I’ve got it covered with cans of food, filtered water and pictures of you and I’m not coming out until this is all over.

 

Think about the connections you make with people. How have you formed your friendships? How have you nurtured your relationships? What led some of them to deteriorate? Who amongst your friends are coming or came to your wedding? Who are you going to share a meal with in a few minutes? Which of your Facebook friends would go to your funeral? We are social beings. Our relationships help define ourselves. They are there for us and we reciprocate. Colleagues, family members, neighbors, lovers, co-workers, childhood friends, they all help mold the way you see the world.

Today I lost a friend. He was the first friend I made here in Meidougou. I celebrated the 2011 New Years with him. He took me to the best bar and we danced without the countdown. I had such a good time that I remember looking at the clock in my cell phone and realizing that I missed the first three minutes of the New Year. Peace Corps selected him as my Community Host, a role that he took very seriously. He introduced many community members to me and translated practically every conversation I had for the first few months. His name was Mustapha, a 23 year old man who owned the only pharmacy in Meidougou.

When I heard he had passed away I wasn’t surprised. A few weeks ago he lost half of his weight. He had been sick on and off for practically my entire first year here. I didn’t realize it was so serious until a few weeks ago. I should have realized much earlier the gravity of his situation. I messed up. I should have insisted harder to take him to the nearest hospital. I knew he was lying when he told me he was feeling a little better. The 2000 FCFA I gave him the other day wasn’t enough. I know I had the means to prevent this. Fuck. He was sick for a year though, I'm positive it was a very serious illness that the health care system was unable to handle.

There are an obscene amount of problems in our little planet. We turn our heads when it gets too real, well at least the people who can afford to do. I know none of you know this stranger and realistically you have no reason to care but this is not stopping me from wanting to share who he was and what his death has made me realize. I have roughly 900 and some odd number friends on Facebook. This man, Mustapha, was not one of them. Not because we weren’t friends but because he couldn’t afford a computer. He couldn’t afford many things. He once asked to borrow 5000 FCFA and I selfishly refused.

Mustapha was raised here in the Adamawa region of Cameroon. I don’t know anything from his childhood but I know what he has done recently. He made a living with his pharmacy and also made money selling cell phone credit. He is one of the rare Cameroonians that actually volunteered. Every time UNICEF came to do a mosquito net campaign he worked for free. Anytime UNHCR asked him to distribute food to the refugees he would do what he could. He understood very clearly what it meant to be part of a community. He left his daughter a wonderful example of what it means to be selfless. He also helped me and other Peace Corps Volunteers with our projects. He recently helped a PCV empower a women’s group, he helped them to save money every week. They now own a fridge where they sell yogurt to the community.

His friendship has made me contemplate all of my friendships. It has made me think of the quality of a friend I have been. Lucky for me most of them are conveniently listed on Facebook. But how many of these friendships have I continued to nurture? These social networks have completely redefined relationships. I have a unique story with everyone who I’ve friended. Together all of these little interactions have turned me into me. Surely they will not all attend my wedding or funeral but we are nonetheless acquaintances, acquaintances in a global community. I now know better then ever what it means to be in a community because of Mustapha’s example. His life has inspired me to do a little project. I want to be a better social being in this continuously changing social ecosystem. What do I have to do to accomplish this?

I went to Mustapha’s family’s compound earlier tonight. I bought his mother sugar so she could provide her guests with sweetened tea (a custom here in Cameroon). When I arrived no one was there. They all traveled to the small village he died in. It is Muslim tradition to be buried the same day one dies and in the same place. Mustapha was taken there this morning to see a traditional healer, his family got tired of the medical center failing on his health care. Unfortunately there was nothing the traditional healer could do either. I waited with a small group of people for the family to return. When they arrived the women cried and howled. In unison they let their tears fall onto the ground. I remember when his mother got off of the motorcycle she almost collapsed. When the villagers heard the family return they all gathered in the compound. All of the women screamed and cried together inside while the men mourned outside by the fire. We stayed silent. It was surreal. It was surreal to see so many people come pay their respects. The mourning period will last for the next few days. I wanted to cry. Listening to the women’s pain struck me so deeply that I too wanted to collapse. They held nothing back, they cried so loudly that Mustapha would hear them. The influential figures of the village stayed until midnight. They embraced the mother with very real condolences. Meidougou lost a selfless soul today.

