If the Lord Does Not Build the House …: A Ghanaian-American Couple Establish Libraries in Rural West Africa

By Kirt Bromley and Hilda Bromley

Hilda and Kirt Bromley have set up fifty-three libraries in rural communities in Ghana, West Africa. Responding to a call from the Lord, the Bromleys trusted in Him to provide. They set up a nonprofit organization, collected books, raised funds for shipping, and then traveled to Ghana to meet with local communities to help set up their libraries. The Bromleys view the work as a mission from God to provide opportunities for people in rural areas where textbooks and educational resources are very limited. The Glory of God is the person fully alive is the motto of Books for Africa Library Project.

This book relates the experiences of this mission from its inception in 1996 to the present time, working with rural communities setting up libraries. There are also stories of Hildas childhood in the British colony of the Gold Coast, her youth as a national runner honored by Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, the first president of Ghana, her intercultural marriage with Kirt, and their work with AA and Al-Anon in Ghana. Their stories relate the faithfulness of God from the time when the Lord first spoke to Hilda, Go build Me a library in Kukurantumi.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: May 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781449791704

Kirt Bromley

The Bromleys met when Kirt was a US Peace Corps volunteer stationed in Ghana. They were married in 1969 and have two children and five grandchildren. They currently spend half a year in Ghana setting up libraries and helping victims of HIV/AIDS and alcoholism through the distribution of information on these diseases.

Book preview

IF THE LORD

DOES NOT BUILD

THE HOUSE…

A GHANAIAN-AMERICAN COUPLE ESTABLISH LIBRARIES IN RURAL WEST AFRICA

HILDA AND KIRT BROMLEY

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Copyright © 2013 Hilda and Kirt Bromley.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4497-9169-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9171-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9170-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013906958

WestBow Press rev. date: 04/29/2013

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Illustrations

Foreword

Preface

1.   A Day in the Life of a Colonial Girl

2.   Hilda’s Early Life in Ghana

3.   Ohio Boy

4.   Our Marriage

5.   Living in Two Cultures

6.   God’s Leading in Kirt’s Life

7.   Blessings from Brain Surgery!

8.   On the Road in Rural Ghana

9.   Six Weeks in Liberia

10.   Excerpts from Our Journal

11.   Letters from the Mission Field

12.   Where Are We Now?

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Map of libraries and Kukurantumi

1.   Hilda’s Family

2.   Hilda in Secondary School

3.   Hilda at College

4.   Kirt’s Parents

5.   Kirt’s Family

6.   Friends

7.   Kirt in Abetifi

8.   Marriage

9.   Family Pictures

10.   Grandchildren

11.   Grandchildren2

12.   Faith and Light

13.   Kukurantumi Library

14.   Zabzugu Library

15.   Loading Books

16.   Teteman

17.   Liberia

18.   The Environment

19.   Kirt and Hilda at the libraries

20.   Afua’s Visit

21.   Information Center

22.   Processing Books

23.   Special Partners

24.   The Halfway House

25.   Volunteers

26.   Al Hassan

Other pictures can be found on our website: www.forafricalibrary.org

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List of Libraries and year of set up

FOREWORD

If one has ears to hear, eyes to see, hands to serve, and a heart to say "Yes" to God, one creates an immeasurable ripple effect. The proof of this statement is found in If the Lord Does Not Build the House, a story of empowerment! The book is wonderful.

Having met Kirt Bromley a number of years ago at a Faith and Sharing Retreat in Cleveland, Ohio, I was deeply touched by his love for the people of Ghana, West Africa (he had spent time there in the U.S. Peace Corps). Not long after, I met Hilda Bromley (his wife and a native of Ghana); she is a woman of compassion and service. Our lives have been deeply connected over the years as their ministry has unfolded.

I have had the privilege of knowing Kirt and Hilda, and being a very humble part of an extraordinary ministry for the people of Ghana. While recovering from surgery of a brain tumor in 1996, Hilda received from God the gentle nudge, go build me a library. It is Hilda’s sensitivity to God’s gentle movement in her life that has impacted people, especially in the United States and Ghana. As you read this book, you will marvel as to how a bridge between those who have and those who need came into being.

