Just when life gives you a nice little, comfortable routine—BAM! Things change. Ever noticed that? It seems to be the formula for life with Green Eyes in Africa. Each time I envision some sort of long-term, unchanging vision of the future, good old Cameroon sends us for a whirl and uproots my ideas. But after the change usually comes an unexpectedly positive outcome…
Before I continue my ramblings, which in light of the Japanese crisis seem trivial, I want to mention the sweet people of the Japanese Embassy in Cameroon. Our largest donation so far—a beautiful blue minibus—was donated by these good people. We drive around in a bus with side stickers that say “Japan Development Aid.” The Japanese Ambassador (three years ago) was a sweet, humble, kind man. His wife was equally as enchanting—she gave us a little flock of yellow baby ducks.
I mention the Japanese because my heart is broken over what’s happened in their country. I imagine how broken I would feel if 18,000 Americans were killed, say, on the coast of California. It must be devastating to each and every Japanese person. I can’t do much, but I can write this for them on behalf of all of us at Green Eyes in Africa:
“Green Eyes in Africa has known the kindness and generosity of you, the Japanese people. Your unique and loving culture has touched our lives. As we drive our minibus in safety and security, we remember you, especially during this terrible time for your country. Please know that we respect and honor you, and we know that you will get through this because nothing can stop the unstoppable Japanese spirit.”
I sat down to detail all of the changes that are making life rather challenging right now. But I find myself reflecting on what’s happened in Japan. Truly, each day is a gift. I think of the humble and smiling Japanese friends I’ve had here in Cameroon. I imagine 18,000 people like them facing utmost agony. It puts a terrible feeling in my stomach.
Well, then. I suppose I have a new perspective on all the changes that are shaking me up at the moment. We’ve had to let our cook/nanny move on. She just was not working out so we had to say goodbye. We’ve got a new cook/nanny coming (hopefully within a month), but for the moment, I’m Mr. Mom himself.
We’ve made some structural adjustments around here. Our awesome and talented African Director, Olivier, is dealing with his father’s debilitating illness. He’s had four funerals in his family over the past two months. His family depends on him, especially his father, and they need him to be available very often, sometimes all night in the hospital.
With Olivier’s outside pressures weighing him down, we’ve adjusted his responsibilities so that he can still be a major player in Green Eyes in Africa without the pressures of being a live-in Director. He’s now taken on the job of Overseer, taking care of most of his former tasks without the live-in aspect.
The live-in position is going to be transferred to the new Nanny. We need someone who can live in the center and be available almost all of the time. Although we’ve had brilliant female volunteers (American, German, etc.), we’ve been missing a constant mother figure. With three girls in the center we need a strong female presence.
We’ve selected an English-speaking woman who has lots of experience working in international settings and has experience cooking all types of foods. For too long, we’ve eaten only Cameroonian foods, which are heavy in oil and consist of mainly white starches (cassava, rice, etc.).
Everyone is excited for the new Nanny to arrive. I keep imagining that Mary Poppins (a la Africaine) is on her way! I doubt she’ll be able to help us clean the rooms with our minds and a song, but from what all of her recommenders say (Japanese, Australian, German, and British) she’s over-the-top bubbly and happy to a fault. I can handle that! Being too happy is a nice “fault” to have. I’m hoping that she’s “practically perfect in every way.” (Not really, she can be practically perfect in almost every way and that would be fine).
So while we’re waiting, I’m in charge of cooking, cleaning, washing, recreation, and all the rest that goes into taking care of a home and a bunch of children. I really like the feeling at the end of the day when everything is calm and I finish washing the dishes.
Thank goodness for Jean Paul, our night guard, who is so much more than a night guard. He helps with everything and is “Papa” to the kids. I could not do this without him.
And I pretty much go insane when the water is cut off (today is the third day in a row with no water). It is so challenging to manage potty training issues without water.
No water takes away all potential charm from being Mr. Mom. Stop and think for a minute: how many times a day do you require running water (faucets, toilets, showers, laundry, etc.)? We have to use buckets and plastic bottles filled with tap water. And then they start to run low. Once the water supply is low, unflushed toilets start to fill. It really…stinks.
We live in a country with so much rain it’s pretty much a marsh half of the year (RAIN-forest). And yet the totalitarian authorities are unwilling to provide adequate running water to the citizens of their capital city. I don’t say incapable, I say unwilling. They have p.l.e.n.t.y of money to create an efficient water system. I personally believe that by controlling water in this way—by keeping people in a state of instability, filth, and dependency—the people in charge maintain their control.
People who are used to constant inefficiency, inconvenience, and pathetic conditions (in this case, water) don’t really develop very high expectations for their lives, do they? It’s like the school system here—its deliberately kept subpar and ridiculously, even outlandishly unorganized. Again—people accustomed to efficiency in things such as water and education raise their expectations. And educated people with high expectations pose a threat to selfish "rulers" who wish to steal and harbor all things for themselves…
In conclusion, a question:
Would it be better that I adopt a typical Cameroonian attitude towards all this in order to avoid beating my head against a brick wall all the time?
I could succumb to the temptation of using the phrases that people use here when things are less-than-convenient. These phrases are ubiquitous throughout Cameroon (at all times) and reflect, in my opinion, a successfully broken people:
“On va faire comment?”—What can you do?
“C’est comme ca, non.”—That’s how it is.
“On doit supporter.”—You just gotta put up with it.
“Patience.”—Just be patient.
“C’est le Cameroon.”—That’s Cameroon.
(I think I’ll stick with the brick wall.)
PS--The water stayed off for four days. The last day, the electricity and internet also went out. When the water finally came back on the 5th day at 2am, somehow our sink overflowed in the kitchen and it flooded the kitchen and hallway (one of the kids must have left the faucet open). OH--and there's an unprecedented cholera outbreak in Yaounde--a disease transmitted by fecal matter germs. This just makes having no water all the more special, doesn't it?
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