deeper thoughts: FuFu

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It’s a rhythmic pounding. Consistent. Thud. Thud. Thud.

It can be heard in the early mornings or evenings outside of homes in Kumasi.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It’s the pounding of FuFu, a traditional Ghanaian dish made out of the cassava root and plantains. It’s quite the process, one that takes time, energy, and strength. It begins with the cassava root, a staple food here that is similar to yam. First the root must be peeled and cut into smaller pieces. Then it’s boiled, to make it soft and malleable. After that it’s placed in a mortar about the size of a bucket and the pounding process begins: the heavy eight-foot pestle is lifted up and down, into the base of the mortar.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

After the cassava is sufficiently mashed, the plantain is added and pounded into the mixture. Thud. Thud. Thud. The process can take up to an hour, depending on the softness of the cassava. The harder the root, the longer it takes.

I’m like Cassava.

God uprooted me from my land, my comfortable hole in the ground, and brought me here. The process began almost immediately, as He peeled away the comforts that I clung to: the security of fellowship and deep friendships, American conveniences, and my idea of myself.

His Word and the Spirit’s whispers then began to penetrate my heart and reveal my weaknesses; I felt as through He was cutting me over and over again, conviction after conviction. Rebellion and bitterness teased me, and my heart came close to hardening.

Then came refinement: boiling. Through the heat and pursuit of His enduring love, my heart became softer and softer, recognizing its need and dependency upon its Creator.

Lord, I surrender all of my heart to you…make me what you want me to be. Put me in the mortar.

And then came the pounding:

Thud. Thud. Thud.

consistent reminders of His will and purpose for my life.

Rebecca, live in communion with me. Thud.
Rebecca, Let me mold you. Thud.
Rebecca, Trust me. Thud.

It’s been quite the process, one that isn’t over yet.