As I’d noted in my last journal entry back in July, I planned to return to Cameroon for another six months, taking on a new placement in Bamenda this time. I spent the month of August in Canada, politely waiting my turn while standing in various line-ups, and equally politely standing at the corner waiting for the traffic lights to tell me its ok to cross the road (even when there are no cars within 3 kilometres), sharing the collective thought with my fellow pedestrians when someone dares to jaywalk (“THAT person is a sinner!!”). Also, while in Canada, I was‘headhunted’ by a placement group in Mississauga, ultimately leading to a job offer, job acceptance, and the admission to myself that it really would be of some benefit to my future to see a paycheque again (haven’t seen one of those since January 2007 – I still can’t figure out how I managed that). Hence, my future in Cameroon was cut short.
The job offer didn’t come through until I’d already returned to Cameroon, so I did manage to spend most of September there, saying my goodbyes, helping my replacement at Santa get started (her name is Kareen, from Philippines – she became a good friend in a short time – I was sad to say goodbye to her), but most of all, spending a bit more time with my gal Brenda, a Cameroonian woman whom I’ve been dating for the past year, but have not mentioned in any of my blog entries (several reasons for that, none of which I will get into at the moment).
I wrote much of this entry in the Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, on my way to Canada from Cameroon (some trivia for you: Canada and Cameroon are the only 2 countries in the world that are considered “bilingual” in English and French, with those being the official languages of the countries. What I find even more interesting about that is that many Cameroonians, but few Canadians, know this fact). Then I finished writing and posted it from a hotel in Toronto. If there is something that airports and hotels are good for, it would be sitting around reflecting, which I definitely needed to do before the whole 19 months as a resident of an African country starts to become a blur (I was quite proud to have the opportunity at the airport in Yaoundé to get to stand in the “Foreign Residents” line, which was much shorter than the “Foreigners who aren’t as cool as the Foreign Residents” line, as I was leaving the country).
I’ve done heaps of writing over the past 19 months, but, believe it or not, have posted relatively little of it on this blog, partially because I’ve written tremendously more than any internet surfer looking for photos of a hot chick in a bikini while on vacation would be interested in reading. Mostly, I wrote as a form of therapy, while sitting in my quiet little house in the evenings in Santa. It’s mostly serious stuff, as I try to make sense of so much of what I’ve seen in Cameroon. I have a small desire to post all of it, but fortunately for you, I’m too lazy to take the endless hours I’d require to edit it all into something readable. I’ll just share with you a few thoughts that I think of as relevant, and leave it to you to dare yourself to get on a plane and fly somewhere where English is not the first language spoken, the public transport is uncomfortable, nobody gets your jokes, people don’t know or care who the Beatles were, and you can’t find poolside service because you can’t find swimming pools.
You’ll never regret it.
My return to Cameroon was, in some ways, anticlimactic, but the short experience did emphasize the struggles that people deal with here in living their day-to-day lives. The reason I say this is that I brought back from Canada about 35 kilograms of children’s clothing, as well as 38 deflated soccer balls and a few pumps to fill them (many, many thanks to my new hero, Bev, who supplied the balls and made 38 kids deliriously happy, and many more adults deliriously envious). As I was distributing the balls and clothing, word made its way through Santa what Mr. Eric was doing. The result was a constant barrage of people, many whose names I didn’t know, asking me what I’d brought them from Canada, and expressing great surprise that I’d forgotten about them once all the items were distributed. A very emotionally demanding experience, in part because I would have loved to help everyone, but mostly because I felt somewhat frustrated by the way people would shamelessly approach me, talking to me as though I owed them something, even though I hardly knew them.
I’ll confess the experience started to taint my attitude, to a point where I found myself in a seriously bad mood one morning, ready to lash out at the next person to ask what I brought them. Then I just reminded myself of the very first person to receive something from my luggage. It was a young lady who has a small stall set up along the street in Yaoundé, selling peanuts and other small things. Brenda purchased a few bottles of nuts from her, and was quite taken with the woman’s little toddler. Brenda went back to our hotel, got a few articles of children’s clothing, and gave them to the woman. She was so thrilled; she got down on her knees to thank Brenda. That reminiscence brings me back down to earth, and reminds me that it really does take all kinds to make the world go round.
I just need to understand that Cameroonians so often go out of their ways to help one another that it has become commonplace to ask for something when you want it. It would be considered inappropriate, even rude; to just call up a friend and ask him or her to give you money where I’m from in Canada, but no one is offended by that in Cameroon. It’s just part of the culture - neither the giver nor the receiver think anything of it.
In light of this, I have to note that the observation has come to me several times during my stay that there is something of a lack of self-esteem that appears to be imbedded in the mindset of many Cameroonians. I wouldn’t be surprised if that could be said about many parts of Sub-Saharan Africa. Less educated Cameroonians, in particular, will comment on how Cameroonians are drunkards and thieves, are undependable and dishonest, and all the good things that happen in the world come from the developed countries. This is absurd, of course. It also alludes to the misconception that Africans have on developed countries.
