Ghana Team Journal

Thought for the day:

A Story about Bai Juyu and Bird’s Nest Monk

During the time when Bai Juyu was a government official, he passed by the Green Creek Bridge and saw a crowd gathering before a Buddhist monk and hearing him talk. He thought it was strange that people would come to such a remote countryside to listen to a monk. The monk must be very learned he reckoned, so he rode his horse in the direction of the crowd.

When the Bai came face to face with the monk, he said, “Master, the place where you are seated is quite dangerous.” The Buddhist monk was the famous Bird’s Nest Monk. After just one glance at the official, he knew that this man was an arrogant and conceited elitist. So Bird’s Nest said to him, “It is your position that is in danger.”

Then Bai asked Bird’s Nest, “Please tell me Master, what is the essence of Buddhism?” Bird’s Nest decided to let him learn a moral lesson. “Do no evil deed and engage in deeds of kindness.” The official who knew a little about Buddhism, immediately retorted, “I’ve known this for a long time. Not only I know it but even a three-year old child knows it.”

Seeing the official disparaging Buddhist teachings, Bird’s Nest said to him, “A three-year old child may well know the Way. But an eighty-year old man many no longer have the energy to practice it.”

Journal by: Susan

Today has been such a day that I’m not sure that I can even remember all that happened.

Highlights are night music, nuclear family, family tree, classroom games, Eric, Kathleen, naked lady, library, river walk, ferry history, Jesus, banana plantation, mahogany tree, newborn…

So where to begin. As we left dinner Wednesday night, I heard music coming from the outside the hotel. How late would this continue? As Liz and I went to bed, I wondered how late would this continue. As I woke up a few hours later, I wondered how late would this continue. After the cock crowed at 3:45, I wondered how late would this continue. The alarm went off at 5:55 it was still there. Liz went out and spoke to the woman who said that the music came from a funeral, which probably would go on for several days. So how long would this continue?

After group meeting with Amo, our group went off to the Ericson Technical Institute: Liz, Vivian, Pat and me. The lesson on nuclear families began my fifth grade class. Wiafe, the teacher, began by asking the students after it had been defined, “What was the importance of the nuclear family.” He copied the reasons from the textbook he was using and after he put as the fifth reason that nuclear families were important so that “property litigation was minimized” I jumped up, went over to him and whispered, “Can I show how to create a family tree”? He said in a minute and went on to put reasons 7, 8, and 9 on the board equally obscure. I drew my family tree and then the students drew theirs. We joked about why it was called a tree because the branches must be in the ground.

At break, Eric, the Principal, came to speak with me. First, he wanted to know how he could get to the United States, then he invited me back to teach, and then he asked how he could get more supplies for his school. He had a strong appeal, as I looked at the rough chalkboard, the broken desks, the metal roof and the open walls. He said that he would try to find how we could send supplies. Break was over.

Our next lesson was grammar, which I gather every class younger than ours is also doing. I made the lesson into a game, by taking a tennis ball and having it pass from person to person as we added adjectives to nouns, verbs to these and then verbally threw out nouns to which they had to add adjectives. I made Wiafe and Ali, a 6 foot Muslin, who sits in the back of the room or talks on his cell phone, play.

And then Kathleen and the naked lady. We were all excited to meet Kathleen as Vivian, Julie, and Cailin had only heard about her, and the rest of us had met her in Hanover. Her enthusiasm and excitement at being in Senchi Ferry was contagious. There we met with the usual crowd of enthusiastic kids who clung to each of us and sat down to read or be read to. Samuel does an amazing job in keeping the kids respectful of the space. Students I had in the morning came over to say hello as others did to Vivian, Liz, and Pat. As the reading continued, the crescendo grew, and students moved closer and closer to hear. When the hour was up, Kathleen, Samuel – the librarian- and our group went for a walk down to the river. Sandy, on the way, led us to the clinic where she is working. Again, minimum facility and supplies, but amazing work being done – more later.

As the river came into view, Samuel stopped us to tell about the stopping of the Senchi ferry and its effect on the town. He talked of farms of bananas and pineapple, hotels, prosperity - all that disappeared with the coming of the bridge down river because the ground was firmer. A little further on we saw the replacement of the ferry as a small rowboat carried a few riders from the other side of the Volta to our side and then went back with some waiting people. I imagine the ferry was a shadow of the original. But how can I forget Jesus with his hat covered with dripping vines, alcohol breath, and a hand out for money. He followed us for a while until Kathleen told him to go firmly.

We went to another side trip to a Tilapia farm down on the river and saw the ferry returning with another group. A breeze was blowing, the river was peaceful, and we all soaked up the beauty. Reluctantly, we headed back home, but before we got on the final path, we stopped at a banana farm with the fruit covered in blue plastic bags to protect them from hungry thieves – birds.

When we came back in to town on the road home, we again passed the clinic. Standing outside was a mother and a newborn in a friend’s arms, the father standing by. The baby was all of 2 ½ hours old. How often are we that close to the miracle of birth?

We wandered back to the St. James Guest House tired but satisfied with all we’d seen, the naked lady nowhere in sight. We went to our rooms, showered and collapsed.