I now know how I can accomplish being a better social being. Here in Meidougou I will spend more time getting to know my fellow villagers better. I vow to not just hastily pass by them without a conversation. The northern Cameroonian way is to greet everyone individually (trust me, I am not exaggerating). Here, everyone spends at least a minute to greet everyone. I used to find this annoying but I now understand. This tradition has inspired me to greet every single friend I have on Facebook. I want to practice this at least once with every single one of you. I want to improve how I balance my cyber social life with my actual one by using the Cameroonian way. This is what Mustapha’s life has inspired me to do.

I want to not only dedicate this entry in his memory but I also am dedicating my second year of service to him too.

Merci Mustapha, pour tous que tu ma montré.

Carlos Jesus Fernandez-Torres

January 12, 2012

Nothing but Crippling Doubt

Nothing but Crippling Doubt

I vote for PEACE

called the divided tribes.

But in this land stability

equals submission.

These villagers pose as

wide eyed citizens.

Posing

because their private ballots stalls

carry public holes on their walls.

I refuse to vote

whisper none united voices.

Fear is braided with doubt

Here, only the "Fou" shouts

And here we live,

in the land of giant shrimps.

Carlos Jesus Fernandez-Torres

Para mi abuelo

I have so many faults.

Like the earth I tremble.

I break and separate.

I get over heated and explode.

I flood my static with tears.

I self destruct and

and

rebuild. And

I know you did too. And

you planted seeds. And

started from itch

to teach your kids how to truly be

rich.

You are half of your son

and a quarter of me.

And. You came to my sister for her wedding day.

I was too young to see clearly.

When will you come see me?

Too young to know what you built after the

scratch. But you sculpted it through your son.

And your son became your sun.

And he became mine.

And I still want to speak to you,

Even though I have no idea what’d I say.

To your statue I’ll continue to pray

in my times of earthquakes, hurricanes and decay.

With only the few memories of you,

hoy is not today,

Carlos J. Fernandez-Torres

Left to Right

When I watched I stared.

When I heard I listened.

After staring I painted,

After listening I sang.

The portrait contains what keeps me

restrained,

I cautiously combined the colors to convey the

pain.

But my sacrifices are not all cold

rain.

For the song that I sing,

expresses absolutely no

sting.

Because even though you can’t see it

it is brighter than yellow.

This song is my left.

It is me not leaving.

My painting is my right.

It is not always correct.

Right to Left.

Carlos Jesus Fernandez-Torres

So I think I can solve all problems by myself well never mind, never mind, never mind, never mind, never mi-i-i-i-i-ind

Dear future PCVs,

I regret that I didn’t get to spend enough time with you guys, it was especially rough that I was not able to watch all of your introductions to the staff. I honestly think I didn’t have enough time to express to you what trainee life is going to be like. I remember talking a lot about life as PCV and not enough as a PCT. Well, the purpose of this letter is to tell you all what I feel I was unable to tell you with my short time with you regarding the experiences you will have as a trainee.

I want you guys to hold something close to your hearts in your moments of what seems like weakness. I’m referring to the moments when you wet the photographs of your family with the tears that slide off your nose. I’m talking about the days when you re-ask yourselves the questions you once seemed to be so sure about. These days, they are an uphill struggle, they are also days that you will experience a lot throughout your first three months. They are not easy.

You will only get through these days by being there for each other. The beauty about the strangers to your sides is that you share one infinitely binding trait. You all have the traveler’s soul. You have all sacrificed not eating your mother’s food to try someone else’s mother’s food. Not because you don’t like your mom’s food but because you are compelled to see the way other mothers around the world express their love to their children. You have the courage to experience life’s several emotions in a different way. Always remember that you are connected by the inspirations and aspirations you share.

