Au revoir, Cameroun!

Alas, my time in Cameroon has come to a close. I find it so hard to believe that I have already visited two of the five countries on my tour. A little over a month left! This morning I will fly to Gabarone, Botswana where I will meet up with my next missionary couple, Matt and Debbie Mann. I am excited to explore a bit more of Southern Africa, though leaving the jungles of Cameroon is a bit heart breaking. It’s just so remarkably beautiful and peaceful here! I think I will miss the power outages the least, though that is Africa. The power is constantly going out, and never again will I complain about power loss back in the states.

In my time here, I had the privilege of meeting some truly remarkable individuals. The Dunlaps, obviously, Jessica Hardin, Amy Goffinet, Eldefrida… all individuals who have added to my life in some way. Jessica is a Missionary Associate with the Assemblies of God, and also a practicing nurse. She is hilarious. I had such fun talking with her, laughing and exploring Yaounde. I admire her skills in relationship building, especially out here, where people are so hesitant to trust anyone.

Amy Goffinet is a saint. Truly. She and her husband decided to adopt three sisters from an orphanage in the Central African Republic. These girls started out speaking ZERO english and ZERO French, rattling off to themselves in their own native language that no one else here understood. On top of that, as cute as they are, these three are the rowdiest, wildest of children, and they drove poor Amy up the wall constantly. But as I said before, she has the patience of a saint. What was supposed to be a short trip here to put things in order and pick up her girls, turned into an absolute nightmare. From lost paperwork, to visas not being issued, to stolen phones in the marketplace…Amy ended up staying here for close to, if not more, than four months. She has five children of her own back home, and I can only imagine how difficult it was for them to not have their mother for that length of time. But, I am pleased to announce that Amy and the girls finally made it to America yesterday. I can’t wait to see where those girls’ lives lead them.

Eldefrida is a Cameroonian woman that I quite fell in love with. She is in her late thirties/ early forties and has seven children. At seventeen, with no education, she married and began a life that many Africa woman begin, one of hard labor and one lacking opportunity. Unlike many women in her circumstance, Eldefrida decided to make a change, and several years ago, she began teaching herself how to read and write. She is now studying history, literature, economy and many more subjects and helps to tutor other women who found themselves in a similar situation. {You can read her full story HERE}

Ben and Michelle have been so great for having me in their home. It was a delightful respite from the chaos of the city, to be tucked away in the jungle, seemingly far from so many things. I can not begin to thank them enough. I am fairly confident that I will return to Cameroon, hopefully to stay much longer next time. But for now, au revoir, Cameroun, it’s been real.

A Gallery of Women

Some images from my recent trip to Ethiopia. I had the privilege of meeting the most beautiful women, individuals who have risen far beyond their circumstance, finding strength in themselves and in the saving power of Christ. It was so inspiring and humbling to be able to work alongside them and hear their incredible stories. Enjoy!

The women in these photographs have gone through an empowerment program run by the Aid and Development Agency in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Most of these women come from families living below the national poverty line, individuals who are in dire need. The ADA offers these women vocational training and helps them start up their own businesses in order that they might begin to support themselves, their families and their communities.

The women in these photographs have gone through an empowerment program run by the Aid and Development Agency in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Most of these women come from families living below the national poverty line, individuals who are in dire need. The ADA offers these women vocational training and helps them start up their own businesses in order that they might begin to support themselves, their families and their communities.

The women in these photographs have gone through an empowerment program run by the Aid and Development Agency in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Most of these women come from families living below the national poverty line, individuals who are in dire need. The ADA offers these women vocational training and helps them start up their own businesses in order that they might begin to support themselves, their families and their communities.

The women in these photographs have gone through an empowerment program run by the Aid and Development Agency in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Most of these women come from families living below the national poverty line, individuals who are in dire need. The ADA offers these women vocational training and helps them start up their own businesses in order that they might begin to support themselves, their families and their communities.

The women in these photographs have gone through an empowerment program run by the Aid and Development Agency in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Most of these women come from families living below the national poverty line, individuals who are in dire need. The ADA offers these women vocational training and helps them start up their own businesses in order that they might begin to support themselves, their families and their communities.