Education is one of the basic rights and needs of any people. As you will learn from reading this story, more than 50 libraries have been established through their efforts, with training and support for the libraries and librarians in their local communities. Addiction is a disease that cripples families and communities. Recognizing the need for education and creating avenues for healings of addiction, these two people have used their own money and invited others to be part of bringing about change. With much effort, they were able to have the Big Book of AA translated into the language of the people. On their own property they have established a center providing the opportunity for long term treatment of addiction.

The tirelessness of these two individuals and the story they share will challenge and encourage you. The words of St. John Henry Neumann are enfleshed in the work of Kirt and Hilda. "God has created me to do some definite service; God has committed some work to me which has not been committed to another. I have a mission . . . . I am a link in a chain, and bond of connection between persons . . ."

It is my privilege to introduce you to If the Lord Does Not Build the House. It will make a believer out of anyone who takes the time to walk the journey of faith of Kirt and Hilda Bromley. It is a story of fidelity in prayer, fidelity in relationship and fidelity in service. It is all about fidelity to the call and saying Yes!

Sister Therese Dush,

The Anawim Community

Frenchville, Pennsylvania

March, 2013

PREFACE

Unless the Lord build the house, they labor in vain who build it. Psalm 127

If the Lord does not build the house… points to a truth in life that the Bromleys learned firsthand. All good things come from the Lord, and by His Grace and Power are they maintained. When Hilda Bromley received a call from the Lord to build a library, she had little idea of what was entailed. While walking in faith, the way became clearer to her. Neither the vision nor the means were on hand at the start, but the Bromleys were not depending on their own resources but on the Lord to lead and supply. The Lord went on to establish 53 libraries in rural areas in Ghana. He used the Bromleys and local people who had the good of their community at heart. He used people of good will in the USA who wanted to share their treasured books with people who had a need to read, learn, and grow. This story is about what the Lord has built, in touching the Bromleys during their early lives and then preparing the work to establish a whole lot of libraries in places where resources are few.

Perhaps you have heard from other people how what should have been an unfortunate event for them, rather was counted a blessing and gave heightened meaning and purpose to their life. This is what happened with Hilda Bromley. In 1996, she was told that she had a brain tumor and that she would be operated on immediately. Fortunately, Hilda’s tumor was benign but the presence of the tumor and subsequent operation forever changed her life.

Hilda believes her tumor and operation to have been a blessing from the Lord. It caused a personality change in her. The value she placed on being a Christian deepened, and her gratitude for life increased. A major event in the new lease on life that God gave her was the day when she accompanied Kirt to a library where he was doing some research for a graduate paper. Hilda was still only two months in recovery from the brain operation and not yet reading very much. She was sitting at one of the tables in the public library when God spoke to her, Go build me a library. When Kirt returned to her table to check on her, she related what she had heard. Hilda was convinced that this was truly a call from the Lord and that she would obey it. Kirt was not sure what it all meant, but decided to support her and see what would happen.

With the help of faithful supporters, the Bromleys have been able to collect and ship over 300,000 books to Ghana. Using a developmental model, the Books For Africa Library Project distributed the books for free, but each town had to provide a building or a large room with empty shelves and furniture for the readers, a person to run the library, and lights and fans. As of February 2013, the Bromleys have set up libraries in 53 towns in rural Ghana. After witnessing the devastation of the diseases of HIV/AIDS and alcoholism, the Library Project has included the dissemination of information about these scourges as a part of their mission. The Bromleys have encouraged others to join in the mission effort. It is all done out of God’s love for people, especially those in poverty and challenging circumstances. the Bromleys declare. Nine Americans have joined in the mission effort over the years and volunteered in Ghana.

The Bromleys state, Behind the funding and volunteerism and charity is the love of God for each person. In the early years of the mission, there was a severe lack of school textbooks throughout the country. While this situation has improved somewhat, there are very few schools today where every child has a textbook. Rather, it is common for a class of thirty pupils to have fewer than 10 textbooks for each subject. Hence, the library is a valuable community resource allowing not only research, but also the opportunity to learn to love reading and the acquisition of knowledge. God had a plan for Ghana that was deeper than any national budget or school administration. God loves each child personally. We believe God wants each person to know His love, even in places where opportunities seem to be lacking and personal needs seem to be neglected. God has not forgotten any person. His light reaches into every corner. This vision is what we share with the rural poor.

