B.Spears

Sometimes that’s what being “la blanche” en Afrique makes ya feel like. This sort of celebrity treatment can be traced back all the way to our days in Bangangte, but recently it’s really hit a new high. A few recent examples…
February 8th marks Le jour de bilinguisme, when Cameroon celebrates having two official languages. I was hit up to teach a song at the school in my neighborhood so that on bi-lingual day the francophone students could perform for the Anglophone students, and vice versa. So for the three weeks leading up to bi-lingual day (and try not to laugh too hard) I switched from different classrooms for an hour each week singing and demonstrating the motions to “If Your Happy and You Know It” along with “The Hokey Pokey”. While you can hardly count it as a project it did give me a reminder of the absolute chaos that is public schools in Cameroon and my popularity amongst the youth. I would enter the classroom to gasps, loud cheering, clapping, staring, and shy giggling. Outside I was surrounded by a mob of children all jumping up to touch my hair or fighting to carry my purse. After-school I had Tons of kids stopping by my house, which was quickly put to a stop. While I don’t believe their teachers ever even took them to perform their song, it is pretty cute to pass francophones on the street and hear “If you’re happy and you….”
At the Assembly General last month, Emile and I were called up to the front of the room by the president of our bank. Already embarrassed as they had to call our name several times just to get us up there (lil’ too much talking in the back row), we find ourselves standing center stage in front of 200 people and praying we don’t have to give a speech. Next thing you know everyone’s clapping, shouting their “Merci” “Merci pour le travail”, and whipping out their cameras to get pictures. Then on the walk back to our seats, several men trying to be discreet about using their camera phones – As if we don’t know what those are!?!
At my second marriage au Cameroon a fellow PCV and I are whisked into the house and immediately seated at the head table. While we’d had never even met the bride or groom before that night, it certainly didn’t matter. We were served well before the 100 or so guests that were there hours before us, people were taking our photos, the MC thanked us a few times over the mic for “coming from America”, and even before everyone else was sure to have their piece of dessert the groom packed up three dessert plates for us for the road. On a side note: the wedding was very different from the last one. The guests wore matching pagne which is customary for weddings/funerals, this was the groom’s third marriage (his first two wives served all the guests), from 9pm-10pm the women danced traditional dances and then nobody really moved from a sitting circle until dinner was served at midnight. While the power was in and out all night, thankfully it managed to stay on during the meal. The groom was a private chef by profession and thus did everything by himself. Several different types of salad, pasta that honestly tasted like beef stroganoff, meat, many traditional Cameroonians dishes, and when it came time for dessert….10 different cakes! I’d wait three hours for that meal any day.
March 8th is International Women’s Day, a global day to celebrate the economic, political and social achievements of women. While IWD was first observed in the US on February 28th, 1909, in my lifetime I don’t recall ever celebrating it aux Etats-Unis like they do here; we place much more emphasis on Mother’s Day. For IWD in Cameroon, women have caba’s or dresses made from special Women’s Day pagne and the day carries out much like Youth Day: parades, dancing, singing, skits, and lots of eating and drinking. Once again I played photographer for most of the day and went to the teacher after-party. My B. Spears moment that day came during the parade when I could tell the delegates under the pavilion were staring and pointing. Immediately after the parade finished their representative came up and asked me for a name and phone number so I could attend the “le soiree” at the hotel in town. Regrettably, what could have been a great networking evening turned out to be anything but. After three late nights and a then the full day of IWD day festivities by Sunday night, I was exhausted. I let the Petchups pick me up anyways, hoping it would be just like one of those nights in college when your roommates forced you get dressed and once you were out the atmosphere just woke you up and you were glad you did. However this time, not so much. I show up, the head mistress starts screaming my name, grabs my arm, starts yelling at some random couple “here she is, here she is”, I’m seated at the head table where I’m graciously greeted, and instantly the room starts spinning. Two minutes later as I watched the waitress get ready to uncover the food I thought I might puke. I never did so I guess it was just my body’s way of saying absolutely not! I spent the next hour passed out in our school van until our driver took me home. Maybe next year…
If there’s one thing that must be said about all this new “celebrity status”; while it’s certainly fun at times and would make any PCV feel welcomed in village, I will be glad when it’s all over. To move about town without everyone asking where you’re going, what you’ll be doing, and what you will bring back for them, will be nice. To not be deranged, know that you’re being stared at, or be asked some of the most ridiculous questions, will be nice also. The everyday reality is exhausting and I miss just being a number. On the flip side, for as much as I wish the “insta-attention” away I know once I get back I won’t be able to get it back. So for now I take it for what it’s worth: curiosity, generosity, overt friendliness, etc. and have learned to simply enjoy the ride because in roughly a year it’ll all be over.