The women in these photographs have gone through an empowerment program run by the Aid and Development Agency in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Most of these women come from families living below the national poverty line, individuals who are in dire need. The ADA offers these women vocational training and helps them start up their own businesses in order that they might begin to support themselves, their families and their communities.

Cameroun

What a rough life I lead, I mean seriously… I am currently living in a tropical jungle, eating fresh pineapples, mangos and plantains, listening to the sounds of forest life just beyond the perpetually open windows of the sitting area, and my job here (if you can call it that) is photographing everything I see and then writing about it. Not too shabby, eh?

In all truth, Cameroon is perhaps some of the most beautiful land I have ever laid eyes on. Everything is green and lush, the jungle is thick enough that one just might become lost the moment they step foot in it. The chorus of bird noises sound exactly like one of those nature cd’s, you know, the ones titled, “Soothing Sounds,” or “Tropical Rain Forest?” Come to think of it, I should just record my own and then sell it for mega bucks. I’ll call it, “The Voices of Cameroon.” Well, maybe not. Anywho, I think you get my point. The beauty here is unreal.

I have ventured into town on more than one occasion with Ben and Michelle Dunlap, and it seems like every time I do, I receive a marriage proposal or something akin to that. I accompanied the Dunlaps to the West Africa Advanced School of Theology, where I took some photographs and videos for Speed the Light. In one of the classrooms, as I was introducing myself, one young man asked if I was married. I laughed and said that I was not. Immediately, the entire room of young men erupted into clapping and cheers, proclaiming that I could choose any of them. Later, Michelle turned to me and shrugged, “Well, at least you’ve got options.”

A classroom at the West Africa Advanced School of Theology

The town of Yaounde is also the capital city of Cameroon, dwarfed only by the port city of Douala. The population of Yaounde is at roughly two and a half million people as of 2014. Yaounde was founded in 1888, during the period of the German protectorate and was occupied by Belgian troops in 1915. It was declared the capital of French Cameroun in 1922. French is still the national language of Cameroon. I must say, French is a great deal easier to speak than Ethiopia’s Amharic, but I still find myself stumbling terribly over it. I have taken to greeting people in French, saying either, “Bonjour, ca va? or Bonjour, comment allez-vous?” This usually works pretty well, but the problem occurs when they think I must be Francophone, so they swiftly rattle off in French and I am left looking like an idiot.

“Je suis anglophone.”

Then they usually laugh and switch to English, or if they speak no English, then they continue on in French and I frantically search for Ben or Michelle to translate. It is my intent to study both French and Arabic when I return to the states. Yaounde can be dangerous to foreigners, particularly after dark, due to bandits that lurk on the roads, seeking unsuspecting whites with money and goods. A few weeks before I arrived here, some of the missionaries were attacked by bandits on their way from the airport- all of their goods and vehicle were stolen, but luckily, they walked away unscathed. Yesterday I was chatting with a woman from the states, who is here to adopt three girls from the Central African Republic, and she told me that her phone was stolen from her in the marketplace, right out of her car! She was literally holding it, scrolling through photographs, when a hand snaked in, snatched it and was gone. She chased the man down, and with the help of the locals, her phone was recovered, and the man was punished (beaten) by other men. Thievery is a horrible offense in Cameroon, punishable in some cases by death; the man is lucky that the property was recovered, or he too could have been subjugated to harsher abuse.

For every “bad” person in Cameroon, there are ten “great” people. This is what I have found of Africa in general. In the news, we only ever hear of horrible men who attack and abuse, possessing little regard for human life. This simply is not the truth. The most honest, noble, life respecting individuals I have ever had the privilege of meeting come from Africa. Africans are a hard working, intelligent and noble people, and I have never felt more at home than in their company. The Dunlaps’ house is currently under construction by six local men: Josef, Felix, Innocent, John Basco, Barthlomew and Michele. They begin their work every morning at eight, hammering and sawing on large pieces of lumber, singing and, at times, giggling with one another like school girls. The men always greet me with broad smiles and hellos, whether it be in French or English. I have come to love hearing them sing, and at times, I find myself joining in on their songs. As Ben and Michelle will attest, they are great guys, honest and diligent in their work. They have also saved the compound from any number of snakes multiple times.

