I was a Christmas Refugee

With Green Eyes in Africa, I work with refugees. I now know what it’s like to be a refugee, sort of.

I’ve been in the states since October. I was supposed to stay until mid-January, but I began to feel like a fish out of water, especially as Christmastime approached. I decided to cut my trip short and return early to Africa, right before Christmas to surprise everyone in Cameroon.

It was a decision I began to regret as I laid on a cot in the Frankfurt airport. I was stranded in Frankfurt with thousands of other passengers. Once airport workers began to distribute water bottles to the masses, it truly began to feel like a refugee camp. The anger was palpable; the people were exhausted.

I left the United States on Monday, and did not arrive in Cameroon until Friday (the trip usually takes two days). After Frankfurt, my Royal Air Maroc flight arrived in Casablanca, way too late to catch my flight to Cameroon. The next flight to Cameroon wasn’t until two days later. They put all of us “refugees” into a bus and sent us to hotels.

Everyone was shocked, worried that we wouldn’t make it back in time for Christmas. I wanted to have a few days to get everything ready for Christmas at our center in Yaoundé. Now I knew that I’d arrive on the 24th of December at best.

I tried to make the most of the situation. Casablanca isn’t especially interesting, aside from craft markets and people watching. I made friends with a nice American girl who was stranded as well, on her way to meet her Nigerian family for the first time (her father was Nigerian). I also befriended two Cameroonian women who live in Germany and speak fluent German. They were rather fascinating.

The second day in Casablanca, due to jet-lag, I was awake almost all night and began to get stir crazy around four in the morning. Around 5:30, I decided to leave my room and take a walk. I had one of the coolest experiences of my life, so much so that I’ll have to write another blog to describe it. It was an experience that re-awakened my sense of adventure and reminded me of what makes me tick, especially in Africa. Later, with my American friend, I had another ah-ha moment that I’ll have to write about.

Royal Air Maroc is anything but professional. They said they would bus us back to the airport (one hour from our hotel), but left us stranded. My two Cameroonian friends and I had to jump in a taxi at the last minute and rush to the airport (at our own expense). Our flight was delayed, again, but only for a few hours, fortunately. Their planes are unkempt and reminded me of Southwest Airlines, only not as nice.

On a plane with hundreds of passengers and only a handful of children, I ended up sitting in a middle seat with a tiny five-year-old Cameroonian boy next to me. His parents and sisters were across from us. He was tired and bored. I felt so sorry for him. We became friends, drawing pictures and discussing the movie Cars and Spiderman. Being with this little guy made me even more anxious to get home to my kids in Cameroon. He luckily fell deeply asleep very quickly. I propped his head back up after it fell every now and then.

Our plane landed. People cheered. I walked through passport control, and saw my friend Cory waiting for me through the glass windows of the baggage claim area. I had made it. I got a lump in my throat as I saw her enthusiastic, beautiful smile welcoming me. Finally, a familiar face! But after one hour of watching the luggage claim go around and around, my bags were nowhere to be found.

My bags did not arrive with me. Christmas was in those bags.

I waited in a mass of angry people trying to push to the front of the lost luggage line. As with everything in Cameroon, those with “connections” were served first. One of my Cameroonian friends has a cousin who works at the airport, so we were served in a timely manner.

Cory and I arrived at the orphanage. My heart was beating. I had been so homesick for Cameroon, dreaming of this moment for weeks. My time in the U.S. this trip was stressful and overwhelming. I had been waiting to walk through this gate for a long time.

We set up the surprise in a special way with our live-in volunteers Joe and Natalie. Natalie told Joel, 11, that she had lost something outside of the gate and asked him to go and get it. Cory was waiting with the video camera, I hid across from her.
Joel walked out and saw Cory filming, turned around and saw me. Joel had taken on a lot of big brother responsibilities while I was gone, and because he’s the oldest, he sometimes is a little lonely. He came and gave me a hug, not saying much. He closed his eyes, crying a little.

The other kids trailed out, squealing and giggling, hugging my legs. I walked through the gate and saw Ornela, our special-needs girl. I picked her up and squeezed her tight, tears falling down my face. I had made it. I had made it for Christmas with my babies.

A little Christmas miracle happened and my luggage arrived at the airport that afternoon. Our Cameroonian Director, Olivier, was able to retrieve it in time for Christmas Eve.

We had a wonderful Christmas Eve opening presents, writing a letter to Santa, and catching up on all of the latest and greatest of Green Eyes in Africa.

Joe, Natalie and I set out all of Santa’s gifts, which were a major hit the next morning. The girls informed me that they saw Santa’s lights outside of their window and were dying to know if he ate the treat we left for him. He had.

Christmas morning was magical. But then I fell asleep for hours. I’m still jet-lagged and not entirely adjusted to Cameroon. Yesterday I went to bed at five in the evening, and woke up this morning at 4:30.

It’s great to be home. But Christmas is over, and I’m starting to notice all of the things I forget about when I’m in the United States (the grass is always greener).
Yesterday our youngest, Aloha, 4, pooped his pants and I had the joy of cleaning up the mess. I have no idea how such a miniature being is capable of excreting such a horrifically large amount of volunteer surprise. Apparently he punishes/plays games with volunteers in this way. This will be fun, for sure.

The water has been cut off for hours at a time each day since I’ve been home. It’s currently cut off. With all of the people we have in this house, it’s not pretty when the water’s cut off.

It’s the dry season; the heat is so intense that I’m wet with sweat from mid-morning until night. When I arrived, from just the few minutes I spent in the sun hugging the kids, my face was sunburned and swollen.

Yesterday Blanche and Olga decided to be mean brats to Ornela, locking her out of their room. Drama and punishments (sitting outside) ensued.

The neighbors kept their obnoxious music going all night last night—thump, thump, thump, thump. It’s on again. It’s 7 a.m. Thump, thump, thump, thump.

I’m going to go and see if the water is turned back on.