Sometimes training can be exhausting not to mention confusing. You will discover that you won’t be able to count the number of challenges you’ve experienced in the first week with your hands. You will inevitably run into very difficult obstacles. French will be the majority of the bricks that construct these seemingly unbreakable walls. Just remember it is not only conversations that bind humans together. You can connect by showing your host brother that you too can juggle a soccer ball or know how to pretend that you can remove your thumb. Instead of using those fingers to count your challenges, use them to throw a Frisbee to your new friends (Cameroonians and Trainees).

Only together will you guys thrive. Use your combination of diverse expertise to answer questions anthropologists have been asking for decades. Answer these difficult questions together. Get your mind’s hands dirty by asking why Africa has a very different struggle than the United States, the Cameroonian rainforest is the perfect environment to have these reflections. I witnessed your inspiration simply by the way you guys gazed out of your windows on our bus ride to Hotel Jeuvance. Expose that inspiration to one another because that will be the engine to your inevitable successes.

After serving as a PCV in Cameroon for almost a year I cannot tell you that you will not fail. At least one of your projects will fail. You will at least lose the trust of one person. You will lose yourself at least one time. You will forget why you are here at least one time. These are facts that will lead you to want to return to the arms of your loved ones. You will catch yourself contemplating the kind of hypothetical thoughts you would ask on your flight home. They will sound like, “well at least I tried,” or, “at least I got to eat a mango on top of a mango tree,” or, “at least I got to see what development work is really about.” Instead of ending the sentence that starts with, “at least I,” try asking yourself, “What am I at most capable of in this very situation?” Throw your intellectual and spiritual limits away in the same way that Cameroonians throw away plastic. Throw them on the ground and keep climbing, but remember to always do it together.

Life as a trainee is mostly an uphill battle. The prospective you must always keep is the view you’ll get from the top. But let me remind you again, it is much easier overcoming the inevitable obstacles together. Your new friends will become family. Good luck and I hope to see all of you when you swear in.

Sept. 28, 2011

Carlos J. Fernandez-Torres

All the world’s ills sitting on chrome 24inch wheels, like that.

If you asked me one year ago why I joined the Peace Corps, I would have or probably did give a very superficial answer.

“I couldn’t find a job.”

“None of the internships that liked me paid anything worthwhile.”

“I am not ready to go back to school.”

“I gotta get back to seeing the world.”

These are the normal answers I gave. That’s right, none of my answers to this question mention anything about actually volunteering. What is a volunteer? Why is it important to volunteer? What does a good volunteer (international or domestic) actually accomplish?

I have always known I wanted to live the majority of my life as an expatriate. The friends that I have connected with the most throughout my life have been the people with the traveler’s spirit. They are people with actual ambitions to try something new, to live somewhere different. Expatriates (well a good chunk of them anyways) tend to have this spirit. Sure I have been comfortable in Mexico and the US but I never truly felt like I belonged. I belong with people like me but from different places. Peace Corps was just a way to jump start my return to traveling, not to actually volunteer. It was completely a selfish reason.

However… my reasons for staying in Cameroon are completely different. My first year back living overseas has reminded me of not the traveler’s spirit, but that of the volunteer’s. Thank God I have reconnected with this very fundamental necessity.

Let me list you some reasons of why volunteers are needed:

-When the earthquake struck Port au Prince, citizens actually believed it was the apocalypse. They waited for Jesus to show up.

-There is an ongoing war that is compared to WWII going on in the Democratic Republic of Congo. They say the war has ended but then why and how is it that people don’t even know what the concept of free will is there.

-When Hurricane Katrina wreaked havoc on New Orleans people compared the city to a third world country.

-What is said to be the most prosperous region in the world (Scandinavia) has recently had an unfathomable attack on innocent people by one of its own citizens.

In every community that the sun light reaches there are challenges waiting to be overcome. One does not have to be rich in order to contribute. If he or she has the will to help, the sense of unity to contribute, the selfless desire to proudly overcome that challenge, then they are qualified to be a volunteer. I am not referring to Peace Corps Volunteers merely volunteers. The community does not have to be in a developing country in order to have volunteers.

Why am I here? Why have I stayed this long? because there are challenges here in Meidougou. I am a member of this community now, not just that, but I am a very unique member of this community. I am an outsider who has sacrificed time away from his own family to help out in any way I can.

