We're Outa Here

Last One Out Turn Off the AC

Hannah, Noah and I leave Tuesday from Chicago O'Hare Airport at 4:45pm EDT. We'll be flying to Frankfort, Germany via Lufthansa Airlines, then on to Accra Ghana. We arrive in Accra Wednesday at 3:30pm local time, or 11:30amEDT.

Our weekend and Monday was spent organizing, returning, canceling, packing, and trying to avoid saying good bye to anyone. Of the three of us, I'm the most happy about going, Hannah the least and Noah somewhere in the middle. We've been talking about it a lot, and I think we are as ready as we can be for moving to another continent with only eight suitcases.

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Meanwhile Renita is an ocean away making purchases and trying to get us set-up in our new home, while at the same time processing her tour of Liberia and Cote d'Ivoire. The house will be rather bare when we arrive, but we'll have beds and kitchen stuff. I'm looking forward to getting a lay of the land and joining Renita in finishing the job she started. Stay tuned; we'll send more images as we travel.

And here it is, waiting for us: our new home! And a new home it is. We'll be its first occupants, and it may be the nicest home we've ever enjoyed.

Renita in Cote d'Ivoire

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From Danane', with Love

As our little map indicates, on Wednesday Renita left Monrovia, Liberia by car to travel to Danane', Cote D'Ivoire. The rainy season has turned the roads to thick, dangerously sticky mud, but she had places to go and people to see. After 10 grinding, bone jarring hours she traveled the 125 miles to the muddy river that represents the border between the two West African countries. At the border, she said goodbye to her visaless driver, and walked with a Ganta LEAD staff member across a sagging wood bridge at dusk, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, 5000 miles from family, to place herself in the hands of customs officials and eventually Dea Lieu, a man she has never met. Dea is the director of ACLCP, an affiliate organization of Partners Worldwide, and thus is one of Renita's co-laborers. Together, they bumped and jostled their way in the dark the remaining 25 miles to Danane'. The trip took two hours. The internet, phone service and electricity are neall spotty in Danane', so after she arrived, we kinda lost touch with her. But Saturday, she came through with an email to us all, giving us a picture of what the trip has been like thus far. On Sunday, she was able to email a few images as well. Here is her letter to us, a view of Dea Lieu's world.

Dearest family,

It was so good to hear your voices today. I'm very glad that the three of you are together again. I can't wait to see you in Ghana.

Here are some pictures from Cote d'Ivoire. It was interesting after we crossed the border and drove to Danane’. I knew that it was rebel held territory, but I didn't really think about it in the active sense. There were young, tough looking men walking around with AK-47s and rifles; the first checkpoint we stopped at had a rebel in some sort of fatigues come up to the car smelling very strongly of opium (according to Dea). Apparently drug use is quite a problem among the rebels. They hold the territory in this portion of Cote d'Ivoire, and there is an awareness of their presence around and an air of anticipation to see if they will actually make a deal with the government or if it will remain as a rebel held territory. There is definitely a sense of being victimized – the citizen’s live here with this around them. Aid and development assistance will not come in until the conflict is resolved, so the organization here (ACLCP) is in some ways not able to progress at a rate they would like. They are doing such a great job despite this and have some real success stories.

The people here have been great - very friendly and welcoming; laughing at my mistakes (I told them Hannah was 60 years old:-); trying to speak English. The Board meeting was in some ways hard - I had two tough issues that to bring to them we needed to address. But we had a very lively discussion and the Ivoirians held their ground on the one issue but came around on the other. After the meeting, however, I heard discussion about rethinking the second issue as well. I was pleased that they held their ground, had researched the issue and were able to support their stand with a good argument.

The other thing about Danane is that there are no white people here; no NGOs to speak of; and yet being white here has not been a big deal, nor has it garnered any attention that I'm aware of. They are so disappointed that we are not moving here and are insisting that there are good schools in Abidjan. They keep talking about it amongst themselves.

That's all for now. My battery is getting low.

I love you all.

Renita/Mom

The best view of these guys-- going away.

Renita with Dea and his daughter Armande walking the streets of Danane'.

Click on small pictures for a larger image.

If it's Monday, This Must Be Liberia

Renita continues on her whirlwind tour West Africa. She left Ghana Saturday after only two days there, but it was time enough for her to secure a house and do some other preparatory activities for when she returns to Accra. For some reason. I keep thinking she’ll one day come back here, but no—she’s not coming back. We’re all joining her there. It’s a weird thought.

