Under A Cashew Tree

We finished the dishes. Leftover oatmeal was dished out to a very eager dog. Hair was combed. Half a watermelon found itself in a bowl, the lid perched precariously atop the pile of little red and green triangles. I was not about to get another dish dirty though. So, in the basket it went. A wrapper hugged the precious cargo. Cold watermelon. Nothing beats it when you need something refreshing! It was the perfect thing to take our friends.

Ivan started out walking. He seemed quite pleased. His grubby little hand clutched a watermelon rind. There was not even a hint of pink left on it, but it was a treasured morsel. His new black "BIRKEHSTOCK style in Germany " sandals (gold buckles and all) held his attention and he seemed to feel quite important. After a while he graduated to a birds eye view (perched upon dad's shoulders). Then, alas. A small lass had a rather unfriendly meeting with the road and thus, she requested to take her brothers spot. Bubby dear was tied onto mom's back and we continued on our way. I experimented a tad with carrying my basket on my head. If I could only balance it for more than a split second, it would be ever so practical. That, however, is a skill that I will have to acquire. I can't imagine perching it up there without the help of my hand.

We greeted the shop owners here and there. "Machi! Wohuntesen?" ("Good morning! How are you?") It finally feels like we are beginning to feel confident with a few small phrases of Twi. It feels so good. We hadn't walked that direction before as a family, so everyone was very interested in these new white folks walking their road.

At one point I realized that there was sweet basil growing along side the road. I had read that it grew along roads and other disrupted areas in our region, but hadn't actually seen it. We meandered along quite slowly due to various distractions: scads of mama chickens (herding their very large families around), baby goats (jumping, chasing each other, some just a day old or so I would say), some ducklings (splashing in the puddles), flowers, trees, babies (of the human species)... the list could go on. We came to our turnoff, and, after ambling past some very large houses, we were greeted with the sight of unpopulated country. Hills. Flame trees. Palm trees. Casava. Maize. Banana trees. Vines. Ferns. Cocoa trees. Then we came to a nice viewpoint at the top of a hill. There was our village: some mud huts, palm boughs acting as their roofs: a cell tower in the distance reaching far into the sky (we knew that our house was right beside it): some towering tin roofs covered huge houses. These large homes are mostly occupied by northerners. Their tribes have been farmers way back in history. The Ashanti tribe ( the majority here) tend to gravitate towards buying and selling. Kumasi, our closest big town, is known as the trade center of Ghana because of this. But, once more, I find myself off on a rabbit trail. I beg pardon:)

I thoroughly enjoyed the walk. Ivan relaxed, rested his head on my back, and quietly took in the scenery. His death grip on his rind never loosened however. Finally, after meeting a loaded moto king, greeting a man arduously hoeing his field, and "Woooww!"ing over some amazing views, Robert announced that we were getting close. Whew! My back was getting tired. I glanced back at my little man just as his hand loosened. "Thud." His dear watermelon rind hit the mud packed earth. He was fast asleep.

Our feet took us off the path we had been on and found themselves on a small trail. All around us the sounds of nature rang skyward. Lush green surrounded us. Trees. Grasses. Vines. Flowers. As we rounded a bend, a man came into view. Pa Willie! And yes. Right behind him was Tiwah, her face wreathed in smiles, a laugh bubbling to the surface.

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Pa Willie and Tiwah have quickly become our friends. Our compounds share a back wall, making us next door neighbors. A little history on them: Pa Willie came here with his mom and siblings when he was 5 or 6: His mom would have been from this area to begin with, but had moved to Ivory Coast with her husband: They had some children there, then separated if I have it right. Long story short, the mission here in Kyekyewere was founded about the same time they returned here. Pa Willie grew up with missionary kids as his friends. He speaks fondly of those times, and still keeps in touch with some of those people who influenced his life. He talks about Tim & Lana Johnson and their family often. They happened to be the second couple that lived in this house. Interestingly enough, Robert lived just a ways down the road from them as a boy. They still live in Lakin, so we know them well. It's kind of mind boggling to hear them talk about where this congregation started and compare it to now. Some of the original members are still faithful, though old age is beginning to creep up on them. Two of the men are in their 80s, but you can count on them walking to church every Sunday!

Pa Willie didn't join the church until 6 years ago, although he never did abandon it. He moved serval different times with different jobs, finally ending up back in Ivory Coast. He says that he felt God calling him to return home, to Kyekyewere. He knew he had a place here. Shortly after moving back here, he met Tiwah. Less than a year later they were man and wife. That was 9 years ago. They joined the church 3 years later and have remained faithful. They have a nice family: Pa Willie (45) Tiwah (28) Manɛl (8?), Sulli (6?), Filo (3), Bɛli (1).

Our children have become the best of friends, spending countless hours playing together. The first evening they came, Filo and Bɛli would hardly look at us, they were so shy! Now they light up when they see us, and Bɛli has even toddled to me with arms upheld, asking to be held. There isn't much that could beat holding two little boys that are just two months apart, born in different continents, then brought together through God's plan. There isn't much that could beat watching their sisters busily making food with their little pots full of mud and water. I hope my brain stores these moments forever.

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Robert went out to Pa Willie's farm a few days after we arrived here but I had never got the chance yet, so I took in the scene before me. Garden egg plants filled the cleared area. The path I was standing on stretched a short way to a little shade shack constructed of bamboo and palm frons. Pa Willie's moto sat in front of said shack, and beside it, under a shade tree, I spotted Filo, Sulli, and Bɛli, all sleeping upon Tiwah's wrapper. My eyes followed the trail, winding along the edge of the garden egg plants, leading to a small river. Beyond that, Maize and Tomatoes were growing. I couldnt see them yet, but Robert had told me about them. Our friends were just gathering their things to take to the other clearing, so we joined them. Robert helped Pa Willie carry their buckets through the overgrown pathway. Tiwah, effortlessly by all appearance, carried a bucket full of things on her head and Bɛli on her back. Of course she would have carried my basket too, if only I would have let her.

Suddenly rain forest dissolved into a large open space. This too, was filled with garden eggs. We carefully made our way across the very soggy ground towards a tree. There, we all relieved ourselves of all buckets, babies, baskets, and any other miscellaneous paraphernalia we had been carrying.

They had been hoping, expecting, we would be joining them for lunch they said. Of course there was plenty of rice and garden egg stew for all of us! We laid out our wrappers on the ground beneath the cashew tree, the chilled watermelon was removed from its confines and passed around. Oh! how refreshing it was! When the last rind had been thrown into the brush, rice and garden egg stew made their grand appearance. It was separated into two bowls, one for each family. After thanking God for the food and fellowship, we all happily scooped handfuls of the delicious, spicy dish into our waiting mouths. It was truly one of the best picnics I have ever attended. Manɛl and Sulli quickly ate their share and scrambled up into the waiting arms of the cashew tree above us. First, a cashew fell down, quite close to Tiwah. She laughed and said something about the boys being monkeys. Then, a shoe joined the cashew and the little monkeys were emphatically instructed to "Si Fom!" (get down).

Dishes were washed, buckets filled with water, fertilizer mixed in, and we regretfully bade goodbye. We had placed some leftovers on a low heat before we came we explained. We weren'texpecting a lunch invitation. So, we invited them for supper, and our little family headed into the tropical forest, headed home.