I look at the two seasons here: dry and wet. Dry is brown, dusty, and hot. Wet is green, humid and hot. But there is a lushness of life when plants have water to grow. I see cattle, which normally remind me of the children’s Bible picture books of cattle from the story of Joseph. The story is about when Pharaoh has dreams with seven thin cows and seven fat cows. As a child I remember how scrawny those cows looked. And every time I see cows here, I usually get that picture in my mind. But during the rains cattle and other animals have a lot to graze on and still are skinny but not cartoon-picture-skinny, if that makes sense.
There are beautiful shades of green in the wet season. And the sun and the clouds just make it a masterpiece. Yes, humidity increases, but there are times of cool breezes after a rain and a time when you just take a deep breath and sigh with contentment.
Now, the rain here is not like some soft, gentle falling, angel song. Ok, there are a few. Most times, though, it is a torrent and it can tear roofs off of houses and wash away roads. Which leads me to my story.
There is a widow in a village that Samuel and I travel to every week. It is a dirt road. They have no electricity, though the poles have gone up. In the past there have been times when I wondered if my car would make it. And, yep, this season, there is no way. A small bridge has collapsed, two places are flooded, parts are washed away and one place the mud is so thick my 4x4 car does not have a chance. So, that leaves a motorcycle.
SIM Ghana, who I serve with, has a rule about women riding on the back of a man’s motorcycle. I have to be very aware as a single woman of the culture I live in. I want to live above it and not give any reason for reproach. Riding with a man can give the impression there is a relationship. Thankfully, Samuel has been to my neighborhood and my house many times. (Though, if he is alone, we talk outside on the veranda.) My neighbors know him. Even when I am in the States, he comes to check on the house and make sure everything is fine. He talks with the people around too. Since people know him and me, when they see me on the back of his motorcycle, we don’t think there are any ill impressions. Also, the village is on my side of town. We don’t even have to ride on big streets, face traffic, or consider the stares of random people. Another rule SIM Ghana and Ghana has, which is obvious, is wearing a helmet. I have been asked by some of my girl friends to hop on their bike and they will take me somewhere. I usually reply, “I need a helmet.” and I refuse to ride if I don’t have mine. People drive so crazy around here. In one day, I saw three motorbike accidents! At one, while driving by, a man was still laying on the side of the road. I was later told he died the next day in a hospital. So, yeah, wearing a helmet is an absolute necessity. I asked my team leader for permission to ride with Samuel to the village and was granted.
We headed out and I was all excited. I love riding motorcycles in the USA. I even had a motorcycle for a few months but sold it because I just liked sitting on the back of one and being driven around. I used to say I was going to marry a big-burly-biker-boy. My expectations were high for this short trip, but it wasn’t so glamorous. You know, the weather here is hot and you’re wearing a helmet. And there is no back rest. And it is not a Harley. And the cushion seat is lacking. And Tamale says don’t hold on to anything otherwise you look like a wimp. And so I felt a bit unstable, not holding anything, but would randomly hold the bar on the back of the bike. And my lower back was getting sore. And the back of my neck was getting sun burnt. And I had to get off once because we didn’t know how deep the water was. And there were sooooo many potholes.
But, on a positive note, I had thoughts like, “I am riding in a beautiful country to share God’s Word with a woman. This is so cool! I feel like such a missionary!” The way the green fields contrasted to the white clouds, the red dirt road and blue sky is really something to behold. And I was able to sit in that picturesque moment and praise God. I was hoping Samuel couldn’t hear me that well through his helmet as I became a radio and started singing songs to worship God. I had my phone out and tried to capture pictures along the way too. Since I am usually driving my car and cannot get up close to get good pictures, or the windscreen is dirty, or there is no place to pull over I don’t always get great shots. But I had a jolly good time, seemingly with fresh eyes, snapping animals, fields, water holes, other drivers, even the solar power flashlights on my widow’s roof to collect the sun’s rays!
We arrived at the village and the widow, and her two sons were there. We pulled out a bench and sat under a tree. We shared the story of the Lost Sheep. We talked about how God goes out to look for us, how He loves us, and how He celebrates us when we are found. I know for me, sometimes, I think of God as harsh, like, He should drag me back and beat me and yell at me. But He doesn’t. He finds and He celebrates. That is the God I serve.
You know, sharing God’s Word to women really gets God’s Word in me. I know God’s Word does not go out and come back empty, but even if it is for me, me just soaking it in, that motorbike trip is worth it. That car ride, that fuel money spent, that time given, that love shared. It is worth it.
