A TASTE OF HOME, EVERY SUNDAY
by Eric Markowitz

The din of conversation and mirthful laughter echoing off the walls and flooding out the church doors can be heard from a block away.  The hallways are permeated by the distinct smell of fufu, Ghana’s favorite national food.  The room is packed with women garbed in the vibrant kaleidoscope of Kente cloth dresses, men arrayed in their impeccable black suits. Tonight is Ghana’s annual Harvest and Thanksgiving Celebration at Christ the King church in The Bronx. 

“This is a place for us to be social,” says Naa Opoku, one of the seven members of the church’s Welfare Committee.  “Everyone works two or three jobs so this is a time when we get to see each other and relax.”

Every Sunday at 5 p.m. about 300 Catholic Ghanaians congregate at 141 Marcy Place just off the Grand Concourse in the Highbridge neighborhood of The Bronx.  They pray, celebrate, converse, and unwind.

“The church service is only 45 minutes long,” says Rev. Abraham Attah Becko, the Parochial Vicar of the church, “but we meet after for about two hours.”

Even the church’s website promises something for everyone. “You are sure to run into someone from your part of Ghana,” it proclaims, “maybe that long-lost family member or friend. And if not, you surely will make new friends.”

After all, the Highbridge section of The Bronx is becoming an increasingly popular destination for African immigrants. 
In 2005, there were about 9,000 Ghanaians living in the Bronx, according to U.S. Census estimates.  But in one year, by 2006, census data show us that the number of Ghanaians living in The Bronx increased to over 14,000.  The neighborhood is a fairly quiet residential area within walking distance to Yankee Stadium.

Becko, who arrived to the United States in 2003, explains that “in the United States you have a separation between church and state…but in Ghana religion is a part of us.”  Almost 70 percent of the people living in Ghana are Christians, according to the Central Intelligence Agency World Factbook.

Christ the King church opened its doors to the Ghanaian Catholic community in 1995.  Before that, the church was reserved for all-Spanish speaking services, but now the two groups share the space. The two groups even publish a weekly church newsletter that is written in Spanish on one side, and translated into English on the opposing side. 

Over the last 20 years, Ghanaian immigration has burgeoned in the United States.  From 1990 to 2000 the Ghanaian population grew by more than 230% to nearly 50,000 people, according to U.S. Census data.

That burst of immigration has been felt in this community, which now houses four Ghanaian churches.

But the path to America for many of these weekly churchgoers has been difficult.

“Everyone has their own way of [immigrating],” says Katherine Okrah, an active church member, avoiding any personal reference.

Many of the Ghanaians here are reluctant to discuss their documentation status because they are here illegally, explains Father Francis Kwaku Boateng, the chaplain of the church.  “I don’t know how people come…we don’t question it.”

Once in the United States, Ghanaians face some harsh realities.

“They sell their homes [in Ghana] to get ‘contractors’ to get them entrance,” says Becko.  “But then they get here and there’s no work and nothing to go home to.”

“They sell more than their homes,” says Okrah, alluding to extent of financial burden entrance entails for immigrants.

Okrah refused to comment further on her statement, though a June 2007 report by the U.S. State Department called “Trafficking in Persons” sheds a bit of light onto this grim issue.  “Ghana is a source, transit and destination country for children and women trafficked for the purposes of forced labor and commercial sexual exploitation” the report states. 

Not everyone can make it to church every week, because many of them are working two or three jobs as personal help aids, teachers or taxi drivers.

“Ghanaians think it’s very rosy here…but we don’t make much money,” says Becko. “Not everyone is skilled and educated.”

Tonight’s roster of celebration includes “Harvest – Dinner – Dance,” according to the church bulletin. The sun has long set outside but indoors the bright halogen lights illuminate the men, women and children dancing to the deafening beat of a drum played over a loudspeaker.

“We miss our families back home, but what can we do?” asks Opoku.  On Sundays, at least, what she does is get together with other immigrants from home in the reception hall of 141 Marcy Place just off the Grand Concourse in The Bronx every Sunday evening.