Ineke's Rubriek
Story's from April 2005 tot January 2010

Blog Ineke Bosman
http://inekebosman.blogspot.com/

Gifty’s Wedding day

(29-1-2010)by Ineke

That Saturday morning we should be there in time. Nine o’clock sharp and not a moment later. Because her minister had been stressing several times to Gifty, ‘we start in time so that we end in time’. After the wedding there would be a funeral in the same church, so no dilly dallying. And none of this nonsense with clapping and festive shouting, no chanting of ‘do-no’ and ‘ayefro’. Not in his church anyway, for ‘Deeper Life’ does not occupy itself with such worldly and childish stuff. And African time, absolutely not. So at nine exactly the hired little bus and my yellow car are parked side by side in front of the little church. The two cars together seem to take up more place than the church itself which is not bigger than a small wooden shed and also in other ways resembles more a shed then a church.

But it is festively decorated with artificial flowers and a bow decorated with blue and purple silk, where later Gifty and her husband will be seated. No drums but an electrical organ. Many men clad in dark solemn suits, among them the minister himself. A singing choir in black and white dresses is hastily pushed from the front to the back to the front of the church again. After our large PCC family entered the church and was given a seat there was not much sitting place left, but of course these problems solve themselves eventually in a natural way. Extra chairs were carried in from somewhere else. Oh how curious we all are waiting to see Gifty the bride. How will she look, what will she wear, how beautiful will she be. But for the time being there are last corrections and hastily whispered commands, interspersed with hymn-singing and communal prayer by the congregation. And then silence falls….Whispering, turning of heads. Yes! The husband to be has arrived in his dark suit and seats himself under the decorated bow. His face stone solemn and his eyes turned inwards. A little later Gifty follows, at the hand of her father. Oooooh!!!! Ooooohhhh!! Gifty almost does not touch the floor and you almost feel her heart pounding inside her chest but her face shows nothing of any emotion. She floats into the church and is directed to the chair beside Stephen, her husband to be, under the bow of honour. Oooohhh. Oooohhhh.. Ayefroh!!!! But no. This is stopped at once by the minister, this folksy shouting and singing. Silence please. This is a wedding ceremony and in Deeper Life we insist on the solemnity of the ceremony. The happy shouting dies away, with difficulty. Many ex caregivers have come especially for this occasion, like James, Kwaku, Angela, and they are excited. How to inhibit yourself when you see your old sweet colleague walking to the altar??? Oh she is awesomely beautiful but she appears so far away. Her face as unmoved like that of her husband a moment before. Can’t you just catch my eye for a moment, dear Gifty? Or somebody’s eye from among the audience? But okay. That’s how it should be anyway, all feelings constraint and kept neatly inside. A self possessed grandiose very African woman. Yet, I have a few pictures of you where you drop your mask a little bit, just enough to show your kind, shy smile. Thankfully!

Gifty is dressed in simple and modest crème-colored silk. Her shoes and headscarf are white. No veil. No ‘curtain’ as Gifty explained it a few days earlier, with real aversion in her voice for something as worldly as a veil. No powder and just ordinary tails in her hair. The wife of the minister has dressed Gifty and so she has earned that little extra income that every Ghanaian woman of substance goes for. Ghana Women: a job here, a little trade there, her hand in something here and a share in something there. And the rusty iron water tank standing beside the house with her cell phone number chalked on it ‘for rent, call me at 024etcetera’, for the school fees of the youngest child, maybe. They are seated. The organ music dies away. Communal prayers follow, all join in, we pray for purity and for perfect matrimonial love and against the many temptations of the devil. More hymns and then it is time for the sermon.

The sermon concerns itself mainly and robustly about all kind of thoughts and acts that in Deeper Life are absolutely forbidden, absolutely. Now it appears that not only coming late, singing, wearing veils and festive uncontrolled shouting are from the evil one, but that the whole world seems to be in the hands of the devil. I am myself from a catholic tradition and know this kind of church only from hearsay. But know of friends who have been traumatized by the attitude of black stocking churches, for that is what this is. Gifty, it is your church. May she provide you peace, joy and safety. But do not lose your ability to sing and to wink! After the sermon the actual wedding celebration takes place and the marriage is blessed.

And oh dear minister, how will you suppress this clapping and shouting, now that the church burst out in joy?, because Gifty gave her ‘Yes’ so loud and strong and wholeheartedly! Or did I see the beginning of a smile around the mouth of the minister? So there is hope for you??. The supreme moment has passed, the church relaxes, the united couple is still wearing steel faces but you can see that they are satisfied. Later more singing and praying and then, still very suddenly, it is all over. Gifty and Stephen, surrounded by the church-choir, walk solemnly yet somewhat swingingly over the altar-path out towards the main doors of the church. And we too are let out through the side doors of the shed that probably came lose of their hinges after everyone passed. Upon leaving the church everyone receives a plastic bag with an ice-cream and some

cookies. Bob has to go for a few minutes and when we return the reception is already over. But luckily Gifty and Stephen are still there! Aha, now her laugher breaks through! Thank you, Gifty and much success, dear child, dear strong African woman. We will miss you at PCC and especially Alice, Cynthia and Dede will cry for you. But thank God your house is beside PCC, so we can visit each other frequently and we will see a lot of you!!! Congratulations, Steve and Gifty, Do-no, ayefro, do-no, do-no! No, we don’t know, but we trust your future will be good!

Now we did do what the minister has forbidden us so strictly, we called ‘dontknow’ to you and embraced you all and kissed you and laughed and danced a bit. (When he did not look we did that!) Your husband has a kind face a nice expression, well chosen! Even though, of course, the man has chosen you and not he other way around, and you are only a little rib from his side, and on top of it you have lost your head because from now on he is your head. We shall see…

Handing over, handed over, go!

1-1-2010

This is my last column.
Should it be substantial? Yes.
Moving? How can it not be. Long? No.
Relieved? Yes and no. Sad?
Definitely. Happy? Most definitely.
Grateful? Absolutely.

The handover ceremony on the evening of the 29th took two to three hours. They were the most important hours in my life since Schiphol Airport May ‘73 on the way to my first flight to Ghana. Where I walked as bravely as I could through the immigration, with two twenty kilo bags containing all my medical books slung over my shoulders. Not even a free hand to wave my parents goodbye, just my head thrown in the neck, a little dance-pass and tears I hoped they would not see, no hand free to wipe them away either. That time it was going away, this time it is coming home. (Whatever that means. I’ve never been away and I have always been home of course…in another way.) But in the meantime I am blessed to have my dreams fulfilled. Oh and new ones are emerging of course… In my solitude of being a leader I had often doubted if I was still loved. That was my main doubt, my big wound, increasingly over the last twenty years or so. (Oh of course I don’t mean Bob here! Bob and I love each other with a crazy, passionate, temperamental, and steadfast love. The odd couple.) I mean the people with whom I work here in Nkoranza. The caregivers. board members and co founders. But also the nurses and colleague doctors in the hospital. But all-right. After this farewell ceremony I am fully convinced once again that the answer is a wholehearted ‘Yes’. Love all around. Love abounds. Baffo showered love warmly like scented oil. Osei danced love with his eyes and his words. Ema transcended shyness in his superb love and the love of the caregivers could be touched when they sang their friendship-song. Thank you guys, that’s what I needed. Isn’t it marvelous that I’m now sixty five and still insecure about these kind of things?! The warm bath of love and gratitude for Bob and me was accompanied by a shower of trust and hope in the future leadership of Ab and his dear wife Jeanette. I handed over to Ab the symbols of mind, heart and gut, as well as the spirit of PCC, subsequently in the form of PCC’s legal papers, a photo book of the children and a golden key. The spirit was portrayed by a handful of precious ‘nothingness’. All was gracefully received by Ab, who then gave his acceptance speech. We were all moved, everyone was moved. So now. Ab you have received a precious gift, handle it with the utmost care! As we trust you will. I would want to tell you of my dream during this new year’s night before I sign off. I dreamt that Paayaw, clad in a bright red tee-shirt and with an angelic smile on his face, slowly got out of his wheelchair and started to make hesitating but gradually more assured steps into a white warm light that was shining just for him. He walked! And he walked into the light. Thank you and good luck to everybody who is in the habit of reading this column. Good bye and I hope we will meet again. Happy 2010. Ineke.

The sheep

28-12-09

The Christmas play is over. As always it was the absolute highpoint of the holidays. Well, this time there will be another highpoint, the handing over ceremony tomorrow, but that is of an entirely different order. During the Christmas play all children have a role to play and one of the most popular roles is playing a sheep. So today have a look at our unique sheep! By the way you can see that our kids grow bigger from the position of the golden ears which, three years ago, have been sewn to the white cloth that covers them. Most of the ears now look more like plaited hair the way they are attached so high on the scalp. Never mind, never mind. Here follows the sheep show: Sheep Mr. Personality Ahmed

Most reverend Sheep Shalomina

Sheep Cynthia the Faithful One

Sheep Kwaku the Prayerful one

Sheep Joshua the contented one

Little sheep Steve who’s full of fun and mischief

Modern sheep Evans who experiments with interactive theatre with the audience

And lastly…..a sheep of a different order. The real one! The ‘Eat-Sheep’. The romantic un-romantic sheep that has been bought by a benefactor and is tied up on a rope near the kitchen, to be slaughtered for the New Years meal. You poor thing that is even spoken softly to and caressed by some visitors who do not know that you are on death row! To you, real ‘meat eat sheep’, apologies for the anxiety we cause you and gratitude for the delicious meat which you will provide to our children. Beh Beh Beh Beh Beh!

Falling

16-12-09

After a year of predictions it has happened today. I fell headlong in the black hole that the neighborhood has been predicting me since last year. Wonderful it was indeed, this year of celebrating the advent of freedom. Finding a little sea-breezed appartment in Holland. Finding time and ways to heal the burnout. Starting the handover process. Wonderful these last few weeks. Drinking in the atmosphere, enjoying the kids at table, swimming, walking and talking with them, hugging and kissing them. Being alive again. A great 65th birthday, all by the grace of Bob’s surprises, (all except the date itself, that is!).