Like I said, on Saturday she left Ghana—on her way to our old stomping grounds in Liberia. Immediately upon arriving, she headed straight for Foster Town and the hotel on Thinkers Village Beach. Our old friends and family did not know she was coming, so all were shocked and delighted to see her. Monday is Liberia Day, so there will be a feast and lots of partying around the neighborhood. She’s already met with the leaders of FACT, the local community development group, and offered her wisdom to some local squabbles. Mostly though, she’s just enjoying being back.

The rest of the week will continue to whirl by for her. On Tuesday, she’ll meet with the Partners Worldwide in-country affiliate, LEAD inc, to continue planning and catching up with her old co-workers/friends there. On Wednesday, she travels-- by taxi—into the interior, all the way to the border of Cote d’Ivoire, where she’ll cross that border, and if the roads permit, head into the hills to meet up with the Ivoirian affiliate, and she’ll stay there in the up-country for four days. Quite the adventure for the girl from Red Deer.

Meanwhile, back in Grand Rapids, the kids are squeezing every ounce of fun they can get out of this place. They’ll both be at the Camp Call Turf Adventure Camp until Friday, running through obstacle courses and climbing high ropes. I will be holding down a half-packed fort, waiting to pack the other half and trying to remember what I forgot. We are on the cusp of two phases of our lives, and the view is a bit nerve-wracking and at the same time sobering. Stay tuned, I may have an extra edition for you later in the week.

Why, it's Eastman, running up to greet Mrs Trooly!

... and baby Renita! What a doll. No, she did not recognize big Renita.

My dear wife, with a newborn baby at Eastman and Trokon's house. Thats Eastman's mom looking over her shoulder.

A Family chat with Patence, mother of Rae-Rae (little Renita) in the blue.


Eastman took this shot. That's Enoch, second from left, and Trokon barely in the picture on the right. I don't know the other two.

Taking it easy at Thinker's Village.

Mrs. Trooly Departs

Renita Has Left the Continent

Wednesday was her last day living in the US for this new citizen. Here are the pics to prove it.

Wednesday morning I find her snoozing happily at 5:04 am-- the alarm was set for 5:00pm. Wonder what Freud would say about that.

You can tell by mouth that she's a woman on a mission. By 5:30am is organizing the car.

Driving through that Toddin' Town. Passin' the Loop and the "Willis Tower" (formerly the Sears Tower, ya know).

At ORD (O'Hare airport for the non-travelers) Ready to go!

Yers Trooly makes a scene, begging her to say. Embarrassing.

On the plane. Maybe she's sad too? No, just cold and tired.

Yers Trooly, whimpering as he makes that long drive back to Grand Rapids...

The first image from Ghana-- taken Thursday by Renita. The place where Mrs. Trooly is staying with new friends.

There she is-- taken just a few minutes ago in Accra, Ghana! Stay tuned for more, including-- Images of our new house?!

Four Weeks and Counting (One for Her)

In-Between

Last week for us was one of those weeks everybody has from time to time, but nobody wants. The day before we were supposed to leave for Detroit (for Renita to take the Oath and then try to get a quick passport at the same time), we had to move. Moving is something that has become a normal part of our lives, but this is our fourth in eight months, and to have to move the day before this important task in Detroit is not normal. it made the tension extra high around the Reed household.

But we pack light. While here, we stayed in furnished places so we don't need couches and refrigerators, and were able to stuff everything we own in 12 large suitecases and the all important carry-on bags. So we can do the whole move thing in a few hours. While I moved and lugged, Renita packed and cleaned. All of this with images of Detroit and Oaths and passports dancing in our heads. If something went wrong in Detroit, all of our plans would need to be re-evaluated.

Anyway, Renita and I moved ourselves and, with our new place looking like a luggage lounge, that same day headed off to Tiger Town. We needed to "Motel 6 it" because our schedule for Oath Takers commanded that we be at the Federal Courthouse by 8:30am. We got there promptly on time, and waited until the 9:00am, when the federal judge would make his appearance to swear us in. The was a nice crowd in the large well-lit hall; we were told 84 had come for the ceremony and most of them were not alone.

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The judge was an hour late. As an American, I thought it exceedingly rude that the magistrate charged with welcoming these people to the US for the first time as fellow Americans couldn't bring himself to showing up, and apparently would not allow a substitute judge take over for him. When he arrived at 10:00am, he merely said "Sorry I'm a little late..." then moved on.

