Supposedly, West Africa is mostly English speaking, and eastern Africa
speaks French for the most part. Supposedly. And that’s just the
funniest thing to those of us here in Cameroon, a country on the west
coast of Africa. We are also in the half of the country that should
speak English, not French. It’s true that more people here speak
English than French, but the English that they speak is not the
English that I speak. No, not at all. Everyone in Lassin speaks the
dialect Noone and the form of English called pidgin. Not everyone,
however, speaks or can understand English. This is the reason why we
have translators/aides in our classrooms at the school.
As in all places, there are some words that don’t really transfer from
your English to mine. For example if someone says that they will
surely be at the church tonight for the meeting, what they’re really
saying is that they will probably be at the church tonight. If I try
explaining to someone that my foot is hurting, they could be quite
confused. First they might ask where my foot is hurting. To them, my
foot runs from my hip to my toes. They also don’t really use the word
hurting; instead, they say paining. So for someone to be getting me, I
should really say, the upside of my lower leg is paining me.
If I want to go out jogging or playing football, I am sporting. If I
want to know whether or not my class understands my instructions, I’ll
ask them if they are hearing or getting me. I might want to tell my
neighbor that I’m walking to school, they’ll think that I’m working to
school; I should actually say that I’m trekking.
The other day, Brother Gregory asked Steve if he could hear the
termite poison at the school. He, of course, meant to ask if Steve
could smell the stuff. I often hear people say to me “oh, you have
been missing?” That just means they haven’t seen me in a while.
The kids at school get mad at any other student who messes with the
air. You can imagine that means that the students have eaten a bad
combo of fufu and something soaked in palm oil, resulting in really
bad gas.
New babies are born, or put to birth, everyday at the health center.
Speaking of health, you might ask someone here who isn’t feeling very
well if they will go to the health center to get tested for malaria.
They’ll say no, they don’t really have the money to go to the center,
but, yes, they’re sure they have malaria (disregard the previous
definition for surely). You may then look at them with wide eyes and
really urge them that they need to get that checked out; they probably
don’t have malaria at all. People here call any sick, or illness,
malaria.
Here in Lassin, the answer to every question is yes, and foreigners
are always wealthy. We have so much, in fact, that we have to give
much of our things away so people better ask for them, just in case.
And if you pass your friend who has arranged to meet with you later
(or even in this very hour) to ask you for your things (especially
before you leave the country), they’ll say “I’m coming!” When they’re
planning on coming, you may never figure out. You could decide to just
meet with them now, and in the case, you’d want to ask “can we move
together”, not let’s take a walk.
And last but not least of all these strange words with multiple
meanings is the word finished. If you’re reading this blog now (does
anyone read this anymore?), you may have noticed the wide lapse in my
blogging. See, what happened was my computer got finished. Three or
four weeks ago, I was using my computer as I usually do (did), when
all of a sudden, the battery died. From that moment on, my computer
will not charge or even function with the battery in the computer. In
order for the computer to function, I must remove the battery and plug
in the computer. Other things that are finished are the honey, the
taxi driver who got beat up some months ago by a gendarme, the
chocolates my mom sent me, my white hot chocolate, and Kiddo the baby
goat.
Words are something else here, and miscommunications are frequent.
It’s still pretty fun to try to communicate, though. We’ll see how
long it takes me to figure out my mother tongue again.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Bummer 4/27/11
Sometimes you can see something in this world that just devastates
you. So many children here in Lassin have just been dumped here by one
or both of their parents to be taken care of by friends or family. I
don’t know how that really feels, but it must be awful for them.
Surely they’re thinking they aren’t good enough or that their parents
don’t love them. I hope they don’t think God’s like that too. Anyway,
that’s just one of the issues here. Another issue is somewhat related.
It must happen everywhere in the world. But it just breaks my heart.
About a week ago today, twin kids were born right in my compound. Not
the homosapien variety, but the goat variety. Baby goats are just the
cutest little things. Anyway, the mom ended up kind of taking one and
leaving the other. The kid that she bummed, called a bummer, didn’t
get discovered by the family until much later that day. Bummer. She
must have rejected it to begin with, I don’t know. But she definitely
wasn’t going to take it now.
I felt so bad for the little guy. He didn’t choose this life for
himself. He had no control over his situation. He was completely
helpless. The family wasn’t really doing anything about so I figured
it’d have to be me. If you don’t like the way something is, then do
something about it, right? So Wednesday night, on our way to church, I
stopped by the health center to see if they had any baby bottles.