Another award for ‘Dr. Bosman’ the following Saturday at the occasion of the 50th celebration of the creation of Brong Ahafo as a province. A

And a lovely two-day seminar for the RC seminary about Judaism by Bob, from which I went to pick him up and bring him home yesterday. And hoopla…. the fall. From a snug ride back in the car into dark nightmares that same night. And a further descent into fear today. ‘Baffo I am afraid’. ‘Why Maame? No. Don’t be afraid!’ ‘Yes. Scared stiff.’ ‘Why?’ ‘From next Monday onwards I don’t know where we should eat. Which table, where, with what children? Or alone, maybe. ‘ ‘No Maame, don’t cry. We will all eat with you, all of us, all the time.’ He is so exquisitely sweet, Baffo, and so funny, that I stopped in my tracks and looked surprised. ‘And Papa Bob will sing you songs. You should rest!’

He is right… but I am still suspended in this black hole a little bit, just a little bit. It’s normal, it’s predicted and it won’t last long, I promise, for Christmas is around the corner and Balloon the angel of good tidings is already polishing his golden wings!

Little Children grow up

6-12-09

When he arrived in Nkoranza Piedu was a skinny seven year old. And look at him now, this early dawn. How he is busy pushing a wheel barrel with old leaves to the garden garbage heap. Huge boots, a garden-jeans, an old tee-shirt, a tall silhouette in the early morning mist. Absorbed in what he is doing. An hour later he makes he reappearance, washed and in Sunday clothes, walking hand in hand with Mariela during the daily morning exercises.

A tall guy, after Dela the tallest of the club. What a pleasant person is he getting to be. Full of energy, fun and mischief towards his friends. Who could have thought that something so nice would grow out of this screaming little bundle of match-like arms and legs of eight years ago. And sociable too. He pushes Paa Yaw and others wheelchair-kids to school, the dining room and wherever they want to go. With a game Piedu makes sure everybody gets his turn. Piedu is now a funny combination of boisterous macho behavior and extreme anxiety. He is still in panic of everything new. This morning I wanted to take him to our house to see the yesterday-born puppies, but no! He did manage to enter our door, even allowed me to persuade him to take the steps down into our dining area but going into the kitchen to see Angel and the puppies was one step too far for him. Although old Angel is the calmest of all dogs I have ever met in my life and she, for example, quite allows people to pick up her brandnew puppies without even a growl or a bark. But that was too much for Piedu who swiftly ran back outside and stood there relieved and laughing as if saying: You did not really see my panic, did you? Look how bold I am! When in 2001 he was brought to Nkoranza in a car, he sat on my lap during the seven hour journey and never changed an inch of his position. Little Mr. ‘Anxiety Incorporated’. His face was buried in my neck and his arms fastened with an iron grip around my shoulders. He did not move his head to look anywhere, but when he arrived and had to come out of the car he saw a chicken and started screaming all through the night! As an emergency he stayed at the house nearest to the gate and stayed there one whole week before he showed his face through the window. It took a month before he dared to join the other children for meals and much longer before he was able to attend school. The pool was a no-no area till over a year later…and look at him now! Confident and sweet and wild! A swimming- and a football- hero. And ah so very humane that we see our own humanity mirrored in him. Kofi Asare arrived in 1997 as one of our first residents. Then a puber of around 18. Now he should be in his early thirties but if you ask him, ‘are you a man or a boy?’ he will answer with a very definite ‘boy’ so we keep it at that. Kofi lives independently up to the washing of his own laundry. And he is very sociable. He wears the name “Music Master” and plays organ and drums very professionally, without having had any lessons. Kofi Asare is the only inhabitant of the community who has as also been a caregiver.

For some years he looked after the little quiet Boadu, a boy with autism. Boadu has of course moved on to a new caregiver as his needs required and now Kofi lives with Charles, a workshop-mate and his best friend. Furthermore Kofi used to be in charge of the phone, but since now everybody is using a mobile phone he has joined the students at the sheltered workshop and produces wonderful necklaces and bracelets. Kofi limps and is near blind but during parties he is the centre of attention. He then has a completely different act. He is seen wearing a colored wig, white chalk on his face, pillow on his buttocks and oversized shoes. He is then not just Kofi Asare, but a star and great entertainer "Koko the Clown" who gets every other person on the dancing-floor. But Kofi himself, how would he in a metaphorical way get himself on the dance-floor again? Kofi suffers a minor dose of midlife crisis. Sometimes he is somewhat morose. Not that he complains, no, not at all. No, he wants to do things a little bit too well, get your approval, be in demand, be seen. Maybe he is a little bored with life. And because he wants to be called ‘boy’ rather then ‘man’ we think that one way out of his dilemma is to let him ‘shine’ more like a schoolboy, provide more affirmation. Be proud of him. “Maame, did you get me to Nkoranza because I could play the drums so well?” “No! We did not know that, only noticed that after your arrival here. The first time you played the drums you put your heart and soul into it, you were sweating ready to faint, and there and then everyone became enthusiastic about you. Then we understood how much talent you had!” “Maame, will you do exercises in the pool with me today? What time?” “Yes. Today. Absolutely, you and I. Three O’clock.” “But at 3 o’clock I have to play drums for the house, they cannot do without me!” Oh, of course not without you. Two o’clock, okay?!” “I will come to visit you tomorrow in your new house but I cannot come tomorrow so I will come the day after tomorrow. I have to wash two children, PaaYaw and Kojo Patrick, I have to do the laundry too, I always have a lot of work, sometimes my back hurts me.” This is the first time that I hear him complain about his back. He is very deformed and sometimes can fall down from pain but always laughing and without giving a sound. “Yes, I know, you wash them both, PaaYaw and Kojo Patrick. Come Saturday, why not come visit us Saturday-morning?!” “Saturday I have to do my laundry but maybe I should come. You want me to come, not so?” “Yes, of course. But do not rush. Come another time!” “But don’t you want me to come?” So Kofi is growing up, and of late he is torturing himself a little bit too much. If only we knew how to help a young man, boy, like Kofi in his ‘midlife crisis…’ For if anybody deserves happiness it is him of course.

The Last Gathering.

29-11-09

The little gathering takes place at 2 o’clock. Under the tree at the side of our new house 24 plastic chairs are being put in a circle and there is enough shadow left for everyone as over the previous years the branches of the new tree have grown so generously. Some ten years ago that tree showed its tiny beginnings spontaneously at exactly the right place to be protected against cutlasses and grass mowers. At the entrance of the rock-formation, the Theodore Bosman Social Centre, it is now probably the largest tree of the whole compound. What kind of tree is this? ‘Nyame-Dua. That means God-Tree.’ Why that name? ‘You may not cut that tree.’ (Oh that’s why it is still here.) But why? ‘Because this type of tree is full of medicine. Different medicines for at least twenty or more diseases. The bark contains medicine against measles, the leaves are used against yellow fever, each part of this tree contains healing powers.’ We sit in a circle under the God-Tree on the Theodore Bosman Social Centre. My late father offered Bob and I an envelope with old fashioned Dutch guilders as our wedding gift which we used it to remove the wild elephant grasses from the rock-formation, build the summer hut and floor the area with concrete. That’s where we married in 1997 and that is where since very recently we live.

We sit and talk and the caregivers are joking with eachother till Ema calls their attention. ‘Maame wants to talk to you, please.’ Oh good, that has been a long time ago, since we all met! I feel contented, so much part of the earth and the wind and the tree and the circle of young sweet people being present there. ‘Nothing special, I wanted to thank you all.’ Oh? Thank you because you are all so special. So very good at what you are doing. So playful and fun together, so filled with spirit and so much courage! What not, what is it that you don’t have? I have never in my life seen anything like this, like you! Never have I anywhere anytime seen a team that functions so well, seriously. Together, so well, with the children, so very well. I am amazed and should probably have told you this more often. Natural born vcaregivers!

Really! I can’t even find words to express how grateful i am how proud I am of you all. And you know what? You just improvise. You just do it! Just like that! Or is there somehwere a social worker among you? A psychologist? A nurse hidden somewhere, or a doctor? Is any of you maybe trained to be a pastor? Or did you study anthropology? Did any of you learn management or listening skills? Did you even all have a chance to go to school at all? Wonderful natural born caregivers!

Well. You just walk in here and join the group and there you go! Always with children, children that at the most inconvenient times will pee, or have running stomachs and running noses and shouting sessions and cry when you are busy and fight and run away and what not. Or the opposite, kids who are eerily quiet, who just sit still and look at nothing and do not speak at all. Much too quiet for your comfort. But you do it! Whatever the situation demands you do it, always optimistic and with humor and you know, I like the way you help each other. Even teach the children to help one another. What would Jesus and his twelve friends say, in case they would walk by and see you here? Yes exactly, they would be amazed and sit down with you and say ‘wow’, right?! That’s how we sat under the tree for about an hour, that Saturday afternoon. This morning as I did my walking exercises, one after the other the caregivers came to greet me and said: ‘Maame, thank you for the party’. ‘That was a nice meeting’. ‘Thank you because your words have encouraged us’. ‘That was nice under the tree, you made us happy.’ For some time I have been irritated that people seem to have lost the habit of saying thanks and that nowadays all that counts is money... and then this Sunday-morning I receive such showers of gratitude that the effect will last for the rest of my life! So much gratitude for my few words, which were sincere and rather clumsily expressed. They deserve so much more recognition, that is a simple truth. So, most likely that was the last meeting with the caregivers before the ‘Van Galens’ arrive and I hand over the director’s bouton. About the handover itself I spoke with deep trust, gratitude and most of all a personal relief. And the remark that with the caregiver’s excellent attitude and spirit continuing, they may not be much in need of external direction anymore, because they seem to have internalized the values of our community so well. This was a bit of an exaggeration caused by the spirit of the moment as I of course believe that our group still needs outside direction and encouragement. But most of all, so very, very grateful. So totally proud!

