Before every Sunday Mass in Kintampo we usually have confession. But one Sunday I had been waiting for a long time but no one came. "This is unusual,” I told myself. Then I heard someone saying, “Oh Rex is also going to confession?” I turned around and saw our big dog Rex sitting behind me. People were afraid to come to confession. "Okay, Rex, you are forgiven. Go” Obediently the dog left to the relief of the people who wanted to go to confession.
His name is George but I have forgotten his surname. He was a police inspector, and his most tedious work which he dreaded most was autopsy. In a big hospital in Kumasi, regional capital of Ashante Region, he was describing in vivid detail his horrible experience in one of the morgues where 20 to 30 cadavers were just lined up waiting to be claimed. He was once called to identify a corpse. He went around the different rooms, squeezing in his feet between corpses lined up one after the other.
In Rome the hotel manager directed me to the restaurant stated on my plane ticket. The waiter handed me the menu: soupe aux legumes; spaghetti au jus de viande; bistek aux tomates et all. Among the names of dishes, I recognized only one, the word “spaghetti”. So I ordered spaghetti. I ordered the same food for each meal. For my last meal, I was tired of ordering spaghetti. So I went through the menu again and to my surprise at the back of it was the English translation of all the dishes. Too late baby.
During one of my home leave vacations, Fr. Jake Ferrer, SVD of Pangasinan also came for his vacation from Japan to Christ the King Seminary, Manila. Looking almost like a Somo wrestler, an official at the customs counter in the airport said, “Aba, itong Hapon, marunong magtagalog.”
By Father Joseph D. Panabang, SVD
Sometimes some of the gifts of the of the Holy Spirit are too earnestly sought for. To some of To some of Charisma tics, anybody who does not speak in tongues second class Catholics. This causing division and arguments rather n than fostering unity. Once I saw one of these charismatic leaders I suddenly (in an exaggerated manner) dropped my hand and stated trembling a little and prayed “Ave Maria napnoka iti gracia, ni Apo Dois Adda kenka...”
“What is in a name?” is a program watched on television. Then I recalled my own name history. At the seminary we were three Joe’s. They called me Joepay (shortened from of Joseph Panabang to distinguish me from the other two. Then at the basketball court, they called me “Magic Joe” alluding to my style of play. Then came the new soft drinks Mountain Dew and they called me “Mountain Joe” (referring to mountainous Kalinga where I come from). Next was my mission appointment to Ghana Africa, whereupon my classmates called the "Chief Joepay” as a joke. Then when I shared my experiences from Ghana in the magazine MISYON the editor called me Fr. Joe-ker. Pinoy in Ghana. So what’s my next name?
Mr. William Opare, in-charge of Entertainment Club of Kintampo Rural Health Training School, came to invite me for a talk. “Where is Fr. Joe?” he asked. “Oh, do you have any message for him? I can give it to him.” Innocently, he gave me the message after which we continued talking about Fr. Joe. He assured me he would follow-up the invitation the following day. When he came back, he asked again, “Is Fr. Joe in?” “Yes.” “Where is he?” “Infront of you. Lucky you did not say anything bad about him the last time.” I said laughing.
When the Gonja people accosted me and wanted to kill me for helping a Konkomba man escape, one shouted from the crowd, “Cut off three of his fingers!” When I heard this, I could not decide which of my fingers to offer to the knife.
The guavas were ripe. I had plenty in my garden. While checking the attendance, I told my catechumens, “If your name is called, come first for your catechumen card then go for your guava.” Somewhere at the middle when called went straight to the guava forgetting his card. We all laughed.
Fr. Augustine Villanueva, SVD from Baguio City, and our Acting Provincial Superior stopped at Kintampo. During breakfast, we were not sure whether the cheese was still good or not. “Let me taste it first,” I asked. I took first one piece, then another bigger piece, to which Gus remarked, “And what is that second piece for?” “The first is to taste it; the second is to confirm it.” Seeing how much the cheese had diminished, he raised an unbelieving eyebrow.