It is this mentality that brings to light the reality that the only people who can really change Africa are Africans, not the aid agencies. I suppose I’m just stating the obvious, but to my mind, the one element that sticks out is that the problem to me is that, although Africans frequently lack the skills and resources to move forward, a significant barrier comes from their own perceptions of these shortcomings. I know that sounds harsh, but I don’t mean it in a derogatory manner in any way. We’re all a product of our own experiences in life, and Africans have experienced oppression from their political leaders, poor education, health care, and violent internal warfare for so long that it has become commonplace to feel helpless, and assume their problems will continue until someone from the outside intervenes to save the day.
Africa’s dependency on aid has proven itself not to be the key to success, but Africans have become terribly accustomed to expecting it. After my experience in Cameroon, the only solution I can see will have to start from a radical change in government. Of course, it will be the people of Cameroon who will have to provoke that change. I have every hope that it will happen peacefully and fairly in the next election in 2011, but realistically, I fear the result of that election will be one of two sad scenarios. One will be that the election will be uneventful, but filled with bribery and corruption, and the ruling party will win again (Paul Biya has been in power since 1982). Nothing will change, and you won’t even hear about it in the news. The other scenario is that there will be a massive uprising, filled with violence, but the election will still plagued with corruption, with no clear outcome or foreseeable benefit to the people. You may or may not hear about it in the news.
One can only hope that a considerably less likely 3rd scenario takes place, where someone will win the election in a peaceful and fair manner, then proceeds to invoke dramatic reform, and the country will start a long journey to badly needed improvement in its standard of living.
It makes me incredibly sad to think of small the chances are of this happening.
I have no answers, because I’m still trying to understand the questions. I honestly feel embarrassed by my lack of understanding as to what the issues are. By the same token, I get the impression that all the ‘experts’ out there are still trying to figure out the issues, as well. I suppose all I can say at this point is that this experience that has changed the way I think about things, all for the better. I have a much better understanding of how to interpret what I’m reading when I pick up books about development (from a myriad of authors who have their own view on ‘what’s wrong with Africa’, or ‘what’s wrong with international aid’, or ‘what’s wrong with the World Bank’), and I also have an understanding of what the challenges are in working in development (and they are not the challenges I anticipated).
One thing I didn’t see coming, though, was the appreciation I’ve gained for people who immigrate to Canada in the hope of a better life, leaving behind their families, their language, and their culture. There’s a feeling of isolation that comes with living in a foreign culture that can only diminish with time. I’ve experienced it, and have watched several of my volunteer colleagues experience it, as well.
Anyway, I’m well aware that I’m blathering, and I could go on for a very long time, so I’ll hold back from getting into this any further. I’ll just say thanks to all of you who’ve subscribed to this blog over the past year and a half; I’m very grateful (and very surprised!!) to have received the moral support I needed from you folks (even though you may not have known you were providing it). I’ll leave you with my oversimplified philosophy in life, which is thus:
You are born;
You do a bunch of stuff;
You die.
Moral of story: The birth and death parts of that philosophy are miracles and mysteries, so you may as well make the “stuff” part the same. Do stuff that makes you feel good. While you’re at it, do stuff that makes your neighbour feel good, too, whether they are next door, or half way around the world. I remember reading one of those “feel-good, self-improvement” emails years ago that provided a bit of advice that said, “Do something nice for a stranger, and don’t tell anyone.” Ironically, the second part of that equation can be more challenging than the first.
Ok, that wasn’t quite my last line of thoughts. Here it is:
A few things I will miss about Cameroon:
- The people, of course.
- Traditional song and dance. There is simply no replacement for the energy that comes from the experience. I’m only used to seeing this kind of thing as a tourist, so to see Cameroonians entertain one another this way is truly fulfilling.
- The smile of an African woman, regardless of age. No offence intended to my non-African female friends, but just like the dancing, there is no replacement.
- The feeling like I’m in a movie. I recall my friend Steve from the UK making that comment about his experience in Vietnam, and that stuck with me. There have been many, seemingly insignificant moments, where I’ve thought, “so this is what those Hollywood folks were trying to portray”: riding in a compact taxi with 7 other people, 4 chickens, and 200kg of plantains, music blaring local pop tunes (another side note: for reasons I cannot explain, the French language lends itself very well to African pop music and sounds much more hip than the songs sung in English), everyone in the car laughing and carrying on conversations in Pidgin, feeling every single crack in the pavement, people walking along the side of the road, coming from the market with tremendous loads on their heads…I could go on for a while. It is the ultimate tourist attraction.
That’s about it from me. I hope you’ve learned a bit about Cameroon through all of this. I knew nothing of the country before going there, so I know it’s been worthwhile for me. I trust and hope it’s been worthwhile for the many Cameroonians that I’ve developed great relationships with.
Another little philosophy that I like: it ain’t about what you do in life; it’s about how much love you put into it.
Flakey, I know, but all we really have, right?
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