The Mysterious Ones...

22-11-09

Last week I let myself be seduced by the quiet, somewhat clumsy beauty of Cynthia. Since that time every early morning I walk a few rounds with her.

Delicious, those small soft hands in mine. Would the hands of autistic persons be on the whole a few sizes smaller? And always remain so soft and new as if they have no function to play except a decorative one? In the mornings when I am not on call I always visit Cynthia for a few minutes at her play-therapy-place just only to put one or two beads on the needle she holds quietly in front of her eyes …She appreciates to have someone help her, or join in what she does. In The Nana Yaw Paradise Hall I never of course have met Koo Ema alias Ema Clapman as yet. That is of course because Ema joins the ordinary Shalom Special School in the morning hours and seems reasonably satisfied spending his time there, in any case shows no agitated behavior or anger attacks.

Koo Ema is one of the first children who arrived at PCC. When Bob and I married in Nkoranza in June 1997 he was there. And even did the ‘tumbler’ and other acrobatic performances with Yaw Wiredu and Martin, his then caregiver. . Koo Ema was born in 1991 and should now be 18 years old. On the 2nd May of 1997, a month before our wedding, he joined our community on transfer from Osu Children Home. Ema had been left behind in a hospital where his mother, a psychotic homeless woman, delivered him and disappeared the next day, leaving the child behind. As long as I know Ema, he is deeply autistic. He shows a range of typical stereotypical behaviors of which rhythmically clapping his hands is the most clear and persistent one. That’s why we call him sometimes ‘the clap man’. Because he is autistic it took a long time for Ema to get used to his surroundings. He was afraid of children. Nobody was allowed to come close to him, let alone touch him. In case that happened he would hit children, or run away in panic. Now he is well integrated in our home but remains of course much to himself. Every now and then he allows you to greet him and shake his hand and sometimes he even stretches his own hand out invitingly for you to shake him. If you do, he smiles gratefully and becomes happy. He likes attention as long as it is soft and caring and most of all if he remains in control. If someone touches him harshly without warning he get angry. But all in all, Ema shows his shy small smile more than his panic behavior. He does not speak but can understand you quite well. He loves music and every tune he hears he can repeat immediately. He also just loves walking around with a portable radio close to his ear. Ema loves walking, if left to himself he would keep walking for half of the day, up and down to town and up and down again. At the hand of his caregiver as well as his even more autistic brother Ntiamoah. In the morning I see him walking with his caregiver and his brother, they love walking like a close family unit. After breakfast Ema attends school and I will not see him any more till he is back for lunch in the afternoon, after which he walks to town with the volunteers. Myself, I sometimes meet him in the pool, at three o’clock. He always sits at the same place, back against the round shaped wall of the pool, to the left of the new stone benches made for caregivers and kids to sit and relax. If you sit beside that bench and not in front of it nothing unexpected can happen to you, at least not from the back, for no one is sitting behind you! So Ema has found a good spot with full vision in the front and protection from the back. And if he feels very safe in the position he can be quite open and approachable. Even show something like a smile on that characteristically handsome face of his. He sits in the water, looks to a focus point on the water but also throws furtive looks around him every now and then. If he sees someone looking at him kindly he curls his lip. Often that is me. I love sitting beside him, a little distance away, and look at him, or towards the same point he is looking at, in front of him. Ema, I then whisper. And he looks me in the eyes and shows me a smile. A grin, but even so.... If I then stretch out my hand to him and say: hello Ema then, without further ado, my hand will be grasped and shaken. It is something pleasant for him, something good that does not arouse fears in him. Often we repeat that a number of times till he, or I, lose concentration and then our playful contact seeking fades away.

During the Christmas we often do ‘line-dancing’ and because Ema dances so well he is then invited to be the front line dancer, the one who opens the polonaise. Then he is really happy, beams, dances gracefully with his head on one shoulder and everyone knows that he is the leader! Wonderful! Mysterious persons we have in abandance. The autism is a class in itself. And they are persons of class, all of them.

Cynthia

11-11-09

Almost every morning at seven, when I go out to walk, I meet Cynthia. Sometimes she sits with her mother Gifty and watches how Alice is lovingly massaged by Gifty, under the running commentary of their younger sister Dede. Sometimes she walks hand in hand with Zachariah or another child. Sometimes she stands at a crossroads, swinging her body back and forth and fluttering her arms as if she doesn’t know anymore which direction to go and with whom. Sometimes I take her very small soft hand in mine (always the right hand even though at times she has to contort her body in strange unnatural ways to walk like that) and we walk together for some time. I like that, for our company is good for one another and we walk in the same rhythm. We have many autistic children but Cynthia is already so many years with us... after the late Nana Yaw and Koo Ema she was the first autistic child to join our community.

A beautiful woman, ebony black skin and very large expressive eyes. Which never really look at you except furtively and unnoticed by you. A mysterious look. Sometimes she likes to take your hand to touch her hair but she has to do this herself. She herself has to be ready to be touched and in control of your hand. If you touch her too gregariously she moves away, grimacing as if she is attacked. Which is probably the way she experiences such a movement. She can even become aggressive if you enter her space and move beyond the limits she can tolerate. Still she wets her bed every day and every morning good old Gifty carries her mattress out to dry in the sun. Every day, for about seven years, Gifty does that for her. Before her it was caregiver Ruth who did that, and caregiver Janet. And caregivers whose names I have forgotten. Cynthia joined us in 1998, then a girl in her early puberty. I found her on the children ward of the psychiatric hospital in Accra. Nobody knew her story, how many years she had lived on that ward, where she was from and who had brought her there. More then a human being she looked like a strange spirit, come to think of how she impressed us at that time. If she could have disappeared into the wall she would have done for the atmosphere was very violent for Cynthia. Screaming and dirty concrete walls and nasty smells and frustrated nurses. Still she has not uttered a word. Still eye contact disturbs her. But now she can tolerate you looking at her, just don’t ask her to look back at you. She is quieter and has gained a natural dignity. Sometimes she enjoys walking with you or slowly putting some colorful beads on a string. Sometimes she grasps your hand as if to say that there is more to life then this, but don’t know what, or how to get there. Sometimes this is the only thing we can offer a woman like Cynthia, and actually it is a lot, if you reflect on it. Safety. Dignity. A little bit of Peace. I would almost add, how many ‘ordinary’ people reach that at the age of 24? But that equation does not hold. Ordinary humankind is in no way comparable with Cynthia and the innumerable fears that ride her soul like furious warriors. Never to compare. Grateful for being ordinary.

Just Arrived

25-10-2009 2009.

This is the year of changes and a constant experience of ‘just arriving’… So many changes that Bob looks as if permanently walking against a fiery wind and I as if permanently intoxicated. But we wear smiles, oh do we have smiles on our faces! Six weeks ago we arrived in Holland in our new apartment, our little ‘summer-house’ to be. For Bob it was the first time to see it and he was excited by its warm beauty. The size is hardly more than that of a studio, but exquisite! Included the location at the Scheveningen beach. With the North Sea in our backyard, the old shopping-street on the right, a bunch of restaurants on the left and flowerpots on our little balcony in front of us. Like a little prince and princess, that is how we are!

And five days ago we arrived back in Ghana. Where for a few days we felt like tourists in our own handsome old house. Between greeting and unpacking, hearing the news and airing the humid house-smells, cleaning and patting our dogs, overcoming a flue and being on hospital call, it did not feel like one of our better homecomings! To mark the turmoil Bob lost one of his teeth and now looks like an old hillbilly guy! But eventually all was redeemed by yet another move.

Saturday, yesterday, we moved over to our new house at PCC, our ‘winter-house’, as we call it. The place is so rich and so bizarre in its stately beauty that it makes us…what? Bubbly! Dizzy! Heady! Once again!

Part of our dizziness now, today, is of course natural and self-inflicted! It is caused by the uneven floor of our new house, which is built on the hill and has kept, by intention, its beautiful natural slope! Look!

We not only count our blessings but also our houses… And keep wondering where our things are, as we seem to perpetually lose our stuff. Where is the soap? In Scheveningen on the edge of the shower. No in the old house near the water barrel. No in this house somewhere…it rolled over the floor from one side to the other. ‘Our cup overflows’ because of the way this house is constructed of course, as well as from satisfaction of a full and wonderful life. Come to our house on the hill to experience it and keep overflowing, you cup!

We have arrived.

Chickenpox

5 October 2009

I write this little update from Holland, especially because it is already four weeks ago since I last wrote. That was the story of Emmanuelle and Steve preparing to attend a real school. Well you may be curious and waiting to hear how the experience worked out for these two special kids! Emmanuelle attended school for one week and then the first little blister broke out on her face too…chickenpox. In the meantime there is a veritable epidemic of chickenpox attacking our community and even many of our adults suffer from it. Coordinator Ema called this morning that he too has fallen victim to the disease. Vesicles all over his face and body and itching, itching, itching... Kofi Asare our master music man too has been attacked. Philo and Amma had a bad dose of it but thank God their symptoms have receded. So, one after the other! Well Emmanuelle too did not like getting chickenpox. Not so much because of the itch or the fever, but....because she had to stay home from school for the time of the sickness. That was the worst for her, not being able to go to that beloved school anymore. She adores that school! (And in the meantime she enjoys it again, the chickenpox are gone. Now it is Steve who has to stay home with blisters on his face, and apparently he is weepy and disgruntled about it!) On this photograph

Emmanuelle and Philo are covered with calamine lotion, against the itch. Why does everyone always laugh in Ghana if a child suffers a disease like this? Is it funny? Maybe it is, with their ‘calamine lotioned’ faces they start looking like ‘Koko the Clown’. Happily most of the kids who are victims of the disease laugh themselves about it as well, although some, like Philo, halfheartedly and with a frown. But they laugh. That is Ghana!

