This is a good candidate for the most boring afternoon of my life. But let's leave the ministry behind because I have a great story to tell. Brace yourself.
Remember the whole car story? the one that involved an officer at the ministry? well I decided to scrap it in the end. That car was an old wreck, but what really pushed me away from it was the fact that they had clearly rolled the mileage back so that on the day it was imported (5 years ago) it had a good 30.000 km more than it has now!
Anyway, I got myself into an even funnier deal now. I am buying a car from a pastor at the apostolic (?) church.
Let me start from the beginning though. So, after seeing this car, tried it a couple of times, having it checked by a mechanic and all the usual stuff, we are invited to his house to meet him.
The deal was done in the pastor's living room, decorated wide selection of religious paintings hanging on the wall (including one of the last supper misspelled in "last souper). After charming hime with our aid/volunteering work, we managed to chop the last 500 Cedis off by promising to visit his church on sunday. The car was ours, and we were declared members of the family and cerimoniuosly introduced to everyone.
On Sunday, as part of the deal, they picked us up and brough us to church. The service was in Twi and Gah, contemporaneusly, so that Cami and I were given a translator each.
The first hour was amazing, with all sorts of dancing, singing, crying, shouting and back from the top. I really wish I had my camera, because I couldn't take enough.
My bubble of amazed observer burst when about an hour into the service our translator made us stand up, go to the front and announce our names and purposes. I was really tempted to say something like "... I am only here to buy a car". It would have been hilarious, but luckily Cami stopped me.
Then the sermon began... and dragged on... and on.... and on. For an hour and a half, covering all topics ranging from Israel, to Abraham Linclon passing through the Ghanaian air force and I don't remember what more. An endless ramble, made a lot worse by my translator weho asked me questions(!!!) to see if I was following.
Finished the sermon, the music picked up again and everyone queued up dancing towards the front to give their charitable contribution. I found a little unpleasent the fact that you are supposed to make leave your offering in a big boxed while observed by everyone. But I understood everything when I saw my translator pretend to pick up money from her purse, queue up dancing and singing, and put her donating hand deep into the box.
Ane then came the highlight of the day: thongues! The music went mental, and everyone started praying in thongues. I had never seen that before, and I thought it was something that just crazy americans would do
After three hours we were cooked. I don't think I'll go to church again for a long while, but it was a worthy experience
On giving up development
16 hours ago