By John Koenig
Waconia, Minnesota
English, Sociology
Before I arrived in Cameroon for my semester abroad, my impression of
Africa was a kaleidoscope of clichés, from nuclear sunsets over zebra herds to swollen-bellied children with flies on their faces. Africa has a way of daring the visitor to try to understand it, and true to my Macalester nature, I boldly rose to the challenge. My failure was spectacular; I returned home a happy oaf, humbled and hungry for more.
Here are a few highlights, as noted in my journal:
Both the States and Cameroon are lush with resources, but Cameroonians think they’re
rich and Americans think we’re poor.
—John Koenig |
January 9, Limbe: It seems I’m white. Every day on the street I hear: “Salut le blanc!” Cameroonians have a sense of joy, community, and openness I like, but patriarchy and polygamy seem to be in fashion, and poverty is rampant. The place seems really random: They eat the whole chicken, including bones, and the department store inexplicably has the Blues Brothers as mascots.
January 15, Yaoundé: My host sister came home one evening and said, “Mama, I’m happy.” My host mom replied, “Well then, sing!” And they began singing hymns and dancing there in the kitchen. The first question my host sister asked me was: “What is your mission for humanity?” I was flummoxed. She wants to become a doctor, to help the poor and sick. It made me eat my ambitions and recognize my duty to give back.
February 4, Kribi: Today we visited a “pygmy village,” though it turned out to be a sad decoy, a clearing where a group of pygmies performed knockoffs of ethnic dances for the dollars of tourists, who should know better. Everyone involved felt uncomfortable and I was ashamed. It was tourism distilled: hunting for pristine culture, which is simultaneously diluted and commodified.
March 17, Yaoundé: Life here continues to flow by riotously fast. Yesterday I saw a casket in the back of a taxi, hazard lights on, driving slowly. Also, a girl asked one of the Americans to tell Michael Jackson that she’s interested in being one of his backup dancers. And today in the market someone called out “Ni hao!” to me, apparently because I look Chinese.
April 26, Korup National Park: Weary and pensive after a 17-km rainforest trek, we had a classic college debate: both the States and Cameroon are lush with resources, but Cameroonians think they’re rich and Americans think we’re poor. I think it’s thoroughly healthy to witness how hard people work to achieve what others were born with.
May 8, Yaoundé: This final week has been incredible. At one goodbye party, I listened to a Cameroonian friend tell me the names of all of his 33 siblings, twice. I learned from a tracker what to do if you’re being stalked by a gorilla. And my host mother gave me an elaborately crafted traditional fon’s [chief’s] outfit. This is starting to feel like leaving home. I can’t imagine staying away for long.
If I learned anything from my experience abroad, it’s that there’s no better way to learn about your home country than by leaving it, and no better path to self-discovery than escaping your comfort zone. And the best way to truly know something is to experience it for yourself.
|
