Sometimes I go back and read past journal entries. It is always interesting. An old friend of mine once told me that she writes her entries with the belief that no one should or will ever read her work. She told me it is liberating and limitless. This is how Kerouac worked. Not me, I can’t do that. I have always written journals, poems, or stories with my audience waiting somewhere in my mind. I think it has kept me connected to them/you. Isn’t it those connections that help us understand one other? It is true that the craziest and probably the most interesting work comes from the writers who are most able to isolate themselves from the world. I won’t lie, given the right mood, I eat that stuff right up. But it simply is not my style.
What is my style? That is what I rediscover every time I go through my old work. Reading my past work has motivated me to do something. I have decided to take this… ahem… blog more seriously. I still cringe a little whenever I say “blog”. Actually, I’m going with Web Journal. That’s it. I have decided to take this “Web Journal” more seriously. I only know a few of my readers, those who have actively subscribed to this thing. I now want to expose this to any stranger who is genuinely interested in reading about my past and current travels/revelations. I no longer want this Web Journal to only be about my life and lessons of my service here in Cameroon. I also want those who are interested to know a little bit of where I used to be in my head. I want you to read some of my past works, the ones I am very happy I forced myself to write. This will be a very long entry because I am pasting three of my past journal entries in it. I once had them posted on Facebook but have long since deleted them. I don’t really remember my reasons for doing that but I’m sure they were dumb. My intention is to edit a few scenes from my life into this production to show you who I was before I arrived to Meidougou, Cameroon. Before every previously written journal entry I will write a small introduction to explain when and where I was in that part of my life. Enjoy!
I
The first from my past that I’m posting I titled, “Death Cab for Cutie Essay.” I once was obsessed with this band and I can defend my reasons. I still occasionally listen to them but now I don’t really have a favorite band. My music depends on my mood, I guess in a way it always has because my mood back when I wrote this was always a little sad and chill. I wrote this on May 30, 2008. I think I wrote this after my first two semesters in Michigan State University. I recall being in the state of mind where I was transitioning from my High School.2 (Lansing Community College) to my real college experience. LCC really was High School.2, I think you’ll see how this kind of explains the tone of this essay.
Death Cab for Cutie Essay, May 30, 2008:
I remember during high school most of my peers kept a blog. We used the website, ‘livejournal’ to share our thoughts, revelations, and the occasional drama amongst us. I remember closing my account because I came to the realization that the posts became more about the responses of others than my actual ideas. I shared my ideas because I thought I had something to prove, but one day I understood that I had no idea what it was that I was trying to prove. I was just another confused teenager trying to use others to find out who I was. I deleted my ‘livejournal’ account because I didn’t like this trait; I wanted to find out who I was for myself. I can honestly tell you that I think my little theory worked. I have figured out where my comfort is at its maximum when it comes to being my self. I can also tell you that I did need other people too. I needed my closest family members and friends to figure this out, as opposed to openly sharing my ideas with my general peers on ‘livejournal’. This ‘facebook’ note post is sort of a sequel to my livejournal posts. Now I know that every blog is always going to be public simply because that’s what the internet represents. So this post is simply a public update of my life using one of my favorite band’s songs to show my progress and thoughts.
I have been working on a massive compilation of Death Cab for Cutie songs to create a portrait of my life’s timeline. I do realize that this band is one of those “love’m or hate’m” bands. Ben Gibbard (the vocalist) has even said that he would rather be in a polarizing band than a generally liked one. So I apologize if you’re on the side that ‘hates’ Death Cab for Cutie, but this is nevertheless whom I have decided to use.
‘The New Year’
Transatlanticism is by far my favorite Death Cab for Cutie album. I was sixteen when it came out and we all remember what it was like to be sixteen. Their melodies were calm, relaxing, and enlightening. I remember sitting down and just thinking with their quiet melancholic verses in the background. Looking back I think sixteen was my most awkward year, I had just moved from Addis Ababa and I had no desire of staying in Michigan. All I wanted to do was return. My cultured cousin Marco introduced me to this album and I just fell in love with this genre of music. It paralleled my emotions and in a way, it placed my feet towards first being comfortable with the atmosphere that this country releases. In a weird coincidence the title of this album, and even the song embodies my crossing of the Atlantic and longing for my old island from where my previous home was.