For Emmanuelle it was very hard to interrupt attending her school after a wonderful exciting start for her. She loves the school, the teachers, her girlfriends and all her little classmates. It is a miracle the way this is working out. She has her desk at the first row, side by side with Steve. We made a special wheelchair-stroke-desk-stroke-writing slate for her, and she is now seriously learning to write with a pencil between her lips. Steve sits, not very quietly, at her side. If he gets the chance he takes his two crutches and walks to the back of the class, to sit there with the girls… (now we still smile about it!) Their first school day, as narrated by Baffo (the driver) and Letitia (their support) went like this. All the children came running out of school that first time when they saw the car stopping at school. They rushed around the car and looked in from half open windows and shouted from enthusiasm. Emmanuelle (not Steve) became shy with the overdose of attention. But... the swarm of children was drawn towards admiring the car much more then towards looking at the two little children inside of it. So Baffo gave a bit of a ‘show’ with his car and apparently drove a few proof-rounds with some of the school-kids. And after a few days Emmanuelle as well as the car were considered as part and parcel of daily school-life. Of course Emmanuelle too received curious looks from every single adult and kid but not in any nasty way. Soon girls from her class came up to her desk and asked “Can I be your friend?’ So touching! Emmanuelle has one answer for these potential friends which is “yes!’. And Steve? During the first few days Steve was exploring curiously, somewhat wild and undisciplined in his behavior, but in the meantime the ‘Missus’ is busily teaching him some manners and the rules of a school. He starts understanding discipline, a new concept in his life. Not to speak when another person speaks and not to leave your desk while the teacher is standing in front of the class. To speak with two words and at every possible opportunity drop ‘goodaftenoon”, the new magic word to receive a fond smile. Now he is even more pleased attending school, because he starts understanding some of the routines and the rules that go with it and it gives him relief. No-one has teased them. The headmaster and his wife are of course on the lookout for any sign of that, and have called the children of the school together to talk about the newcomers and what it means, a child with a handicap. Yes, Emmanuelle and Steve left in the mornings at 7.30 and arrived back around three. Tired and satisfied. And then again in the evening Letitia would take them together for their homework for the next day. They really adored school and you could see them blossom up in a whole new way. Emmanuelle with her chickenpox was so disappointed that she had to get better before returning to school. In the picture below you see her in Joyce’s lap (of course) during the party where our new retirement house was dedicated. By way of consolation she was allowed to cut the ribbon and thus opened our new house.

That made her forget for a while that she was sick. Now she is back to school again since long. And now Steve has to stay home with chickenpox all over his body and now he wines and shows his disappointment in all possible ways. And we, we are in Scheveningen and hear those stories from Baffo and Ema and some of the caregivers. The coordinator Ema who in the meantime also has caught the disease… In two weeks we will return to Ghana and hope from the bottom of our heart that this epidemic of childhood diseases has then subsided. Just before chickenpox we were visited by parotitis, the mumps. And before that and during that the airway infections, the ear-infections, the malaria attacks, the colds and the catarrhs, the flu and the what not. That’s how it is when you have over 80 children in your home. Ab and Jeanette, dear, get prepared for this aspect too, because the handover is coming with big beautiful giant steps and December is right around the corner! Hurray.

The First School-day

7-9-09

When finally the idea received concrete form everyone got enthusiastic about it. Even sweet old Joyce felt in favor of the plan, Joyce who wants to protect Emmanuelle against the world to such an extent that she would prefer to carry her around in a sling on her back all her life. Emmanuelle, would you like to go to school? ‘Yes!’ Would you like that? ‘Yes!’ With other children from Nkoranza town to a kindergarten? Every early morning you go to school and in the afternoon we would pick you up again, would you like that? ‘YES!’. A beaming face. An intelligent smile. A clear and unequivocal ‘YES’. What does it all mean? Can her reply have much value? Emmanuelle gives a loud and clear ‘Yes’ to almost all questions asked to her. Does she know what that means, an ordinary school? An ordinary village. Ordinary people. Has she really been outside of our protected community enough to know the difference? An occasional bus-trip with all the kids to the waterfalls, is that exposure to the ordinary world at all? Well, in any case she cannot forever be hidden under mother’s skirt and now seems the time to let her experience a little more of the larger outside world. And who would not want to play, learn and get in touch with other children. There is nothing wrong with her intellectual faculties. Our volunteers have been preparing her already for some years by teaching her how to firmly hold a pencil in her mouth and draw, among others things. Emmanuelle is ready for the new experience and really excited with the idea of going to school. It is a merciful coincidence that she does not have to go it alone, because little Steve, after all the orthopedic work done to his legs, is now walking with his crutches and ready to exercise his brains instead. So they will be together and support one another. With a caregiver, Leticia, who is also very motivated to get the kids to school and happy that she has been chosen to accompany them. But to which school? There are many schools in Nkoranza, most of such low level that we would not want them for Steve and Emmanuelle. These vulnerable children need to be well protected and thus much has to be explained to the other children in class and there needs to be a good individual guidance for all the kids involved. In town the ‘Nation-builders school’ is at the moment considered one of the best schools and Ema coordinator knows the director. So let’s aim for the Nation Builders! Some weeks ago already, Ema has asked the director about the possibility to absorb two of our kids into his school, and the reply was a hesitant and conditional yes. ‘Maybe, let’s first see the children and talk with the foster-mothers.’ He could not quite give an unconditional ‘no’ because according to Ghana law he has to admit any child from the local community and Emmanuelle was born in Nkoranza. So apparently Ema coordinator had quietly and politely reminded the headmaster of this legal aspect as well. Ema! Our people are becoming more assertive each day. The previous weekend I had wanted to meet the director personally to explain about Emmanuelle, but instead he came with his wife to visit us, said he wanted to see the children for himself in their natural environment. That was the first time that the headmaster and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Atta, visited our community. They were visably moved. ‘Why?’ ‘All this here, your garden with children, all this is so natural and beautiful and the atmosphere is so pleasant, even happy, we had expected to see depressed and dejected children instead. That’s why we are moved.’ Then the supreme moment came. ‘Can we see the two children concerned?’ Mr. And Mrs. Atta, together with Ema, Bob and myself, sat around the round tiled stone table and ‘ploop’ someone placed Emmanuelle squarely and without any further introduction right at the centre of the table. A wonderful moment. Emmanuelle who found her immediate balance standing on her hips on the table smiled charmingly and pulled up one eyebrow as if to say: ‘How can I help you?’ Mrs. Atta immediately was in control of herself again, which I admired, and asked the small little lady on the table: ‘What is your name?’ ‘Emmanuelle’ ‘Hmmm Emmanuelle, would you like to come to our school?’ ‘YES!’ Again as loud, clear and self-assured as before... the tension broke immediately and everyone started laughing and talking. Mr. Atta said: ‘Then, my dear, then you may come to our school, we would like that Emmanuelle!’ ‘YES!’ Steve, who because of his successful surgeries and walking exercises had been at the center of attention of the community for quite some time, more because of his fast pace of walking with crutches than his intellectual development which still has to begin, was the next interviewee. With crutches and calipers he was put on one of the empty chairs around the table. ‘And this is Steve who also would like to go to school’ said Leticia. It is her child and Steve is Leticia’s apple of her eye, just like Emmanuelle is the apple of Joyce’s eye. The ice was broken already and after just having accepted a little girl without arms and legs the acceptance of a small boy with crutches was only a formality. ‘You are Steve? Do you want to go to school as well?” asked the kind Mrs Atta. ‘NO’, said Steve with abandon. He had obviously shaken off his shy mood. With a loud ‘NO’ he had received success and made many people laugh before in our group. Immediately Steve received a small angry smack on the arm from Leticia, while she quickly corrected: ‘He means yes!’ ‘Do you mean to say ‘yes’, Steve? ’ ‘YES!’, with an angelic smile. ‘Thank God’, said the sweet Mrs Atta. That day, the day of the unequivocal ‘yes’ from both the headmaster and Emmanuelle and Steve will be etched inside my heart forever. Because of the joy of that moment.

Tuesday the 1st of September, two days later, they should have started classes but we had a whole list of issues to resolve before. They needed two sets of school uniforms each, a good wheelchair with reading/writing board to work on for Emmanuelle, and more of that so we decided to let them start Monday 7 September. Today... The adorable uniforms were sewn by Saturday-afternoon, and Sunday Mr. Ameyaw brought a designer ‘school-bench in wheels’ for Emmanuelle.

And now it is Monday 2pm. This morning at 7.25 Baffo was waiting with the big white car, doors already open to welcome them inside. Gallant and businesslike, a telephone against one ear, listening to me with the other ear. ‘Every day you want to bring them at 7.30 and collect them at 3 pm? Isn’t that a bit too much for you? You have many things to do, Baffo. Why not get a local driver involved, like Kojo....’ He looks at me with his kind half smile. ‘I’ll do it myself for the time being.’

Joyce is still busy with nice smelling talcum powder for Emmanuelle and Leticia fumbles with the buttons of Steve’s fashionable pants. Steve has a mini schoolbag on his back. Both are quiet and solemn, in tune with the moment. Then Baffo carries Emanuelle into the car, in the front as befits a lady. Steve is lifted, with bags, crutches calipers and all, in the backseat. At the last moment someone hands a plastic bag with schoolbooks and slates. Leticia jumps in and they are ready to go.

Baffo closes Emmanuelle’s safety belt and we wave and ‘zap’ they are out of sight. FOTO5 Now I wait till three o’clock to hear how it was for them, that first school-day… today.

Steve the Walkman

22-9-09

It is already some weeks ago, to be precise the day of Steve Philips’s farewell party, when little Steve unexpectedly returned to Nkoranza. ‘Cured’, they laughed over the phone from Nsawam Revalidation Center,’ the rest is left to him! Let him walk and walk and walk…’ Steve arrived with us in July 2008, on transfer from an orphanage in Kumasi. At that time he was a four year old, moving around speedily on hands and deformed knees.