Cameroon is home to a number of the world’s deadliest snakes, including, vipers, green mambas and black mambas. Vine snakes are also common, though not deadly. I have been hoping to come across a snake, particularly a black mamba (from a safe distance of course) but I have yet to see even a common vine snake.

Yesterday I went into town with Ben and Michelle, to look at some ceiling fans and to check out Yaounde’s only coffee shop. While Ben took care of the fans, Michelle and I ducked into a store called, “Numero Uno,” basically (as we found) Yaounde’s equivalent of Forever 21. A blast of cool air and Iggy Azalea, blaring over the speakers, greeted us, and I found myself perusing the latest fashions. All of the clothing came from Zara, a European based company. I purchased a long sleeve, light weight shirt for Egypt (as the dress code there is quite strict) and a large bag for carrying all of my recently acquired treasures. After that, we took to the streets again. An older man approached my car window at one point, intrigued by the light haired, light skinned American woman, and one of the store’s guards chased him away, nodding to me as though to say, “I got you.” Yeah, we’re tight. The coffee shop proved to be quaint and refreshing, a refreshing respite from the mayhem just outside. Michelle and I ordered caramel macchiatos (which were good, but not quite as good as Ethiopia) and Ben ordered pain perdu, French toast topped with ice cream. I sat facing the window, and was able to see everyone who passed by. It seemed that every other passerby was a woman or a child begging for money or trying to sell something, presumably in order to support themselves or their families. It is a hard thing to see, knowing there is not much, if anything, you can do to help them. It was the same in Addis Ababa, the poverty is overwhelming. I did give money to one woman there, she looked older than she probably was, weathered by the sun, beaten by life, she had two, young children, one of which she was breast feeding in the middle of the street. That really struck me. I gave her 100 birr, the equivalent of roughly $5, and took her hand, wanting so badly to hug her, to tell her that she was loved. But I didn’t hug her and I didn’t tell her she was loved, I simply pressed the money into her hand and walked back to the car. That woman is going to haunt me for a long time.

I keep hoping that my time in Cameroon will last forever. It is such a beautiful, even peaceful place, and I am loathe to leave the jungle. After six days here, I have encountered so many incredible people, individuals who have added to my life in more ways than they could ever realize, and the thought of leaving breaks my heart. But, as I have discovered in my twenty three years of life, it is better to live in the moment, revel in the here and now, because tomorrow will come all too swiftly.

Life is like a shadow and a mist; it passes quickly by, and is no more. –African Proverb 

Two children play on a street in a Muslim district of Yaounde

Four children pose for a picture on a road in M’balmayo, Cameroon

A woman peels potatoes at the West Africa Advanced School of Theology. The potatoes will be used in student and faculty lunches.

A street market in Cameroon

Hemingway and the Spirit of Africa

If you are at all acquainted with classic literature, then you have most likely read at least one book by the great Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway was an adventurer to the core, a man of passion and words, and when forged together, his passion and his words would forever change the course of literature. He seemed to have an eternal draw to distant, exotic lands and he delighted in writing about them. The Sun Also Rises takes place in Spain as does For Whom the Bell Tolls, To Have and to Have Not is set in Cuba, A Farewell to Arms covers Italy and other parts of Europe and The Old Man and the Sea takes place in regions of the Caribbean, particularly Havana. Perhaps my favorite book of Hemingway’s is “The Green Hills of Africa.” Hemingway seemed to have a special draw to the continent of Africa, spending about three months there, traveling across much of East Africa. He returned 20 years later with his fourth wife, and they explored regions of Belgian Congo, Rwanda, and Kenya. Hemingway was a hunter, a philanthropist, a thrill seeker and Africa was able to sate his every need. Hemingway once said,

“All I wanted to do was get back to Africa. We had not left it, yet, but when I would wake in the night I would lie, listening, homesick for it already. Now, looking out the tunnel of trees over the ravine at the sky with white clouds moving across in the wind, I loved the country so that I was happy as you are after you have been with a woman that you really love, when, empty, you feel it welling up again and there it is and you can never have it all and yet what there is, now, you can have, and you want more and more, to have, and be, and live in, to possess now again for always, for that long sudden-ended always; making time stand still, sometimes so very still that afterwards you wait to hear it move, and it is slow in starting. But you are not alone because if you have ever really loved her happy and untragic, she loves you always; no matter whom she loves nor where she goes she loves you more.”

