First Cameroonian impressions

I start writing only now, after almost three weeks in Belo, North West Region of Cameroon, Africa, because the last two weeks have been tough for me.

I realized I just entered the probably most challenging situation in my life so far.

And this is not because I am in Africa, no, I actually felt very much at home from the first day on. The way things go here seems mostly more natural than surprising to me.I say the most challenging situation because I am living with three other volunteers who I probably wouldn't have spent more than a couple of minutes with if  I was to meet them in my country. Tu put it in a nutshell, I never felt such a general lack of warmth, enthusiasm, empathy and love around me as I do here.

This seems paradox to you? It is. Now all I can do is one thing: Stay true to myself, to the love for my life and mother Earth, stay curious and keep my eyes and my heart open in every moment.

I have had very hard days here, crying silently at home or on the phone, getting sick and tired and just not understanding why I am here, why I have put my little clumsy foot in such a weird situation and constellation of people, when I was doing so fine and enjoying my life, my work and my company so much back home.

This said, I just feel like something has to change now. I knew from the beginning that it was going to be a big challenge, but just now I feel that I am actually able to face it. That I can transform it into something worth living, into something I wouldn’t regret later.

To live from within, stay true to what I am and what I can do, sharing my ideas and skills with people that are willing to share. This blog will be part of my sharing.Everyday I am living surprising, challenging, sometimes disturbing and always interesting moments, which I would like to share for you to think, cry or smile about...

12/8/2013

I wake up with the happy feeling of being alive and with the wish to make something special out of the day. I start with my own timing, not in a hurry for breakfast, taking my time for some exercise that I know my body will benefit from. It is actually the first time I do more than one exercise at once, taking just the time it needs, until I feel it is enough and eventually have breakfast. I am a little disappointed it  is scrambled eggs and not crepes (those are the two breakfast alternatives prepared by the cook who daily cooks excellent meals for us), but it tastes better than every other time, maybe the taste of some extra onions satisfying my need for spice on this particular morning. Brushing my teeth and looking at myself in the mirror I notice I am looking different than in the past days and weeks – or maybe I haven’t even looked into the mirror since some days, I don’t remember. I quite like my hair in the way it is without brushing since coming out of bed... I put on a very colorful t-shirt and my now earth-colored originally white-linen shoes.

I start teaching French at Summer School. It is surprisingly quiet in the beginning, even though there are a lot of kids today, more than 30. I realize that I am at some point only giving my attention to one kid, who always knows the answer to my questions and thus satisfies my need for getting feedback and correct answers. I try to switch my behavior and give my attention to the whole class, but it is very difficult to include the small ones because they are not ready for writing or concentrating, and I also don't exactly know what I can expect from them in terms of reading and writing. We repeat some things from last lesson, and later on add some new expressions. Most of the kids know how to count, and answer general questions, the problem is they keep answering with only one word, without saying a whole sentence. I wonder if this is due to their education (answer only what is asked and as shortly and quietly as possible) or due to their laziness of pronouncing the whole thing when for example the answer „treize“ delivers enough information to the question how old they are.

Then the class gets very quirky and I decide to end the French lesson with what we did so far and let them repeat some of the sentences all together. It makes sense to me to make them repeat what I say or write on the board, still I need to think about other methods to hear their voice, because most of the kids are too shy to speak alone when they are asked something. I also notice how difficult it actually is to end a class in an appropriate way. Right now it feels more like leaving the classroom without saying „bye“. I have to figure out in the next days, for now I realize how important to find a good and clear beginning and ending of a lesson.

While playing handball with the kids I take my shoes off for the first time here and am very surprised how comfortable the ground is, it feels so much better than with shoes! At some point I would like to introduce a new game to them, I think about it for a minute because I actually prefer just catching their ideas and games and embracing them.Yet I tell them my idea and ask them if it suits them. There is actually only one new rule to this game: One person is in the middle of the circle and we don’t want this person to get the ball. If one kid in the circle lets the ball fall to the ground, he or she must get into the middle and the other one gets out. The kids love it and I am surprised how they immediately adapt to the new rule. But I observe even further: Although we haven't clarified who has to go into the middle when the ball falls on the ground in between two players, there is no discussion about it. Every time this situation, where you can be sure of hearing a lot of discussion about Who, if, when, why, etc. in Germany, occurs, the kids seem to imediatly agree on who has to leave the circle, and thus, who’s fault it was. Or, if at some point they don’t agree, the flow of the game is much more important to them than the discussion about the fault that was made.