CHAPTER ONE

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A COLONIAL GIRL

What was it like living as a young African girl in the British colony of The Gold Coast in 1953? In those days, I was called by different names depending on who was addressing me. Awo or Akosua were the names of endearment that my family gave me. Awo because my grandmother was Awo Kwabua and my family wanted to honor her memory by giving me her name and Akosua, because every girl born on a Sunday receives the day name of Akosua.

When I first entered school, I took a Christian name, Esther Akosua Kwabua. I was older than the normal student was when I entered Class One, or Grade One as it is known in the States. The Seventh Day Adventist Church in my hometown ran my first school. My initial reaction at school was anger because I had spent the first seven years of my life with my mother, and we were very close. She went to her farm every day of the week to get food and I always accompanied her. Hence, when my parents started me in school, I felt torn from my mother and I was upset. I preferred going to our farm than going to school.

My father initiated the change in my daily routine, but my mother agreed and told me that it was better to get an education that would improve my prospects in the future. My parents bought a school uniform for me to wear, and cropped my hair close to my head. My mother had to buy a small table, a chair, a small chalkboard and chalk for me to use in the classroom, and I had to carry these items daily to and from my classroom. We carried these items balanced on our heads.

On those school mornings, I got up with my mother at 4 A.M. I slept on the floor on a small sleeping mat made out of the back of palm branches. I would roll the mat up when I awoke and store it in the bedroom. Next, I would find our drinking cup and dip it into the barrel of rainwater that was fed by the downspout on our front porch. I would first wash my face and then get a second cup to rinse out my mouth. Then I would use a soft and fibrous stick to brush my teeth. This constituted our simple toothbrush, for if the fibrous part of the stick was rubbed over the surfaces of our teeth, it kept them clean and free of tartar.

I had a friendly and smiling face, just like my mother. Occasionally people would give me pennies because of my white, shining teeth and friendly smile. I had a big gap between my two upper front teeth, but society considered it a mark of beauty. I never saw myself as beautiful, but people would ask me to smile for them just because of my good teeth. I guess life was a lot slower in those days when people would take time to ask for a smile.

After finishing my morning toiletry, I swept our rented compound with a broom made of palm branches. I had to light a lantern to see since the sun doesn’t come up until after 5:30 A.M. Next, I would gather the rubbish I had swept into a pile and put it into a bin and carry it to the garbage dump which we still refer to as a boiler, perhaps because the garbage doesn’t burn but smokes. The boiler was about a half mile from our house. We walked everywhere. I always met other people on the same errand early in the morning. In those days our town was always clean and well swept. Everybody swept, first their compound and then the area in front of their house every morning.

When I returned to the house from the boiler, I would get a bucket and go to the neighborhood well. We had to stand in line until it came to your turn. Usually it was the children who were given the task of fetching the water for the house every morning. I would go back and forth to the well several times each morning to fill the rainwater drum. Of course, during the rainy season the runoff from the gutter and downspout helped fill the barrel, and we would also put buckets and drums out in the open. This was our method for gathering water for drinking, cooking and washing our bodies and our clothes.

Around 6 A.M., I would make my breakfast. I had been taught since the age of five to cook simple things and to do all the cleaning chores in the compound. My breakfast then consisted of cooked plantain, a stew made with vegetables, hot pepper, salt and onions. While the food was cooking, I would take my morning bath and put on my school uniform. Then I finished cooking, ate my breakfast, cleaned the cooking utensils, combed my hair and left for school.

At the Seventh Day Adventist Primary School in Kukurantumi every school day began with the student body gathered for Morning Assembly on the grass in front of the two school buildings. The Class One students stood in front of their school block which consisted of wood pillars supporting a palm-thatched roof. It was under this roof that we arranged our small tables into a classroom. The older students had a larger building made of mud/clay walls and corrugated metal sheeting for a roof. The building for the older students was blocked off into sections for each ascending class from Class Two through Six. Our teachers were young, enthusiastic and dedicated. I soon found out that school was fun.

