It’s Thursday today- market day. The girls come over to my
house (not too) early in the morning excited because they’ll be going to the
market with me. It’s become something of a routine for the girls to accompany
me when I go to market, though it makes me nervous because traffic is really
bad on market days. Cars inch forward trying to cut a path through the crowds,
pousse-pousses are everywhere, motos weave around various obstacles in the form
of people, cattle and goods. A few weeks ago, I saw a little girl get knocked
over by a moto near my house on a market day so I try to walk closest to the
road and keep the little ones on the other side. However, the cows are what you
really have to watch out for. Cows here have long pointy horns and could
seriously injure someone with a simple swing of the head. Occasionally, there’s
a rogue cow, these ones charge forward trying to break away from their handlers
(one leading from a rope around the cow’s neck and one preventing it from
running by holding a rope tied to its back ankle). People clear out pretty fast
when any cow shows signs of resisting and it’s a good idea to wait till the
road is clear before continuing on your way. I’m surprised no one has been
impaled yet...
The girls are Aissa, Nafissa (sisters), Daada and Djamila
(sisters). Other kids come hang out at my house, but these four have been the
most consistent. Aissa and Nafissa are
my closest neighbours, directly beside my house. I have become particularly
fond of Aissa who has been coming around my house since the day I moved
in. Aissa is ten years old and the
oldest of five kids. She is in CP (equivalent of about a grade 2 level) but she
can neither read nor write, she is learning a bit of French through me but otherwise
speaks only Fulfulde. She can count though she struggles with the numbers in
French and she is learning how to add. One of my goals while I am here is to
make sure that Aissa completes her elementary school exams- A difficult task since most girls particularly
from poor families, like Aissa’s, never make it that far. Furthermore, Aissa
struggles with school. Before I arrived, she missed class often, she is a slow
learner (which in a class of a hundred students, the slow ones get left behind)
and she gets angry when she makes a mistake.
But she is a bright little girl and a great dancer. I’ve learnt a great
deal of Fulfulde from listening to her chatter and have learnt quite a bit
about life in Bogo from her.
Aissa
Grandma cooks and takes care of the kids because their mom
left to visit her family in Ngaoundéré. She has been gone since before I
arrived and I get the impression that she isn’t coming back. Aissa’s dad, who
speaks a bit of French, told me that she would be home in less than a month but
that was already a couple months ago. She took the youngest son with her but
left the other kids behind. Aissa’s dad again told me the other day that she
would be back in less than 20 days but I’m not too hopeful so we’ll see if she
actually does come back. In the meantime, I know the three sisters see me as
something like a mother figure though I have got them to call me aunty (Yappendo) instead
of mommy (Daada). Aissa’s grandmother has suggested a few times that I take Aissa home
with me when I go back to Canada and I’ve had to explain to her dad why I can’t
take her with me. (I stuck to excuses such as Aissa has no birth certificate or
passport and you can’t adopt a child who still has both her parents and the
whole process of adoption is lengthy and complicated. It’s easier to point out
logistical problems than to have to explain why I don’t want to adopt their
daughter). I know they just want to be
able to offer Aissa a better chance in life by sending her off with a nasara,
and in fact it makes sense- it’s true that Aissa would probably have a better future
if she were to come back to Canada with me. Here she has no future. It breaks
my heart when I look at her and realise that all she has to look forward to in
life is to become some man’s third or fourth wife. If she finishes elementary
school then she might not get married until she is fourteen or fifteen, but it
would take a miracle for her to get into high school. That is I don’t think her
dad could ever afford it. Though he is a good man and he seems to want good for
his children so maybe he would send Aissa to school if he could. He himself
isn’t educated, but seems proud that his wife finished elementary school so
maybe I could convince him to pursue Aissa’s education...
Djawe teaching Aissa French
I don’t know what Aissa’s dad does, but I know whatever it
is, he doesn’t make much money doing it. Their Grandma has a crippled leg and
she is frequently sick. The Grandma frequently asks me for ”cadeaux”. At first
I was able to pretend I didn’t understand, but my increasing knowledge of
Fulfulde means that she knows I can understand her. I’ve explained to Aissa’s
dad though that I don’t want it to become a habit for them to always ask me for
things in particular because it teaches the kids to beg. Once I sent the girls
home after I had heard “Hokkam (give me) one too many times. Cameroonians’ take
on manners differs slightly from what we westerners would consider “polite”. In
English, we will ask “can I please have?” or “could you please give me this?”
but in Fulfulde, you simply say “give me”. It isn’t rude, it’s just culturally
and linguistically different. Fulfulde does have a word for please but it seems
they only use it for emphasis or when directed at someone of authority. It took
me awhile to get into the habit of saying give me when I started learning
Fulfulde I made the mistake of trying to translate directly. So although I know it is acceptable to just
say “give me” here, I still get irritated when kids come to my house and all I
hear is a succession of “Hokkam bic. Hokkam diam. Hokkam biscuit. Hokkam
papier. Hokkam mangoro.” I’ve made it
clear to the girls though that if they ask me for things then I won’t give them
anything but if they play nicely and don’t “derange” then I will give them
cadeau of my own accord.
It is always a hard balance between knowing when to give and
when to draw the line. I have a hard time justifying not giving when I really
am rich by their standards, but I also know that they live within a system and
a culture that pushes them towards always trying to get their share. So I have
to watch out or they will walk all over me. I also try not to encourage the
colonial habit of always expecting the nasara to give a “gift” or as some
people call it “motivation”. Which is why I try to give only in situations
where I know it will be appreciated and not taken for granted. That is I try to
give to families like Aissa’s and not to certain people who show up at
Parent-Teacher Association meetings with the expectation that I am going to pay
them for their troubles. It frustrates me to no end that people (men) expect me
to give them something in return for their participation at meetings as if they
were doing me a favour by coming. No matter how often I repeat myself, some
people still don’t seem to understand that the meetings aren’t for my benefit,
but are in fact being held to help the schools and to help their children get a
better education. Unfortunately, too many people here still don’t see the
intrinsic value of education and the advantages it has for the future of their
kids. So in the next two years, I might not be able to revolutionize the
education system here nor even make a dent in what is perceptibly a broken and
corrupt system, but if I can help even a handful of Aissas get an education
then my time here will have been a success.
If you can find it in your heart to care for someone else, then you will have succeeded.
Maya Angelou
