My future!

Hey guys! It's been a long time.

A brief update on my life: I finished the classes for my degree in December, and I applied to go to Korea to teach English, but because I won't be getting my actual diploma until May, I couldn't continue the process. :( It was a huge bummer. But! I moved back home to Georgia, and now I work at Starbucks, and I'm trying to decide what to do next.

I figured, since I have a lot of school debt, that I would go be an English teacher for a while and get my debt down, then join Wycliffe and do some short term missions. But, due to me recently going online and actually looking at my account, I found I could join Wycliffe right away! (They can only absorb so much debt, but I found out I'm already under that line!) It's pretty exciting. But now I have to figure on what to do.

There are lots of opportunities for me to teach English, and I'm taking classes for a TESOL certification on the weekends. I know this would be a lot of fun, and I'd be able to lice overseas for a while. I just need to work on my applications and get going, because the process has already started in most countries for starting in August.

But, since I can now go with Wycliffe, I'm wondering if I shouldn't do that. There's this really cool program called Spectrum, where Wycliffe partners with OM and you get to spend a year on one of their ships. It'd be super fun and I'm sure I'd learn a lot. I've been considering this program for years now, and I really want to go.

And, of course, there are lots of two year language survey programs, or literacy/Scripture engagement programs which would be interesting as well.

There's an update on my life. I'm not doing any overseas travel right now, but I'm letting God teach me about being a Christian at home. He is definitely teaching me a lot. If you want to pray for me, please pray that I could find the right program, whatever it may be, and that God would lead me. Please also pray for my friendships, family, and boyfriend, as I also have to take that into account if I decide to go overseas. It's a confusing time and sometimes all I want to do is keep working at Starbucks forever....

If you want to get in touch with me, to let me know of any prayer requests you may have, or to let me know if you are going through similar decisions, please comment, or feel free to e-mail me! (Sarahkarima@gmail.com) I'd love to hear for you.

God bless
Karima

Bus Rides

When we landed in Cameroon we landed in Yaounde, naturally, so after a couple days of prep in the big city we headed out to Bambalang.

We hired a bus, so we were able to sit comfortably in what would have usually been an 18 passenger van. It was an eight hour bus ride, but we stopped every couple of hours at bathrooms and food markets. This journey happened on maybe our third day in Cameroon, and most of the team was still pretty nervous, so when we stopped to get lunch at a market, only a couple of us ventured out and bought food for the whole group. We weren't sure what to expect and we acted very cautiously.

Now, on the way back we hired the same bus and driver, Sidu (who was absolutely wonderful and marvelous), and headed back to Yaounde. We were much more confident in our knowledge of Cameroonian culture this time, and we even decided to buy unknown foods through the window (you can read that story below). We all ventured out into the food market, and we knew how to haggle for food. We were used to the stares and people calling out to us. It was a completely different experience.

Then our tire popped. Two hours later, after some interesting encounters on the side of the road, and Adriana chasing lots of bugs with her camera, we were back on the road. And everything was still fine. On our way up, I am positive we would have handled the experience very differently, but as it was, we were okay and that experience didn't color the rest of our time in Cameroon. Instead, the rest of our time in Cameroon had taught us how to deal with the experience, how to be patient and okay with sudden changes in the schedule. How to deal with unwanted attention and remain safe.

Flying into Yaounde, we didn't think much of it being a big city. The city itself is large, but it is nothing like Toronto. There are stores, with buildings and everything, and lots of traffic and people. But it isn't a North American big city. Driving back in from Bambalang, we thought a lot of it being a big city. Having stayed in an even more rural part of the country, we know thought that Yaounde was a huge city. Our eyes were opened to differences we hadn't been able to perceive before.

All this to say, even though we took the same route and even rode in the same bus, that month of living in Cameroon really changed us. And we didn't notice until we realized how different each bus ride was.