The ceremony itself was brief-- less than an hour-- and just like that, Renita was a citizen of the U.S.. It was sorta anti-climactic. Afterwords, we rushed out into the bright sunshine and discovered that just across the street we could get her passports processed immediately! We had been told we might not get in-- we were actually scheduled for Friday and we were apparently "lucky" to get in even then. But when we got through the security barriers and checkpoints, we found the processing center virtually empty! Chortle! We were thrilled, and in no time at all, Renita had all she needed to get her coveted US passport Fed-Exed to her by Monday-- yesterday. And yesterday, it came.So immediately, Renita applied for her Ghana visa and next week, she leaves three weeks ahead of the rest of us.

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I've been in limbo, in this in-between state for longer than I've ever been before, and it has been the most challenging aspect of my life. I left the BSW work at Mother Patern College around June of last year, and since then have been sort of puttering my way through life. Sure, I'm learning the ropes as CRWRC West African Justice Coordinator. But I need to be there, and I'm here. Now, nobody loves to putter more than I do, but after a while, puttering loses its magic even for me and I want to move on to other things. Kind of an inverse relationship thing.

Next Wednesday, Renita leaves the world of In-Between, and lands on the Other Side on the 23rd at 8:25am. Noah, Hannah and I follow August 11. The next two or three blogs will be focused on her adventure, so stay tuned.

ReedNews Update, July Edition

A Pledge, a Passport and a Plan

Now things are moving along with a sense of impending airline travel. As you may recall-- because we have said it a hundred times-- The Reeds have been waiting for Renita's interview with the US Citizenship and Immigration Services (formerly Immigration and Naturalization Service) to be approved for citizenship. Last week, Renita and I traveled east along Interstate 96 to the brand new USCIS offices in Detroit. After a mere hour of waiting, her half-hour interview produced a piece of paper with the anticlimactic checkmark granting her permission to becomes a US citizen. Hallelujah! The people at USCIS were professional, courteous, and helpful. We wanted to stay and chat. We invited them to Ghana. I'll tell ya, The Michigan Department of Motor Vehicles should send its staff there for lessons.

This week, we will head back to the once-upon-a-time "Motor City" so Renita can take the official oath of citizenship, pledging alliance to the US of A. Then, thanks to the new facility in the ex-Car Town, she'll be able to get her passport-- the very same day. The procedure is usually a couple weeks by mail, although in days gone by one could have opted to go to the regional office in Chicago for expedited service. With this new office not far from the home of what used to be General Motors, we can do the passport deed in less than half the time of going to Chicago.

So, what's the plan now? When do the Reeds head off to Ghana? Well, God willing, we'll do this in two parts. Renita will leave first, after she gets her passport and after she gets her tickets and after she gets her visa to Ghana. She is booked to leave July 22. Once she arrives in Accra, she'll do a bit of house hunting with some friends we know there, then within a couple days she'll head off for a 8 day junket back to Liberia and then to Cote d'Ivoire (Ivory Coast). The purpose of these trips will be to connect with the Partners Worldwide friends at LEAD in Liberia and Dea Lieu's operation in Cote d'Ivoire (see May 27 post). While in Liberia, she'll also visit our West African friends and family in Thinker's Village/Foster Town. Then, sometime around the first week of August, she'll head back to Accra and continue to prepare for the Reed reunion there.

Hannah, Noah and I will remain in Grand Rapids until Hannah is finished with her job at Camp Tall Turf. This will give the kids just a little more time with pals here before they start school in Accra on August 17. As the plan goes, we will board a Lufthansa flight from Chicago to its Frankfort, Germany hub, then to Accra from there. We are already booked to fly August 11.

Renita and I have been waiting about four months longer than we thought we'd have to for this to happen, and during that time so many people-- many of you-- have been wonderful and generous and so supportive. As we enter into this new period, we have those by now very familiar mixed feelings. We will be saying goodbye, farewell, seeya later to everyone here. We will be saying hello, good to meet ya, thanks for the welcome, to a completely new West African place. We are all a bit anxious, some of us eager and excited, all of us sad-- some more than others, as we enter this transition we've been anticipating specifically for almost a year, and in a general way for much longer. We're so glad you are with us, at least via the internet and telephones, and happy we'll be able to stay connected. Don't think we could make it without you.

Renita at the swearing-in ceremony. Actually, this hasn't happened yet, I just put her head on some poor woman who was in a picture I found online. But I imagine it will look something like this.

Renita this morning with her new passport. Yes, this is fake too, because she won't get it until we go back to Detroit later this week. The things she endures for Yers.

Four Weeks and Counting

A Quest Down Memory Lane

Yesterday, I found myself on a quest. Somehow, we had lost my birth certificate, and with tomorrow being the day Renita and I head to Detroit for her US citizenship interview, and because my birth certificate is required for said interview, I had to drive to Lansing to request and retrieve a new one.

