I was born and bred in a small town in the south of Cameroon. Cameroon is one of the prominent central African nations with an ever-boosting economy.
It has 10 states and English and French are our national languages, along with more than 200 local languages. In my opinion, my hometown Kumba is the heartbeat in the south, known for its economy and agriculture.
Growing up in the neighborhood
has never been easy. Kumba has a population of about 125,600 (a 2001 estimate)
and even though a quarter
of the population depends on farming, respect is gained by how far you succeed in education.
Interestingly, as a result, most parents make sure they send their kids to school even it is means surviving with little food.
Their whims and caprices are shaped by the ever-demanding educational system, and this I trust is the pinnacle of our beliefs: to sacrifice deeply for a cause.
I am from a family of five. My family is one of the elite because my father is one of the counselors.
A counselor is one of the few who represent the town in the urban council. We are privileged
to live in the government residential area [GRA], which is highly guarded.
The GRA entrance is accompanied
by heavy security, and I detest this because my friends would rather stay away than undergo such scrutiny.
Kumba is one of the few places in the world where one’s personality and wealth are judged by his or her size. Being fat is surprisingly equal to being wealthy. How amazing!
A boy is considered a man by the number of girls he talks to and by the number of beers he can drink.
The irony is, this is not anywhere
close to the true tests of maturity. Because of peer pressure and the quest to belong to the “mature” group, many have found themselves in embarrassing
situations.
It was a scandal in the neighborhood
for months when a boy, probably drunk, tried to talk to a girl’s mother when he thought she was the girl.
As a result of insurmountable
guilt, he didn’t show up in the ‘idle park’ for months.
A family is considered well-to-do if and only if it has a majority of its members abroad. Anyone who goes abroad, no matter the reason, is considered
rich.
The expectation is that while abroad a person is required to send money home and build houses.
If not, the only way to gain respect is by returning home with a fleet of expensive cars and by spending without limit.
This has put those who go abroad in the hot seat as they adhere to this type of mentality
and in a bid to maintain this lifestyle – many end up in jail.
I will always remain grateful for my hometown for all it has provided me.
I learned so much just by watching and being there with an open mind. For sure, the true art of memory is the art of attention.
It was a bank of experience. Although everyone’s experience is a private literature, I always remember to breathe, live and learn; take a look around me whenever I have time, and never forget any moment or person within my heart.
This I trust is the legacy of my true existence.
For more information on Cameroon, visit http://www.spm.gov.cm/.
Also, follow future columns in the ET about my experiences
as an international student
in the United States.

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