Since he arrived with us he started to eat a lot and to make many friends under the caregivers and the other children. In November 2008 his first orthopedic surgery took place at St John of God Hospital and his feet-contractures were corrected. Steve returned for Christmas to Nkoranza, both legs firmly splinted in plaster, and he was celebrated as the star of the celebration. Early 2009 his plaster was removed and in April 2009 Steve was made ready for another operation to correct the position of his knees.

This second surgery too was very successful and by June he was ready to go for the ‘big work’, an estimated 4 to 6 month episode of revalidation and intensive physeo-therapy at Br Tarcisius Revalidation Center at Nsawam. Bye Steve, Bye Leticia, thank you Leticia! But, miracle of miracles, who arrived one beautiful morning back to our community? Who stepped slowly and solemnly out of that taxi like a young and smiling Godfather? Steve the walkman with his faithful Leticia! ‘Steve! Leticia! Are you back? Something wrong?’ We had thought to maybe see them around Christmas again, so what could be wrong? ‘Oh no Mama, Papa, no, they say he is too good for the Center. We are discharged. He can do it alone. There is nothing they can teach him anymore and now we will exercise here at Nkoranza. He is good, he is too good for Nsawam, Maame! Well, less then 2 months of physeo and already back home again, task accomplished, that is wonderful!

Little Steve returned on the day of the farewell party of Big Steve and the farewell party also became his welcome party. ‘Bye Bye Steve and here is your present from me!’ Now he is walking around as happily and speedy and purposeful as can be. He reminds me of some great and brave historic figure but I can’t figure out who exactly! Maybe someone like the great President Roosevelt who helped steer The West out of the clutches of Hitler? Steve already walks better than Roosevelt, what a future will lay ahead of him! Who knows, but certainly a great and eventful life for Steve the Walkman, I do believe that. What we know is that per first September Steve is going to attend the best school in town, the Nation Builder’s Primary School. Since a few weeks we have opened talks with the headmaster about this prospect. To have a child with a disability attend class is new for the school but they are eager to do their utmost best and so are we…! And guess who will join Steve to that school? Yes, Emmanuelle! Absolutely! And they are both excited about it! Oh and good old Leticia will join them in class. Watch out, because a new generation of winners is coming up!

The British Invasion, an invasion of angels

12-8-09

8pm, starry skies. Charity and Mercy, Baffo, Bob and I, we were all waiting for the big bus to arrive. We had our plastic chairs placed near to the gate on the entrance road, so we would not miss them. Waiting with happy anticipation and a little tension in the stomach. After all a first time for everything, and this was the first time for the visit of a tour-bus filled with 24 English visitors! The organizers of the tour we knew very well, they are friends, but how would the others of this very large group fit in? Charity and Mercy had put flowers in every room, Baffo had soaked the guesthouse walls with one more layer of fresh whitewash, the grass was short and the water in the pool refreshed. The kitchen cupboard was newly stocked with plates, cups and glasses. Big steaming pots with food were ready. Waiting. Then finally, creakingly, the gates opened and a huge tour bus pulled inside our compound and parked under the tree. Its door opened and a line of silhouettes hesitatingly descended from the bus. Our friends, the tour leaders Naomi and Danielle, were the first to appear. All was done so quietly as if it concerned latecomers at a midnight church-service or youngsters who sneak into their house hoping not to wake their parents. We embraced them, the first few, silently and fondly. The real greeting would come later, the next day.

As if they had done it thousand times before Naomi and Danielle, together with Charity and Mercy, brought the visitors in two groups to the appropriate sleeping-quarters. ‘Go sleep, we’re all tired, we’ll see you tomorrow’, whispered Sue and we went to sleep…and saw them the next morning. The next morning, like each further day these friends were with us, we found them relaxed, humorous, quiet, very engaged with the caregivers and kids and seemingly perfectly at ease. As if a bunch of angels had landed on our premises.

There were the very old and the very young and all ages in between. Many were doctors, nurses and professionals from the caring professions. The kids were just curious and affectionate kids and it took them about a day or so to feel free enough to play with our kids, our group of curious and affectionate kids! All went naturally, there were no big excursions, no sidetracks apart from what our community had to offer. So appreciative of what was going on inside this loving community they were… it was awesome for us to see this happen. No forum with the possibility for 500 questions and answers…just a lot of playfulness while observing and enjoying.

A highlight Sunday was a workshop by Sue and Elisabeth about communication with autistic persons (is recorded on tape, you can order a copy if so desired) and Monday the highlight was a farewell party where everybody, visitors, kids and community members, were singing and dancing and doing little performances and sketches. Tuesday they left in the early morning, some in the bus wept. Some outside the bus waving goodbye wept with them. What else to say when an angel comes by? Should I say ho much money they collected for our project? How many things they brought for the workshop? And for teaching aids? How they found us 10 extra child-sponsors in the span of half an hour? How they even promised to raise money for a bus in future? Yes, that was important. But your gentleness and appreciation was your greatest gift to us. Thank you lovely British angels, come again please real soon.

Handover

2 Aug, 2009

It has been accomplished! Phase two of the handover of the PCC-Directorate from Ineke and Bob to Albert and Jeanette has been completed. Jeanette and Albert left today to return to The Netherlands after an intense work-visit that lasted three weeks. Phase one took place during a two day meeting in The Netherlands in May and the final phase will take place between Christmas and New Year. And then…. Exit Ineke and Bob and welcome Albert and Jeanette.

It was an intense three week marathon of sharing information. Showing, visiting, talking, writing, discussing. Ab and Jeanette set themselves the extra goal of learning all the hundred names of children and staff. Well done! At the end of the marathon, today, three quarters of the departments are handed over to Ab and Jeanette. And there is wariness and satisfaction all around. The sheltered workshop is now under the responsibility of Ab and Jeanette, as well as the volunteer-coordination, the internet café, the guesthouses, the benefactors and sponsor-administration, the lands, grounds, licenses and other administrative papers. What is left for handover at the end of the year is the responsibility for the care of the children and for construction. Pffft. Magnificent. Job well done, all of us! The handover of ‘technical information’ was fairly straightforward sailing. But the loneliness of the process, the experience of moving to the sideline, some little jalousies here and there with me (this caregiver and that child now throws her arms around the new ‘mother’, just as easy as they did with me. Hmm!), these were unexpected additional challenges! I would have thought that the grieving about handing over our children would happen later in the process. But no, it hit us straight, heavy and by surprise. One night we could not sleep from desolated feelings and then started to understand we were in several processes at the same time: A clean cut handing over process of explanations and also separating our umbilical cord somewhat fast and prematurely. Only when we noticed and understood this could we ‘realign’ our own attitude, from defensive and morose to humor and reality testing, and we felt we had to apologize to Ab and Jeanette for being irritable for some days. Well that hurdle was well taken (no doubt others will come!) and brought us all closer together. Insight is a great thing! All is well, we are very many steps further in the process, and everybody, really everybody, is happy, Included Ema, Paul and Baffo. And now Ab and Jeanette’s car left and we are floored with a not unpleasant type of tiredness. The tiredness that follows sustained intense work. We are floored just like our dog Angel. But wait a minute, what did she do that she is wiped out as well? Did she hand over too? Or purely empathy?

Steve’s farewell party

31 July 09

After one and a half year of coordinating the sheltered workshop, Steve was called back by his SMA-Superiors to help out in a SMA project in Accra. He did a gigantic job for us and it really hurt to have to let him go. Just to what level he was loved by the workers and children became obvious in these last days culminating in the farewell-party. It was crazy and wonderful and awesome to see so much affection and fun displayed. I will show some of the pictures as they speak better. Thank you Steve! We will never forget you with your shining skull, your kind little smile, your taste for all things tasty and yummy, your craze for grass cutters and Obama, your love for Ghana, our workshop and our kids in particular. Thanks again and enjoy your vacation in the States.

