively to the short service, there had not been any particular energy. When Carol asked people to get up and form a circle, and began to teach them the steps, everyone participated regularly and with animation, and soon we were circling to the music and dancing Mayim, with gusto. We hope to have this all (and dancing from the church service) captured on video.
Before leaving, we gave the head of the village a challah cover made in the Jewish Village of Sefwi Wiawso, which we will visit on Thursday. Peter translated our description of what the item was and what it was used for, and the leader seemed to appreciate it.
After leaving Nimpa Nnkae, we drove to other, even more remote villages over very poor, bumpy and rutted roads. Only once did one of the vehicles (not ours) require pushing. We lunched on granola bars and trail mix in the car. Each time we got out of the car, the shock of going from air conditioning to extreme heat was great. At all of the villages--Nkwanta, Enohene, Emelia and Nyame Bekyere--we were greeted with great warmth. Love and joy. God was praised, we were thanked and more was asked. Susie and Dick brought pens and Chicago hats for chiefs and soccer balls for the children. Valerie was swamped with children clambering for the lollipops she brought with her, some of which the kids began to eat with the paper on, until helped to take ut off. The lollipops were a huge hit.
At one of the villages, we were all moved by Alex, the contractor, who is a close friend of Peter, has built schools, wells and clinics, and, Peter tells us, is regarded as a prophet in his church. Alex spoke passionately and extemporaneously about how he marveled at what we (the Kiparts) had done for poor people, and how they continued to come back and give more. He said that surely we all would be blessed for this great work.
As we walked through and observes these villages, we were struck by the apparent joy and thankfulness present for what seemed to us quite little. It is a stark and continuing lesson about what is important to people, and how the simple gifts of life should be treasured. This may be an appropriate place to include a few of the many photos of beautiful children and people we encountered along the way.
Before heading home, we visited Alex's village. The village had the feeling of a compound, an altogether more appealing settlement than the other's we'd visited. We were greeted warmly, with a huge smile, by his wife. We also met three of his lovely daughters. It was so nice to get this brief glimpse of Alex's home and family.
We returned to the Four Villages, exhausted from a long, hot day. We had little time to recuperate before joining the dinner party of more than twenty-five assembled at the Inn by the Kipharts, ranging from drivers to doctors to teachers to chiefs to a prophet. All were treated with equal dignity and asked to introduce themselves. Clearly the most notable was the 97-year old Prophet Emanuel, who looks and acts about 75, and who blessed everyone, twice, with great fervor. We will visit his village on Tuesday.
It was a truly remarkable, inspiring and totally exhausting day.
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