“I can’t think of anything not to love about Ghana” — Richard Barnor, who is from Ghana, of course
I met Rocinda Barnor at a board of directors meeting for Congo Restoration earlier this year. We immediately had something in common — we were there to help orphans in Congo. Then we went to lunch together, and she mentioned she liked George W. Bush. Really? Because I was really enjoying her company and now I had to put her in that category. We laughed at our political differences and moved on to the orphans and the soup-and-sandwich special.
It could’ve stopped there, our paths crossing every now and then as we discussed Congo Restoration business. But no. I have this blog, through which I’ve committed to feeding my soul with friends from Africa. And her husband, I learned that day, is from Ghana. I could see where this was going. If one believed such things, which I’m never quite sure I do, one might think God had quite the sense of humor at lunch that day.
You should know, I don’t really like new people. That’s harsh, I realize. But I have a lifetime’s worth of amazing friends. I don’t need any more. I’m not proud of this part of my personality, just fessing up. Rocinda is very nice, but in no other circumstance would it occur to me to invite her and her husband — two religious and political conservatives — over for dinner. I’ve spent a lot of time separating myself from the conservatives I ran up against during my Baylor years. I’m a Jesus-isn’t-the-only-way-to-God, Obama-loving liberal. Why put myself through it? Again, I’m not proud.
So I invited them to dinner. In late February, on one of the coldest nights of the year — they were even colder than most Dallasites because their heat had been out for more than a day — Rocinda and Richard came over to share dinner and a warm fire. I made a zucchini-rosemary soup and served it with a pear and goat cheese salad with ciabatta bread. Unfortunately for the Barnors, we were doing our February no-sugar/no-alcohol challenge. Could I entertain these Bush-Jesus-loving people without my entertaining staples, wine and chocolate? What had I gotten myself into?
I worried needlessly. We had a delightful evening, hearing about Richard’s time in Ghana, the year the two of them lived there together while Rocinda was pregnant with their first child. They adore Ghana and wish they could find a way to make a living there. Richard is the first person I’ve met from Africa who really has no complaints or concerns about his home country. It is a stable, fairly well-run country within a continent of the opposite. We also learned about Rocinda’s childhood growing up with her parents on Native American reservations. It wasn’t until she left the reservations and attended a public school, when she was 11 or so, that she saw the color of people for the first time — or, rather, people brought her color to her attention. It had never occurred to her that black, white, or brown made a difference.
Oh to live in such a world. I pride myself for being fairly blind to a person’s color. I have enough gay friends to fill the cast of Glee — twice. Homeless, living in the penthouse downtown, farmer or attorney, Spanish-speaker or English teacher, I don’t care. But you put me on a highway with “I Miss Bush” bumper stickers or in a room of people thanking Jesus for the rain outside, I quickly feel my prejudices rising to the surface.
But sitting by the fire with Rocinda and Richard, those prejudices faded away. At least with this couple on this night. Like Ghana, there’s nothing not to love about them. But I’d never have known that if I hadn’t invited them over for dinner.