Seul les montagnes ne se recontrent jamais

--Over two weeks after returning to the US, I realized that I never posted my final Cameroon blog. Because my blog has become not just a window for my friends and family into a different life but also a way for me to archive and document my experiences, I still feel it necessary to post my concluding reflections--

 "Seul les montagnes ne se recontrent jamais."

As I prepared for my departure from Cameroun, a friend of mine invoked a wonderful proverb to remind me that this is not the end. “Only mountains will never meet.” Bittersweet as is usually the case when leaving a special place and people, I am especially marked by the family I am leaving.

I think of each member in my family and how together we make up the unit. My memories consist of the typical ups and downs found between siblings and parents. Now that I’m leaving I glorify my little sisters and brother; conveniently forgetting that only yesterday I scolded the twins for not doing their chores and had a serious talk with Daryl about needing to become more responsible with her money.  At times I felt I played the role of mother, juggling my personal time with the management of all the young ones, reminding me of why most people in the US don’t have so many children. But when I step back and look at how we siblings all interact, I am brought back to my own years in elementary and junior high school and become nostalgic for the future years I will miss as each sister grows a little more, becomes a little more responsible, and starts to realize what amazing parents we have.

I think about the relationship I have with Maman [Solange]. Her welcoming personality, which even my friends notice, is just the start of her warmth towards me. My realization of my inclusion as her daughter has been through the makeup of the small details that create my home life. Being encouraged to discipline as well as love my younger siblings; being expected to do housework and help with cooking; Maman buying me clothes; helping the girls with their homework; having late night talks with Maman; being scolded by Maman; and receiving advice from Maman on all number of subjects. It is incredible to think that we only spent six months together, but that my feelings towards her are nothing less than that of a daughter.

I think about my interactions with Papa [David]. I am blown away by his compassion for others, especially as his childhood was marked with no parents, complete poverty and hard work. Most evenings post-lunch were spent in deep discussion about the school, our family, and Cameroon, and the challenges facing them. While Papa loves to socialize with anyone and everyone, these moments formed the base of my extremely open dialogue with him. With his encouragement, I learned to get past my natural instinct to internalize problems and instead hash them out in the open. Although I realize that our relationship is completely unique: he was to me both papa, boss, and friend, I find it refreshing to think of how our open communication resolved many of our cultural differences, school-related issues, family misunderstandings, and the challenges I faced on a day-to-day basis.

Life in Cameroon was extraordinary, this I know. My goal is to add this part of my life to my growing repertoire of knowledge about Africa, family, and people I love dearly. Moving forward, I will continue to share my experiences in my personal effort to close the gap of ignorance and misunderstanding between our different cultures.