How to Ride a Benskin

Some of you may have seen the pictures of my team riding benskins, or you may have heard that motos were the best way for us to get around. Well, they were, so I thought you might like to have the low-down on how to safely travel on a motorcycle in Cameroon.

First, you have to know the lingo. Moto, benskin, motorbike, all are appropriate words for the vehicle you will be riding. However, there is a difference between a benskin and a moto. A benskin is a taxi, while a moto is a personal bike. Benskin drivers are part of a union, so if they see someone taking money for driving people then they can report them. Their motorbikes are usually covered in bright vinyl with lots of different designs, so benskins stand out from motos. But not always.

Secondly, you need to get a helmet. Safety first, people.

And the last thing you need to do is learn how to flag a driver down. The best way to do that is to walk in the direction you are wanting to go, and every time a motorbike comes by, you stick your index finger out. If they are a benskin and free, they will stop and ask you where you are going. If they aren't free, they will drive right by, and if they aren't a benskin, they will usually shake their head at you.

So now you are ready to get on a benskin and go to your destination! Don't forget to agree on a price before you get on the bike, and tell the driver to go slow, especially if this is your first time. With the price set and the driver ready, now comes the challenging part of getting on.

Men, you are probably thinking, how is getting on challenging? I dare you to get on a moto in skirt, and then you can come back to me. Ladies, I hope you are wearing long, flowing skirts, because otherwise, you are going to have to ride side-saddle. With you long, hippie-like skirt, just hop on like you were wearing pants. Make sure your knees are covered, but kind of gather your skirt in front so the driver won't sit on it. If you are wearing a tighter skirt, one which would show your knees if you tried to ride normally, you should ride side-saddle. It's actually not so bad. I think I rode side-saddle more often than not because I made poor clothing choices while packing. Just hop right on, and you're golden. If there is more than one person riding (besides the driver), you'll have to sit on the back, because otherwise it'd just be awkward times.

And know you're on a benskin! You may be wondering where to hold on. If you are in between two people (say the driver and your travelling companion), don't worry about holding on. At first it might be a little scary, though, so I suggest holding on to your companion's knees. It won't help at all, but it's slightly more comforting. If you are on the back, just reach down and hold onto the seat or the luggage rack (which you are probably sitting on anyway). All in all, don't worry about it.

As you drive along, enjoy the sights and everyone calling out to you. Wave at people if you are feeling daring. If you feel uncomfortable with the speed, you can try to tell your driver to go slower. I won't promise that he actually will, though. Benskin is a lovely, refreshing way to travel. It is fast and beats the heat of walking, so I recommend it. It's a lot of fun, too, especially when you get passed the scared stage of riding benskins.

Photo credit goes to Rebekah Schumacher, for
capturing Serena and I riding off on a benskin.

I hope you enjoyed this tutorial! If you have any questions about benskin riding, feel free to ask. I'd love to tell you more. (If anyone more knowledgeable about the art of benskin riding reads this and sees any mistakes, please let me know.)

My (Brief) Encounter With Teaching Chrambo

Our family had four kids, and a live-in babysitter, so there were always around 14 kids hanging around our house. Usually we had fun, played games, taught them some songs. Some times they taught us songs. And they were our language teachers, so we would ask them what something was and they would tell us in their native language.

One day we were doing a bunch of crazy things, like hopping around in circles and having kids hang off us, so I wanted to calm them down a bit. I asked if any of them knew how to read or write in Chrambo. They said no, so I gave them a mini lesson. I taught them the vowels of Chrambo, because they have eight vowels and only some of them are represented in the same way as English. So I taught them how to read those. A lot of the kids weren't interested, but the young girls were. It was so cool to see, because they were totally enthralled and thought it was so strange to have Chrambo written down. There they were with their little siblings on their backs, because if they are older they have to take care of their younger siblings, and bending over my scribblings on the ground, discussing, in Chrambo, how to say the different letters I had written.

