“Boys, I’m about to finish school oo — I’m about to meet real life.” In the last three months of my undergraduate studies, this was a statement I made almost every time I was with my boys. In the “Brotherhood” story, I’ll introduce them to you properly. Anytime I made this statement, they encouraged me and assured me that I would surely survive. “But come to think of it, Gabriel, where will you do your national service?” one of them asked. I answered, “That’s a million-dollar question oo, but I don’t know the answer.” I did not know the answer to that question, but one thing I was sure of was that wherever I ended up, it would be in Greater Accra. Genuinely, home was really home. I really loved Accra, not only because it was the capital of the country, but also because I had friends and loved ones who made life genuinely fun. In the hostel, we learnt together, ate together, and spent nights talking, laughing, watching football, playing games, and listening to cool music. Every single night was special — I mean it, every single night. In my mind, I would do my national service in Accra, visit the boys every weekend, and have fun.
And for my international community, in Ghana, after your first degree, it is mandatory to work in an organization—public or private—for one year. You are essentially serving the nation for one year. Individuals are given a monthly allowance for their service, either by the government or a private organization. It is also another route to employment, as the organization assesses your skills to decide whether or not to retain you.
About two months to the end of my undergraduate studies, in a casual conversation with my aunty (May Her soul rest in Perfect Peace), she mentioned that her husband had suggested about a week earlier that I could do my National Service where he worked. I told her I would think about it. The truth is, I didn’t — because I knew Obuasi was six to seven hours away from friends and family, and like I said, I wasn’t ready to leave Accra. Accra felt like heaven.
I immediately tried to get a TA spot at my university; however, it was to no avail. I was genuinely running out of options. After some thought, a few weeks after completing school, I texted my uncle and asked if the offer was still on the table — if it was, I would like to do my service where he worked. Mind you, I was still at the hostel, spending time with the boys.
I informed my boys, and it was mixed emotions all around — happy that I had secured a place, but sad because the biggest brother of the brotherhood was going away to a far land. They even organized a FIFA tournament on my behalf. It would have been befitting if I had won, right? I didn’t even make it to the semi-finals. They scored me and told me they wanted to give me the beating of my life in FIFA so that I would never forget. Hmm… well, that was their way of telling me they would miss me.
The Real Question: What Awaits Us in a Far Land?
You know, going to Obuasi was not a feeling of joy or excitement; it was more like, “let me manage with what I have.” The sadness of leaving everyone back home was really dawning on me, but life had to move on. I arrived in Obuasi in November 2022. It felt weird, but I was in a far land.
That was not my first time in Obuasi, though; in the experience “Shocks in the Brain,” I had come to Obuasi to rest for a couple of days. This time felt different because I knew it would be for a much longer period.
I’m not going to say how I felt when I started national service, or about meeting people and all that. Maybe later. I’m going straight to answer the question. What awaits us in a far land — in this case, what awaited Gabriel in a far land, with that far land being Obuasi.
1) An Intimate Relationship with God
I grew up in a Christian home. My Dad is a Pastor. Growing up, we were always referred to as the Reverend’s children. People mostly called him “Dean” because he was the Dean of a Bible institute. I’m sure many of you have heard stories about Pastors’ children and how they were raised. For us, you were not allowed to eat if you had not read your Bible, and we had consistent devotional meetings every morning. Everyone went to church on Sundays and attended all midweek services. My Dad raised his children the best way he could, as the Word of God instructed him to.
I must admit, he really tried for his kids. One thing was sure: he did his very best to give his children the life he never had. In the story “Daddy the Hustler,” I’ll expand more on this. My Dad did all this to build certain principles and character within us. Principles and character such as praying every day, reading the Word of God every day, living in purity, not gambling, and so many other things. Basically, living as Children of God.
I grew up and formed my own character and principles. I hardly read my Bible or prayed. I disregarded purity. In my mind, if the lady was single and she didn’t have a problem with it, then why not? I gambled with almost everything. When playing games, we would bet on them; even in conversations, we gambled and also engaged in sports betting. In fact, at a point in my life, I was called “Betting King Kong.” However, there were some principles I still kept. I believed in the principle of working hard. I kept the principle of going to church every Sunday. I did not go to church on any other day. I also feared getting a woman pregnant, so I was very careful.
This is a piece of advice for our parents. Raising your kids the right way is good; however, what is more important is engaging in extensive prayers that God builds them up and makes them who you desire them to become — respected members of society. Most parents believe that what they taught their kids is always fully embedded in them. Honestly, parents don’t have full authority over who their children become. Don’t get me wrong, they play a pivotal role in our lives; however, it is God who makes the man. And what makes the situation worse sometimes is that kids are saints at home and little demons elsewhere. I have heard friends say, “If my parents had an idea of the things I’ve done, they would go into a coma.”
When I arrived in Obuasi, I decided to search for a church where I could fellowship on Sundays. I repeat — only on Sundays!!! I was not ready to attend any midweek services. In fact, I had a tradition back in school. Right after the preaching and offering, I would make my way to the door so that I wouldn’t have to speak to anyone. The first week, I attended my uncle’s church, but after that week, he wasn’t around for a while, and it was quite far. I knew I had to find my own church.
Every Sunday, I would type “churches around me” on Google and visit the ones I found. I remember visiting Methodist, Assemblies of God, Baptist, and ICGC churches. It was more like Church exploration. There were times I would not go to church and would just stay at home from Friday evening to Monday morning. When I arrived in Obuasi, I couldn’t speak Akuapem Twi fluently. Akuapem Twi is the most common local dialect in Ghana, and unfortunately, most of these churches had their services in that language. One of the churches had an English service in the morning, and since that service closed early, I decided to attend there.
