My co-worker, Abigail, buzzed my room’s phone in a frenzy at about 8:00 p.m. Sunday night, the day we arrived in Tamale. She informed me that the Northern Regional Minister did not like the speech she sent him three weeks ago because it wasn’t indepth enough, and if we did not prepare a word-for-word speech for him tonight, he would not attend the conference. Umm, what?

One thing I’ve learned about Ghanaians in the work force: they do things slow and at the last minute, but even this tripped up Abigail, a born and raised Ghanaian. As he is the Northern Regional Minister, a local authority, his presence was crucial for our project: Using Radio to Promote Effective and Participatory Local Governance in Northern Ghana, so she and I had to pull something together to get him here.

Abigail was in a panic and I’m trying to think of something, anything, to keep her calm. Meanwhile I’m thinking, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I HAVE TO PREPARE A SPEECH FOR THE REGIONAL MINISTER OF NORTHERN GHANA?!” Now, I’ve done a fair share of public speaking, but never prepared a speech for a politician to say in front of the media, journalists, assembly members, and radio managers. Plus, I’m at this conference as an observer, note taker, and learner, not a professional in the field. But add this to the list of leaps of faith I’ve taken in Ghana.

So Abigail and I had a little speech writing party on her bed with our laptops. We both laid down on the king size bed to write; I felt like we should whip out some nail polish and put on Jessie J too but we kept it simple. Abigail provided me with a jumble of information about the background of the program and local governance. I sifted through and pulled crucial information out to make it more fluid or speech-esque; I also prepared a closing statement. Granted, Abigail did most of the work, of course, but I was happy to help and flattered she wanted me to be a part of this.

Day 1 of the conference rolls around and the big guy in green, Obibini Obollo, puts his glasses on and begins to read our speech. The participants eagerly listen. I glance over at Abigail who has a smirk on her face. The speech is typed in front of her and she scans it as the Northern Regional Minster of Ghana spoke it. The room erupted with applause as he concluded; we sure did a great job preparing this for the guy. Priceless moment.

As if this dude wasn’t already enough of a character, my boss came to me at the end of the conference and told me the Minister had a gift for us. Thinking it was a gift card (silly me), or maybe a fancy thank you card (too small), or maybe a trip for two to the Bahamas (wishful thinking), he informs me that the Northern Regional Minister has given us… Drum roll… A bull. Excuse me? A what? My jaw involuntarily dropped. I asked him if it was alive and he and Abigail looked at each other and burst into laughter. Of course it was alive… So… We, (my boss, Abigail and I) spent some time over dinner discussing what we would do with the bull. They discussed selling it to the hotel to kill, or hiring a cattle carrier to bring it back to Accra to kill, and all the ways TO KILL the bull. I cringed under a fake smile the entire conversation. My stomach turned and I just thought about the cows frolicking in green pasture in Happy Cows Come from California commercials and wished that lifestyle for our soon to be meat. Ghana, you’re full of surprises. This was one of, if not the, strangest gift I’ve ever received.