cameroon- on the road

it was me, my family, and our traveling friends- of who i had just met.

we were boarding a short flight, bringing us from the lusch tropical south of cameroon, to the dry dusty north. although the plane ride was only 2 hours, it was a world away.

"it's going to be very hot." my uncle said.

"make sure you bring your camera." my aunt said.

my cousins were being good sports, it was their spring break and when they'd rather be hanging out watching television or spending time with their friends, the next week and a half would be devoted to touring remote villages in the extreme north, with their principal, one of the friends.

i was thrilled they were coming. i like hanging out with teenagers, and i wanted to get to know the adult version of the kids that i once knew.

we stepped off the plane into a thick black haze.

"the harmattan." my uncle said.

i explained what that meant to one of our newcomer friends, who had never been to africa before.

but even though i had seen the harmattan in ghana, the winds blowing down from the sahara seemed to have a greater effect in this region. the sky was heavy and forboding, i glanced over at my cousins. they rolled thier eyes.

the travels had begun.

some official looking man hurried us out of the weather, the dry thick must, into a room with couches. the couches were low, and had big plush cushions. the AC was spilling down from the ceiling, invading the space. local men in elaborate chiefly looking outfits sat waiting to greet my uncle and aunt. the rest of us perched with our hands in our laps, smiling, not sure what exactly it was we were waiting for.

it was night.

suddenly everybody stood up and we all walked out. i had checked my mind with the airport luggage, it seemed. i was just another sheep in the flock. for the next 8 days i wouldn't have to think. everything would be taken care of, whether i liked it or not.

i chose to like it.

"we're going to drive over and check into our hotel, and then go to a friend's house for dinner." my uncle had a sneaky grin, the grin i imagine when my mother tells me her childhood stories. the grin he must of had as he scared them with his pet snakes, or spit through the shutters of their bedroom door. "it's going to be over the top." he said. "just prepare yourself, it's really something here."

then he walked away.

i knew each house we would be visiting, all the people we would be meeting, were high ranking cameroonians, whether in government, village, or military. but i had a hard time keeping up with the titles, the labels, so my mind blocked them all out.

the man's house we were going to for dinner, i was told, was very important. that is all i remember.

i was also told he has 4 wives, one of them is chinese.

the drivers took care of our details, handing us room keys, our correct baggage (which i hadn't seen since we boarded the plane), telling us when to be back.

"thank you" we all said, hurrying off to prepare before we left.

i was staying with torri and yanni and someone i hadn't yet met, who went by the name of Coby. yanni was very protective of Coby, garaunteeing me he was to provide us with long nights filled with good times. she had a strong connection with Coby and needed daily interaction with him.

then she opened up her bag. "here he is!" she announced, cradeling a medium sized silver dvd player. "so what do we want to watch? we have Friends, Desperate Housewives, The OC, Grey's Anatomy..."

i stared at Coby.

i hadn't watched t.v. in years. 8, to be exact.

i kept staring at Coby.

my uncle was right, this was going to be over the top.

"well," i said "not Friends, and i haven't heard of the others, so you guys pick."

we plugged in and started with the first episode of Desperate Housewives. when it was through, we heard a knock on our door.

"time to go."

we shuffled out of the AC bungalow, into the car, which was also cool as an icebox.

when we arrived at Mr. Important #1's House, we got out. he was out in his yard, arms spread wide, tall and sturdy as a redwood, bright eyes and smiling. he was gorgeous. he shook all our hands and laughed spoke in french. our group glanced around his yard, which was nice, a bit odd. it was mostly the gazelle i thought were strange.

"i've only ever seen them in the wild" i said "on safari."

the gazelle made everyone stare quite a bit, they were huddled in groups, staying far from the people, close to the bouganvillea plants growing up the large wall.

then my aunt commented on the size of the satelitte dish.

it was large.

it could have had sails added and been taken out to sea. odd shape for a boat, but enough to fit a good sized crew.

all conversation taking place was in french, unless it was internal or within our group. but not many of us were speaking, we just had our mouths gaping open, staring all around.