Nope. I wondered how long he could last without food.
The next morning I stopped by John’s store and, wonder of wonders, he
sold bottles! I bought one and left some money with him to buy me some
cow’s milk. After school I came back to collect the milk. John bought
me about $1 worth (500 fr). This was way more than enough, over 1.5 L,
though I didn’t really know what I was doing. I immediately went up to
the Roses’ to heat some to feed the little guy. I didn’t realize
taking care of a baby animal was so difficult. Poor kiddo. So I
started [force]feeding him on Thursday afternoon about every 2-3
hours. I didn’t feed him at all in the night. Thankfully there was no
school the next day because of Good Friday, but Carol and I were going
to the next village to visit Julianna’s farm. Loco, a little girl in
my compound, was able to feed him twice in the late morning for me. I
came back from the farm in Binon and fed him again. It’s amazing how
much force you have to use to get ‘em to eat. Things had actually
gotten better but then they became worse. He didn’t seem to want to
eat. Then he had bloody diarrhea. I was sure he wouldn’t last too many
more days. Plus, who would continue buying milk and feeding him 6
times a day in just a few days when I leave?
The most precious thing happened on that Friday afternoon. Whenever I
tried holding little Kiddo, he’d just squirm around and cry. Then when
I put him down he’d go around to everyone and everything other than
the bottle and try bumping it for milk. So I picked him back up and we
finally find a comfortable position for one another. Then he fell
asleep on my shoulder. I want to cry right now just thinking about it.
He was just so helpless. I put him down a little while later in his
sleeping quarters and brought him an old pillowcase to lay on. When I
came back with the pillowcase, things didn’t really seem right with
him. He was just standing there awkwardly like he didn’t know where he
was. I laid him down on the pillowcase; later when I came by he was
asleep.
I don’t know if he died that night or the next morning. But Sabbath
morning, after I warmed some milk for him, I walked over to the house
and saw him lying lifeless outside the door. Everyone and their mother
around the compound were watching me, seeing what I’d do, I guess.
They all got a huge kick out of the goat’s new mother. I asked some of
the men sitting there, “The goat is finished?” “Yes,” they said.
“Okay.” I left. I left kind of kicking/laughing at myself for getting
to attached to Kiddo. I hope, though, that death, in any of its forms,
still makes us sad. Don’t let yourself be desensitized to all of it. I
know it’s our way of coping with the extreme sadness on Earth, but
it’s better to go to a funeral than a feast.
I can’t wait for heaven and the new earth, where there will be no more
death or pain or tears. All will be well there with our King.
you. So many children here in Lassin have just been dumped here by one
or both of their parents to be taken care of by friends or family. I
don’t know how that really feels, but it must be awful for them.
Surely they’re thinking they aren’t good enough or that their parents
don’t love them. I hope they don’t think God’s like that too. Anyway,
that’s just one of the issues here. Another issue is somewhat related.
It must happen everywhere in the world. But it just breaks my heart.
About a week ago today, twin kids were born right in my compound. Not
the homosapien variety, but the goat variety. Baby goats are just the
cutest little things. Anyway, the mom ended up kind of taking one and
leaving the other. The kid that she bummed, called a bummer, didn’t
get discovered by the family until much later that day. Bummer. She
must have rejected it to begin with, I don’t know. But she definitely
wasn’t going to take it now.
I felt so bad for the little guy. He didn’t choose this life for
himself. He had no control over his situation. He was completely
helpless. The family wasn’t really doing anything about so I figured
it’d have to be me. If you don’t like the way something is, then do
something about it, right? So Wednesday night, on our way to church, I
stopped by the health center to see if they had any baby bottles.
Nope. I wondered how long he could last without food.
The next morning I stopped by John’s store and, wonder of wonders, he
sold bottles! I bought one and left some money with him to buy me some
cow’s milk. After school I came back to collect the milk. John bought
me about $1 worth (500 fr). This was way more than enough, over 1.5 L,
though I didn’t really know what I was doing. I immediately went up to
the Roses’ to heat some to feed the little guy. I didn’t realize
taking care of a baby animal was so difficult. Poor kiddo. So I
started [force]feeding him on Thursday afternoon about every 2-3
hours. I didn’t feed him at all in the night. Thankfully there was no
school the next day because of Good Friday, but Carol and I were going
to the next village to visit Julianna’s farm. Loco, a little girl in
my compound, was able to feed him twice in the late morning for me. I
came back from the farm in Binon and fed him again. It’s amazing how
much force you have to use to get ‘em to eat. Things had actually
gotten better but then they became worse. He didn’t seem to want to
eat. Then he had bloody diarrhea. I was sure he wouldn’t last too many
more days. Plus, who would continue buying milk and feeding him 6
times a day in just a few days when I leave?
