A White army went to war against a Black army in Ghana in the 19th century—and my ancestors fought alongside the White army against the Black army. History is more complex than we choose to remember. History isn’t black or white. History isn’t about oppressors and victims—we’re all oppressors, we’re all victims. No one is…
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If there was a nation in the world with only billionaires and millionaires, would you consider the least rich person in that nation poor? If the least rich person in that nation owned the smallest mansion, the least expensive sports cars, the least expensive personal chefs and housemaids in the nation, would they be poor?…
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Mom was quiet on the train. They all were. My little siblings were quiet too. They were tired. We all were. We children carried our school bags and suitcases into the train. And mom carried the weight of her suffering into the train. We were all restless. We were all homeless. We were escorted out…
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Tim Challies is my mentor and pastor. I want to be like him when I finally grow up. He is a blogger at Challies.com. He’s the co-founder of Cruciform Press. And he’s the author several books, including Sexual Detox: A Guide For Guys Who Are Sick of Porn (2010), Do More Better: A Practical Guide to Productivity (2015), and Visual Theology: Seeing and Understanding the Truth About…
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Mom used to hold my hand as we walked by open sewage and streets covered by feces to get to church every Sunday morning. I was three or four years old at the time and that is one of my earliest memories from my life in Ghana. I remember that mom and I walked from…
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“When a mother is hungry, she prepares a meal for her children.” – A Ghanaian Proverb The morning after we checked into the shelter, I found mom in the kitchen making breakfast for me. Her face was still bruised, and I imagine that her heart was too. But mom didn’t show it. Her bruised face…
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I know what it looks like when people are burned alive. I know what it smells like when people are burned alive. I know what it sounds like when people are burned alive. I’ve known that since I was eight years old. I was sitting inside a bus taking me home from school. The bus…
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My parents come from a region in Ghana with white castles and white names that do not belong. My mother was born and raised in Anomabo and lived near Fort William, one of seventeen slave castles in the region. My father, however, is from a nearby town called Yamoransa, where I recieved my last name…
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