Mr. Important's wife pranced out of the house, his fourth wife, his chinese wife. she ran down and shook our hands and told us to follow her. she had a wide friendly face, and seemed very hospitable.

once we all made it inside, we sat. on one side of the large room, my uncle sat chatting and bonding with the men of the house. the rest of us sat on the right side, the side filled with snacks. the television seemed to split the room in two, the noise coming from it buffered us, divided the house into sections.

i became overly observant, returning again and again to the thick striped wall paper. it was both nauseating, and upper class. then i realized the television was all in mandarin chinese, and i recognized a few phrases here and there. i mustered up the strength to go wow the 4th wife with my limited knowledge of her language.

the only thing i could remember when i walked up to her was "please, can i have it a little cheaper."

she batted her eyelashes and shook her head. she didn't understand me.

i said it again. "please, can i have it a little cheaper?"

she stared at me, vacantly.

"i'm trying to speak mandarin." i said. "please, can i have it a littel cheaper?"

she broke out in giggles and bent forward, heaving from the humor.

"ahhh, pien e dien hau mau? ahhh ahh i see i see! oh my chinese sister!" she said, over and over.

from that point on, i became her chinese sister. when we sat down to eat, so many of us we divided into two tables, she needed help serving. "my chinese sister will help me." she said, calling me over. i (and all the servants) ladled out the strangest looking food, not sure if it was cameroonian or asian, or a mix. i also ladled out a little more of my poor mandarin, and kept my new friend in stitches all night. the meal was yes, over the top. it never seemed to end.

silver platter after silver platter.

she grabbed me and took me to the side. "my chinese sister" she said. "i don't speak english much, i don't know it very well."

"you sound great to me."

uncontrollable little laughs, then severe eye contact. "my chinese sister. people say i am brave. i am brave for coming to live here, away from them. my chinese friends here say i am brave. there are four of them. but life is hard, very hard. here, people treat me like i am a couch or a chair." she motioned to all the furniture. "they treat me like i am a couch or a chair, as if i don't feel. they think my mind is not my own. but no, my mind is my own. to be a wife here is difficult. i am not a couch or a chair. you see? i will show these people. i can think for myself."

then it was time to serve dessert. she rounded the tables, making everyone feel comfortable, making everyone feel overly full. she'd dollop and pause and glance at me and wink.

i liked her spirit. her spunk, her fire.

i had a few pinch me moments.

where was i? why was i speaking mandarin in a house full of cameroonians with my family?

i felt i was having a strange afriasia dream, mixing all my lives into one.

it was confusing, bizarre, just the way i like it. and it was only the first night.

the big long cry

sofie, nanakwame and I have taken up a nightly routine of exercising together. Sometimes we do yoga, sometimes we run.

Nanakwame calls it “sofie training” and tells me to meet on the porch at 5:30 p.m. sharp, for sofie training. I think he’s more impressed with her physical fitness than mine, and at first I took offense. she’s more flexible and faster, she sets the pace for everything.

“I’dliketosay you’re tired kessy!” he yells at me while we’re running uphill.

“I’m not tired, I’m just slower.” I say, lagging 10 feet behind.

“ohhhhhh kess!!!” then he jogs back to keep me company. although, he doesn't LOOK like he's jogging, he looks like he's bouncing, peacefully on legs that wouldn't rather be doing anything else. they're loose and free. he makes it appear effortless.

“he’s a really good personal trainer.” Sofie says. “maybe we should pay him.”

And it’s true. He is. He floats along and keeps things positive, he makes me forget i’m working. If all three of us are twisted in some yoga position on the porch, he looks at us with raised eyebrows and says “is correct!”, meaning, you are doing well. he loves yoga, each position he is taught. He attempts the headstands with devoted fury, whether we are around or not.

The other day I walked over to his house, where he and Collins stay. I strolled up the pathway and saw him balancing himself upside down against the wall.