‘Technicolor Girls’
Death Cab for Cutie is often listened to by the hopeless romantics that are wary of love. Regrettably, I have lived with this characteristic most of my life, but it is something I have been working on shaking off. “The Forbidden Love EP” contains some pretty significant love songs that did not contribute to shaking off that characteristic. I think I bought the album the summer I graduated from high school. I remember listening to ‘Photobooth’ and ‘405 (Acoustic)’ in my sister’s car driving from Farmington Hills back to Holt. Some of the lyrics reminded me of the days I had with one particular girl I had the pleasure of knowing here in the U.S. ‘Tiny Vessels’ is one of my favorite songs ever written, unfortunately the lyrics are quite accurate on one of the girls that I dated in the past. Like a tattoo this song reminds me of something that I need to always remember.
‘Prove My Hypothesis’
I know that most people will agree with me when I say they’ve had several momentous memories on the ‘Passenger Seat’ of someone else’s car. It’s unbelievable how well Ben Gibbard paints this particular moment so accurately in this song. I have had so many life changing realizations on the passenger seat of some of my close friends’ cars. ‘Soul Meets Body’ reveals a very influential revelation I once had about how humans are meant to balance their thoughts with their feelings. With the help of a very close friend of mine I have recently made a discovery expanding this concept. We analyzed human communication and how a balanced combination of information and attachments helps to better understand other people. ‘Expo 86’ also projects some of my philosophies of life. Life is a constant struggle of up and down, love and loss, accomplishments and failures, connections and space. I think this song does a beautiful job of explaining this heart monitor zigzag type life.
‘Blacking Out the Friction’
I want to dedicate one of these sections to a very annoying paradox. During the course of my life I have connected with certain individuals who have profoundly shaped me. I can honestly say that their company has brought me much wisdom and pain. “It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds But I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all,” These lyrics come from ‘What Sarah Said’. It’s a very sad song, one that does not leave hope for both the listener and the man described in the song. But somehow I have never found it difficult to find comfort in this poetic lyric. The truth is that love creates an infinite amount of both complication and beauty. My most recent favorite Death Cab for Cutie song is ‘Cath…’ The woman in it reminds me of the one that caused me pain (complication) and wisdom (beauty). Alas ‘A Lack of Color’ reminds me of that era too.
‘Scientist Studies’
Unfortunately Death Cab for Cutie does not have songs that share some of my views of patriotism and the importance of family. I have found other bands and songs that provide an outlet for those thoughts. It’s possible that they explore these topics in the future, which I kind of hope they do. For now though I will continue my studies of human connections, international relations, love and finding comfort in life. I hope you all give their new album “Narrow Stairs” a good listen. They continue to evolve and have put their experience to unique and innovative use. I cannot wait to see where these new songs glide to next in the history of my life.
This compilation was excruciating to make because I had to leave out so many beautiful songs. What I ended up doing was simply staying true to this post and simply choosing the ones that have helped me think in the past as well as my absolute favorites. Here is the compilation that I ended up with:
- Prove My Hypothesis - You Can Play These Song With Chords
- Cath… - Narrow Stairs
- Soul Meets Body – Plans
- Photobooth – Forbidden Love EP
- Long Division – Narrow Stairs
- Your New Twin Sized Bed – Narrow Stairs
- A Lack of Color – Transatlanticism
- Scientist Studies – We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes
- Expo ’86 – Tranatlanticism
- Brothers on a Hotel Bed – Plans
- Bend to Squares – Something About Airplanes
- Tiny Vessels – Transatlanticism
- The New Year – Transatlanticism
- What Sarah Said – Plans
- A Movie Script Ending – The Photo Album
- Little Fury Bugs – We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes
- Army Corps of Architects – Studio X Sessions
- Title Track – We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes
- 405 (Acoustic) – Forbidden Love EP
- Styrofoam Plates – The Photo Album
- Blacking Out the Friction/Brand New Love – The John Byrd EP
- Steadier Footing – The Photo Album
- Passenger Seat – Transatlanticism
- Stability – The Stability EP
- Transatlanticism – Transatlanticism
II
The second from my past I titled, “Made in: Earth.” I wrote it on June 20, 2008. I recall being very proud of this one when I finished it. The summer I wrote this I was flying with inspiration. I was feeling the confidence of not only the grades I was earning but the ideas I was collecting from all of my classes. I was combining my past travels with the theories I was learning from my classes. Intellectually, it was an exciting time. I remember attempting to drench myself with as many conversations as I possibly could. I have always tried to articulate where I come from and who I am and I think this entry was a great articulation of where I was at at that time. I actually still agree with most of the ideas I exposed in this.