Meidougou has so many challenges; I don’t even know where to start. There are not enough teachers, not enough nurses, the gov’t cannot pay the salaries of their social workers, people do not trust each other, they do not see the benefits of volunteering, poverty is rampant, any type of health issue you can think of hides in concessions all over the town. Problems, problems, problems and the lack of will and solidarity to turn them into solutions.

Why am I here? To do my part. I signed up for this and damn it I am going to do everything I am capable of to tackling the infinite number of problems that plague my new home. I must never forget to do this wherever I live in the future. Volunteering is necessary because it is the action of compassion, unity, courage and hard work. Volunteering is a humbling action that every capable citizen of the world should consider. Living in an impoverished nation like Cameroon has constantly exposed me to the consequences of poverty and fear, consequences that exist all over the world.

Now turn off your computers and sail your selfless soul.

Carlos Jesus Fernandez-Torres

September 15, 2011

The glass is full, the glass is broke

A few days ago I saw a volunteer say goodbye to a post-mate. Sometimes a volunteer will be placed in the same town, allowing them to work together for the limited time they have. Post-mates more than not end up getting very close. Together they get to be the intertwined string that forms a rope.

When the volunteer said goodbye to his post-mate he had to hide his overflowing watery eyes. The woman wrapped around his arms let hers flow. They became more than friends during the short time they were allowed together. They are now lifetime friends. Whenever they reunite in the future they will experience overwhelming joy. Their conversations will reignite their souls from the connected memories of their shared humbling experiences.

How do I know this will happen? How am I so confident?

Although these two specific people I’m referring to does not include me, I did experience the same heartbreak two months ago. Recently I too had to experience saying goodbye to one of my post-mates. I had the rare pleasure of attending her gonging-out ceremony. This is the ceremony when volunteers officially become RPCVs, a title that she will wear with pride for the rest of her life. During the ceremony the attendees get the opportunity to say a few words regarding their service. When I stood up to recite the speech I had prepared for her I was unable to speak. I was too afraid of tearing up. I had to cut my words in half, something my post-mate did not deserve, for she deserved every word I wanted to dedicate to her.

These are the kinds of bonds you form when you serve. Volunteers share everything from near death experiences to preparing meals together that it becomes nearly impossible to not love your peers. They have your back and you have theirs. You become colleagues as well. You bounce ideas off each other for community projects. The team you inevitably form exponentially improves your work.

There are days when volunteers need what we call, ‘mental health days.’ These are the days when you want to go “home.” These are the days when you break down from the nearly impassible obstacles. These are the days when you want to close yourself from the country you convince yourself everyday you belong in. These are the days when you need, your post-mate.

Together you will share beers and tears, reciprocate respect and trust, and organize time wasting activities. Your post-mate is the kid on the other side of the see-saw, keeping you up and helping you down. You guide each other through relationships, losses, longings, pain, accomplishments, everything.

It was not easy saying good-bye, but it was a ‘good’ bye because of the unforgettable experiences we now share. I want to dedicate this entry is for every volunteer that has ever had to experience this loss, but indescribable gain of friendship.

For you will continue to be post-mates in this ever connecting world.

Carlos J. Fernandez-Torres

September 2, 2011

Alright, don't worry even if things end up a bit too heavy

Carlos, what do you want to do for the rest of your life?

Travel?

Why travel? Why the question mark?

Because I’ve been doing it for most of my life and because I’m not completely sure about that answer.

Do you feel good about that answer?

I do, I like learning new things. When you travel, that tends to happen.

When you didn’t travel, did you learn new things?

Well of course. During the times I was alone I learned, during the multiple conversations I had with good friends too.

So technically, if you lived in one spot you would learn new things too, maybe you should find another reason or defend it with a clearer explanation.

It is something I’m used to. Lets go back to the original question, I like traveling because I get to see the world. The world is a fascinating place, you do not discover the world when you stay in one town your whole life. Sure there are countries that offer most types of climates and terrains but not languages or food.

But when you eat at restaurants you order the same things anyways. If you stayed in the country that was your favorite you could just do that, couldn’t you?

