The Limited

It’s 5am on Friday morning, and I’m wide awake for two reasons. 1. I went to bed at 9:15 last night. 2. In my state of my early morning half-awareness, the mysterious nibbling sound in the corner of my room managed to transform itself into the unlikely yet alarming possibility that there could be a snake in the room. But I don’t mind being up. In fact I rather like this hour before the rest of the house stirs, a time so limited that it’s liberating. I can’t leave the house for a run or a trip to the well, since it’s still dark (and I don’t have a key to let myself out of the front door); I can’t do housework, since everyone is still asleep and my door creaks terribly; I can’t even do homework (already done!!) I would exercise, but neither the dirty concrete floor nor the rickety bed lends itself well to such a purpose. So that basically leaves studying French, reading, or writing. A liberating hour.

Limitations can absolutely be a detriment to progress, unquestionably. After my first excursion in Africa, I returned to the States with a sense of bitterness toward American materialism and excess. This time abroad, though, I’m learning to actually appreciate what’s available in the U.S. – not all the kitch and junk, but real services, like public libraries and phone directories. My concept of living simply is already shifting, just one month into my Peace Corps training. I think many Americans tend to romanticize the rugged lifestyle we imagine in Africa -- and it can be amazing -- but the difficulty is when you realize that these people aren’t on a mission trip; they aren’t making due for now. This is their life. And they aren’t completely different from us. We’re talking about intelligent, diverse, well-dressed, world-aware individuals making life work without running water. People who get frustrated when their 4-year-olds spill chocolate milk. People who have lazy days when they don’t feel like cleaning up after dinner. People who dress up for church. People who know how much bleach to put in the bidan of water you just carried uphill from the well. People who have to pay the electricity bill even when the power goes out for days on end. People who get in a tizzy if you don’t like the food they cook for you, and try to force-feed you seconds (or thirds) of anything you do like (not like my own mother at all…Ahem.)

Please don’t get me wrong – there are significant differences between Cameroon and the US. The difference is much more with the system than the people. Please imagine for a moment your own children in their third-grade classroom. Picture it. Now remove the posters and other visual teaching aids. Take out the computer(s), make the desks larger and put three children in each. Remove the rug and cozy chairs, the reading books, the water fountain outside. Put two classes of children in one room with one teacher (40-60 students per teacher.)

Yeah, life is different in Cameroon.

My “trashcan” is a deep hole in the back yard, a few feet away from the first row of manioc plants. I’m used to cold bucket baths (legitimately not that bad). I’ve seen three different people severely deformed by polio. A five-year-old in our town died of Cholera last week. There are people who refuse immunizations for fear of sterility, but who give whiskey to small children to prevent meningitis. . Lack of infrastructure, lack of widespread and thorough education, lack of money.  These are the limitations that imprison the Cameroonian people fifty years after independence. This is not living simply, this is living poorly. Nonetheless, the people are a proud and happy people. They value peace and stability. They learn. They encourage. They welcome. They share.

In all of this, the obstacles facing the Cameroonian people and development workers within the country can seem overwhelming. But I’m excited to be here. The country and the people are beautiful, and the potential for change is enormous. While I’m sure our two years in Cameroon won’t solve all the challenges, I hope to help empower members of my community to step up and start working toward change.

As always, I thank you for your prayers, your encouraging words, and your open minds.