Solomon’s burial

25 July 2009

Many are the events that are going on at the moment, but right now I need to write about Solomon. This morning Bob and I pay Solomon our last respect and see his body off to the burial grounds. The whole town is weeping. Solomon died on the 15th, alone in a hospital-room at the university hospital in Accra. This is the first time that I hear of a person who dies alone in Ghana. Apparently Solomon had some minutes earlier asked a visiting nurse if she would extend his final farewell to his wife, children, family and all those who knew him. When seen again he had ceased to live. Solomon was the eleventh and lastborn of a mother who not soon after left him an orphan. His family was poor and Solomon did not have the capacities of a great scholar, but he had the firm conviction that one day he would be a priest. And he almost did, he made it all the way into the major seminary and being ordained to the priesthood was only a matter of time. And yet his one and only dream passed him by. At the burial-site this morning, during Mass, the officiating priest said that he, Solomon, had the soul of a monk, the most prayerful variation of priesthood. His classmates from the seminary, some 14 middle aged priests, carried his coffin to the burial grounds after the service. We followed with thousands of weeping and wailing others others and threw a handful of dust on the white coffin of our beloved monk. In 2001 the monk, while doing his year in philosophy, fell sick and was found with a heart valve defect which eventually needed cardiac surgery. Solomon suspended his studies at the seminary and was not given the go-ahead to resume again. It was the end of his priestly career, stopped short just before it could begin. Neither the former nor the present bishop of this diocese allowed him to complete his studies and be ordained a priest. ‘Priests need to be healthy and strong as they labour in the fields for God’s harvest’ they both said. Solomon never fully recovered from this verdict imposed on him by a leaking valve and two successive hardened bishops. So he remained a perplexed person. Eventually he became a teacher. Solomon married a nice woman called Faustina and they received, one after another, three sons, the lastborn only three months old. Wife and youngest son were at the funeral this morning. She was broadly seated like a red-clothed queen mother, heavy and almost royal from grief. The little babyboy was carried by her sister, the other two boys were left home. When Fausti and Solomon married Bob and I made them a reception at Hand in Hand, after the wedding-service in church. All his classmates were there, the same ones who now, some five years later, carried him away to the grave. His best friend priest gave the wedding sermon at that time, a sermon that both Bob and I remember well. It went like this: ‘Our classmate Solomon is a priest, forever a priest, meant to be a priest, nothing but a priest.’ ‘But as he may not be ordained in our hole church he will find it hard to remain alone. Celibacy is the highest state which brings a person closest to God, but it is meant only for those, as Paul says, who are weak in flesh. For the weak it is better to marry then to sin. So let our brother Solomon marry sister Faustina, so that he does not sin! I still feel the anger flaring in my chest when I remember that sermon during their beautiful; wedding-day. One priest who is very close to him even advised him not to marry so as to remain closer to God. That this marriage was not a good thing for his personal sanctification! Solomon, I asked after that service, how did you like the wedding sermon? ‘Oh mama, oh papa, it was marvelous!’ Do you agree with these words? ‘Yes, oh, Yes!” Oh, okay, well… We lost sight of him as he went to the Coast for further studies in education. Every now and then he would pop up and visit us with his wife and children and then go again for further studies. He seemed to gradually be more at peace, less perplexed. But never ever could he really give his ‘priesthood-dream’ a place to rest. He felt he had done the ‘second best choice’. Such a gentle lovely boy but always a bit broken ever since the bishop refused him for ordonation. He called me three days before he died. ‘Mama, come to visit me please. Come to Accra! Please come and ask the cardiac surgeon what he is going to do. He does not attend to me anymore. Nobody can explain!’ I did not come. I had excuses but now regret my decision not to visit him. No more other chances…. Now he has given his body back to the earth to rest. And his spirit back to God. If we would believe with the fervor of Solomon’s faith we would know our monk to be in Gods arms, embraced and transformed into royal priesthood. His ‘weaker but better half’ Faustina, and the three small children are here, meanwhile. She has no profession that I know. The extended family is still poor. The church did not help fulfill Solomon’s dream. Will she help support the widow and the children? Maybe, that’s been the more traditional role of the church. I was angry with my church for a long time, not only, of course, because of how Solomon was treated. Now my anger has gone for a moment. I feel as grief-filled and as royal as the widow. She will survive, so will the kids, so will we all.

A bob, a job

2-7-09

Kojo is already for a long time very eager to get his own computer in his own house. Kojo is a member of the ”private business sector”, he has got his own little garden, his own means of transportation, his own weaving loom, his own…own….own…. and now may be also one day his own computer! Kojo came with this request after I returned from Holland, in June. Nervous, tilting from heel to toe and back, with a shy smile and of course unintelligible. But after quite some time I finally understood: “I want to buy computer, for in my house”. Steve, Paul, Ema, Baffo, Bob and I, we talked about it, mentioning all the advantages and the disadvantages. Clearly the disadvantages were more, Kojo is already a loner, who likes to be separate, he is the only one sleeping alone, whilst all the others are with two persons in one room, he is already a bit spoiled, with items, like his own scoot mobile, that is not just given like that to all others, he is receiving extra lessons on the computer in the computer school, but……….completely up to expectation the outcome of our discussions was a big and enthusiastic “Yes”. Yes, we will go for it! We will start to help Kojo to earn his own computer. He has got already 45 Cedis, as savings from his workshop salary in his moneybox and he will try to get some extra earnings for the remaining amount needed (another 100 Cedis!), with all kind of extra small jobs. Why: well, he is so motivated and he will look at you in his own special way and he will fully go for it, if he really wants to get something done, completely, without any reserves! And it’s so great to see him so happy, to enjoy his laughing. So yesterday there was another meeting, with Steve, Paul and Kojo and after one hour he came out of the office with a big smile. He had succeeded! Afterwards you saw Steve and Paul walking around with all kind of laminated announcements, which were posted at various places near the restaurant, the guesthouses, near the table, in fact all over the compound. “Kojo will wash your car for 2 Cedis”. “Your laundry for 1 Cedi” or “Massage for 5 (!) Cedis”, a whole list of what he can and will and is allowed to do to earn his own computer. This morning around 6.30 AM Kojo came to visit us, something he doesn’t do normally and he sat down, smiling in the big chair in our room. Bob had no choice but to order a massage for 5 Cedis with Kojo, on Monday. And he can also continue by washing my car! He told us he had already more assignments, so we would be placed on the waiting list! And this is called……….success! This is, I believe, as it should be when a child really wants to have something and when it’s achievable and useful (Anyway, Kojo also would like to have a woman, but ….where can you buy these nowadays…….just joking!). That’s what they are working for, to make some money and so being able to buy something that they really want to have, with the money they have earned with their own hands! It will be a good day, there is some expectation in the air today! Something new, Kojo and his “bob for a job”!

Summer. Coming and going.

21 June 2009

Crawling and walking. Today summer has officially started. Not that this fact means anything here in Ghana, the country of the eternal summer…. However, because of the date we easily remember the birthday of some very nice and sunny persons: the birthday of Steve Philips, Mercy and her twin-sister Grace.

Congratulations to you, summer people! Grace did not waste any time and celebrates her 25th birthday as a married woman in Techiman. Two months ago, when we left for Chicago, Grace still lived a single and free life with her father in the village. And now suddenly married and all, settled in our neighboring town! In between constant outbursts of laughter, giggles, affirmations and happy shouts Mercy tells about all these amazing events. ‘Oh Maame it was a miracle for Grace, they did not know each other at all but it happened just like that. He returned from Libya back to Ghana, to the village. He liked her, loved her, asked her father and two weeks later…married! Yes, true! No lies here! They had no plan of doing so, they had not even seen each other before. But it is going to be the best match in the world.’ ‘Well nice, but why the best match in the world? If it is true that you don’t know him, and Grace neither…would you know?’ Because the new husband of Grace is so very, very nice that for example he calls Mercy every evening. Just to see how she is and if she has gone to bed in time! That’s for example why! Such a sweet guy! Okay, great. Understand I will never! But this week we must visit Grace in Techiman and by the way pop in with Sala who is still living there as well. Baker yes, married no. That’s how she wanted it but I don’t know if her family will really accept this unmarried but ‘grown’ lady as the years pass by… Maybe yes, because Ghana is changing. Or maybe not for it is not changing all that fast! ‘And Marcy, did you hear from Vero? Has she married already?’ ‘No, not yet. But with these northerners you can never tell. Tomorrow, suddenly, you may see that she has a husband and a child.’ ‘What northerners? Only the northerners? We can’t even turn our back and go overseas or your sister gets married real fast. Is Grace a northerner, maybe?’ ‘No yes, that’s a different case. That is not to be compared with the Northerners, of course!” Ah well… And Jerry, did he go to school? Yes, in Techiman. Nice. Is he at school? No, no, not really. He helps as a fitter, cars. So not to school, thats a pity. And Angela? She lives here in the village, she got married! Oh dear the coming and the going. There are a whole bunch of new caregivers here and for the time being I have not even got their names right. Andrew and Esther and Josephine and Samuel and Ema-3, and that is only the beginning! A coming and going. Not even to speak of Steve and Paul, of Bob and Ineke, of Jeanette and Ab, all that is still to come… Yesterday we were at the farewell party for Harry and Mariette Wegdam, our neighbors in Techiman. This Dutch surgeon has over the last 12 years set up and maintained an amazing surgical service and trainingprogram to our province.

‘We shall miss them’ is one of these overly utilized sentences that does no justice to the impact they had and how they shall actually be missed. We will not miss them by the way for in September we will meet in Scheveningen! Oh and this morning little Steve was in the news again. The last operation has succeeded very well and this morning Letitia and Steven took off to the orthopedic trainingprogram in Nsawam near Accra. A few more months of intensive training at Nsawam and the last phase of Steve’s revalidation will be completed. When he returns, it will not be crawling but on foot. We will see him walking back through this gate on his own two legs. That we believe!

12 years ago…

14 June 09

It is Sunday morning and our breakfast is lazy. The weaverbirds in the tree seem to have multiplied, at least their twittering sounds louder then ever. Each little side-branch, wherever possible, has a nest dangling from it and a yellow weaver with outstretched high velocity wings fluttering next to the nest. The morning is quiet as everyone has gone to church. I’m back and today is a special day. Today twelve years ago Bob and I were married at this very place. Then, like now, it was bright warm day. June 14th, 1997. As I remember we celebrated most of the wedding-feast at the rock –formation, which had just been paved and decorated with a summer hut, a wedding present given by my father, bless his memory. At that time the beginnings of what is now our ‘big busy tree’ must have been already there, but who would have noticed it… once in a while a young tree would survive the frequent bushfires, which would otherwise leave everything green scorched and mummified each year. No big deal. No colony of twittering weaverbirds at that time, that is for sure. There was of course no pool yet, although there was a big central pit showing red earth heaped up at its sides, a declaration of intention! Our house was there in its primal form, two rooms and a verandah. That was where Bob and I were helped to dress up, while the Chief (my ‘father’) and his wife (Bob’s ‘mother’) were seated at the front verandah with parasols, the cow horn and all other regalia, ready to give us away in marriage to each other! Osei was Bob’s best man and Phyllis was my bridesmaid. Now Osei is the minister of his own church and Phyllis is the wife of the MP, member of parliament, for Nkoranza. At that time already nine pioneer children lived together as a little family: Nana Yaw, Kojo Evans, John Adzo, Araba, Ema, Kofi Asare, Innocencia, Solomon and Boadu. Mr. Robert from Sampa too had just joined us. Every child was dressed most beautifully as flowergirl. And boy. Dr Harry Wegdam and his wife Mariette were among the many visitors who were lined up under parasols between our house and the party-grounds at the rocks. They had then just arrived in the country… at their farewell party next week in Techiman, they will have been in Ghana for over 12 years, if my calculations are correct. Our good neigbours. Apart from the local royalty and traditional leaders almost all Nkoranza’s ministers and priests were present to officiate the wedding, and we still remember how the then education officer Kwame did a fantastic job in talking the occasion together… which was a sheer impossible task considered that it was neither a religious nor a legal wedding-feast but all the same ‘the big wedding’. (The legal part followed 16 June at the court in Sunyani and the religious wedding took place in Holland, 28 June, officiated by our own Father Pieter.) What memories, what a life! And look at it, look at us, now, 12 years later.

