We brought the rains – at least that is what Isaac says. I started this post writing in my little Wexford 50-sheet notebook with the rain pounding the window and a muddy red river of flooded road washing beside. We were traveling back from Kumasi, and as I looked out the window, I realize that when it rains in Ghana, life goes on. We passed a soccer field where three groups of boys were continuing their game – jerseys soaked, but splashing through the puddles anyway. So in the spirit of playing – and working in the rain, we’re returning from a day of fabric shopping to meet with the Rising Village seamstress apprentices, Jennifer and Abigail, to plan more items they will be stitching. This is a busy week for them as they sew necklaces (yes, that’s right), aprons, and some items of their choosing to sell in the U.S.
The rains continued after our meeting at Esther’s seamstress shop. We sat with Jennifer at the house and talked about what it means to be a woman who takes pride in her work and is able to care for her children because of the income she earns. As Jennifer’s daughter Betty grows up, she will watch her and will know that her mother wanted a better life for her, and worked to learn her craft so she could give it to her.
“Be proud,” Chris told her. “You are doing something wonderful for your daughter and for yourself.”
The rains continued as Isaac drove around to pick up our Rising Village Ghana staff for dinner. It was the first time we had met Solomon and Victor, and our volunteer staff Charles and Martha. We reunited with Eunice, who has been with our staff since January. It is four and a half hours later and both the U.S. staff and Ghana staff is still sitting around the table talking politics and religion – two popular subjects here. I exited the table a few minutes ago, but I’m listening in as I write and I realize that we have an intelligent, curious, and opinionated staff. This is good.
The power in Ankaase is out, but we have the generator running, music playing, good conversation and I suppose the night is still young. And life goes on – in spite of rain and darkness and all the things that could divide us. But as Victor said just a few minutes ago: “We are one.”
Yes we are.
Goodnight from Ankaase, where inside this house there is light and life.