I guess, but sometimes a conversation with a new friend that I met in a different location will encourage me to try something new. Sometimes that something new is better. So in a sense, I want to keep traveling to see which is the best, or simply to keep looking for something better.

Okay, so I guess its safe to say that you want to travel for the rest of your life. Are there more goals on the original question?

I want to serve people. Mostly the people who are looking to be helped. People who are looking to improve their lives for the better by experiencing something different.

So technically they don’t even have to be poor, why do you want to serve people?

First of all, poor is a stupid word. I’m positive that in the eyes of some billionaires I would be considered poor. I don’t consider the dadas in my concession to be poor and they live in a very “poor” country. Poor can mean bad quality, people with low incomes don’t necessarily have bad quality lives. I have met several people who may or may not make more money than I do and are generally cleaner, more respectful, more giving and genuinely good people. That doesn’t mean that they are “poor.” So yes, I do want to just help people who want to be helped. I just have to make sure I’m qualified to help them.

Okay, it seems that you are pretty confident about that. What is it that you want to be qualified in, in order to help people who want to improve their lives?

I’m not sure. Living here for a while has exposed me to some problems that may (or may not) be leading people to a crash. There are an abundance of health issues here. But then I get into conversations with some friends here that tell me public restrooms in the U.S. are no cleaner (germs wise) than a public restroom here. Or that washing your hands for 30 seconds in the U.S. really doesn’t do anything more than what one would think (other than waste precious water). And to be honest, the biggest health problems in the U.S. seem to be psychological ones, there seems to be less of that in “developing” countries. I don’t know which type of health problem I would rather have but I think I have an idea of which type of health problem I would rather be in the process of helping.

So you want to go into health?

Actually I take that back, I don’t know which one I would rather be involved with. But to answer your question, no, I don’t want to be in health. Personally, I don’t think I’m that great of an example of somebody mentally and physically healthy.

Soo, you want to help improve people’s lives, you want to travel and you don’t want to work in health?

Correct.

You have told a lot of people that you are thinking about staying in development or diplomacy, sometimes you even mention business.

I’m pretty set on choosing one of these three. I do think it’s a pipe dream but sometimes I dream about writing screenplays for a living. They would be films on the world’s… problems. So I would say one of those four. Traveling has exposed me to several of the world’s inefficiencies. I think there is a lot of money in improving those inefficiencies. That’s where the business idea comes from. But I’ve never been good at handling money (at least money that is mine), I don’t think I would be a very good investor either though. Sometimes I think I’m good at settling disputes but I don’t think that’s what diplomacy is. Diplomacy, at least these days, seems like shopping in the local market here in Meidougou. Everybody is just trying to get the best deal for themselves while trying to rip the other person off. I thought modern economics solved that problem but people aren’t seeing the benefits of cooperation. So if diplomacy is like business, I think I better stay out of it.

It seems like you have ruled out two. Looks like you’re either going to become a screenplay writer or a… international development worker (?) ?

Yeah, looks like I’m going to be poor for a long time too.

It’s familiar but not too familiar, but not too not familiar.

 Here in Cameroon everywhere is a bus stop, I mean this both literally and philosophically.

I’m at a meeting, a women's meeting. We call them village saving and loan associations where the mommas come every week to save a few hundred francs BOOM a woman pops out her boob to feed her baby. I’m on a bus riding to the capital of my BOOM a woman pops out her boob to feed her malnourished baby. I walk down the street BOOM another boob, and another and another and another. I probably see an average of about twelve boobs a day, and I don’t mean six pairs.

It’s the little cultural differences that crack me up here. For instance one of my favorite socially acceptable things to do here is to pick your nose. There is so much damn dust that people just spend their time digging their noses for gold. I feel freer here, ask my older sister. She used to poke fun at me for the mining I would do. Here, I am FREE!

I remember episodes of ‘Friends’ where Chandler and Joey kept two pets, a duck and a chicken. The randomness of these fowls made the show funnier. However, here you will see random chickens everywhere. In fact, sometimes it just doesn’t feel right without them. Whether it’s in a fancy restaurant or a chicken running in between your legs in a crowded bus, the chickens run free here. Goats, sheep, even cows lead free lives here. Its interesting how so many vegetarians who come to serve here end up eating meat because they see that the animals run free.