Grey-haired and wrinkled, and mostly happy and grateful, despite it all. Less illusions and more experience. I mean not so much about our marriage but about Bob and I together engaging with the project in a new and energetic way. Bob was a rescuing force that is for sure. In the end never giving up, though many times almost. .. More sense of humor and hopefully a little more compassion. Maybe… And at the threshold of a new era! Yes!!!! Ab and Jeanette, here you come!

Look again at it then, the empty space, and now, all these huge trees and dense bushes, all these buildings and summer-huts and workshops and guest-rooms, all these developments… But most of all, all these 70 children!!! Thank you Bob, thank you Ghana, thank you little birds in the tree, thank you helpers, thank you God. And tonight… party-time!

May 17th 2009. This time instead of a column by Ineke a report from volunteer Leane.
I am busy sniffing up the aroma of Holland and will return to my stories when back in Ghana, hopefully June 9th. Over to you, leane:

The love of PCC



I really miss them! The children can make you happy, all on their own way: A big hug from M'adua, Quinten` s smile when he finally sees you, Kojo as running as an idiot if you are comming, Ayuba how is making fun of you with his big smile , Yaa-yaa when she is waving to you and Evans who is telling everybody that you`re his wife. And for the love they give you, you can give them your love ...They are happy with really small things.. They are happy when you just come to play. But of course you can do much more for them. An half hour a day extra attention, nice to play with them or walking, means a lot for this kids. Other kids can you help with their development. I have enjoyed it every day to walk together with Kojo on the grounds to learn English words. Patience was certainly asked. A child with intellectual disabilities often learn less quickly than a "normal" child. I helped children with the computer, learning to count and just having a lot of fun. Every two weeks there is a meeting to talk about what you can do with the children and what is important for the child you`re working with child.In this meeting you can talk about your own ideas and other ideas. In the meetings every volunteer get his own program, so that there is a clear structure for you and the children. But there is more to enjoy on the PCC. The bathing hour is for the children every day what a great party. That is really nice to see and to play with them. There are many parties given for many reasons and of course the unexpected things which are normal for of Ghana. So it`s possible that they tell you early in the morning that you all have to go to the special school and no one knows why .. That`s Ghana! Well after some waiting you will see ... The one time it appeared that the "mayor" of the village along came, another time there was a big party for special schools .. Waiting and uncertainty is normal on these particular days, that is the culture that makes work at the PCC nice ... It's a combination of enjoyment with the children and learning about Ghana ... Host family If you really want to get in touch with Ghana there is also the option for living in a host family. For me it's never been a question whether I would. I went to Africa and was there to see more of the culture. The best way is, I think living in a family. From this choice, I certainly had no regrets! I really loved it to live in a Ghanian family. On the day of my arrive it already started. My first experience was the decomposition of a chicken, fine entry. But even though they were busy with the chicken I was welcomed with open arms and they were really happy that I was finally arrived. They proudly showed me the house and my room. They asked me what I would eat and what I didn`t like, so it was clear that family would be good for me to worry. Also, I immediately knew the whole neighborhood. It certainly gave me a considerable time before I knew who lived in the house. Really everyone is coming in the house this is really nice but in the beginning also a bit confusing. They liked me especially because I was white, the proposes for a marriage were uncountable. Life in the family stop almost never in the night, the latest is going late to bed and the first is awake at 4 o'clock. It is also quite normal to leave TV or radio all night long on. And if I was wake and came out of my room they immediately started to make my breakfast. From day 1 you get reall Ghanaian food presented as foufou, redred, Banku. I must say that I was not so bad as I expected . But the problem.. You get a plate with food for I guess 3 Persons. And then you have to eat everything, fortunately, the children can still enjoy it if you can not do everything. I really enjoyed watching the people in the family. Just to look how they live, cook and going to work work or school. I was taken to church or to the a birthplace of one of the children. Really fun to see how these people deal with life. How relaxed they are and that they almost no problems. I would say try it in a family!

Mercy for Easter in Chicago

12-4-09

Wonderful to be back in that clean and beautiful apartment with a view over the lake.
An apartment with soft beds, perfect plumbing and a front-door which can be locked! Constant streams of noiseless cars and purposeful people.
I’m as usual ecstatic as well as somewhat forlorn.
After so many years it is still a challenge to keep juggling the differences … from the slow, jovial and overheated Nkoranza to the fast, businesslike and crisp Chicago.
The time lag and the money spending. The gadgets. The speed with which people talk. Supermarkets and restaurants, aha! Great food but also a big point of confusion after months of basically eating the same thing.

This afternoon we had Easter lunch at our little French restaurant around the corner.
‘Did you make your choice?’ asked the hurried waiter. ‘Yes, the lamb-dish.’ ‘Excellent. And how would you like us to prepare it for you today?’
I looked at him. I almost said ‘what?’ but stopped myself. My eyes widened and I got red in the face. He then saw me and slowed down to almost humaneness.
‘Like rare, or medium rare, or medium?’ he asked gently.
‘Oh, okay. Medium, please. Thanks.’

I have learned that the word ‘medium’ usually gets me off the hook of waiters. But today I forgot all that I previously learned and was fully taken aback by his question. ‘He wants me to tell him how to cook it, why doesn’t he know!’ is what I genuinely thought for a moment.

Wait till waiters ask what salad-dressings, or what star buck-coffee you wish to order! A simple ‘medium’ would get you nowhere!
A few days ago I was shopping with Margy and ordered a bite to eat. I was asked ‘How do you like your bagel, today?’
Luckily I have Bob and a bunch of in-laws who know me enough to gently ease me out of the questionnaires before being able to eat.

But this is just about eating. There have been experiences that bleach these minor embarrassments into the background.
To embrace my Jewish sister in law and go out with her to talk about… our husbands, the two Maram brothers, for example!
Or to meet up with Emilio, the Cuban Doctor who was in Ghana with us and now works in the USA. In three weeks he hopes to meet his beloved, his sister and his mother and is totally excited after 4 years of separation. And so are we, excited with him.
Or to meet up with Margy my friend and visit the top ten resale stores in Chicago, giggling like teenagers.
Or visiting the 4th Presby Church down town Chicago all over Holy Week. Newly inspired by the depth of the sermons and the beauty of the liturgies.
So, all is well and all is strange and all is beautifully strange.
And then just now, this Easter Sunday afternoon, the cell-phone rang.
Crackling sounds and galore of laughter from the other side. Guess what. It is Mercy from Ghana calling!
More laughter. ‘Maame, I miss you. We are at my father’s house, in my village. Me and Ahmed. It is my mother’s funeral, today is the funeral. I missed you, wanted to call you!’ ‘And here is Ahmed speaking.’
‘Ahmed?’ ‘YES!’ ‘Ahmed, how are you?’ ‘YES! I am fine Thank You. Yes!’
Mercy and Ahmed from over two oceans away.
All is well now. No more strangeness, even if it was beautifully strange.
Their voices are life itself Ahmed by the way would not suffer cultural shock coming to America. He would be far beyond it all. What would he answer to the overzealous waiters? ‘Medium?’
No! Ahmed would give his wholehearted big ‘YES” to everything and everyone here in The States as he would do in Ghana.

Mercy with her Ahmed helped me to transcend the different worlds with one grand ‘YES’to all of it. My Easter gift.

The traditions are alive and well

31-3-09

The last time when I saw the head of the nursing department, Mr. Galileo, he was being wheeled in a wheelchair into the hospital. Two of my colleague doctors were to tap fluid to relieve him as his abdomen was so distended that he could hardly breathe anymore. Galileo, who I know well for over twenty years, did not recognize me as we passed each other, with strange delirious eyes he looked right through me. I asked one of my colleagues how the prognosis would be. Liver cirrhosis, liver has had it, low blood as well. Acc to the book he can still live up to six months. ‘We give him a few blood transfusions and then transfer him to the specialist, Techiman or Kumasi.’
Next morning I was just too late to still see him, the ambulance was just pulling out of the hospital compound on its way to Techiman. My waving had no purpose but still I lifted my hand for a moment as I had a feeling that I might not see him anymore.

Four months ago, in December, I stood for some time talking with Mr. Galileo on the ‘gossip-corner’, the place with the large shady ‘gossip-tree’, where the PCC road curves away from the main hospital road. Galileo, with great intensity, was telling me something very strange.
He told me that one of our own nurses had confessed to being a witch. First she had confessed after an episode where another hospital worker who laid in the hospital saw ‘the witch’ naked in her dream, as the witch began her black witch-craft preparations to make her ill.
Afterwards she was challenged by this woman who saw her in her dream and the nurse made a full and detailed confession, later repeated in the presence of others.
Later she was escorted to the Chief who in turn referred her to the Chief Fetish Priest. There she was immediately recognized. Yes of course that is a witch, an evil one. Yes. We know her very well. No meeting needed to confirm this case. She is dangerous.

I knew this nurse for years and years, a nice woman. Elderly by now. We had helped her by taking her epileptic child, Emma the Tird, from her house and into our project as she had no time for him, being alone in the house and always at work in the hospital. When we helped her that way, both child and mother were grateful and relaxed. But not too long afterwards the little boy did of pulmonary TB. This must be some two years ago, I even think I wrote a column about that situation.