Made in: Earth, June 20, 2008:
A few weeks ago I came home after class and I asked my mom and older sister what it meant to be Mexican. Isis refused to answer but my mom ended up showing me a forwarded email of the different ways Mexicans use the word, "Chingar." This was funny to me, and even a little bit true to what it is to be Mexican, but I know there is a far far deeper definition.
I was inspired by what a Nigerian author said about how Americans view Africans. Her name is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and she spoke of the different ridiculous questions her American friends asked her about life in Africa. The examples she gave were not surprising to me because I too experienced the same thing. “Did you ride an elephant to school? Was there even a school?” At first I was frustrated by their ignorance but now I have realized that ignorance is the first step to acceptance. The truth is people asked simply because they had no idea.
The other day I left the same class and had a brief discussion of the British’s Empire and how they spread liberalism to the world. I asked myself if the Aztec’s would have eventually modernized without the Spanish colonization. My friend pointed out that it only took a few hundred white men to wipe out an entire civilization. He brought this up trying to prove his point that the Aztecs were probably going to be wiped out. But I fail to see how this was a good thing for the Spaniards, what they did was commit genocide.
I have recently decided to support Obama, one of my main reasons is that he knows exactly what it means to be American. What is funny is that I don’t think most Americans truly know what it means to be American. This loss of identity is essentially what this is note is about.
What am I? I was born in Lincoln, Nebraska. I was raised by a very affectionate Mexican couple. My father was raised in a small farming pueblo, as was my mother. I was raised in Africa, I lived there for 3/5ths of my life. I have traveled to many countries. My second language eventually turned into my first (Spanish to English). I go to a public American university, I am a proud Spartan. My favorite bands are Café Tacuba and Death Cab for Cutie. I plan to return to Africa to begin my career. These very events and facts have greatly contributed to me finding myself.
Like Obama I went through an identity crisis, I had to ask many questions to be where I am today. I have often wondered why my American peers have not undergone the same thing. A good majority of my American friends laugh at their status of being a mutt, “quarter Italian, half Irish, one tenth Cherokee, etc.” Why? Do they simply settle for American simply because it is convenient? It is true that the majority of them were American, but one must continue with the question: What is American?
Obama said in his very famous speech four years ago that to be American is to understand that we are all here in the pursuit of our happiness. That all (wo)men are created equal, and this in essence is what it means to be American. I am proud of this, but I also know that this is not an American idea. Europeans were not the only ones to go through an era of “Enlightenment.” All men are created equal means that ALL men are created equal, and there for everyone (including non-Americans) have the ability to come up with this very beautiful truth. Indians and Chinese went through an era of enlightenment but nobody talks about it. Mexicans created the most accurate calendar ever created but people refuse to call that science.
American white people are the first to jump to the racist jokes. Friends and famous comedians have come up with some very funny ones, but why do they all feel so comfortable making them? They poke fun of proud and progressed cultures. Yet there is still to be a word powerful enough to provoke a white American to violence and anger. Why? Is it a superiority complex that Americans feel it is okay to suppress an opposing culture? Is it the American’s way of softening the situation? Is it the American’s way of trying expose themselves to another way of life? Is it pure racism?
The truth is, Americans are mutts.
I had a conversation with two black women, one was dark but raised in a white neighborhood, the other was lighter black (she had a white father) but raised in a black neighborhood. I thought it was ironic that the lighter one felt blacker than the other. The darker woman felt more comfortable with her white friends, but the lighter woman felt more comfortable with her black friends. This is the melting pot that we live in.