I was very attentive in school and absorbed in learning new things. I found learning to be easy. I could retain everything I was taught, and my teacher called me often because I would give the correct answers. Before I knew it, I was sent to the upper classes to recite multiplication tables. I became competitive and wanted to be first in my class. I remember myself in competition with two boys for the first, second and third place in every examination.

In addition to excelling in academics, I found that I was also good at running. On the birthday of the Queen of England, we held a grand sports competition at our school. Each student was given a cup with the portrait of the Queen on it. Sometimes we were given trophies for placing in those competitions. It was also at this time that I was introduced to Christianity. God touched me with the gift of faith, because I believed in all of the teachings that I received at this Christian school.

The school day started at 8 A.M. with a bell for assembly. We were grouped for the Morning Assembly into competitive groups. Each student had a badge of either Red, Green, Yellow or Blue and we competed against each other for sports activities, cleanliness, punctuality at Morning Assembly and at Evening Singing. At the Morning Assembly, we were inspected for cleanliness. Our clothes needed to be clean and pressed, our nails cut and our faces shining. The section that scored the highest at the close of the school day on Friday was the winner for the week. The section in last place had to sweep the compound daily for the next week. There was a lot of peer pressure and enthusiasm to make your section the winner, and it was fun. The morning lessons ended at 11:30 A.M. when we went home for our lunches.

Preparing my lunch was all my responsibility. My mother was still on her farm so I had to run home and start the fire to cook lunch. This did not bother me because I knew my mother needed to go to the farm daily to provide for us. She was a divorced woman with no alimony and no help from my father except with the school fees. We lived off the produce of our farm. Upon arriving home for lunch, I would take off my school uniform and carefully hang it up. Then I would put on casual clothes and start to cook. Sometimes the wood was wet and it would take a long time to catch on fire. I would start to panic because I did not want to be late for school. Occasionally I would eat partially cooked food so I would not be late. After lunch, I would put my uniform back on, wash my hands, face, and feet and comb my hair. Even though I did not have shoes, I washed my ankles to make sure I looked presentable. I was a serious and quiet girl. I felt the need to help my mother and the way I showed it was to work hard at any task given me whether at home or at school.

The second session of classes started at 1:30 P.M. with all students lining up by color sections for Afternoon Assembly. Then we would study Social Studies and then have games in the afternoon, such as running, girls’ netball or jumping games. We also had story telling time. Each of us would be asked to tell a folk tale to the class. For us in the Akan tribes of Ghana our favorite folk tale character was Kweku Ananse the tricky spider. The teacher always had us give a moral at the end of our stories. In this way, our characters were built up and we learned civility and morality.

School ended at 4:30 P.M. I always ran home so that I could help my mother with the cooking. I did not have many clothes, just my school uniform, underwear and an extra dress. Upon arriving home, I folded my dress and put it under my pillow and then played or worked in my underwear. My extra dress was used only on special occasions. I walked barefoot to school until I was given my first pair of shoes at the age of 12. That first pair of shoes were called Achimota Sandals after the style of shoe worn by the students at Achimota, one of the oldest private schools in Ghana. The shoes were second hand and had been re-soled with hard rubber that made a lot of noise with each step.

On Saturdays, I went to the farm with my mother. This was the tradition for all families. Every school age child was expected to go to school Monday through Friday, but on Saturday, whole families could be seen walking in a line going to their farm which was always located outside of town, like in Europe. At the farm, the families would gather as much produce as they could carry home for the meals in the coming week. Firewood was also collected and carried home with the food. Early Saturday afternoon, one would see the same families walking in a line back home with bundles of food and firewood carried on their heads.

On Sundays, the families attended church together unless the parents practiced traditional religious rites. For many children like myself whose mother was not a Christian, we would attend the church which was attached to our school. Sunday afternoons were times for washing our school clothes, letting them dry in the sun and then starching and ironing them for use on Monday. For me, I would find time to review the school lessons that I had written on the blackboard slate that I took back and forth to school. Although my mother did not receive any education, I was determined to gain everything I could from school.