The week I made that decision, on that particular Sunday, I was a little late. I got to a junction and met a young lady. When I saw her, I simply asked which church she was going to, and she said, “TLS.” The truth is, I had never asked anyone that question before, so I don’t know why I asked her. Even in my season of church exploration, I always entered the church premises without speaking to anyone. After she responded, something just prompted me to follow her. The church’s name is The Shepherd’s Life Bible Church. In short, it’s known as TLS. Now that I am more gospel-inclined, I know that “something” was the Holy Spirit.
I followed the young lady into the church. While following her that day, I maintained a distance of about 30 metres. I remember I was doing something on my phone — probably sports betting. I saw her enter, but I didn’t see where she sat during the service. The truth is, after I entered, I didn’t try to look for where she was sitting. I just focused on the church service and how I would get home early. Genuinely, I don’t remember a word the Pastor said; however, he looked familiar. My youth Pastor back in Senegal was Ghanaian, and I really liked him. He was someone I seriously respected. The Branch Pastor really looked like him. During that service, all I wanted to know was this dark man’s name. I wanted to know if he was a relative of my former youth Pastor, and if he was, that would officially be my church. The crazy thing is, I decided to return the next Sunday just to know his name.
Someone might ask, “Why didn’t you find out that day?” Well, I left before anyone could spot me. Please, biko, that was my tradition — allow me. The next Sunday, the church announced they would be travelling for a service, so there would be no service in Obuasi. It was actually the first edition of our powerful Annual Atwea Prayerfest. I returned after two weeks to find out the name of the Pastor. The funny thing is, after that service, I found out his name, but I wasn’t interested in the name anymore. I just wanted to keep attending the church.
You remember I told you I don’t attend mid-week services. Hmm, one Friday, after a stressful day at work — and mind you, I hadn’t eaten the whole day oo — I walked into a mid-week service without anyone inviting me. The thing was like witchcraft. Little by little, I started taking my relationship with God more seriously. God kept using TLS to change my life. I started attending more mid-week services and took reading the Word of God and praying very seriously. Purity became one of my core principles.
I knew myself before I came to Obuasi, and when I see myself now, I never dreamt this is who I would become.
Do you remember I told you my branch pastor looked like my youth Pastor in Senegal? I look at him every now and then, and I ask myself, How did I even make that assessment? They don’t look alike that much. And as for the girl I followed, after that day, I never saw her again. I can’t even remember what she looks like. I’m quite positive she was an Angel. It took me a while to make this assertion, but I’m sure she was an Angel. God is a God of all possibilities, and I know He has many ways of drawing His children to Himself. However, genuinely, if He didn’t use this route, it might have taken longer to capture this young man’s heart. I am truly grateful to God for my church.
2) Exposure, renewal of mind, and a job
Back in school, sometimes in the evenings, we would sit down, look into the sky, and try to guess our future after school. We talked about the salaries that would take us over the moon, the kind of jobs we wanted, and the heights we hoped to reach. We were just small boys mentioning small amounts. Obuasi changed how I thought and the things I believed would come my way. You know, limited exposure restricts your perspective and the grandeur of your goals. A typical example is this blog and podcast. Back then, I would have targeted only the Ghanaian community; however, now, I’m looking at reaching the whole world with this project.
Possibly, in a few months, when we have more interactive sit-downs, we will delve deeper into this. By God’s Grace and Mercy, I have a job that teaches me so much about health systems across the world. I’m not going to stay here forever, though, but it is a really good starting point. The main point is that I never fathomed I would be here at this point.
At the start of the story, I did say Accra felt like heaven. The crazy thing is, Accra doesn’t feel like heaven anymore — not at all. I have fallen in love with the peace and quietness Obuasi offers, so much so that the busy and congested nature of Accra now feels very disturbing.
Two things I’ve realized as I embarked on this experience:
The first thing is, you never get to know your true self unless you separate yourself from your world. You know, influence is like body odour. The person with the body odour hardly realizes it until it becomes extremely bad. In our lives, our character, beliefs, and decisions are influenced, one way or another, by someone or something. The truth is, it can be so subtle that you may never realize it. If you haven’t moved away into a farland before, it means, one way or another, you haven’t found the real you. You need to get to a point where whatever you do is for you — not for your family or friends, or that individual you hold in high reverence. Of course, God must guide our steps in this journey of life; however, in that moment of going through life on your own, that’s where you find yourself. Me, for example, has always been known as an extrovert — and I still am; however, Obuasi made me realize that I truly value my personal space. I never knew I liked it so much until I had the opportunity to actually have it. So the question is: what would your inner man want to do if he or she had the opportunity?
The second realization is that after you go into a farland, you need to forgive yourself and let go of the guilt of leaving your loved ones and pursuing your wants or desires. I realized that sometimes what we call “I miss home” is actually guilt eating us up for not being there for our loved ones. Not necessarily financially, but sometimes just your presence. When I arrived in Obuasi, there were a lot of family gatherings and get-togethers I could not attend. I often heard statements like, “Gabriel, we wish you were here.” Sometimes, the mind or heart interpreted these statements as, “You decided not to be here.” Why do you have to forgive yourself? There is a part of our heart that wishes to be with our loved ones forever. In making such a decision, that part feels hurt because what it wanted was not listened to. That part of the heart hardly allows you to live in the present. So basically, if that part of the heart does not forgive you for making that decision and letting go, everything you do will be directed at finding your way back home — even if that is not God’s direction. It took me two years to realize this. If you haven’t forgiven yourself, please do.
With these two observations, there is a lesson for those who haven’t travelled to a farland, and another for those who have. Whichever category you fall into, do the necessary.
That’s the end of the story! Hope you enjoyed it.
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