As I gaze into the vast jungles of Cameroon, bouts of steam rising from the ground like exhaust from locomotives, it is no wonder why Ernest Hemingway kept returning here. The land is as wild and dangerous as it is beautiful, the last living place of fairytale. Men have tried and failed to conquer it over the ages, dynasties have been erected, great empires of destruction, bent on sheer domination, and though the land has felt the ravages of war, has gazed into the faces of its molesters, it has remained unyielding.

I see this most strongly in the peoples of Africa. How many of us in the Western world could say, with absolute certainty, that we could brave famine, poverty, war, sickness and abuse, daily, and still find the courage needed to laugh, to cry, to wake in the morning filled with hope for our children’s futures? We love to create films and literature about apocalyptic events, about the world’s end, when for so many here in Africa, the world ends everyday. And yet, there is beauty and there is redemption. How is it that the woman on the roadside (the one in the bright, yellow skirt, hair tied back with a floral scarf, selling baskets carefully weaved by herself, the one who was raped by her own father, then exiled from her home when she was found with child, the one whose infant caught tuberculosis and died at six months old and who suddenly found herself braving the terrors of the streets, fighting for survival against man and beast) has the ability to smile? What strength lies in her that she does not long for death, curse God and forever forsake those who wronged her as a child? This is something for which I have no answer.

And yet, people are always telling me I am wasting my time, why go to Africa, it is a place of no hope. It is a place of darkness, corruption, of unimaginable horrors, a land rife with trial. I cannot help but think how ignorant they are, how foolish their words sound in my ears. Africa is a place of hope, a place of resolve, a land where one goes to grow. Do not tell me that Americans are any better than Africans, for in truth, I have found better company amongst women in the slums of Ethiopia than in all of the clean, well structured churches in America. Africa’s beauty is not in its land nor is it found in its resources. The beauty of Africa lies in the spirit of its people, and I think Ernest Hemingway discovered that 82 years ago.   

“Now, being in Africa, I was hungry for more of it, the changes of the seasons, the rains with no need to travel, the discomforts that you paid to make it real, the names of the trees, of the small animals, and all the birds, to know the language and have time to be in it and to move slowly.”

-Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa

Finding Hope In Despair

I am currently sitting on the door step of the Myers’ home, the sounds of life in Ethiopia rising up over the concrete walls. There is a futbol game in progress on the dirt road beyond the gate, a group of rowdy boys calling out challenges to one another and voicing their loud complaints whenever a car drives by, disrupting their game. A breeze rises suddenly, stirring up small clouds of dust and bending the branches of the neighboring trees to its will. There are clouds in the sky and the sun has not yet reached its height, the temperature remains pleasant.

Yesterday I took to the streets yet again with Doug Myers and Chris and Heidi Ness. I was given the great privilege of visiting women who had gone through the Aid and Development Program, specifically their women empowerment program. Started in May of 2010, the ADA’s women empowerment program has worked with over 2,050 women, selecting the poorest of the poor from the subsidies of Addis Ababa, women who most often have families that they can not provide for or feed, and training them in various skills, based on the specific markets in each of their subsidies or neighborhoods. Some women are trained in beauty care, others in restauranting, and still others in shoe production or farming. The women are put through intensive skills training, and at the end, each woman is given a gift of 6,000 birr (equivalent to $300). This amount is given in parts, so that the temptation to spend it all at once or on other things does not present itself. They are encouraged to use the 6,000 to start up their own businesses, and each woman is trained in business management and marketing. In addition to these invaluable skills, each woman is taught the importance of saving and community volunteers of the ADA pay each woman a visit weekly, as a sort of accountability partner, checking their account books and monitoring their increase in income.