There are Americans who do not care for their heritage. There are Americans like me and Obama who are obsessed with finding out where we came from and who we are and why. There are Americans who are loving but ignorant and Americans who are hateful but intelligent. The absolute truth here is the message we were told in The Lion King. We are one. We are all capable of the same thing yet we strive to be different than others and sometimes can’t stand to be alone.
Mexicans too are becoming mutts, Mexicans have actually been melting for a long time now between the native and Europeans. Now Mexicans are melting with other cultures.
The Nigerian author I mentioned above said this, “If I was a white American watching TV, and movies portraying Africans as skinny black people who have deteriorated their own governments I would think that they are stupid.” I felt a very strong pain when she said this. I have met Africans who have challenged me and pushed me to become a wise and open person. She was right to recognize this, her goal in life is to change this international view of the Africans and push Africans to do the same. Africans are proud and they should be, they have so much to be proud of. I have seen them survive through the toughest situations and become doctors and teachers. I have seen them survive oppressive governments. They are stronger than anyone could ever know, but the truth is they (Europeans and Americans) are capable of seeing this inspiring trait if they just continue asking those questions, even if they are ignorant at first.
So what am I? I am a Mexican American. I put Mexican first for a reason. There are several reasons for this.
My heritage is one of the very few things that cannot be taken away from me. It is sad that I went through a phase of allowing others to push me from nationality to nationality. My Mexican cousins called me Gringo while my American cousins accused me of showering in camel spit in Africa. I had African friends who also refused to accept me as a friend for the color of my skin. There was a time when I too just wanted to be nothing, maybe this is why Americans choose to not find their true heritage. I pushed through this confusion though, I knew there was a reason people were proud to be what they were.
I eventually realized that there was a difference between hatred and heritage. It’s the same reason we can love our American brothers who are in rival universities. For me, I am proud to be a Spartan and am ready to defend my school. Unfortunately when it comes to nations, they defend their honor by belittling another country. This is not the way it is supposed to be. Competition is healthy but too much of it can lead to hate. Too little competition can also lead to hate.
I am Mexican before American because my heart pumps Mexican blood. I love Mexico. I love Mexico for teaching my father what it means to be a hard worker which has allowed me to learn from him. I love Mexico for making the best food in the world. I love Mexico for its progress and achievements. I love Mexico for giving me some of the best summers I have ever experienced. I love Mexico for its music and for its surviving traditions. I love Mexico because it has taught me the importance of family unity and family strength. Yo soy Mexicano porque mi familia es Mexicana. México representa tradición y compasión.
I too am a proud American. Without this country I would not have the wisdom and intelligence that I have today. This country has allowed me to build a spine. I have some very powerful memories in this country and without it, I would not be able to pursue the grand ideas that one day I will introduce to the world. This country represents a home to the homeless, a nest for the wingless, and a school for the international citizen. America has given birth to a handful of mentors that I look up to.
As for my African side, well I hope to help them some day in the manner that they helped me. I have seen their potential and hopefully someday I will expose that to the world.
III
The final entry from my past is probably my favorite. I wrote, “From Detroit to Dhaka,” on April 12, 2009. I wrote it after finishing my internship in Bangladesh. The only traveling I had done out of the country after moving away from Ethiopia was to Canada and my visits to Mexico. I was craving to travel so bad that when I arrived to Dhaka, all of my collected inspiration, education and motivation burst everywhere I went. I loved my experiences in Bangladesh and this entry keeps a vivid memory of my travels. I went through a lot within three short months, it was an indescribable (in one word at least) experience.
From Detroit to Dhaka, April 12, 2009:
In my previous note I mentioned how excited I was to travel again. I said that it was going to be like “going home” because that was the life that I was raised in. Well, I was right.
Looking back, I truly had one of the greatest times of my life there. I was stripped to my core, I had to make new friends, begin my first internship, understand a new culture, manage a long distance relationship, and my goal was to complete my trip with success in all of these.
