Africa, one year later …

Catholic New Times, Feb 9, 2003 by Pierrette Boisse

The invisible giant of our world is indifference.

I had just arrived in Ebolowa.... A knock at the door. Three children wanted to show the sisters their report cards; a little shy, very polite, beautiful. I joined the group and talked with them. This is where I received my first gift from Cameroon--a smile from the children. There were many more in the three months that followed, as faces of children became familiar. As well, I engaged in frequent dialogues with young people and adults. All encounters were a delight as well as a lesson on life's important values.

Africa was a wonderful, but difficult experience

I was delighted with the people's ways of greeting and accepting me but, at the same time, I was often close to tears. Will I ever forget, for instance, my first experience at a rural marketplace? It was on a Sunday, and it was market day in Douvangar. I saw people walking around, having a good time, visiting each other and examining the goods. But there was hardly anything there. A little area here with dry fish or a little meat, another space there with soap, thread, batteries and, somewhere else, a small corner with oil. On my list, on the other hand, were sandals, chocolate, brown sugar, candles and a mirror--none of which I could find. I was bewildered and ready to leave when two young girls whom I had been tutoring came and greeted me in the usual way: we shook hands and smiled.

"What do you buy here?" I asked.

"Everything, sister," they replied.

Everything? I swallowed and pursued.

"I would like to offer you something. What would you like?"

"Soap, sister, please," they said eagerly and without the slightest hesitation.

"All right. Anything else?"

I could see they were eyeing the Bic pens. I bought ten pens and gave each girl four.

"We can have four? Grand merci, ma soeur." You see, they always say "thank you," but for something special it's "grand" merci.

On my way home, I gave the coins I had left to the children in the area. I was distracted.

I don't even know how many pens and pencils I own! How many pairs of shoes? What do I want most when I go shopping? Am I ever really hungry?

These are disturbing questions.

Giving--a bar of soap, a pen or a pencil, candy, T-shirts, peanuts--that was the easy part. Not being able to alleviate suffering, sickness, poverty--that was a different story. Life is not fair. I say that often. But, in Cameroon, I lived it more than I have ever lived it in my life. What did we do to have access to everything in our Western world? one wonders. Oh, I know there is real poverty in our own country. I am reminded of this in the very place in which I live. But after my Cameroon experience, I do not even dare to make a comparison. I think, though, that when people are not spoiled by the abundance of goods, they tend to be more easily grateful and ready to share.

Not unlike the poor widow from the Gospel

A case in point is the following incident. I was walking in the village. The women I met, dressed in colourful pagnes, were carrying huge loads on their heads. They walked so tall and proud that I thought they looked absolutely beautiful and dignified. Of course, I also met children. They were beginning to know me and, on this particular occasion, they gathered around me and I gave each of them two candies. One child received three pieces. All of a sudden, from a distance, we could see one of their friends running towards us. My pockets were empty. I looked straight into the eyes of the luckiest boy.

"We will share, yes?"

But the boy would not let go of his treasure.

Then, a very small child in the group looked up at me. He was chewing his first piece of candy and clutching onto the second one. Holding out his hand, he said:

"Je donne."

He was just beginning to learn French, but I gave him an "A" for his gesture. The face of this giving child still haunts me.

"Blessed are the poor. The kingdom is theirs."

Multiple frames of a moving video

When I start thinking of the Cameroon people, the children's faces are usually the first thing that come to mind. Then come all of the other people I have met, visited, talked to, cried, laughed, prayed and worked with. I hold a very special place in my heart for the girls and the young women whom I tutored in different academic subjects. Because we had spent time together on a regular basis, we got to know one another. I loved talking with them about our lives and customs. It was a wonderful sharing of our realities and our dreams. Then I see committed associates, hopeful prisoners, fervent youth preparing for confirmation, vibrant faith communities, sisters from religious communities, friends everywhere. The list is endless, it seems.

I also like to remember

The children do not own toys. Yet, they play and laugh with any old football that they can get their hands on. The women do not have a full wardrobe, but they stand tall in their beautifully colourful dresses. The soil is harsh, hard and dry, but it does not prevent men and boys from working it to produce food. The parish communities are young and fervent and the liturgy is alive, vibrant and inspired by the local culture. The quality and the quantity of the participants left me a little envious.