The most humbling part of the day for me, was visiting the home of one woman who had lived on the streets of Addis for 14 years. She had four children, and because of the dangerous nature of the streets for a woman and children, she would tie them to her ankles at night, to ensure that no one tried to take them. Sexual abuse was rampant, and sometimes she would flee the city in fear, braving hyenas and other dangerous creatures, more fearful of men than them. Her youngest daughter developed intestinal problems from the food they consumed- food that more often than not, came from dumpsters throughout the city. At times, she would be given leftovers from charitable Muslims or those belonging to the Orthodox Church, but more often than not, their nourishment came from garbage. Somehow, this woman discovered the ADA and completed the women empowerment program, becoming trained and equipped in making injera, the traditional flatbread of Ethiopia, and was finally able, for the first time in 14 years, to provide her family with a house and fresh, healthy food. The woman herself was not home when we went to visit, but her daughter, the one with intestinal issues, was. She is a beautiful, healthy looking 15-year-old girl who still struggles with some of her intestinal issues, but is much better off than before. It was mind blowing to me that eight months ago, this young woman experienced, for the first time, living in an actual house and eating fresh food, not from the trash. The ADA is changing lives.

The woman who showed us around for most of the day was a lovely, older woman named Genet. She wore a Convoy of Hope t-shirt (Convoy of Hope is the main supporter/ donor of the ADA), blue jeans and glasses. Genet moved to Addis in 1982 in order to study Sociology at the University. She played volleyball for her school, and it was there that she met her husband, a futbol player on a rival university team.

“We were enemies,” she joked. They married, but five years ago, he died from liver cancer. Genet also had a miscarriage three years prior to his death. “I was not going to apply for the ADA position because my husband was sick and I needed to care for him. He told me that I must apply.” Three days after she was hired, he died. “I do not know what would have happened to me if I had not gotten the job with the ADA.” I remain amazed by the strength of dear Genet. When her entire world was stripped away from her, she did not fall to her knees in despair, but rose up to help meet the needs of other women more broken than herself. Talk about selflessness. Genet also took us to the business places of several other women, including a restaurant that had been started by 12 graduates of the empowerment program. Their endeavor had become so successful, that they were able to create jobs for ten other women. I was offered the opportunity to make injera, of which I embarrassed myself terribly by spilling half the batter on the floor instead of on the grill. I quickly learned how much skill and patience it takes to make injera. The women got quite a kick out of my “farinje” style of pouring. We visited one other warehouse type building where another group of women were busy preparing food to be delivered to another nearby restaurant. Unfortunately we were unable to visit it on account of its location being dangerous to foreigners. We also stopped at the small shop of a woman, her husband and their small son, who were busy making shoes to be sold.

Another program that the ADA has created, is a school feeding program for children living below the national poverty line. Many children were showing up to school having not eaten and having no food to eat at lunch. This was causing them to fall behind in their academics, faint or vomit, and gave rise to more severe medical conditions. Joshua Alemayehu the director of the ADA, decided to start a feeding program, with the support of Convoy Hope, that would provide children with lunches during school times. The ADA now has these feeding programs in six different schools across Addis Ababa, and feeds 1,200 children each school day. The children are given injera, macaroni, eggs, milk and fruit- meat is not offered due to the number of children from Muslim families.

The hope that ADA has instilled in the women of the Addis subsidies and their children is an awe inspiring feat, and I am incredibly humbled to have been a part of capturing the effects of it. My next few blogposts will be a mix between tales from Ethiopia and information from my most recent Cameroon adventures. Thanks again for following along with all of my rants and raves…this is as good as any soapbox! Stay tuned

A graduate of the ADA program, one of the joint owners of a restaurant in Addis

Addis Ababa

Well, my first four days in Ethiopia have come to a close. The city is absolutely teeming with life- noisy, colorful, beautiful, chaotic life. I woke the first morning to the sound of laughing children, shouting and singing from one of the schoolyards a few drives down. The sun was bright and the sky a lovely blue, with some clouds to keep it from becoming too warm. Doug and Tasha Meyers have a beautiful home in Addis, with their three children. They are exceedingly warm and welcoming and have been so generous in opening up their home to me. On Friday I ventured into the city with Doug and Tasha, where I experienced the best coffee of my life. Do you think that bold of me to say? Well, seeing as I am from Seattle, and coffee courses through my veins as much as blood does, I believe I can indeed say that. The shop was a sort of open air cafe, with authentic, cow hide seats, wood tables with coffee beans in their centers and bamboo blinds acting as “walls.”

