The Gosepl and Race

It’s hard to believe I’ve been in Ghana for almost a week now, time is flying by so fast. Things have begun to lighten up in some ways, allowing us to stretch our wings more and begin to explore Ghana in our own ways. I’ve had a pretty intense couple of last days, with a lot of emotions and processing. I’m a big fan of these times, even when they suck to go through. We had an event as an entire group two nights ago that really shook me in a lot of ways, and has put a lot of thoughts and feelings into my head, both good and bad.

On Saturday, we spent the morning as a group going through the museums. One in particular had a portion devoted to the slave trade, and it brought up some heavy emotions for people, especially as we get ready to head to the Gold Coast on Wednesday. The rest of the day, we were allowed to either go to Tema, which is the town that our student liaison Kwame is from, or head to the market with Dr. Aggrey. Most students chose to go to Tema, and a few of us stayed behind to do a little shopping. The markets were quite an experience, and while I had been through similar ones in Nairobi, I was quickly reminded how well you need to have your stuff together before you head in there. With people pulling you all over the place, it gets difficult to make decisions on things or even turn down a “good” deal. I ended up making it out alive, with only one or two things I kind of regretted later. Dinner was on our own, so after resting a few of us headed to the small restaurant next to our hostel. We stayed there until about 10pm and then headed back to Catters. On the road back, Rian got a call from Dr. Aggrey that we were having a mandatory meeting in 30 minutes because of some things that took place in Tema. No one was quite sure what was going on, but we all braced up for the meeting.

The next three hours would become one of the most emotionally intense nights of my life. While in Tema, the students got to attend part of a funeral and then ended up playing with some local school children. The Tema area has some extreme poverty parts in it, and the reality of children filled with joy, playing with you in the midst of trash, was too hard for a few students to take. While those few students were more distraught, the rest had an amazing time and loved the area. The result of the conflicting sides led to some feeling as if some intentions of people here were ill-mannered, or more ignorant because they weren’t as emotional over the situation. Some people had taken comments they overheard on the bus afterwards out of proportion on top of already being in a sensitive emotional state. The result was strong feelings that lead to an even more intense discussion between our group. Dr. Aggrey called this a “catalyst” for a greater discussion we had to have about race. The discussion quickly became heated, and became more of a black/white argument than an expression of differing emotional states. It was almost as if you had white students on one side and black students on the other. On top of that, people never handle themselves well with these things, and everyone feels as if they have to be a smart ass when they have a chance to speak; only fueling the fire in many regards. So many people jumped to conclusions, and made very volatile remarks towards bits and pieces of things they had overheard at one time or another throughout the trip.

I sat there pretty paralyzed by what was going on. I don’t consider myself ignorant to the reality of racial divisions in this world, and particularly in our own American culture. But I also believe in a God that not only created every race out of His divine creativity, but is SO much bigger than any racial division that broken men and women take part in. There were times in the discussion when it was more about socioeconomic statuses than race, and other times more about maturity and life stage. Yet people always let the fire kindle too long, until it has started to burn out of control. Dr. Aggrey also told us during this time that we were going to be split up by race during the first visit to the slave castles. This only opened up a whole new can of worms. Many white students felt that was counter-productive, and if we couldn’t handle the past together we would never be able to learn from it. There were also some African American students who felt strongly about going through it separately. So we had two sides, both feeling as if the only way to go forward was to step with their foot first instead of their neighbors. The decision was already made by our professors, but nonetheless students were extremely upset on both sides.

For three hours I sat literally dead in the middle of everything, the only thing I could do was put my head in my knees and pray for Jesus’ peace to come to our group, for it is the ONLY thing that can unite our broken group. It may be one of the clearest times in my life when I realized just how powerful the truth of the cross is. By the end of the discussion, emotions had been able to calm down some, while some were still left confused in many areas. I was emotionally drained by how broken our humanity is. I’ve seen absolute poverty, severe sexual immorality, and many other physical signs of brokenness, but the racial tension I sat through for three hours almost topped them all. It’s such a thick amount of spiritual warfare, so deep rooted and so hurtful. For the next two days after that I even began questioning my place being here because of the color of my skin. I let myself start thinking those lies rather than the TRUTH that is we are all from the same soil, and we all belong here. I’ve thought about William and Eunice in Sudan often, how much they’ve welcomed me as a daughter in Nagishot. That is truth, which is the spirit of Jesus that transcends all things, the ultimate healer of brokenness. We are untied as brothers and sisters in Christ, sons and daughters of a MIGHTY KING. Many of the “chochos” here (public transport vans that are packed with people all the time) usually have a Christian message written across the back window. While we were driving today with my group around the area we’ll be working with next week, one of the guys asked Ken, our Ghanaian guide, what “Yesu Mogya” meant, and he replied “Jesus’ Blood.” I about flipped out in the back. Jesus’ blood has been so heavy on me this past week, and the significance it stands for in this place, to heal what has been so devastatingly broken by colonialism and slavery, and what is the only answer to continue to heal the repercussions of that.

I’ve learned so much my first week here. I can only imagine where I will be in three more weeks. Cape Coast is coming up on Wednesday, and I’m trying to prepare myself for the emotional toll that will take. It’s going to be devastating for me to see churches built by colonialists on the same compounds as the slave castles, literally right next to each other. I know it will bring about many hard conversations, but also many inroads to the gospel. I’m quickly learning how un-gifted I am at sharing the gospel, while at the same time experiencing a burden for it like never before. The overwhelming response and support of prayers and encouragement from friends back home has been incredible, and literally given me peace and boldness every morning. As I prepare my heart and pray over our time to the Cape Coast this week, those prayers and words mean so much to me. I know I’m about to embark on one of the most emotionally devastating ,and at the same time beautiful, weeks of my life, and the only thing that can carry me through it is the blood of Christ…