We have been having fun on the highways with the police lately. Their presence has been greatly increased because of the large number of fatality accidents which have taken place. It is no wonder, the way people drive here. They pass you on hills and on curves and sometimes directly in the face of oncoming traffic, forcing cars to take to the sides of the road. Yesterday two cars behind me went around me side by side at the same time. There are seldom street lights on the roads, making driving at night particularly stressful. Drivers turn their headlights on only when it is pitch black and sometimes not even then.
Police are found at permanent barriers on the road every so often. They sometimes just motion us on, other times look inside the vehicle and ask us where we are going. Some are friendly, asking how we are and wishing us a good days. Others are not. They sometimes ask us if we have anything for them, meaning a bribe. Other times they ask if we have any "chop" for them, meaning a snack. I have seen people give them pineapples and money.
The story is told here of the former mission president being asked for a blessing at one of the barriers. Without missing a beat, the president made the sign of the cross on his chess in the Catholic manner and said: "Bless you, my son," and quickly drove off, leaving the officer too startled to react.
We never know when we are going to encounter a speed trap on the road. The police select a spot in a semi desolate area just beyond a hill or a curve so that they cannot be seen until too late. Typically they stand in a group of four or five in the middle of the road at a point somewhere after a 50 km speed limit (about 30 mph) is posted. They may then stop you for speeding whether you were or not. Commonly they show you a radar gun which reads 72 km (about 45 mph)which they may or may not have even bothered to point in your direction. Often they are more interested in receiving a bribe than in giving you a ticket.
I was stopped Friday, Saturday, and Sunday of last week. Friday the police showed me their radar gun which read 62 km per hour. That was about 37 miles per hour (in a 30 mph zone). The policeman never pointed the gun at me but refused to talk about that issue. He appeared to be writing me up as we talked but it was on a wrinkled piece of paper which looked anything but official. He wrote in large numbers 200 cedis(about $160.) and said I would have to appear in court before a judge the following Monday in a city that is an hour and a half away from where we live. I played dumb and told him that I was new in the country and did not know where this city was. I asked if perhaps we could just settle things there on the highway rather than me trying to find an unfamiliar place a few days later. He smiled and motioned for his sergeant to come over. I handed then a 20 cedi note (about $16.), and they waved me on my way.
Saturday I was shown a radar gun which read 72 km. I had been carefully going the exact posted speed limit of 50 km per hour, having passed this particular trap a number of times in the past. The policeman never once pointed the gun at me. When I pointed this fact out to him, he simply said: "Tell the judge that the policeman used a faulty 'speed gun'". The officer continued to threaten me with a court appearance but did not write me up. It was obvious he was wanting a bribe. I told him how I love and respect policemen, being surrounded by them in my family. "Policemen in America?" he asked. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or not but he suggested that we talk to his sergeant. I asked the two of them how much it would take to settle the thing right then and there. The policeman said to me: "Let your heart be your guide," which is a familiar response given often when you ask how much something is going to cost you. I pulled out 10 cedis this time (about $8.) but the sergeant refused it, smiled, and waved me on without another word.
Today I was stopped again in a 50 km zone in the middle of nowhere and shown a radar gun reading of 72 km. I was actually going something close to that this time, probably faster, but the officer did not really know because he never pointed the gun in my direction. Inspiration came to me. I pointed to my missionary ID badge which I wear on my shirt and told the officer that I was a man of God and would not deliberatly break the law. Karma jumped in and said: "It is Sunday. We are on our way to church and will repent of driving too fast." I nearly laughed outloud but managed to maintain my composure. I didn't offer to pay any money this time, and the officer called his sergeant over, who just motioned to me to move on.
Drivers do try to warn one another of impending speed traps and commonly blink their headlights to indicate danger ahead. Once in awhile, however, we have come upon a trap without having been warned. Those who have had to go to court for a ticket say it is not pleasant and can be very expensive. One of our elders was fined the equivalent of $200. for supposedly driving 15 miles over the posted limit.
To add insult to injury, the cost of fuel just went up 30% in a single day. We are now paying about $5 a gallon for diesel.
Elder Turner
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Testimonies at Fast and Testimony Meetings
June 6, 2009
When giving a talk, teaching a lesson, offering prayer, or bearing testimony, the Ghanaians tend to speak loudly, forcefully, and dramatically. I think it is the pentacostal background of many of them showing through. I am seldom able to understand them because they almost always speak in their African dialects, but I find myself watching them closely as they speak and imagining what they might be saying.
A few months ago a young woman gave what appeared to be a passionately vibrant, almost urgent testimony accompanied by tears. She was so focused and so sincere, so beautifully intent on sharing her testimony I thought. I turned to the counselor seated next to me and asked him what she was saying. He said: "Oh, she is talking about how wonderful her three year old daughter is."
Today a middle aged woman came to the stand and launched into her testimony with marked enthusiasm. Before long she and the entire congregation were laughing and then exchanging comments with each other as she left the stand. I learned later that she told of taking two pieces of sacrament bread rather than the usual one at last month's meeting, being both hungry and thinking that the extra piece of bread would sustain her through some personal problems she had been experiencing. By mid afternoon her stomach was hurting, she said, and she concluded that the Lord was trying to tell her that one piece of sacrament bread was enough.
Elder Turner
When giving a talk, teaching a lesson, offering prayer, or bearing testimony, the Ghanaians tend to speak loudly, forcefully, and dramatically. I think it is the pentacostal background of many of them showing through. I am seldom able to understand them because they almost always speak in their African dialects, but I find myself watching them closely as they speak and imagining what they might be saying.
A few months ago a young woman gave what appeared to be a passionately vibrant, almost urgent testimony accompanied by tears. She was so focused and so sincere, so beautifully intent on sharing her testimony I thought. I turned to the counselor seated next to me and asked him what she was saying. He said: "Oh, she is talking about how wonderful her three year old daughter is."
Today a middle aged woman came to the stand and launched into her testimony with marked enthusiasm. Before long she and the entire congregation were laughing and then exchanging comments with each other as she left the stand. I learned later that she told of taking two pieces of sacrament bread rather than the usual one at last month's meeting, being both hungry and thinking that the extra piece of bread would sustain her through some personal problems she had been experiencing. By mid afternoon her stomach was hurting, she said, and she concluded that the Lord was trying to tell her that one piece of sacrament bread was enough.
Elder Turner
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