Tasha ordered me a caramel machiatto- an Ethiopian speciality, and it came to me warm, dark and positively overflowing from the cup-a sign of goodwill. The coffee is some of the best in Ethiopia and ironically very difficult to find in the country. It is often exported elsewhere, andseldom do the hard working people of Ethiopia get to sample their own superb coffee. Dumerso was the name of the cafe and its coffee comes mainly from the growing region of Yirgacheffe. The name Dumerso comes from the name of the washing station where the coffee is prepared, and it is run by a local Yirgacheffe family. According to the Meyers, the shop is still relatively new and seems to lack some of the advertising tactics that the larger coffee companies such as Kaldi’s employs. I am hoping that they can continue to make a profit because it is a truly remarkable place.

Following the coffee, I was given a grand tour of the city. I find it exceedingly difficult to wrap my mind around how it is possible to have so many people crammed into one place. Addis is a large city, but it is positively teeming with life. Muslims, Orthodox Christians, Evangelical Christians, Pentecostals, native Ethiopians, Somalians, Sudanese, UN workers, African Union members, widows, beggars, shoe shiner boys and anything and everything in between. The amount of poverty breaks my heart, and leaves me feeling awful that I am unable to do a thing about it. It is very common for women with tiny babies to approach stopped vehicles begging for money or aid, however, simply offering them handouts will not help them in the long run. It is all about trying to find a lasting, sustainable solution, but in a city so large and with so many people in need, such a solution is difficult to come by. I was taken to the Orthodox church, the largest one in Ethiopia, and was fortunate enough to hear the haunting voices of the priests reading the scriptures in the ancient language of gi’iz. Gi’iz is a language essentially dead to everyone except the priests, so it is they who read it to their devout followers. The problem with that is, of course, they are able to tell the people whatever they want to tell them, seeing as they are the only ones able to read it. The city of Addis has so many reasons to be thankful to the Orthodox Christians, for it is they who keep the city safe because of their strict moral codes. At the same time, it saddens me that so many of them pray to Saint Mary and the angels, clumping them right up there with Jesus. If I have any Orthodox or Catholic friends reading this, don’t be offended, I deeply respect both Orthodox and Catholic, it is simply not what I believe to be truth.

The church is stunning

We were fortunate enough to be given a tour of the inside of the church, for a small fee.

What an incredible place. The colors inside the church are so vibrant and the paintings on the walls depict stories in scripture. The inside of the dome is the real eye catcher.

There are a thousand things I could say about this church and its followers, but as time is limited, I must move on. After our church visit, I was taken to lunch at a quaint, little restaurant where we were served a spicy, grilled chicken, steamed vegetables and authentic french fries. My mouth waters just recalling it. The remainder of the day was spent with more tours, mainly of the AG’s bible college, of which you will hear more later. We finished up the night making pizza and tacos (a Meyer family tradition) and as the electricity was still on at this point, we watched How to Train Your Dragon 2.

Saturday morning I got to attend my first bazaar. It was so cool! There were dozens and dozens of sellers there, hawking their wares and delicious foods. I was able to taste my first Ethiopian ice cream, smothered in homemade, chocolate sauce. It was divine.

Ethiopian ice cream

While at the bazaar, I met many missionaries and teachers from the Bingham Academy, a Christian school in Addis that teaches from kindergarden to high school. The majority of kids who attend are either missionary kids, children of U.N. workers or the children of African Union workers. I will be talking more about them individually later on.

My first bazaar

After the bazaar, I was taken for a tour of Bingham Academy and then delivered to my next host family, Chris and Heidi Ness. Chris and Heidi are absolutely extraordinary people, who lived, with their three children, for a number of years in Sudan. Sudan is where their heart still is, but with the country’s current instability, they were forced out a few years ago. The Ness’s live in an equally beautiful house, with a view from the roof that is stunning. I often retreat there in order to watch the neighboring children and women and to listen to the call of prayer echoing throughout the city. Unfortunately, this is all I have time to write about for now…my hurried words have done Addis no justice. I will be writing about our Easter celebration next. Ciao!