By Father John Foley

It is easy for me to glance back and remember the beginning of 1973 and an ice storm in Georgia, lacking electricity and contacting soccer coaches to postpone high school games. Little did I know that a year later I would occasionally again be lacking electricity, but not because of a north Georgia ice storm.

I began 1974 on a motorcycle trip through the tropical rain forests and dusty villages of West Africa: a vision of myself I would not have believed a year ago. My trip began two days after Christmas and ended two weeks and miles later.

I circled the southern half of Ghana over tarmac and dirt roads and past thousands of waving cheerful people who often were somewhat dismayed by the vision of a big white man in white shorts and a blue cap speeding by their quiet homes on a Honda. The trip brought back memories and associations of my five years of work in Uganda, but then I was always in a Volkswagen or on foot.

Leaving St. John’s Secondary School, where I am teaching this year, I traveled a relatively short distance, 50 miles to the Cape coast the first day. I took an afternoon swim in the shadow of a 15^th century Portuguese fort, and after a good rest that night was off to Kumasi the next day. This leg of the trip was 150 miles through rain forests and over rather rough and dangerous roads. One has to be careful of, and give right of way to, the ubiquitous timber lorries that seem to lunge around every curve. I spent two days at Kumasi, the capital city of the Ashanti region and the proud Ashanti people.

On the Sunday following Christmas, I left Kumasi and rode about 130 miles to the Medical Mission Sisters’ Holy Family Hospital at Berekum. I knew several sisters there from school days in Washington and two whom I had worked with in Uganda. Also, to our mutual surprise, I found a young lady whom I had known 10 years ago when she was preparing to come to Ghana as a volunteer nurse for two years. I did not know that she had returned, nor did she know that I was here.

While I was at Berekum I thought it would be a good idea to have a physical examination. The sister-doctor said that they would be happy to have a pint of my blood, which I have not been able to donate in the United States because I had had malaria in Uganda. However, after finding my blood type is A-B positive Sister said that it was rather rare and hardly ever found among the Ghanaians and it would be a waste there.

Two hours later the sister in charge of the laboratory came a running. It seems a woman had just come in with an ectopic pregnancy and had gone into shock… and her blood type was A-B positive. That was a satisfying way to begin the New Year! Later that day the sister-doctor took me to meet the lady and she asked for my prayers and I asked the same of her.

We brought in the New Year with a little party at a nearby village home occupied by one of the three groups of sisters at the hospital. I was unsuccessful in my search for a radio to see if I could pick up the Sugar Bowl on the American Forces Radio; it was more than a week later when I reached Accra and heard the news that Notre Dame had won.

From Berekum I went to another hospital of the Medical Mission Sisters at Techiman, about a 70-mile trip. There was no petrol available in Berekum but I found plenty of it in Techiman; so I decided I would venture further north and see the upper region of the country and try to return by ship on the Lake Volta.

After spending one night at Techiman I went to the local market early in the morning and was on the road to Tamale by 9 a. m. The trip is about 150 miles, mostly over bad roads. The terrain changes dramatically as one drives north of Techiman; almost immediately on leaving the town I found myself in the woodland savanna, with some fields black from the fires of the dry season. The poverty and the hard life of these people was more evident among these people in the villages along the road to Tamale.

It is a practice of mine to leave on a journey early, so that there is plenty of daylight in case of trouble on the road. On this day I had driven about 60 miles when I was happy that I had gotten an early start. I stopped to balance my luggage and could not start the engine again. I was on a desolate, uninhabited stretch of dirt and gravel road. For nearly two hours I tried unsuccessfully, to start the engine with help from the few people who passed by.

Finally, a lorry filled with people came along and everyone got off the truck to help. After the cycle had been duly inspected and no one knew anymore about the Honda than me, we lifted the motorcycle onto the lorry and I was squeezed into the cab. We made our way slowly, stopping to let people, chickens, goats, baskets of yams, and drums be taken on and off the truck.

There are villages every couple of miles on almost any road in Africa. After we had gone about 20 miles we came to the town of Kintampo. The motorcycle and I were unloaded and a mechanic’s shed was pointed out to me. The driver would take no payment at all; he had helped a stranger and that was enough. I found a good mechanic and the house of the local catechist. After a bath and change of clothes I returned to the mechanic and the Honda. By dusk I was on the road back to Techiman. The next morning I decided to rest a day or two and slowly return to school.

This was a good vacation, a change, and in many ways a retreat. I was able to share with many ways a retreat. I was able to share with many people and to pray with them. After two days in Techiman, I stopped for another two days in Kumasi and was able to visit the Spiritual Center there again. This is a house of prayer and renewal, where a priest and two sisters reside and conduct retreats and shared prayer with people. I found this a great help to me and a chance to stop and rest a while with the Lord. I returned to school and the students refreshed and renewed in many ways. I had had an opportunity to see more of Ghana and her people… a beautiful place and a beautiful people.