‘Rediscovering Diverse Connections’
The friends that I made, fucking ‘A’, I just realized there is no way to truly explain to you how grateful I am for my new friends. Every friend I made helped me in one way or another. I was surrounded by people who not only had the same interests as me, but they inspired me.
I met a couple who courageously packed up their bags after finishing grad school and spontaneously flew to Dhaka looking for jobs and a brand new life. Their first night in Dhaka they stayed in a cockroach infested filthy muggy hotel room, now they share a beautiful apartment in a hip part of town. They are now living a life that they will always explain as one of the happiest times of their lives, the kind seen in movies, the kind all people wish they had. I am also grateful for their friendship because they helped me through some hard times (a breakup and the times when I was too inebriated to function).
I met a woman who wasted absolutely no time nor opportunities. She made it a goal to meet someone interesting every single day; this led her to unique adventures like acting in Bangladeshi soap operas. Our conversations kept reminding me that I was in the right place. We shared ideas, experiences, and I found inspiration in her unique approach in intertwining art with her career.
My roommate probably surprised me the most. He was very different from the friends I made. We would always talk about our experiences and discuss what we learned. Our conversations on leadership guided me to many revelations. He pushed me to exercise my faith, something that I’ll never be able to ignore. He took me to my first ever bible study, ironically it was in a Muslim country.
I made a friend who I should have spent more time with. Our first encounter we had an in-depth conversation about the complexities of NGO contribution and correlated it with how cultural misunderstandings cause inefficient outcomes, this led us to a very interesting epiphany that there is a theory missing in the Dependency vs. Modernization theory debates. Our second encounter we did as the Bangladeshis did… we were going to play some cricket but instead we decided to scout out pretty girls at a local market. This is more of an international activity, but it was a Bangladeshi market!
My host family was extremely kind. Their oldest daughter was actually my boss and now good friend. Their middle daughter took me to some truly cultural local activities, she took me to an exhibition on the lives of the people of Dhaka, we went to an art gallery where all of the paintings were done by Bangladeshi’s, and my favorite was our trip to the annual book fair. I also became close with the workers. I played chess with the chauffer and talked regularly with the guard of the house. These men displayed a true noble life, I will always respect these humble men.
This list could seriously go on forever. Nevertheless though, I had a vibrant social life, one filled with good and interesting people, people that changed my life for the better and forever.
‘Professional Lessons’
I worked for an organization named BRAC. It no longer has an official acronym anymore (it has changed like four times), but they like to tell their visitors that now it sort of stands for Building Resources Across Communities. We had a team of six interns in the division that I worked in; our project was to write the Microfinance Annual Report of 2008. For those of you who don’t know, microfinance is basically the process of providing loans for the poor but also intertwining this with other actions like providing them health, agriculture or educational benefits.
Now keep in mind that this was the first time I have ever been in a professional workplace. I mean sure I can call working as a “Guest Service Representative,” in the very prestigious Hollywood Video can be defined as professional but I don’t. I think there’s a difference between high school student minimum wage jobs and in-depth career paths that people spend four years in college preparing for.
Anyways it was my first sort of a real job, seeing how it was an internship I don’t think I can call it a truly “real” job yet. My experiences in BRAC led me to many realizations. Now I know I belong in the developing world, at least for a large portion of my career. I’m not sure yet where specifically but I know it’s in the third world community. The main fundamental reason for this is this, I believe that I was exposed to a world where the people have many complex challenges/problems and I feel a certain responsibility to help solving them. To whom much is given, much is expected and I have always felt that I have been provided with nothing but opportunities, as a result this is my reason for working and living there.
Another realization I faced was one that I am very grateful for. I volunteered to be the team coordinator of our team, and even though I think there were some places where I could have done better, I learned even more from the times I did well. Those times made me realize that I could actually be a good leader someday. Working in BRAC forced me to meet many employees, both inspiring leaders/directors and not so driven drone type workers. I met people who resemble the kind of man I want to be someday in the workplace. Something I will never forget.
‘Understanding a New Culture’
Traveling through Bangladesh was mind blowingly life changing. If there is anything that I do regret is not studying Bangla (the local language) enough. Luckily what I did learn helped me get by both in the villages and the city.
