If you read my last blog, you know that Kaitlyn and I were back in Ghana with the intention of finally opening the library portion of the language arts center known as Kasadwini Atenaeɛ. You will also remember that, upon meeting with the chief, we were informed that our intended date for the grand opening (called an inauguration here) was no good because there was a community-wide funeral. We had to move it up to Wednesday, the 6th of March, which is also Ghana’s Independence Day.
The night before the inauguration, I was a mess. Amidst all the trouble with carpenters making the bookcases, another carpenter did a god-awful job on the handwashing station (seriously, it looked like a high schooler in their first shop class had pounded it together, and the local elders were embarrassed that someone from Asisiriwa had made it). We ran out of paint while painting the bookcases, and Quist got held up in traffic and couldn’t bring us more. We didn’t have enough time to finish painting the signboard, and I didn’t even have an estimate on putting in security bars under the roof (which the local district assemblyman was giving us crap for). We didn’t have time to stock the bookshelves. It was just a big, unfinished, half-painted, unprofessional mess in my eyes, and I broke down.
The next morning, we contracted the local students to help us carry the boxes of books from Prof’s house – where we were staying – to Kasadwini Atenaeɛ all the way across town (making kids do work for their elders is just a cultural practice here. If they see an adult carrying something, they’re expected to jump in and carry it for them.) We were impressed by the pile of book-boxes we had accrued over many trips and a few book drives – especially one put on by a school in Colorado a few years ago. We then hastily wiped off the dusty tomes and threw them on the new bookcases in no particular order before the inauguration was set to begin. We were amazed how many books our enormous bookcases could hold – the second one barely had any on its shelves.
Remarkably, a lot of people showed up for the opening, and they sat in three sections. On the left were students from both the junior high and primary schools, though their number was reduced by the fact that many of their peers had to participate in an Independence Day parade in another town. On the right were adults from the village, mostly parents of the students. They trickled in, but by the end, there were probably forty of them, which is incredible because – as someone pointed out – only 12 showed up to the last parent-teacher conference. In the center were the honored guests and their families: the chief and his elders, Professor Kofi Agyekum (who drove all the way from Accra just for this), the headmaster of the junior high school, educational officers from the district office, the teachers of both schools, and us.
After the introductions, I stood up and did the opening remarks, which Prof kindly (and eloquently) translated into Twi. Next, the headmaster and educational officers made speeches, followed by Kaitlyn, who publicly thanked our supporters in Ghana and abroad. Prof then walked over to the section of students and made his speech directly to them. In his animated and enrapturing fashion, he told them that his village, Asisiriwa, is not even on a map of Ghana, and yet he is a professor. “It doesn’t matter where you come from,” he said in Twi, “you can become whatever you want.” He then asked them to raise their hands if they wanted to become a doctor, a teacher, a pilot, a driver, and the kids really got into it. Lastly, the chief, Nana Katanka Safo, spoke with his ɔkyeame (linguist) punctuating his points with booming affirmations. The theme that ran through all the speeches was that it’s great to have a free library, but you have to own it, take care of it, and use it for it to mean anything.
After Kumi and Mary, our librarians, spoke to the kids about the rules for using the facilities, the ceremony concluded with a ribbon-cutting at the front door of the library (which was a total surprise to us!) Prof and the chief stood at the front with the scissors, while we and the elders stood just behind them. They spoke a benediction over the library, thanking God for the blessing, and cut the ribbon. The honored guests entered the humble library first, followed by eager onlookers.
I stood at the back of the library and watched people, wondering what they thought of the sloppy job I’d done. They didn’t seem to notice the half-painted bookcases or the lack of security bars, though. They saw hundreds of books they had never seen before, set prominently in a bright, cool room they’d never set foot in before. They saw one side of one bookcase full, thought it was cool, then walked around and, awed, realized that there was a whole other side packed to the top – double the inventory they thought they had. They shook our hands, hugged us, thanked us over and over. I realized that while I saw what wasn’t there, they saw what was there: something that they never would have had otherwise.
And I guess that’s the big takeaway for me. You can criticize your own efforts – your results – all you want, but at the end of the day, what would you see if you stepped back? Is it something that wouldn’t have existed without you? Could it change – has it changed – a single person’s life for the better? Then stop complaining and let the village hug you.
I’ll be posting more stories coming out of the library, but let me take a moment to just say IT’S OPEN!
