Scene: A frat-house lounge area decimated by filth and clutter. The volunteers sit in quiet camaraderie, under the spell of technology. A TV blares in the background, their faces are lit by the glow of their computers and for some the sounds of the world are shut out by earphones. Suddenly the question hits me like a pop-up advertisement, and I put down my I-pod to think. It is the same question that I have asked myself many times within the last year, but I feel it is more important than ever to ask again now. I arrived in Cameroon on September 17th of last year, which means I am almost halfway through my service. And so I ask again, (not the first time for you reader, and probably not the last ): What am I doing here?
In terms of work, the answer is not enough. It’d be clichéd to say that when I arrived I thought I was going to change the world, but suffice it to say that I at least had the hope of doing some good here. And I still do! I’m not that jaded, people! But I’m definitely more realistic about what I can accomplish. So far, I have spent every Wednesday in the Mokolo prison, taught adult English classes, and submitted a grant application for a ten-month media project that would give women an opportunity for generate income and speak their opinions. Although I realize that the work pace is extremely slow here, most people want money not skills, and it’s hard to overcome the gender imbalance that creates a lot of the problems in the first place, I still am bit disappointed in myself. This next year, I want to do more. I am still hoping to get the grant funds for my media project, to begin collecting the stories of women with whom I work and am friends, and to begin working with young women regarding life skills. Admittedly, part of my motivation is to get rid of this guilty feeling that I’ve wasted a year….
At least in terms of cultural exchange, (also part of my job), I don’t feel quite so disappointed. You’re reading this right now, right Dad, right Mom? Well, even though I have a blog fan base that consists mostly of my family, there are a few other readers who during a lull at work decide to click on my link. Why not? Better than doing that TPS report. And with each of those clicks, I am injecting a little bit of Cameroonian culture into the lives of Americans. Moreover, I have Cameroonian friends who do this work for me. They do it by listening to me rave about how great America is, by poking fun at some of the not-so-great things, and asking me whether it’s true that white people don’t like to share food. They also do my job by allowing me to rant about Cameroonians, laugh about some of their silly myths, and ask why Cameroonians won’t just open the damn bus window. Mostly, they remind me that my time here isn’t all about work, but also about just being me.
This sounds easy, but I’ve realize that “just being me” can be difficult as well. Living in Cameroon has been an extremely humbling experience. It has brought out both the best and the worst in me. I used to think I was a good person. I mean, c’mon, I worked in public service! But within the past year I’ve come to know my own raging and sinister Miss. Hyde. The positive of this is that a rowdy and visible enemy is easier to confront than an elusive one. In the United States, she was tranquilized by the security and comfort of familiarity, by friends and family, and positive reinforcement (many lies). In contrast, I feel that in a strange land she has been strengthened by my insecurities, my fear of the unknown, and my clinging to what I think is the “right way to live.”
Like Robert Louis Stevenson’s characters, I feel I have been constantly being torn in two directions. When I first arrived in Cameroon I was dreamy-eyed and in love with everything new that I saw and experienced, and my heart was open. But as with all relationships, the elixir of new love began to wear off and reality began to tear holes into the picture-perfect life I had fabricated. I began to harden towards kids demanding gifts, adults staring at me, and men yelling to me. With each week that passed I began to struggle to remain open, to see the positive, and stay in love. It has taken a lot of work and a lot of ups and downs, but overall I am still happy here. There are still moments when my thoughts stop, I look around, breathe in, and simply feel what it is like to be here in Africa.
So what am I doing here, big picture? I’m learning acceptance. I recently read in a Pema Chodron book that karma is about getting what’s right for you, and that each moment gives you exactly what you need to find the Buddha within you. Well, if finding the Buddha first involves feeling like a failure and constant visits from my own Miss. Hyde, I am well on my way. And I can only hope that this next year brings more challenges and more defeats that help me continue to not only accept Cameroon for what it is and Cameroonians for who they are, but also to accept myself for who I am.
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