What is Honesty?

by Ryan Oliver Hansen, Overseas Director, Green Eyes in Africa

A Western concept of honesty entails more or less the following: If what you say really happened, it’s true. If what you took isn’t yours, it’s stealing. It’s based on facts. People get extremely angry when they’re lied to, for example, when someone cheats in a relationship.

A Cameroonian concept of honesty is quite different, and from what I’ve read, similar to most of Africa in general. I can’t speak for every single African. I can only draw conclusions based on personal experiences occurring over six years of living in Cameroon. I share what I’ve observed.

Here in Cameroon, the concept of honesty entails more than facts. The absolute truth may or may not be shared, depending on who is talking, and who could benefit or suffer from the truth. Frequently, truth is avoided in order to maintain the present moment’s peace. And this is seen as protection for the person who may become distressed at the truth.

We work with a bright and friendly woman, I’ll call her Mary. She serves as cook (when it’s not my turn) and as a caregiver to the children in our center into the evenings. Yesterday, I did a little detective work and found out that the day before the children were being disrespectful to Mary. They have a tendency to take advantage of her gentle nature. I can’t tolerate this, so I asked her to elaborate on what happened.

She said, “They wouldn’t come in out of the rain even after I asked them many times and they were not respecting me.” I reminded her, once again, that she must tell me of these things so that we can establish proper respect for her position. I was ready to bring in the children for a talking-to. Mary interjected, “It is no problem! Later that day they all told me they were terribly sorry and that they would never disrespect me again.”

This was a lie. I know our children. Not once have they done this on their own. Mary was telling a lie in order to avoid conflict; perhaps to save me mental stress. If lying avoids conflict, it is not lying; it is not wrong. I decided not to call Mary on her lie. I went along with it, reminding myself to accept the fact that my interpretation of honesty is different from hers.

After six years in Cameroon, I’ve realized that perhaps a good quarter of the things that have been said to me are entirely lies. Everyone seems to have an “association for children” just like ours. Everyone seems to know how to repair televisions. Everyone has apparently been to Europe or the United States. Everyone has a friend from California. Exaggerating one’s experiences or realm of knowledge (backed up with detailed stories) is the norm in my circle of associations.

Telling another person what they want to hear, and precisely pinpointing what this is, defines the game of Cameroonian honesty. The prize of the game is won by the fact that, here, a lie is true as long as you stick to it and don’t give in. Often, lies actually become accepted as truth,facts and figures aside.

Not long ago, I knew a Western diplomat who was very kind. She and I worked together on projects, and her good heart prevented her from seeing when she was being lied to. One day I related a story concerning witchcraft and how it “made someone die,” and explained that the majority of Cameroonians still believe deeply in witchcraft (this is a fact). Because she lived in a bubble of riches and privilege, she was shocked and disbelieving at this information.

“Not everyone!” she said, referring to her cook, whom she considered her friend. She could not believe that her cook believed in witchcraft. “Of course she does,” I said, “Go ask her.”

My friend triumphantly returned from speaking with her cook and said, “She said that believing in witchcraft is wrong and that it’s silly to believe in such things.” I overheard the cook give her a chuckle of goodwill while she was talking to the diplomat. The disarming chuckle is an excellent way of concealing true thoughts and keeping things light with foreigners.

I asked her, “How did you phrase your question?” She explained that she related the whole story to her cook and finished with, “You don’t believe in that, do you?” It was beyond obvious to the cook which type of answer her employer was seeking. I can’t really say I blame her cook. I understand why pleasing an employer could come above being honest.

My friend’s choice of words sabotaged her opportunity for clarity. I told her that things would have been different if she had said: “Ryan knows someone whose child was just killed through witchcraft. It’s so awful. What kinds of problems exist here because of witchcraft? How can we stop it?”

Had she said this, my diplomatic friend would have most likely received a great explanation of the evils of witchcraft and the sorcerers who practice it everywhere in Cameroon. Had she persisted, she probably would have heard stories of snake eyes and all-night exorcisms in churches where possessed people scream and writhe in evil languages. There’s a reason local buses are constantly filled with people selling potions to protect oneself against witchcraft.

In the Western world, the cook’s answer is an insincere fabrication, a lie. In Cameroon, it’s the way the cookie crumbles in order to maintain the present moment’s peace.

Some lies are worse than others, of course. Lies involving stealing cannot be tolerated, especially by me, since our money is donated. This is where it gets difficult.

Is stealing from the rich stealing? If you’re not caught, is it stealing? If someone doesn’t notice what you stole, is it wrong? Can those in desperate need or difficult circumstances justifiably lie and steal? No. No. No. Yes.

Over the years, I’ve been lied to and stolen from more times than I can count by people in whom I placed sincere trust. I suppose it’s partly my fault for being too much like my diplomatic friend—seeing what I want to see instead of accepting reality. Automatic suspicion goes against my very nature, but it is precisely this that will empower me in the long run.

I’ve recently had some serious battles against lies and stealing (the kind that hurts our organization; the kind that is undeniably wrong, cultures aside). I won’t go into detail. I'll just say that it was shocking, unjust, and sickening. But I’ve learned some incredible lessons that have fortified me with a new understanding of where I live. From now on, I’ll be better able to protect our organization and make sure our donations aren't squandered on thieves.

I feel liberated, but in a way I miss my naiveté. Once you’ve gained a significant understanding of the dynamics of the “honesty game” in Cameroon, you’re better able to spot a lie and realistically anticipate what you’re up against when dealing with money. This unclear process is discouraging, frustrating and hurtful most of the time. I guess it’s best to look at it as a challenging game.

But this game is hard. I prefer Pictionary.