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Hilda’s father,

Okyeame Kwame Mabre

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Hilda’s mother

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Hilda’s primary school class in 1953 Hilda is in the middle row, far left

CHAPTER TWO

HILDA’S EARLY LIFE IN GHANA

This year I turned 66 years old. I thank God for my life, for the energy He has given me, and for the unique mission He has chosen for my husband and me. I have seen many changes in my lifetime, being born into a British colony, raised through the transition from colony to independent nation, and then growing to full womanhood in a bright new society full of hope and promise. I grew up learning the ways of a traditional African society, its customs, its songs and dances and its values. There is much that is good and wise in my traditional culture, and I would like to pass some of this knowledge on. Since the creation of Books For Africa Library Project in 1996, many people have encouraged us to put on paper what we have been doing. Narrative about the library project will follow in later chapters, but at this point I would like to share some of my knowledge and experiences growing up in a changing African society.

I am a woman of medium height and build. My hair is short and slightly graying. On my forehead is my trademark, a dent that easily identifies me as a recovered patient from brain surgery. In addition, I have a big gap between my two front teeth, which was a sign of beauty when I was growing up, but is becoming a dental problem for me now. I have strong legs and shoulders and for that, I thank God. Through the grace of His goodness, I am what I am today.

I was born in Kukurantumi, a town in the Eastern Region of Ghana. My parents were two hard-working people from the Akan tribe. To prevent intermarriage among close relatives, every person of the Akan tribe is born into one of eight clans, and follows the practice of marrying into a different clan. My parents followed this custom and since we are a matrilineal society, all the children born of my mother adopt her clan. My mother, Madame Amma Nyamewaa Ofosua, was from the Dwumena clan, and so I am also a Dwumena. This clan comprised the first settlers in the area and established the town of Kukurantumi sometime in the early 1800’s. As the first settlers, my clan should have been the ruling royal family of my town by right, but we are not because of an incident that happened a long time ago. Most people know and accept that the fact that the Asona clan instead of the Dwumena rules Kukurantumi, but few know the history behind the facts. The head of the Dwumena clan explained the events to me during our annual harvest festival twelve years ago. The following is the story I was told.

The Founding of Kukurantumi

Dwumena, the clan I belong to, was once part of the Asona clan. Both trace their ancestors to the same female who migrated to a town called Akooko about fifteen miles from Kukurantumi. One of the residents was called Koo Tufoo because he was a hunter. He used to make treks to the surrounding area looking for game to feed his people. In his wandering and expeditions, he came to a place that was thick with trees and had many brooks. He kept coming back to the place because there was much game to be found there. He built a little hut as a resting place in between hunting forays. One day, he killed a big animal that he could not carry by himself so he decided to return to the village to get help bringing the meat home. As he was leaving he heard a voice saying; I will go with you. He turned around and asked, Who said that? Now, since he was alone he was surprised to hear this voice. Again, he set out to leave the animal but he heard the same voice, Take me with you. He stopped, a little frightened this time and replied, Who said that? Who are you? What do you want? The voice replied, I am the spirit of the big animal you killed. Please do not leave me here alone. I want to come with you.

According to our tradition, my ancestor, Koo Tufoo, invited the voice that he identified as the spirit of the dead animal to accompany him to get help. Together they walked to the village where the rest of his people lived and returned with them to the site where the dead animal was. There they cut up the carcass and prepared to transport it back to my ancestor’s hut to be smoked. However, as they were ready to go, a voice echoed again, You cannot take all the meat with you. Leave a leg buried here. I want you and your people to come to this site each year to remember me. This is now a sacred forest. There can be no farming or hunting here, and must only be entered once a year when you pour a libation of prayer for me. My people accepted this request and made a pledge that day which has continued to the very present. No one may enter the sacred forest of Nana Obuo except once a year, and only the chief and special court officials may do so. To this day, the sacred forest is one of the few areas in Ghana that has been largely preserved from deforestation.

Coming back to the story, Koo Tufoo buried the animal’s leg, and then sat down with some of the people of his village and discussed their next course of action. They decided to build a small village close to the site of the sacred forest and to settle there. They went and brought members from their home village along with the reigning chief from the Asona clan along with a carved stool symbolizing his personal reign. The newcomers worked industriously and felled giant trees from the virgin forest surrounding the sacred ground. The town of Kukurantumi was born. A shrine was