“sofie training!” I yelled.

He fell, then looked up.

“Kess! Kess!”

he ran down to me and gave me a sweaty hug. “oh kess… tonite, no trotting. I’m going to work, to mate. Ya? Is okay?”

“I’ll tell sofie.” I said. “we’ll go trotting without you.”

So I waited for sofie to come home, but the night was soon to be dark and she hadn’t arrived yet. I decided to go alone.

The first night we ran, I was so out of shape I was convinced I had gone through my entire life not realizing I was asmahtic.

“keep going, that’s normal.” Sofie the doctor said. “it’s always hard to breathe at the beginning of any cardiovascular workout.”

I took her word for it.

Now, the perserverance was paying off. It was getting easier. I could do this, I could get back in shape. I started to feel strong, like a Nike commercial. I looked down at my legs and saw power. I checked out my arms and noticed great potential. The road was beginning to decline and my speed was picking up. No taxis had passed which kept for clean fresh air, breathable air, air that fills your lungs and makes you want to go faster. So I did, I ran faster. I was sprinting and having a great time when all of a sudden, for no particular reason at all, my ankle rolled underneath me and I went skidding, palms down, across the gritty road. I let out a yelp, that sounded like a puppy getting ran over by a tractor. And then, when it was all over, I sat on the edge of the road, looked around and down, and cried.

No one was there, which I was thankful for. I stood up and hopped in circles, whining to myself, letting out little whimpers. My leg really hurt, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do just yet, so I let myself cry a little harder. A quick flash of the maternity ward popped in my mind. I sprained my ankle and it hurt bad, I was not looking forward to the pain of childbirth. I let the thought pass.

i saw a taxi in the distance, so i moved to the side and sat on a clump of dirt. i didn't ask him to stop, but one of the 6 people in the backseat must have paid special attention to my disheveled state, my powder red hair. after they had passed, the driver stopped, and reversed back to me.

"akua kessywa? ete sen?"

i stood up.

they were all looking me up and down and clucking their tongues.

"akua?" he said again, with more force.

"yes."

"what has happened to you?"

i couldn't answer, because if i did i was going to cry again. i didn't want to cry in front of all my village friends, the ones who slice fingers off with machetes and come to the clinic casually shrugging.

"akua?" he wasn't leaving until i spoke.

"i fell." i said, looking away from their eyes.

"you fell? sorry... are you feeling fine?"

i nodded, but i couldn't hold back. i sobbed into my shirt, an ugly sob, an embarrassed sob, a don't-stare-at-me-but-don't-leave-me-in-the-dark-just-yet sob.

my display of emotion had them all entranced, they weren't saying a thing. then the driver, who also happens to be secetry's brother, interuppted the silence... "okay i'll go and come. stay here. i'm coming!" then he sped off.

i sat for a minute or two, then decided i would start hobbeling home. dusk isn't the most ideal time to be sitting around in ghana, half-clothed. mosquitos prey.

i perfected my limp within a matter of minutes, but i still had a ways to go. i saw a man and a woman ahead, gathered around a big pile of palm nuts, chatting.

when i passed them they greeted me, i said hello, and kept walking.

"ai! my sister!" the woman cried out "why are you walking like that?"

i turned and told her i fell.

"ai! sssoooooorrryyy, sorrryyyy. are you okay?"

"yes" i said, and i started crying.

what was my problem? i just couldn't stop!

she ran over to me and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief. she was well dressed, and spoke english nicely. she wiped my tears, and my face, and my legs and arms. "oh don't cry" she said, over and over.

i took a deep breath and said thank you.

"it's no problem, no problem at all. please, can you tell me why it is you are crying?" her look was bordering on terrified, so i assured her it was just a fall. i was okay.

"oh! you fell! i'm sorry..." then she wiped my face a little more. "you are akua kessywa, is it true?"

"yes, i am." i said, involuntary gasps for air escaping me.

"ohhhh... i'm tawa."