I was walking with my friend Andrew to his house the other day and we saw a little monkey just chillin outside one of the houses. Apparently it was the family’s pet. That was another pet on ‘Friends’, Ross had a pet monkey. Here, it is simply normal.

Cramming a family of five on a motorcycle, or people that travel to Nigeria so they can come back with two motorcycles on the back (packed up of course) is the standard. A bus that is supposed to hold 30, they somehow find a way to pack 50. Again, normal. You have to crawl like Spiderman to get to your seat sometimes (actually always). I can’t tell you how many times I’ve jumped out of the window to get out, it is simply easier.

Actually, traveling here deserves its own post. It’s such a pain in the ass, yet sometimes it’s hilarious and fun. I’ll give it an entry some other time.

Everyone here knows how to dance. It’s awesome. The babies, the kids, even the grandmas cut the sand with their beat producing heals. I’ll play music while the kids play with the blocks I bought them and their shoulders and necks start to flow with the music. I’m sure if you ask the volunteers who serve here, at least 75% of them have pictures or videos of their concession kids dancing.

Children here are butlers. They are expected to do everything. You want to add avocados with your omelet? You’re out of powdered milk? Your backpack that you’ve never washed in your life is dirty? You need to get water from the well? Oh, you’re feeling too lazy to get a motorcycle so you can get to your meeting? Your cat’s liter box is full? INSERT CHILD’S NAME HERE can do this for you! For a total of 0 CFA!

There are of course the things that are not so happy.

It is seriously impossible to refuse food here. They treat you as if you ran over their dog if you don’t eat what they give you. Actually the people here treat dogs like s***, maybe a better example is that they treat you like dogs. Even the most elaborate excuse to avoid it is like catching a fly with your hands, only Obama can get away with it. You WILL inevitably lose and you WILL eat what they give you.

I can’t find a single f***** flyswatter here! Where are they? Will someone please send me one? No matter how much I practice my fly catching skills I do not improve. The flies here should be called soars. Because they don’t fly, they soar, that and they make my life a living… sore. (Come on, don’t act like you weren’t expecting at least one bad joke)

There is no such thing as being in a hurry here. Oh my God “African Time” is such a migraine inducing norm. Volunteers know better after a few weeks, we simply do not leave our houses without a book to read while we wait the additional hour or two it takes for everyone to arrive to our meetings.

The other day I was cleaning my room. I lifted my mattress and wouldn’t you know it, the mouse I’ve been trying to catch for the last few months was chillin in between my two mattresses. I got a f*****n cat to catch it and this mouse still scurries around like he’s paying the rent.

I walk around my house at night sometimes to see spiders the size of iPods casually crawling on my walls looking for their diner. I’ve stopped killing them because they get rid of the more annoying insects like nocturnal screamo band crickets.

Its funny, I have a love/hate relationship with prayer time. Five times a day (I have all the hours memorized now) the villagers will go to the mosques to pray. This causes all shops to close during their praying hour. The hour I memorized first was the 5am one. If the daily 5am prayer call doesn’t wake me up then the neighboring babies do. I can’t remember the last time I tried to sleep in. Did I mention my mosque is around 50 feet from my front door? WELL IT IS. The love of my relationship with this particular pillar of Islam is explained… lets just say when the megaphones come a preaching, playtime is over and the children have to leave my living room. Sometimes I like it when the power goes out, it means the mosque’s megaphone doesn’t work. Actually, this is the extent of my pleasure with life without electricity. Sure the candlelight dinners are groovy but too many nights without it can make me moody.

I was going to list corruption on here but I think that too deserves its own journal entry.

Instead I’ll leave it here. Some of my latest entries have been a little serious so tonight I decided to write a light-hearted one. I’ll send you a postcard if you can figure out which band wrote the lyrics of this entry’s title (hopefully it will actually arrive to your mailbox). Peace Corps Out readers.

Carlos J. Fernandez-Torres