Leaving my Heart in Africa

When I wrote my very first bucket list at 16, I included one item I can't quite explain. "Leave my heart in Africa". To this day, I couldn't tell you exactly what I meant by that, other than that I dreamed for years of traveling to the continent. I suppose I had an overwhelming sense that doing so would change me. That something about it- the landscapes, the cultures, the people I encountered- would capture my heart, laying permanent claim on some part of me.

Now that I have been to Cameroon and returned home again, this old teenage goal seems strangely prescient. I may not have been able to predict where or when or why I would go, but somehow I had an inkling of how I would feel when I did. And, as it turns out, I left even more of my heart behind than I ever could have imagined.

I called the branch president in Douala to find a place to stay so I could go to church one weekend.
Instead, I found an extension of my family <3 

The day I was preparing to leave Mokundange, I could barely hold myself together. I had a dozen mini best friends who filled all of my idle moments with laughter, and I could hardly stand the thought of not seeing their smiles day after day. Our beginnings had been slow. After weeks of exchanging shy smiles and waving at one another, a break in my research scheduled had coincided with school strike action, leading to a sort of breakthrough that completely transformed my last few weeks in Limbe. I never did make it out to the pretty beach or to the botanical garden or to the wildlife center (my Limbe bucket list, if you will), but I did spend countless blissful hours skipping rope and making paper airplanes and dancing and playing cards with beautiful little humans who made my heart grow three sizes every time I heard them say "Aunty Brooke Michele".

When this picture was taken I hadn't showered in three days (not by choice, there was no water in the house) and wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup, but felt amazing, just being in the company of these kidlets.

The first day I went outside with my skipping rope and when the kids started swarming and fighting over who got to take the next turn, I went back in for my notebooks, and gave everyone some paper so we could make paper airplanes and boats and whatever little origami I knew. Pretty soon, the kids were asking me to dance. Someone put on the same infernal song that I had been hearing at least 10 times a day (P Square's "Bank Alert" which despite my initial annoyance, is the same song I now play at home to conjure so many happy memories) and we started to dance, right there on the back steps. By this point, there were almost 20 kids between the ages of 2 and 14 all gathered around, emulating my ridiculous dance "moves" and shoving each other to show off their own.

                                  

From that point on, I spent all my free time out back playing with the kids from the nearby compound. I brought out my cards and taught the kids "Go Fish", and they taught me snippets of Pidgin (rendering the name of the game to "Go Boat"). They asked about my tattoos, shocked and amazed at the idea of ink put under the skin by a needle and spent hours playing with my hair. "It's so soft!" they would tell me repeatedly, yanking the brush through my sweat-tangled hair in a way that made me glad my mom used to pull so hard when french-braiding my hair. 

My girls <3 The one on the right was so scared of me at first it took almost four weeks (and constant prodding from Pavel) for her to approach me for the first time, but once she did, she was regularly battling for space on my lap. The one on the left would cry whenever I left, or she had to go home for the night.

A deck of cards makes for hours of entertainment.

One day I pulled out my computer and sat with a group of kids on the backsteps watching Despicable Me, with my laptop balanced on the overflowing garbage can in front of the chicken coop. One little girl fell asleep in my arms and it was as near to perfection as an afternoon gets.

Just try not to fall in love with these kids.

What they loved more than anything, though, was my camera. I have deleted three times more photos than I have kept from this time period, because they were such photog fiends, taking snap after snap after snap. Many of the shots that I did keep are blurry as all get-up, but they show the genuine joy we experienced in each others' company.

The kids were eager to take "snaps", but their photography skills still need a little work.

The last couple of weeks were packed with activity, especially as I had four focus groups to conduct. The first journaling group went great, everyone showed though no one came until at least 25 minutes past the hour we agreed to meet. Both the photovoice groups started way late, but everyone came. Journaling 2 took the cake though. It started almost an hour and a half late and had only two of the five participants show up. Fortunately, I was able to reschedule with two of the others and get that done just a couple days later. I also made it up into a mountain village to do an evaluation for a project conducted there by my local partner organization (a little work to thank them for helping connect me in Limbe).

Sorry dad! I know I promised I wouldn't ride a motorcycle without a helmet, but this was the only way to get to the village!

Pavel celebrated his birthday at the beginning of December, and his one wish was to eat achu, a northwest speciality, and to have me taste it. The soupy dish is eaten with the hands, and it is a yummy mess. I ALMOST didn't get any on my shirt. Something I appreciate most about Pavel is how much he wanted me to see and do and taste everything he loves about Cameroon. From football to sugar cane to "pumpkin", Pavel was determined to help me experience it all. It was such a nice contrast to all the people who just wanted me to take them to Canada. Pavel even started to teach me little phrases in his own dialect and quiz me on an almost daily basis to make sure they stayed in my mind. One of my favorite moments in Cameroon is going to the semi-final AFCON game with my bestie. We purposely went to sit behind the traditional dancers from his region. During the first half, he got up and put on a cap and danced with his people, grinning ear to ear. It was the happiest I'd seen him, so happy he was glowing, and it was hard to focus on the game, so much I enjoyed seeing him so blissed out. 

Mm Kong Wu my brother!

Before I left Mokundange, one of my participants came to see me about a project he would like to pursue, building a home and school to educate children that have been orphaned by AIDS in his home region. He has land, but lacks management skills and resources to move forward. Something about him already having the land made the whole thing seem so feasible, so I'm planning on doing some research over the next few months and who knows-- maybe I'll be back in Cameroon before I know it!

Tu me manques!!

I spent my last weekend in Cameroon back in Douala with what will heretofore be known as the "African side" of my family :) I think it's a beautiful blessing, the soul's capacity to recognize others from beyond the veil and the heart's capacity to love and connect across all barriers of age, race, background, distance, etc. An equally beautiful blessing? The fact that it hurt to leave. That pain is the echo of dozens of names and faces that reverberate in my mind and memories... and always will!