The most precious thing happened on that Friday afternoon. Whenever I
tried holding little Kiddo, he’d just squirm around and cry. Then when
I put him down he’d go around to everyone and everything other than
the bottle and try bumping it for milk. So I picked him back up and we
finally find a comfortable position for one another. Then he fell
asleep on my shoulder. I want to cry right now just thinking about it.
He was just so helpless. I put him down a little while later in his
sleeping quarters and brought him an old pillowcase to lay on. When I
came back with the pillowcase, things didn’t really seem right with
him. He was just standing there awkwardly like he didn’t know where he
was. I laid him down on the pillowcase; later when I came by he was
asleep.
I don’t know if he died that night or the next morning. But Sabbath
morning, after I warmed some milk for him, I walked over to the house
and saw him lying lifeless outside the door. Everyone and their mother
around the compound were watching me, seeing what I’d do, I guess.
They all got a huge kick out of the goat’s new mother. I asked some of
the men sitting there, “The goat is finished?” “Yes,” they said.
“Okay.” I left. I left kind of kicking/laughing at myself for getting
to attached to Kiddo. I hope, though, that death, in any of its forms,
still makes us sad. Don’t let yourself be desensitized to all of it. I
know it’s our way of coping with the extreme sadness on Earth, but
it’s better to go to a funeral than a feast.
I can’t wait for heaven and the new earth, where there will be no more
death or pain or tears. All will be well there with our King.
New Heart 4/27/11
When I first arrived here in Cameroon, the thing I mostly prayed for
was a change of heart. My body was fighting against everything I was
trying to do. I wanted to do the right thing, to love people, to enjoy
teaching and teach well. But my body just wouldn’t have it. I guess I
really didn’t want to do those things; but I knew that I really needed
to do those things. I needed to have God change my will and desires to
match His own for me.
And as with so many other prayers, God has answered. The change inside
of me couldn’t take place overnight. It’s actually still ongoing. It’s
something I have to keep praying for every day, every week, all the
time.
The amazing this is that I actually was presented with the opportunity
to stay here in Cameroon—or at least Africa—for some additional weeks.
Now, in the beginning, it was all I could do to remain here for 10
months. But even 10 months changed to 9 months, and even 9 months
changed to 8.5 months, and miraculously that changed to just 8. God is
so good.
The other week when the Roberts (and family) were here, Gary & I were
talking about life. He said that since I still wasn’t sure about Med
school, I should consider coming to Chad (hard-core country north of
Cameroon) or goind to Buea, Cameroon for 3 weeks after I leave Lassin.
That suggestion kind of hit me in the face hard. I thought, you know,
why not? In fact, I was really thinking that I wanted to stay in
Africa, I wanted to see Buea again, I wanted to go to Chad. I was
thinking, hey! postponing my return flight home really isn’t that bad
of an idea.
Me thinking those thoughts right there was a miracle. God has been
changing me because I keep asking Him to. And I’m so happy for it! I
prayed and fasted about staying here 3 more weeks. And God and I have
come to the conclusion that I’m just going to fly home as planned.
That’s fine. Just knowing that I was willing to stay is exciting for
me.
was a change of heart. My body was fighting against everything I was
trying to do. I wanted to do the right thing, to love people, to enjoy
teaching and teach well. But my body just wouldn’t have it. I guess I
really didn’t want to do those things; but I knew that I really needed
to do those things. I needed to have God change my will and desires to
match His own for me.
And as with so many other prayers, God has answered. The change inside
of me couldn’t take place overnight. It’s actually still ongoing. It’s
something I have to keep praying for every day, every week, all the
time.
The amazing this is that I actually was presented with the opportunity
to stay here in Cameroon—or at least Africa—for some additional weeks.
Now, in the beginning, it was all I could do to remain here for 10
months. But even 10 months changed to 9 months, and even 9 months
changed to 8.5 months, and miraculously that changed to just 8. God is
so good.
The other week when the Roberts (and family) were here, Gary & I were
talking about life. He said that since I still wasn’t sure about Med
school, I should consider coming to Chad (hard-core country north of
Cameroon) or goind to Buea, Cameroon for 3 weeks after I leave Lassin.
That suggestion kind of hit me in the face hard. I thought, you know,
why not? In fact, I was really thinking that I wanted to stay in
Africa, I wanted to see Buea again, I wanted to go to Chad. I was
thinking, hey! postponing my return flight home really isn’t that bad
of an idea.