It was really encouraging to me and I loved being able to share that with them, although it also broke my heart that I couldn't speak their language but I was teaching them their alphabet. I felt so torn, like I wanted to share this with them, but also like I was encouraging the white man stereotype. Just because I was there learning their language, I didn't feel like I had the right to teach them their alphabet. But I also didn't want to leave these young girls without them knowing that their language was being written down. I was torn between a chance to open the door to Chrambo literacy for them and a feeling of guilt  for being white and teaching them. I don't know if I'm explaining that well, but that's how I felt. I really wanted to get them interested in learning to read and write in Chrambo, but I felt guilty that it was me teaching them.

This happened a few days before we left the village, so I had promised them that if they came back I'd give them the full alphabet, but I never got a chance to. If you could pray for those children who showed a real interest in learning to read and write Chrambo, I would really appreciate it. They are the next generation, of Christians and of villagers, so if a fire for Chrambo literacy can be built in them now, how much stronger will mother-tongue language work be in the future. (By the way, I am working to rectify my leaving them without giving them an alphabet, so please don't write me off as someone who doesn't keep their promises.)

An Adventure in Food

On our last Wednesday there, were were on our way back to the capital city, Yaounde. We hired out a bus to take us, and we had lots of ups and downs on that trip, but one of our ups was when we passed through one check-point. There are various places along the road where the army checks your papers and takes a traveling fee. Also at these check-points are people selling food, so you open the window, give them money, and they give you a bag of peanuts, or whatever they are selling. At one check-point we saw these things that looked like raisins, and we were curious, because they don't have grapes there. So we bought some.

We started eating them, and they were like nuts, but didn't really have any flavor. They were a little bitter and not good, but not inedible (like kola nut). So we pass them around the bus and no one is really impressed. Then we give them to our teammate sitting by the driver. The driver looks over and goes, "No! No! You don't eat that! Who bought that?!" It turns out we had bought a spice. People cook them and put them in their food, but nobody eats them raw. 

Later on we were telling our driver to the airport about what we had done, and he could not stop laughing. He thought it was the funniest thing that these white people had come in and just tried everything. He said, "I'm impressed by missionaries because they aren't afraid to eat things. They just come in and eat whatever they think the locals are eating, and sometimes they eat the funniest things!"
.
We never got into serious trouble as a team, we never offended the king or anything, but we were always doing something not quite right and having other people laugh with us.

A Surprising Encounter With Cameroonian Hospitality

Hospitality is super important to Cameroonians, because sharing time with someone means sharing part of your life with them and building relationships. We walk up to her house, and she's expecting us because she had seen us in church the day before, but this man comes up and starts talking to us. To this day I'm not sure who he is, but he had the same last name as her, so I think he was her brother-in-law. But he comes up and starts chatting with us, and he offers us a kola nut. Now, they have a saying in Cameroon, "He who brings kola, brings life." They love the kola nut and it symbolizes life to them. But it has a very... distinct taste and is not something easily swallowed. He offers each one of us a whole kola nut. We accept it and we break it into sections (it has natural cracks in it which allow it to be broken up and shared), and both start nibbling on a section each. Then we pass some around to the other people around, because that's a polite thing to do and a great way to get rid of it. So we had that to nibble on the whole time we were there. So we could already tell they were really excited we were there, which was nice, but completely unexpected. The tailor shows up a little bit later, but we still are talking to the man about his children, who are all working in Europe, by the way. Then the tailor asks what we want made, so we give her our order. I start to kind of gather my stuff and prepare to leave, but she goes, "Oh no! You can't leave yet! We made food for you." Which we, as good guests, didn't turn down. She serves us a typical dish, fufu with enjamajama. Fufu is ground corn which is then boiled and steam into a ball-shape. You pinch pieces off and eat it with whatever it is served with. It's pretty bland, but filling. Enjamajama is a vegetable leaf similar to spinach, but with none of the flavor. It is also called bitter leaf. It's boiled and served like that, and usually has different spices added to it, depending on who cooked it. The tailor had made her's with lots of spicy pepper, so that was fun. :) We enjoyed the meal and joked about how we had weak white stomachs, so the pepper was hard to eat. After we finished the meal we spent a few more minutes talking, but we left soon after.