I love Lansing Michigan. It is my true home town, the town where I was born and the town where I lived for the first 21 years of my life. All my school memories are there, all my great and tragic childhood moments as well. I left Lansing 32 years ago to attend Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, and never went back to live. After five years in Chicago—another great American city—I ventured out to Los Angeles for more school, stayed there until 1985, then landed back in Michigan—this time in Grand Rapids for another 20 years. I did not visit Lansing while in Los Angeles, and by the time I got to Grand Rapids, my Mom and Step Dad had moved back up north to Lake City, near Cadillac. So I haven’t had much reason to drive to Lansing for many years.

But I was on a quest, so my first task was to get the birth certificate. The day was absolutely perfect: Sunny with puffy clouds overhead, warm and clear, with a cool invigorating breeze. I needed to do a bit of walking downtown, just because I parked my car away from the Ingham County Courthouse building. It was oddly lovely being in my old city again. I felt happy and sad at the same time. I was quiet, and I looked into people’s faces more than usual for some reason. I had a smile on my face the whole time I was there. Not a silly grin, or a happy “How ya doin!” openness, but I felt good being in Lansing and I think it just showed. At the courthouse, it was nice chatting with the Ingham County Clerk ladies while I waited to get the certificate processed, and when I got the certificate, it took me a bit deeper into my beginnings.

My address when I was born was 3454 Bogart Street (A few years later it would be changed to its current 5143 Bogart) on the city's south side. My mother, formerly Lucille Helen Cain, was 25; My father, Floyd Allen Reed, was 29. (He would die within 3 years when our house was destoyed in a fire-- dad fell asleep while smoking.) The document itself was created from microfiche. The old uneven typewriter keystrokes told the story of a completely different age, even before electric typewriters. It was the first record of my existence, and seeing those two names above mine, so young, just starting out, made me nostalgic. I also realized now I’m old enough to be the parent of a 25 or 29 year old. I’m the age my grandparents were when I was born. It made me smile again, that happy sad smile.

I left the courthouse and decided I needed to take a drive back to Bogart Street. I drove slowly through the city, noticed how much had changed in the last thirty years, noted in particular the massive sea of empty acreage covered in concrete as I passed over what used to be Oldsmobile. Lansing used to be a boom town, home of Olds and Fisher Body, and the Cains and Reeds were a blue color GM-union family. While I was a kid, Lansing grew by 50%. Since 1980, it has shrunk by 13%. As I drove down still familiar streets, it felt smaller.

Turning onto Bogart street was another one on those defining moments. First, I almost drove passed it—it never seemed so close to the intersection of Logan and Jolly before. I turned right, and simply braked myself down the street. It was hard to believe how those once huge homes seemed so small, and what a short little street it is—and therefore always had been. Passing my old home, so important, so dear, where so much life had passed by, I was impressed that the owners had not cut down the trees. See, my father had planted about fifty pine trees around the south and east perimeter of our yard and now—fifty five years later, they are huge monsters towering over that little three bedroom, one bathroom home where my mom raised six kids. I liked it, but the foliage seemed to swallow the whole yard. It was more hidden. I liked that too. Keep it hidden, tucked away.


Anyway, I was ready to return to my current life, quest completed. I made an attempt to revisit my old school but the former entrance is now an exit and I didn’t know how to get in. I found the freeway ramp, and headed home.

Tomorrow, Renita ventures on her own quest. We’ll drive to Detroit and where she’ll say goodbye to her Canadian citizenship and the Red Maple Leaf and embrace the Stars and Stripes of the United States of America. Ironically, tomorrow is Canada Day. She’s been doing her own feeling and reflecting. But that’s her story to tell.

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That same home 51 years ago, almost finished after the fire that took the life of my dad, leaving four kids and their mother to figure it all out without him. I have no memories of my father.

The first four Reed kids: Brenda on the left big brother Don looming over us, Sandy at the trike, and Yers Trooly looking cute and goofy. In front of the old house, just a few weeks before what we call "The Fire."

Five Weeks and Counting

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Musing on Ghana

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The US citizenship appointment Renita has for July 1 has dramatically changed our outlook on this extended stay in Michigan. With one letter, we've gone from an indefinite stay to a definite exit window. Each of the Reeds react differently to this change of perspective: Hannah, forever the trooper, is enjoying every minute of her fleeting weeks with many friends-- while at the same time bravely believing (against normal uncertainty) that the new school in Ghana will bring good things; Noah, the wry introvert, avoids thinking about all the changes and gets a bit surly when we bring any of them up; Renita is focused on all the work that can be done and is already driving me into the basement to decide what gets packed; and Yers Trooly is moving as slowly as possible, illogically convinced that moving slow is the best way to make time pass quickly. But fast or slow, we’re certain to get there.

