Paradise Lost

I have to admit, on the plane ride from Italy, something happened to me.  As tears rolled down my face, I felt something in me hardening like a pot of boiling sauce beginning to solidify.  Even though I knew it was illogical, I blamed Cameroon for my pain, for taking me away from my family and for making me feel like an outsider.

I must have been radiating anger, and the law of attraction worked to bring me more:  on the trip back I faced a group of drunken Cameroonian men on the plane; a broken down bus on the trip from Douala to Yaounde; a derailed train on the way to the North; and the grand finale - a drunk and belligerent off-duty soldier who tiraded against white people over the course of three hours on the bus ride to Maroua.

By the time I reached Mokolo, I could feel the resentment in my chest like a slab of stone, guarding against all the good things I would normally see.  I was annoyed by everything. For a few days I tried to fight my anger by trying to see things the way I had before and telling myself I was wrong, but that just added to it.  After a few days holed up in my house and pondering what had changed, a book by Pema Chodron, a Buddhist nun, helped me find the answer.  Since I had arrived in Cameroon, I had put a lot of effort into trying not to let things bother me, I had glossed over too much and ignored my feelings.  But at this point in service, the shiny newness of Cameroon had worn off, and so had my ability to polish up everything.

People only see what they want to see, and the case was no different for me.  Before Italy, I only wanted to see the good, and after Italy, I only wanted to see the bad.  But now I am realizing that I need to find a middle way, and not only see both sides, but accept both without judgment.  There is a thin line between fear and excitement and when I have judged some things as good, I have felt excited, and when I have judged others as bad, I have felt angry or afraid.  Both can be negative, because excitement brings false expectations and fear brings resentment.  Instead, by not labeling, I merely accept what is.

Thus, I now realize that by trying to paint everything as great, I buried my seeds of resentment, which grew and flourished into anger.  Now that I see my mistake, I am trying to be open and accept everything as it is without judgment, which allows me to weed out the resentment, and plant seeds of compassion.  Because to not accept Cameroon for what it is, Cameroonians for who they are, and humans for who we all are is the true act of hostility.