By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD

Money Can’t Buy it
While at Language School, we do not stay at the school itself but we live with a Ghanaian family for six months to facilitate learning Twi, the local language. In the family where I stayed, my cook unfortunately was divorced by her husband. Our conversation:

Me:      How long were your married?

Cook:  Three years.

Me:      In those years, how was your marriage?

Cook:  It was turbulent. For three years, my husband gave me only two dresses          and a pair of slippers. When we divorced, he even took back the slippers.         The dresses, they were worn out.

Me:      (Talking to myself: Kawawa ka naman. Sa loob ng tatlong taon dadalawa       lang ang damit, a pair of slippers, tapos kinuha pa.) How do you feel now?

Cook:  Praise the Lord! I have peace of mind.
            (Charismatic pala ere.)

Peace of mind – that’s matters. It can not be bought.

Missing Groat
I found a notebook buried under the laundry in the laundry room. Then the woman suddenly dashed in without warning. She was so worried and confessed that she lost a very important notebook containing the number of ironed clothes and their prices. The loss means no salary. Full of pity, I showed her the notebook, pressed it hard over her breast and looking up, exclaimed: “Thank my God!” (forgetting me who found the notebook).

Spiritual Competition
Twice my malaria sent me to two hospitals. At first hospital run by Medical Sisters, a group of Protestant Charismatics, unaware that I was a Catholic Priest, came to pray over me. After them came the Catholic Charismatic group. I got well but the problem was I did not know whose prayer made me well.

‘Symptomysis’?
The second hospital was rum by Sister Servants of the Holy Spirit. While my Ghanaian nurse was talking my blood pressure, I asked her, “Son, what is my sickness?” Father, you have symptoms”> “You mean ‘symptomysis’? I jokingly continued. “Yes Father”, she replied much to my surprise.

When I was discharged, I related the same story to another priest. Is there a sickness called ‘symptomysis’? He said, “Usually, when you are going to die, the doctors do not tell you your sickness”, O.I.C., I said.

Duol ra sa Pikas
“Are you going up North or down South?” I asked the Bishop’s driver. “Going down North Father”, he said to my confusion.

Dangerous Compliment
The worst and best wrong identity people here usually give me is not that I look like a Japanese, a Chinese, or Frenchman, but that I look like Flt. Lt. Gerry Rollings (Ghana’s President). Hindi madali ito; pag may coup de’etat, pagkamalian ka, tapos ka na! “Di maaga na ang iyong pagka-bloody martyrdom”.

 I have many other jokes but I do not want to tell them because you will just laugh at them.