Me thinking those thoughts right there was a miracle. God has been
changing me because I keep asking Him to. And I’m so happy for it! I
prayed and fasted about staying here 3 more weeks. And God and I have
come to the conclusion that I’m just going to fly home as planned.
That’s fine. Just knowing that I was willing to stay is exciting for
me.
Embarrassing Myself 4/27/11
There’s no doubt that this place, this experience, this everything,
has changed me. But I don’t consider this whole experience to be the
roundest thing I ever saw. You getting me? I haven’t really had many
literal life or death trials here, so I won’t necessarily be any more
prepared to experience one. I have had numerous opportunities to
cook/prepare food, though. So the next time there’s a real need for
food, I’ll really be able to contribute something pretty meaningful.
Well, one area I have NOT had any, any, any extra experience with
while I’ve been here is… interaction with the opposite sex. Now I
could really worry about it, but I’m definitely not. The thing is, God
is the leader, director, shepherd, love, joy, savior of my life. I
know that if I come across a life or death situation or even a boy, He
will take care of me.
There are tons and tons of boys and men in Lassin, but I just don’t
think they’re for me. I am here for a mission and a purpose. I’m here
to teach little children about Jesus amongst some other things (like
surviving), not to socialize, flirt, yada yada.
I did have an interesting time (at least it was in my own thoughts)
with a non-African guy who came to visit. A few weeks ago, our good
friends Gary and Wendy Roberts flew in from Chad with their cute
little girl and their, uh, young, German, pilot-in-training comrade
who knows multiple languages and has traveled a lot and is about five
years older than me.
Before I continue, I just want to say that if ever I consider myself
in an awkward situation, I do understand that I probably created it
myself.
So I tried to be friendly enough to all of our visitors, but for some
strange reason I couldn’t bring myself to talk to or even look at the
guy. What’s wrong with me?! I know that the longer I wait to break the
ice, the thicker it’ll be. So I did finally break it. I was laughing
at myself the whole time they were here. I was just so afraid. I felt
like my silence toward this fellow was obvious. But I felt like, I
don’t know, like everyone was possibly thinking (but not at all, I’m
sure) how convenient it was that the two young, single missionaries
were brought together under this roof and shouldn’t they really get
along well and become friends. I’ve been told that I think way too
much.
I realized that anytime I find myself in the company of a single
member of the opposite sex, I freeze. My brain stops working, I can’t
remove my eyes from the floor, it’s just awkward. I think it’s all in
my head. And I’m really going to work on this. Maybe that’ll be more
plausible now that I’ve let the whole world know.
Here’s to embarrassing myself much less frequently.
has changed me. But I don’t consider this whole experience to be the
roundest thing I ever saw. You getting me? I haven’t really had many
literal life or death trials here, so I won’t necessarily be any more
prepared to experience one. I have had numerous opportunities to
cook/prepare food, though. So the next time there’s a real need for
food, I’ll really be able to contribute something pretty meaningful.
Well, one area I have NOT had any, any, any extra experience with
while I’ve been here is… interaction with the opposite sex. Now I
could really worry about it, but I’m definitely not. The thing is, God
is the leader, director, shepherd, love, joy, savior of my life. I
know that if I come across a life or death situation or even a boy, He
will take care of me.
There are tons and tons of boys and men in Lassin, but I just don’t
think they’re for me. I am here for a mission and a purpose. I’m here
to teach little children about Jesus amongst some other things (like
surviving), not to socialize, flirt, yada yada.
I did have an interesting time (at least it was in my own thoughts)
with a non-African guy who came to visit. A few weeks ago, our good
friends Gary and Wendy Roberts flew in from Chad with their cute
little girl and their, uh, young, German, pilot-in-training comrade
who knows multiple languages and has traveled a lot and is about five
years older than me.
Before I continue, I just want to say that if ever I consider myself
in an awkward situation, I do understand that I probably created it
myself.
So I tried to be friendly enough to all of our visitors, but for some
strange reason I couldn’t bring myself to talk to or even look at the
guy. What’s wrong with me?! I know that the longer I wait to break the
ice, the thicker it’ll be. So I did finally break it. I was laughing
at myself the whole time they were here. I was just so afraid. I felt
like my silence toward this fellow was obvious. But I felt like, I
don’t know, like everyone was possibly thinking (but not at all, I’m
sure) how convenient it was that the two young, single missionaries
were brought together under this roof and shouldn’t they really get
along well and become friends. I’ve been told that I think way too
much.