This is an important observation to me, since I am very interested in how children here and back home behave while playing, how they cooperate, and how they coordinate their physical and mental activity. I somehow guessed before that we „civilised“ Western people have a lot to learn from the kids here concerning these essential skills.

After school I go for a little walk barefoot up the street. The solid, warm and springy texture of the earth under my feet makes me think I never want to use shoes again. At some point I realize there is a girl from school walking right behind me. I greet her gently, but we  don’t talk, just silently walk beneath each other. This is often happening to me, and while I would be quite surprised or annoyed or embarrassed for the silence in Germany, it feels all natural here. Someone wants to accompany my walk, I accept it and let it be without asking. There comes a moment where I feel some men sitting on chairs beneath the road talking about me: „Ubangna“ is the word for white man and is used very frequently when talking about, well, us volunteers. I want to ask the girl walking with me what they just said, but even before I ask she explains: „They say that you are beautiful, but that you are crazy to walk like this without shoes“. I laugh and continue my walk. Later on I think about getting my shoes back on, yet decide to continue walking barefoot, just letting them talk. It would be wrong to say that I don’t care because I do, but in the same time the discovery of the warm ground under my feet is bigger than my thriving of pleasing people of the village. Some people even offer me shoes on the road, I refuse saying that I just need to fix mine at home because they have a hole. The excuse seems acceptable.

Afterwards I have a meeting with the man of my organization, Ch., about my tasks here in Belo. The meeting starts very slowly. Whereas in Germany you want to get to the point as quickly as possible, this isn’t the general rule here. The road to te point of the conversation (if there is any „point“ ) is bumpy, slidy and winding. and uneven, just as the real roads are. So Ch. starts to tell me his whole morning and afternoon until now, nearly as detailed as I am doing now. Eventually he arrives to the Here and Now, and we start talking about the project and how it is going for me. I tell him the truth: I don’t like the energy at home and I want to work as much as possible in order to find a sense in me being here. He seems to understand everything without need to explain. He proposes me some things and gives me new ideas on what I could do to promote the organization and know better about it. This week I will keep teaching in Summer School, and after next week he will also take me with him when he visits the orphans and their care families so that I can understand better what is going on. Just while talking I get a lot of new ideas, for establishing new partnerships and networks and get the volunteer house project running with Crowdfunding. I know that my skills are good enough for this and that setting up those things on my own will teach me a lot. I am very thankful to him for this fruitful meeting and Ch.’s encouragement, and he also seems to be happy about my ideas and my enthusiasm that just recovered from a little winter sleep...

But today’s luck is still not achieved entirely. The biggest surprise is the evening meal served punctually at six o clock, like every day: It is my favorite dish I have only seen my father preparing, him saying it was a dish that his ancestors introduced from Cuba:

A plate of rice with tomato sauce and a fried egg on top and fried, caramelized bananas at the side. I can’t believe this is really on my plate, but the taste is just the same! I know it sounds very awkward to everyone who didn’t try, so let me just tell you how well the yellow part of the egg melts together with the sweetness of tomatoes and bananas, the spice of the onions, all hold together by sticky basmati rice...but you have to try yourself!

And still a surprise waiting for me this evening. Just after dinner, when I lean into the sofa, satisfied with the food, yet somehow feeling the need for something sweet that I always feel after eating well. I struggle with the temptation of cookies and I win. No sugar this month, or lets say, no refined sugar in any form.

In this moment, someone knocks on our door and doesn’t come in after we answer.

So I go to the door, the others sitting around without any curiosity or will to open the door to at least see who is outside. There are the three children from next door, holding in their hands a little basket with chopped sugarcane. They brought it to me after I told them that I really liked sugarcane this afternoon, but I would never have thought to get the honor of such a present... I feel only embarvrassed about not knowing how to thank them, I eventually give them some cookies although I feel that what they just brought me is hundert times more valuable. 

This is my African experience for today, now hoping to keep the good energy up!