Mom's Advice
Last week I talked to Carla Clarke, Breaking Ground’s secretary, and she told me something to the extent of “take it easy, it seems you’re really busy.” I laughed and told her I am fine and not to worry. A 30-minute car ride and one business meeting later, I was vomiting. What I rediscovered is that Mom’s right. Although she is not my mom, she is a mom and they have this obnoxious way of always being right even half a world away. I believe I ate some old beans with an omelet that caused what would be my three-day withdrawal from the world. I am now doing much better and will manage my work verses rest time with more diligence.
Saturday I climbed onto a bus and chose a window seat, hoping to leave within the hour. Buses here leave when they are full. There is no given timeline. The bus was almost full when the driver closed the door and drove to the gas station. I was elated, only a 30-minute wait! It was 11am when we drove to the gas station, then circled back to the street where I boarded. We parked and I began to read a book. An hour later I heard some angry comments coming from passengers in the back seat. (Six very unhappy women who had been there since 6am.) The bus appeared full, why are we not leaving? The demands grew angrier and louder. Soon small fights broke out all around the bus. I appeared to be the only calm person. Someone even shouted “why is the white girl so calm?” I had two bags on top of the bus, I had paid my ticket and I really didn’t feel that fighting with anyone was going to help my situation. Plus I don’t like to get involved when I don’t fully understand what is going on. I also don’t like to let others know that I don’t know exactly what is going on. So I often keep my thoughts to myself. Two hours later I learned that the bus driver had gone home to sleep. He returned around 2:30pm. I had already spent 4 hours on the bus and had gone nowhere. I arrived in Yaoundé around 7pm. It was raining, now dark and the bus drops you off in a sketchy quartier, Tongolo. I asked the man next to me to stay with me and my grossly large bags until my ride arrived. Kindly, he did.
Two days before I left Bafoussam I called a Cameroonian businessman named Usumane, whom I met as an SIT student. I knew he didn’t remember me from three years ago, but I asked if he would let me stay in his home for a couple days before I continued my journey. I have now been here four days. I feel that I am in an Oasis in Cameroon. I sleep in and I have meals prepared for me. I have been given tours of the city, visited the new U.S. embassy (that overlooks a golf course!), and, best of all, been welcomed into a family. His four daughters speak English and play soccer. They all tell me that they will attend Harvard, maybe Stanford, without a second thought about the college process. They are Muslim but understand that I eat during the day (it’s Ramadan). At night we sit on the porch and discuss life. It’s amazing how things here turn around. Every moment is a journey and when you feel down there is always someone to pick you up and laugh.
My “marriage story” is becoming more realistic every time I tell it, although I need a gold ring (my tarnishing mood ring does not look so bona fide). During a ten-minute walk through the market yesterday, I was asked at least 15 times if I was married. I shoved arms away from me and held up my left hand, yelling “of course I am.” When people ask to see pictures of my family I have to be prepared to have my stories straight of who is my husband and when I will see him again.
Tomorrow I am taking a private car north. This is not usual. I have always taken the train north to Ngaoundere, but jumped on the opportunity to take a car through the Eastern province. Concerned about road bandits, I went to the embassy and asked their opinion. They told me to go for it! They said the province, although poor, is currently stable. The lady I spoke with said she was jealous and heard it’s a tough but beautiful trip. I am relieved by their confidence and compassion.
I have a huge bag containing a water filter, 40 soccer balls, a mosquito net and books. I hope this bag fits in the trunk. I have my pack containing all dirty clothes that I am pretending are clean, as I haven’t had time to wash and dry them because of my unknown departure time. I feel like a new refreshed Sarah after my couple days in Yaoundé and will listen to any mom advice with more appreciation. Moms, bring it on.
Sarah
Saturday I climbed onto a bus and chose a window seat, hoping to leave within the hour. Buses here leave when they are full. There is no given timeline. The bus was almost full when the driver closed the door and drove to the gas station. I was elated, only a 30-minute wait! It was 11am when we drove to the gas station, then circled back to the street where I boarded. We parked and I began to read a book. An hour later I heard some angry comments coming from passengers in the back seat. (Six very unhappy women who had been there since 6am.) The bus appeared full, why are we not leaving? The demands grew angrier and louder. Soon small fights broke out all around the bus. I appeared to be the only calm person. Someone even shouted “why is the white girl so calm?” I had two bags on top of the bus, I had paid my ticket and I really didn’t feel that fighting with anyone was going to help my situation. Plus I don’t like to get involved when I don’t fully understand what is going on. I also don’t like to let others know that I don’t know exactly what is going on. So I often keep my thoughts to myself. Two hours later I learned that the bus driver had gone home to sleep. He returned around 2:30pm. I had already spent 4 hours on the bus and had gone nowhere. I arrived in Yaoundé around 7pm. It was raining, now dark and the bus drops you off in a sketchy quartier, Tongolo. I asked the man next to me to stay with me and my grossly large bags until my ride arrived. Kindly, he did.
Two days before I left Bafoussam I called a Cameroonian businessman named Usumane, whom I met as an SIT student. I knew he didn’t remember me from three years ago, but I asked if he would let me stay in his home for a couple days before I continued my journey. I have now been here four days. I feel that I am in an Oasis in Cameroon. I sleep in and I have meals prepared for me. I have been given tours of the city, visited the new U.S. embassy (that overlooks a golf course!), and, best of all, been welcomed into a family. His four daughters speak English and play soccer. They all tell me that they will attend Harvard, maybe Stanford, without a second thought about the college process. They are Muslim but understand that I eat during the day (it’s Ramadan). At night we sit on the porch and discuss life. It’s amazing how things here turn around. Every moment is a journey and when you feel down there is always someone to pick you up and laugh.
My “marriage story” is becoming more realistic every time I tell it, although I need a gold ring (my tarnishing mood ring does not look so bona fide). During a ten-minute walk through the market yesterday, I was asked at least 15 times if I was married. I shoved arms away from me and held up my left hand, yelling “of course I am.” When people ask to see pictures of my family I have to be prepared to have my stories straight of who is my husband and when I will see him again.
Tomorrow I am taking a private car north. This is not usual. I have always taken the train north to Ngaoundere, but jumped on the opportunity to take a car through the Eastern province. Concerned about road bandits, I went to the embassy and asked their opinion. They told me to go for it! They said the province, although poor, is currently stable. The lady I spoke with said she was jealous and heard it’s a tough but beautiful trip. I am relieved by their confidence and compassion.
I have a huge bag containing a water filter, 40 soccer balls, a mosquito net and books. I hope this bag fits in the trunk. I have my pack containing all dirty clothes that I am pretending are clean, as I haven’t had time to wash and dry them because of my unknown departure time. I feel like a new refreshed Sarah after my couple days in Yaoundé and will listen to any mom advice with more appreciation. Moms, bring it on.
Sarah
posted by Sarah @ 4:02 PM
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