By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD

On my way to the Philippines, I stopped at our Mother House in Steyl in the Netherlands. Fr. Antonio Pates, SVD, a Filipino missionary in Brazil invited me to accompany him to visit our Filipina Pink Sisters at the vicinity. Two cute Filipina Sisters entertained us. One of them was really an interesting and fascinating storyteller to listen to. At the end of our visit, Fr. Pates told them, “So this is Fr. Joe Panabang, a visiting missionary from Ghana.” “Panabang?” blurted the other sister and started laughing. She looked at me again, looked donw and laugh again. I was quite peeved. “So you are Barnabas? Hi...hi...”she continued bubbling with laughter. Only then did I come to know, as the two Sisters told me, they had been receiving copies of Misyon magazine which published the jokes. The mention of my name to them was provocative enough for them to laugh.
***

Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam. To give the impression that I too am a city man, I walked proudly and with confidence toward the door. Suddenly the door opened automatically. Frightened, I jumped backward, my other hand-carried bag dangling at my back. I looked around and saw people laughing and I nodded to them, apologizing with a smile, “Forgive the bush man from Africa.”
***

After every meal inside the plane, I would ask for water. I could feel that the stewardess wanted to know why I drank water after every meal but was ashamed to ask. To answer such unstarted, I told her, “Madam, you know I am like a frog. I drink water after I east.” That sent the stewardess sizzling with laughter. The whole flight, she never passed by me without a smile.
***

During my three-month vacation in the Philippines, many of friends and confers who read my simple jokes told me they liked them. Not really flattered, I chanced upon one Misyon magazine at Catholic Trade Bookstore. True, enough, I found myself laughing at myself at my own jokes as if I did not experience them.
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Visiting my relatives during my vacation days in the Philippines, I found it too stale answering the same questions over and over again. “How do Ghanaians look? What kind of food do they eat? Do they have chickens, pigs, dogs, etc.? It so happened that a black missionary priest, Fr. Valentine Malumalu, CICM that from Zaire, Central Africa, was the Assistant Priest of the next  parish. Proud to show him to my village people, I brought him to my relatives. Believer it or not, their was turmoil. The people were just overjoyed to see what kind of people I minister to and work with. Some of my small nephews and nieces, naughty as they are would touch his black skin and, in childish curiosity, examine his fingers if they were smeared with black color. To avoid embarrassment, I told Fr. Malumalu, “Now you know that the Ghanaian kids do the same thing to me- rubbing their hands against mine to see if the brown color would transfer.” Then I realized I brought an answer in person to spare me from the boring repetition of the same answers to the same questions.
***

When, Fr. Malumalu arrived in the Philippines, he was sent to the remote stations of Lubuagan Parish, Kalinga-Apayao. The natives liked him very much. He encouraged liturgical inculturation. Dancing during the Mass, the use of native symbols, to mention a few examples, were given impetus. He shared his experiences with me as I also shared my experiences in Ghana. He concluded, “Joe, after being with the native tribes, after everything is said and done, I think the only difference is color.” The same conclusion with my stay among Ghanaian tribal minorities!