The Sounds of Sunday

I woke up at about 5am this morning to the sounds of honking, hooting, drum beats and gospel. At first I wasn’t sure if I was awake or dreaming about Jesus’ handiwork but the blaring of a megaphone quickly settled this internal dispute pretty quickly. Apparently there is a soccer (football from here on out- sorry Brady) team match and the morning of they go door to door chanting for support. This mixed with Sunday being a holy day meant for a rather noisy start to our time in Assin Fosu. I only wish I had whipped out the Dictaphone to record these noises so I could set them as my alarm for forever.

Lynsey and I attended church this morning. I am positive that there is not a church anywhere else on the planet with more finely dressed attendants. The dresses the women wear would make my renowned seamstress of a grandmother blush. The most brilliant, colorful and detailed fabrics pieced together in beautiful detail are perfectly fitted to each individual body. ‘Sunday best’ is to be taken seriously and every dress seems hand-designed for each woman and child- apart for the handful of girls wearing Disney princess Halloween costume dresses (a phenomenon I think graces churches across the globe).

The church was sweaty, hot and across the street from an active oil palm processing plant (I hope to photograph soon). The noxious fumes and smoke from the processing plant hangs in the air and burns the lungs and the woman hard at work never flinch (photograph below of the plant). ‘You are welcome’ (Akwaba in Twi) is said constantly in passing and ‘good morning, how are you’ in perfect form. Chants of ‘obruni obruni’ follow us wherever we go (slang for whitey) and the communication barrier means we are often laughed at. My cheeks are strained from smiling so much with people instead- the universal language of joy, happiness and assurance. Hear a snippet of the sermon at the Methodist Church in Assin Fosu