The nurse was near to taken prison in the office block of the hospital building. She was not allowed to be anywhere near the patients again for the were in agony about ‘the witch’ and could even have lynched her. Even the mentioning of her name caused a palpable shock in the hospital. I asked Mr. Galileo if I could greet her and he brought me to her in a little room where the three of us then sat down. I was eager to hear her own story. ‘My girl, what is it that they are saying about you, I can’t believe that that is true! That’s not you! What is it, would you mind to tell me what happened? Tell me?’
Maame, it is true what they say. Even when I was a very young girl I did sell my soul to the devil, it is a long way ago. I’ve really killed four persons, one is the student-nurse who had that early morning motorbike accident some years ago. It was me who did that, spiritually. I had to do that to keep feeding my powers, else I would become weak and ill myself. I have sent a disease to the matron of which one cannot recover. And yes I have killed two others. I have confessed. What else should I do? Now I will go to a spiritual healing camp where they will help to heal me and drive the evil powers out of me so that the devil has no more claim on me.
‘Your child Ema, was he killed then by witchcraft as well?’ ‘No, but such a child would automatically get ill, because he moves and lives so close to the center of the witchcraft, the ‘baye’. When you people so kindly took him over from me I was hoping that he might survive, but no, my evil powers were fully at work inside him already, even if this was believe me, not my intention.



Everybody in town of course knows already that Ema died of my witchcraft’.
‘Well, I don’t. I think it was TB.
‘Yes, you, Maame, you whites know nothing about this thing of Africa.’
‘Could be. And now? What kind of plans do you have now? I understand that everyone fears you very deeply. Especially as you publicly confessed. What will be your next steps?’
I’ll start living in a healingcamp and stay there till the devil has been driven out of me. Our hospital has handed me an open transfer. I may find a new placement in any other hospital anywhere and they will then make the transfer for me.
‘Where would you go next?’
Don’t know yet. Have worked before in three other hospitals and all three drove me away in the same situation. And then too I confessed to witchcraft. Everyone will probably know mw now. Maybe I find something over the border, in a neighboring country..

Poor woman. While she talked her face showed no expression at all and her eyes were unfocussed as if it was a waxen statue that spoke. Her intonation too was extremely low and monotone. Surely she’s depressed. Maybe even psychotic?

A few nights afterwards I could not sleep, so much this visit to my old nursing friend had affected me. I could not understand it. I asked around and everywhere got the same cocksure answer. That one? Certified witch! Bad one, is dangerous! Should go fast from here, or one night they come to kill her. You know, that’s what can happen here.
I brought her to our PCC for a glass of water and a talk in the summer hut, but wherever we went to sit, even the smallest children quickly disappeared. People big and small simply did not want to be seen by her. Pour soul! Of course there is no place for doubt if the witch herself has confessed and seems eager to keep confessing!
I asked the opinion of the Traditional Chief but he was short and more or less scolded me. Friendly but very, very definitely he would say what amounts to ‘Mind your on business. This is Africa. You are a white in this respect, you are not an African. Thank God for that and clear away from these issues. You whites know much but very little about spiritual forces. Stay out of it.
Galileo too had told me that the ‘witch’ had tried to make him sick but that he had been too strong for that and she had failed. That’s what he said in December. In March he was wheeled into the ambulance with swollen abdomen and unseeing eyes. Liverfunctions zero. Without transplant he would die.

Alive and well, the old traditions. Despite signs of otherwise.

Yesterday we received our new boy, transferred from techiman Holy Family Hospital. Just after Christmas this young boy had been rushed into the emergency room by a group of men. The boy was bleeding profusely from his genitals and part of the scrotal skin and penis was removed. Raw flesh where his genitals should be and a lot of screaming.
Dr. Hillal the surgical specialist himself had to be called for such a dismal state that needed reconstruction of penis and scrotum. He started of course by setting up an IV, loading the unfortunate boy with antibiotics and inserting a catheter. When next he looked up the men who had brought the victim in had disappeared. Hillal was left alone with a 14 year old boy that could not speak and obviously was multiply handicapped. He screamed, that was for sure. The boy was called Yaw (Thursday-born). Maybe because he was brought into the hospital on a Thursday.



Dear Dr Hillal treated him as his son and with his own means and his own money he has kept Yaw for over two months in the hospital. Now his wounds are healed and his genitals looked halfway decent again. So he could go home. But was there a home? The police and social welfare could not trace the men who brought him to the hospital, and no one from town could recognize Yaw. The boy himself is not able to explain much of course. Peopel here and there were also afraid of him for a victim who genitals are being used for wichcraft and traditional black magic medecine may sometimes develop some of that evil power themselves. Maybe...



Cured and all and where to go? To the street?
Of course to our PCC Hand in Hand Community, that’s one of the reasons we are here fore. So yesterday Dr Hillal and a nurse brought Yaw from Techiman to us.
We have baptized him Yaw Hillal, after the doctor who saved him.
By the way he looks closer to 20 then to 14 but that is of no consequence.
He has a mental handicap. Autism. Has physical deformities, like his left hand is a claw-hand, as if after a burn. He can’t see well with his right eye. His eyes frequently turn upwards as if at the beginning of an epileptic fit, but he has not shown a fit as yet. He speaks a few sentences of three words each. ‘ I am hungry’ ‘Give me money’ in twi.
Yaw Hillal, is our latest arrival. Welcome to you, Yaw!
Today’s story was long and disturbing. About attempts at human sacrifices and related stories. These stories behind the actions may be true or not, the actions have caused a lot of havoc and suffering. Rouses anger as well as a sense of impotence.

Fashion-show of Swimming-suits
17-3-09

Two persons one thought.
Apparently two volunteers, Greetje and Sarah, had simultaneously conceived of the idea to buy new swimming suits for our children. On Sunday night, during the farewell party for Sarah, the gifts were presented. Each of the names of our almost seventy kids were called and one bt one they received their precious new bathing suit. Can you imagine the happy excitement? Picture show!

Afia Donkor, come get your outfit!

Lisa, do you like yours? Yes!


‘My swimming suit has flowers!’ ‘Mine has an Adidas mark!”


‘If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands’


‘If you’re happy and you know it shout hurray!”


‘If you’re happy and you know it and you really want to
show it, if you’re happy and you know it, show your suit!’


Amma is working herself in a trance!


The guys, Charles and Evans, take it cool.

Happiness and gratitude all around.
Thank you, Greetje and Sarah.

Jerry leaves and all kind of other matters.
7-3-09

You would think that events would slow down for a while but such is not the case. Fr. Pieter has not yet safely arrived in Holland or Ema announces the next day that Jerry is leaving. And very soon too! He is lucky enough to be accepted in a technical training program in computer knowledge and starts next coming Wednesday!
Jerry has been with us for 5 years and has been an excellent caregiver. So it was with a grateful but heavy heart that yesterday evening we celebrated Jerry’s farewell party. It was good to get the opportunity to honor him because Jerry deserved it, and we will miss him enormously.



He has been good at the workshop, in charge of the recycled glass-bead production as well as in charge of the autistic hall. He has been good as leader of the physeo- group. Above all he has been excellent as the caregiver of HIS two boys, Ema and Moses.
So the party yesterday was also very much focused on his boys, who don’t realize yet that after five good years their caregiver is leaving.
But Jerry knows it full well and his heart was somewhat overflowing from the coming separation with his boys.

Look at this picture how beautifully Jerry is hand-feeding his boy Moses. (Now we better understand why this little boy Moses is maybe somewhat spoiled!)
Bye Jerry, thank you so very, very much. Come back often please!!!

The party was also meant to welcome the new volunteers Wilke and Hilda and to say, for a second time, thank you and bye-bye to Lena, who has stayed here for the last two months and again helped us much and in such pleasant way.
Oh and this multi-purpose party also served as the opening and housewarming party for a new house for Evans, Patrick, PaaYaw, Kojo Patrick and Joshua, the new neighbors to Kofi Asare. Together, PaaYaw and Patrick solemnly cut the ribbon, and the new house was theirs!

Vero will have to leave us at the end of March as well! Vero is now 29 years old and her family likes her to come home to her town in the north of Ghana. In Vero’s part of the country the older girls in a family have to get married before the younger ones can make plans to do the same. Who knows but maybe Vero is stagnating the flow of marriage in her family! Oh dear, such ancient family systems still in operation during this day and age in Ghana where values are otherwise becoming much more global. When I ask Vero in this direction she very quietly and sweetly gives me the Mona Lisa smile. That is her reply. Up to here and no further… okay?

But Vero’s farewell-party is still to come so let’s not get ahead of the situation.

For those who have followed my column, the baby of Dr. Boro is now doing just fine! Her name by the way is Helene, little Helene Boro. This baby-girl has undergone four major surgeries within her first three months of life, so she and her parents must be congratulated for great endurance! Well done, Helena! You are going to be a tough cookie!

For those who knew ex-caregiver James… two weeks ago he ‘entered Holy Matrimony’ with his new wife Margaret. Impressive wedding in the Pentecostal church, where Bob and I happened to be seated just behind a speaker of enormous dimensions, larger than the biggest piece of furniture I have ever seen! The music could be felt more than heard and I think something in my eardrums got burst that very day. Hmmm. But it was fantastic to witness the happiness of the newly wed couple and everybody in that very full church.



Oh and Danielle and Naomi were here! Oh and why didn’t I take any pictures of them…maybe because I was so happy to see them that I simply forgot.
No pictures therefore form Naomi and Danielle till August this year. Naomi and Danielle are the two English girls that have done miraculous things for our community. They raised funds by writing and performing a play in Cambridge, by shaving her hair (Danielle!) in London, by talking in churches and selling on markets all over England…and in August of this year they mean to raise money for our children by organizing a tourist expedition from London to Ghana. Black Heron Tours, they are called and during the month of August we can expect a bus with 24 English tourists visiting us for 5 days. This is what they were here for in Ghana at this time, to prepare for this event, the big British August-invasion to our Hand in hand Community!

Archief Ineke's colum june 28th tot march 2009

Archief Ineke's colum dec 2007 tot june 28th 2008

Archief Ineke's colum aug 2007 tot december 23th 2007

Archief Ineke's colum dec 2006 tot July 26th 2007

Archief Ineke's colum may 19 2006 tot december 20th 2006

Archief Ineke's colum June 2005 to may 10th 2006