I’ve been thinking about Ghana, our soon-to-be home, a lot—I guess it’s to be expected. Along with planning and preparing, I compare Ghana to the other West African home I’ve known: Liberia. There is so much the same about these two countries, yet they are worlds apart—or maybe I should say decades apart. I’ve said before that they are far more alike than they are different, but it’s the differences that jump out.

Ghana and Liberia are both English-speaking countries in a region that is predominately Francophone, both largely Christian in a region in which most countries are overwhelmingly Muslim (although both are heavily influenced by traditional spiritual beliefs). Culturally, they share the same welcoming, open-armed hospitality, and both share the same love of singing, dancing, and celebrating. In the larger villages and especially the cities, vendors selling anything/everything and open air markets ladies hawking hot peppers, fish, and palm nuts give the streets an added bustle, and certainly if you are not careful, an added hustle.

But one only has to look out the Land Cruiser window while traveling through Ghana and Liberia to see what fifteen years of civil war, trauma and economic collapse looks like next to the same period of peace, stability and steady growth. Ghana ranks 140th out of about 180 nations in terms of economic health, but along side of Liberia, which ranks 177th or so—she is the rich, healthy, big sister. And it shows. Ghana’s infrastructure is intact and in good condition. Her roads are relatively well-maintained. She enjoys fairly reliable electricity, running water, trash and sewage removal in her cities. Her architecture in many places is new and boasts an integrated, thematic quality. Her school system is the best in the region. Liberia, by sad contrast, is broken, dysfunctional and run-down. Except in a few sections of Monrovia, there is no running water, electricity, or effective sanitation system anywhere. Many buildings in the capitol are covered with mold from humidity, burned out, gutted, and shot up. The school system, destroyed by the war, has left an entire generation without an education, and a new generation without teachers to teach them. The roads of Liberia make short work of the most sturdy 4WD vehicles.

If you dast venture out of your air conditioned chariot, you’d be hit by the same wave of humidity in either country, especially along the coast, and as I mentioned, you be welcomed by your host with open arms and big smiles. In both countries, the kids would stare, especially in rural areas, but would laugh easily if you pretended to conk their heads or squeeze their hands. What you would not see readily is the difference 14 years of displacement, war trauma and extreme poverty have done to the insides of people. Compared to Ghana, Liberia is populated by the walking wounded. Ghana has never suffered the devastation of civil war. In Liberia, everybody over the age of 15 has a personal horror story to tell, and thousands of young men have been taught by war to survive by victimizing the innocent.

As for us, we anticipate grappling with these contrasts. The Reeds in Liberia lived in a cramped, open, five room cement block structure, sharing our quarters with bugs, spiders and lizards. We hauled our water, relied on three hours of generator power and batteries for electricity, cooked on a coal pot, sweltered night and day, and buried our non-burnable trash. Yet we lived like kings compared to our neighbors. The Reeds in Ghana will likely live in a home with most of the comforts of the West, including in-home internet access and air conditioning. And compared to our neighbors, rather than being kings, we will likely simply blend in.

Musing about Ghana, about leaving Liberia, I have disparate feelings— probably related somehow to—or maybe paralleling-- the disparity between these two West African sisters. I’m excited about living in this modestly growing (about 6% annually) nation that stands as a beacon of hope to its region. Ghana is a picture of Liberia’s future. While poor by US standards, it is nevertheless a peaceful, safe place for its citizens—and us—to live. Ghana is a better, wiser choice for Renita and I as we begin our regional work, and better for Hannah and Noah, especially for their schooling. But as I say, the feelings are mixed. I’ll miss the “right-next-door” immediacy of the poverty in Liberia. I did not have the choice to insulate in Liberia, and some part of me was happy about that. In Ghana, I will more easily be able to insolate myself from someone's daily struggle just to eat. Living farther away from the profound challenges faced by the poorest of the poor makes me uneasy— I feel I benefit from from their resilience, resourcefulness and desire. Sure, I think it’s possible that maybe we can help alleviate some of the pain. But to be honest, some of it’s about me. I just want to be with people who teach me so much about how to live. In Ghana, I'm afraid I’m going have to work a bit harder to do that.

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In Ghana, shopping centers and malls.

With a nice clean look-- in places.

Nice shops and everywhere, our friendly street vendors. Rolex watch anyone?

Looking forward to cruisin' down this road.