I realized that anytime I find myself in the company of a single
member of the opposite sex, I freeze. My brain stops working, I can’t
remove my eyes from the floor, it’s just awkward. I think it’s all in
my head. And I’m really going to work on this. Maybe that’ll be more
plausible now that I’ve let the whole world know.
Here’s to embarrassing myself much less frequently.
Chocoholic 4/27/11
If you know even a little about me, you know that I have a problem. I
have a sweet tooth about the size of Buddy’s in the movie The Elf.
It’s bad. Anyway, I decided to do an experiment a month or so ago.
Since I’ve been here in Africa, so much has taken place. There’s been
so much change. And, I hate to admit it, but I’ve turned to my comfort
foods (most all containing sugar) a few too many times. I had enough
of that around March 10. So I decided to go without chocolate. I
should really have just done it as long as I could. I think I would
have found again that through Christ the impossible is possible. But
instead I decided to go without it for 40 days. So my chocolate fast
began, and it went over pretty well. The funny thing about it all is
that I was due a package from mi madre about halfway through my
chocofast. Could you guess what the box contained? Well, along with
about 2 huge editions of the Knox News Sentinel and about 5 small
English dictionaries, there were 10 boxes of girl scout cookies. And
guess what was one of the main ingredients in all but 3 boxes? Oh yes.
Chocolate. Ironic.
For the most part my fast wasn’t too difficult. I think I really
understood that my body really needed the break from the junk. I’ve
been back on chocolate a week now. And I really think I’m mostly
eating it because, all of a sudden, I can. I don’t really want it that
badly or need it; it’s just available. So I figure, why would I want
to leave this stuff behind?
When I get back home, I feel a definite swap to carob coming on. I
just feel better off the chocolate. My new friend Merlisa (she, her
husband Elebert, & daughter Estella arrived here in Lassin some weeks
ago; they’re our “replacement people”) told me she used to have the
same problem with chocolate (man, she doesn’t even know about my ice
cream addicition. Could I even still call it that? I think I might be
cured.). She told me that chocolate (and, I’m sure, sugar in general)
shocks your body. God’s informed us that we are to present our bodies
a living sacrifice and that our bodies are temples, a place for God’s
Spirit to dwell. If you really believe that, consider how you’re
hindering your mind and body today. How could you make your mind
clearer, your body more efficient, through what you put inside of it?
Change is good. If you know your life isn’t exactly compatible with
the Truth, change will be even better.
have a sweet tooth about the size of Buddy’s in the movie The Elf.
It’s bad. Anyway, I decided to do an experiment a month or so ago.
Since I’ve been here in Africa, so much has taken place. There’s been
so much change. And, I hate to admit it, but I’ve turned to my comfort
foods (most all containing sugar) a few too many times. I had enough
of that around March 10. So I decided to go without chocolate. I
should really have just done it as long as I could. I think I would
have found again that through Christ the impossible is possible. But
instead I decided to go without it for 40 days. So my chocolate fast
began, and it went over pretty well. The funny thing about it all is
that I was due a package from mi madre about halfway through my
chocofast. Could you guess what the box contained? Well, along with
about 2 huge editions of the Knox News Sentinel and about 5 small
English dictionaries, there were 10 boxes of girl scout cookies. And
guess what was one of the main ingredients in all but 3 boxes? Oh yes.
Chocolate. Ironic.
For the most part my fast wasn’t too difficult. I think I really
understood that my body really needed the break from the junk. I’ve
been back on chocolate a week now. And I really think I’m mostly
eating it because, all of a sudden, I can. I don’t really want it that
badly or need it; it’s just available. So I figure, why would I want
to leave this stuff behind?
When I get back home, I feel a definite swap to carob coming on. I
just feel better off the chocolate. My new friend Merlisa (she, her
husband Elebert, & daughter Estella arrived here in Lassin some weeks
ago; they’re our “replacement people”) told me she used to have the
same problem with chocolate (man, she doesn’t even know about my ice
cream addicition. Could I even still call it that? I think I might be
cured.). She told me that chocolate (and, I’m sure, sugar in general)
shocks your body. God’s informed us that we are to present our bodies
a living sacrifice and that our bodies are temples, a place for God’s
Spirit to dwell. If you really believe that, consider how you’re
hindering your mind and body today. How could you make your mind
clearer, your body more efficient, through what you put inside of it?
Change is good. If you know your life isn’t exactly compatible with
the Truth, change will be even better.
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