Something that the streets of Dhaka taught me was simply being street smart. Dhaka can be a very dangerous city if one is not careful. The city is dirty, crowded, loud and alive. The traffic is chaotic, I remember seeing blood on a busy road on the way to work one day only to realize that there was a dead body caused by a bus hitting a naïve pedestrian. A ride through town took forever, it did not help my headaches that honking is like breathing, well maybe not like breathing because even breathing could be hard sometimes due to the polluted air (many citizens wore mouth & nose covers). But this is all the semi-bad stuff, I didn’t even mention the casual urinating on the sidewalks or the regular muggings.
My favorite part was probably the rickshaw rides (especially in the villages). It was very inexpensive to live there, the restaurants were amazing, the recreational clubs were a great place to hang out and the city always had interesting places to visit. It helped a lot that the company was always cool and fun. I made a friend though that reminded me that cultural differences should always be at the back of foreigner’s mind, not to mention respected. We started and ended as friends, but somewhere in the middle we almost ended up as enemies! Let me elaborate while still being vague.
We were tight from the beginning, she is a patriotic Bangladeshi college student with a western flair to her interests. I am simply a Mexican, born in the U.S. that was raised in Africa. We had a friendship that I would say was probably attracted by our opposite yet mirror personalities. She got very angry at me and my American and British friend one day for making too many jokes about Bangladesh, we simply did not understand why she was so angry because here in the West, we all know that cultural jokes are favored. That fight grew into something a little more personal where we looked for flaws within each others personalities to win our disputes. It grew larger and larger until finally we apologized to each other. We realized that we could overcome our cultural differences, a hurdle that I never thought I would run into but glad I overcame.
Sure the meeting new people, eating good food, learning a new language, understanding a different religion, witnessing different lifestyles, etc. were all interesting and eye opening but the simple beauty of traveling and seeing the beautiful countryside touched me in a way that the others could not have. I’ll never forget one rickshaw ride I took, I saw a father planting rice with his son, on the same rickshaw ride I saw school children laugh together walking home, I saw tired farmers gather around tea shops discussing life and probably women, all of this happened in the gorgeous countryside. My favorite part of Bangladesh that I saw was in the Srimongal, a rare hilly side of Bangladesh where thousands of acres are devoted to wonderful smelling tea gardens and delicious tasting pineapple plants. The top of one of these hills exposed scenery that no photograph could do justice to.
‘A New Relationship with Relationships’
A lesson that I seriously did not plan on was a far more personal one, one that was very painful and had the potential to ruin my stay in Bangladesh (and in many cases… did). We all know that breakups are not easy, fuck we all know that they have the potential to take people down the worst of directions. I have a new respect for lovers who survive a long distance relationship, because we could not even survive one where I was gone for only three months (but I blame this on the girl, not me). It made me realize many things about the kind of woman I want in the future.
I’m seriously tired of women who do not know what they want, they’re the heart breakers because they waste entire relationships re-realizing the same thing over and over again. They’re the ones who learn the lesson but never do anything about it. I’m tired of the women who never change, the ones who are addicted to love, the Taylor Swifts, the one’s who cannot live alone for more than one month, fuck them.
I try not to be too picky when it comes to women, I like to be surprised. I do know this though, that I will not waste any more time with women who are incapable of supporting their own ambitions let alone mine.
‘Final Comments’
All in all I am extremely happy with my travels to Bangladesh. I will continue to promote traveling to all Americans. Nothing but lessons (easy/difficult, fun/challenging, simple/complex) will come out of it. You will see beauty; you will see God’s intricate details all around you and you will find inspiration and challenges that will change you forever. I loved Bangladesh and I will return someday.
And those are the three I wanted you to read. If you were brave (or bored) enough to make it all the way through I want to give you guys a challenge. Whoever can name the songs and artists from which all of my entry titles are based on, I will send a postcard from Cameramaroon. I am not referring to the three from this post, but from the official ones. I will need the winner’s address so please send it to me somehow. I hope you’re enjoying what I have had to write thus far.
Carlos Jesus Fernandez-Torres
February 25, 2011 (Happy Golden Birthday Emma)