"it's nice to meet you."

"yes, likewise."

"sorry for scaring you, i don't know why i can't stop crying, all i did was fall, but it hurts, you know? do you have children?"

"yes, a son."

"okay, well i know you probably wouldn't cry like this if you fell, and actually, probably no one in boamadumase would, so i'm sorry, i know it seems a little odd. i'm a wimp, i guess."

she laughed and tugged at my arm. "here is the problem." she said. "you aren't solid like an african woman. we africans, we" then she flexed her arms in a 'i'm gonna beat you up' position.

"yeah- you're tough." i said.

"yes."

she called back to her friend, told him she was going to walk me home.

"we're too strong. it's true. my sister... where do you stay?"

"i live in the big house."

"ohhhh the big house, that's where you stay huh? i'm not from here, but i know the big house. do you know Tanko?"

"no- i've never been there before."

i wasn't at my sharpest.

"no Tanko, you're friend. Tanko. he says he has a white friend, her name is akua kessywa. thats you. don't you know Tanko?"

"ohhh tanko! yes, i know tanko."

"he's my brother. i'm here visiting him."

"ya, he's my friend."

we continued down the stretch talking about tanko, and soccer.

"he says you train with him, for football."

"i do."

"you are tough, you see? but today it looks like you were very unlucky." she held up her dirty handkercheif.

"okay." i said.

we reached my house and parted ways, then i negotiated myself up the stairway respecting collins a little more each part of the way.

when i got inside i laid down and elevated my foot. so much for ice.

sakola walked into the living room.

"akua?" he said.

"yes?"

"come." he walked into his room, so i stood up and followed him. i sat down on his plastic rug. my ankle began to throb and i couldn't translate what he was saying. he wanted an answer to what he was asking me, but i had no idea what it was. i started crying again.

"hey!" he yelled "hey! hey! hey!" then he ran over to me and bent down, an inch from my face. "why? why? you cry? why?"

"i hurt myself and i don't understand what you're saying!"

"huh?" he looked confused.

"i hurt myself. i fell. hurt? fell? boom down on the ground? see, you don't understand what i'm saying!" then i cried a little more.

"kess kess, stop. tell me. what?"

i told him in twi that i went running, then i showed him me falling to the floor. i didn't feel so bad crying in front of him, for two reasons.

one, he was practically family.

and

two, he crashed on his bike awhile back and came home to me tear stained, admitting to having cried, then asking to be cleaned and bandaged up.

"ohhhhh!!! wo hwe ase!!!" he ran over to the wall, grabbed it and slid down laughing. hysterically. "wo hwe ase!!!"

"no i fell!" i said, correcting his mistake.

"yes! you fell. wo hwe ase!" more laughter. he pointed at me and cracked up, "kess! ah ha ha kess!!!"

i started laughing. "it hurts!" i screamed.

"aha hhaa haa ha! kess fell! you went trotting, you fell?!"

"IT HURTS!" but i just kept laughing. he had never seen me cry before, and i was being really pathetic, so now all i could do was laugh about it.

we sat in his room and laughed and laughed. after some time, it crossed my mind that i had forgotten WHY and WHAT exactly we were laughing about.

then, he tried his village therapy on me, rubbing my leg vigoriously making it hurt even worse. but all i could do was laugh.

"here?" he said, pointing to the ball of swollen flesh that was now my foot. then he pressed down hard right where it was the most painful, and moved his hand up and down.

"OOOWWWW SAKO! THAT HURTS! HA HA!"

"trust me" he said, but i didn't at all. i recoiled and didn't let him near me the rest of the night. i was wondering if it was payback for all my "nursing" experiments i had pulled on him, for when i spoonfed him papaya seeds and raw aloe. when i double cleaned his wounds just because it made me feel good, like a make believe doctor, even though it was apparently painful for him.

i stayed in my bed that evening, with my foot up, reading. i was tired, but happy.

i was glad to be in a place where people cared for one another.