But I wanted to share this story because we went to her house on business and left with a bunch of new friends. Her kids were there too, so we chatted with them, and we talked with the old man, and her. Life there is just way different, in this respect. They appreciate friendships over jobs. Even though we were bringing her money, she still wanted to get to know us, and her neighbors came to visit us. It was a great reminder that although our work was important, we were there to build relationships and meet people as well.

All About Niya (pictures to come)

So, I know it would make more sense to start by setting the scene by telling y'all all about the scenery and the town, but I really love this little girl. I wanted to write about her as soon as I could because 1) I knew it would be fun and 2) because I didn't want to forget anything about her. This is all about the smallest child who lived in our (mine and Serena's) family home.

Niya is two and a bit years old. She's turning three in July. She has no sense of privacy and loves getting into everything. The first time we met her, on Thursday, may 22^nd, we didn't think anything remarkable of her. She was just like every other toddler – absolutely adorable, loud, and playful. She was also introduced to us with her Christian name, Ruth, but we soon learned that everyone calls her by her Chrambo name. That was very confusing at first and I thought maybe there were two little girls in our house, but we cleared it up pretty quickly.

After a few days spent with her and playing with her we learned how very... loving she really is. She loves everything everyone else has. We learned the value of knowing “nga!” as compared to “no”. Because she is only three, she doesn't know any English, so even just saying “no” in Chrambo helped us with her. One day we came home and we realized we had forgotten to lock the door. Niya had come in and played with my toothpaste (luckily there was still some left) and lost the cap to my After Bite.

But I don't want to just tell the negatives. When we left she was the hardest one to leave and she started to follow us to the truck, but unfortunately we couldn't take her with us.

Niya is adorable. The first time we did laundry, we asked the “babysitter”, Adela, to help us. She taught us how to scrub clothes by hand and how to rinse them. And then Niya came up. Naturally, she already knew how to wash clothes, so she just reached into the bucket, grabbed a sock and went to work. And so it went, every time we did laundry she would end up washing socks. It was probably the cutest thing in the world. Until she put clean clothes back in the dirty clothes bucket. Then we had to pull out our “nga”, again.

In our last week there Niya greeted us at our door every morning, often with loud bangs and cries to be let in. Who needs an alarm clock when you have a toddler? She followed us around everywhere, including to the bathroom. There were some holes in the tin door, and I saw little eyes peeking in once or twice. One time she wanted to open the door on Serena, but I helped her out by picking up Niya and carrying her to the front of the house.

She knew our names pretty well, but she didn't know us separately. All she knew was that the two white girls in her home were named Karima and Serena and she that's what she said anytime she wanted us. “Karima and Serena. Karima and Serena. Karima and Serena.” It was fun to quiz her and see if she could get our names right, but she usually didn't.

Apparently by the end of our time she didn't want us to leave. She didn't want to come with us, either, but she wanted us to stay with her. We told her she could come in our suitcase, but she said no. She also said all this in Chrambo, and her mom and brothers translated for us.

What was especially cool for me to see, and this is the Linguist in me really coming out, was how much English she started mimicking while we were there. She doesn't speak English, even though she was going to pre-nursery (I'll talk about the school system in another post), and she never knew what we were saying, but at the beginning she would only say a few phrases in English. Before we left, she was saying so many things in English, and with our accents. Don't get me wrong, I love the Cameroonian accent, but it was so cool that she was copying our accents. I was touched.

That's Niya in a nutshell. I hope you get a good feeling of her and you can understand why I teared up having to leave her behind. When she wasn't getting into our things she was the funniest, most energetic little girl, and she wormed her way very deeply into my heart.