"What I Wish For Cameroon": Ginger Cooper in Her Own Words

By Ginger Cooper

A volunteer Methodist missionary from Texas talks about her vision for Cameroon as she leaves the country after a two-year stay.

This spring I’ve made many trips out of Yaounde to neighboring villages and areas. During one of these long (and bumpy) trips I began to think of how foreign it is to have a highway running through the middle of the forest. In some areas the trees have retreated a hundred yards or so to escape the violation that the roads have become. They have turned their limbs to look for nourishment further into the rainforest. In other places the vegetation has boldly moved to within feet of the pavement – I imagine in a possible attempt to reclaim the strip of land.

What do I wish for Cameroon?

Because of these roads food can get to many areas. With even more paved roads and runways (i.e. infrastructure) everyone in Cameroon could be fed! But because few people are looking for alternative means of transporting food or farming this will come at the expense of the forest.

Hardly a day goes by where I don’t see a huge logging truck. These trucks drag along under the weight of tons of Cameroon’s finest wood. Logs with a circumference larger than me, roll down the road on their way to becoming some decorative floor in a big house. Their grand story is over and all I’ll ever know of it is some greasy red rag flapping in the wind and a scrawled number on their freshly revealed cores.

What should I feel? Thankfulness that the owner of the lumber company is employing local workers (although probably unfairly)? Sadness because a group of people have now lost the land where for generations they have lived/hunted/worshipped? Hopeful about the economic future of Cameroon?

Things are no longer black and white.

All along the coast in Kribi I see the remains of colonial Cameroon - large buildings that were once homes to Portuguese, German, British and French settlers. These buildings now stand in disrepair and usually serve as apartments that house many families. It’s really hard to think about – but sometimes I wonder what Cameroon would have been like if they had just kept sailing.

If they had never landed to fulfill their various missions – exploration/spreading the Gospel/gold/slaves – what would Cameroon be like?

The history of humanity proves that, eventually, someone would have come here – “by land or by sea”. Cameroon was physically shaped by a bunch of men around a conference table somewhere in Europe – but culturally – it was shaped by the indigenous peoples and the individuals who built upon her coast and cut roads through her forest.

Cameroon is a mixture of peoples – some of whom doggedly cling to their traditions to preserve their sense of self – and others who have acclimated well to the encroaching West. There’s a generational crisis happening here. Young professionals in the cities trying to relate to their relatives in the village. What will Cameroon look like in 50 years?

What I’ve witnessed here is not a uniquely Cameroonian situation. These hardships are present all over the world. The good thing is that Cameroon doesn’t have to juggle all of this AND political unrest – like so many other African countries.

I can’t predict the future – I can only pray in the present. I don’t have any answers – I have even fewer suggestions. I learned very early in my time here that plopping down a westernized plan – in the middle of Africa – is ineffective and often counter-productive.

What do I wish for Cameroon?

I’m not sure, but in the midst of this early rainy season – I see hope.

Comments

[Vivian]

After reading this touching piece, I did an internet search and found this other gem from ginger on her blog. Ginger I didn't know you until yesterday but I miss you already!!!:
))))))))))))))))))
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Letter from a Leaver

Goodbye Cameroon.

Wow, I can’t believe it’s time to go. You’ll never know how much I enjoyed getting to know you. I may not have expressed it very well, but I’m thankful for all the things that you have taught me.

I know it’s silly but “goodbyes” always lead to a mental highlights reel.

Do you remember the first time we met? I carry striking memories of red dirt, blue skies, tall palm trees, and a WARMER welcome than I expected! As is normal with new homes, my first few months here were really lonely but you crossed my path with other adventurers and I made some great friends (including the wonderful Magruder family!). Thank you for also helping me to appreciate them. Thanks for four great rainy seasons. Despite the ever-present mud, the break from the heat made me always look forward to the next one! When Leah and I went to the Southwest Province you charmed us with the “whiteman” game. You also treated the HIV team with heart-warming hospitality during our many trips to your villages. Somewhere you even nurture a little baby Ginger Cooper! I found a beautiful retreat in your village of Makak. Many adventures were had there starring trains, the rainforest, and two special Germans. And I think we’ll both agree that the youth camp in Limbe was the best you’ve seen, right?

The first year of our friendship was great but the second has been a little more challenging. Gone is the semi-constant excitement of adventures. In its place is a sort of day to day appreciation and awe. I’ve listened to your people and their stories. I’ve done a lot more thinking. I have asked questions. I can call more people by name now. To me, you are not new and shiny anymore but you have taught me to understand. You have taught me patience.

You haven’t changed – but my perception of you has. I guess that means I’m actually the one who’s changed. Thanks for giving me the room (and beautiful setting) to grow. Thanks for having the discernment to know that words spewed in anger/frustration/sadness/fear do not always reflect the heart. Thanks for being home to Kribi Beach, possibly the most beautiful place in Africa. Thanks for letting me take from you and offer little in return.

Today I will get on a plane and roll, maybe for the last time, down one of your runways. I will be lifted high above you and try, again, to take it all in. I will look down on streets, thick forests, dust covered roofs, and dirt soccer fields. My fear of flying will have me picturing the plane in the hands of God…but isn’t that where I’ve been all along? Isn’t that where we’ve been?

You are a part of me and I pray that, even without the blazing sun and rainy season showers, you will take root and continue to grow in me.

You are truly beautiful and I will miss you.

Love,
ginger

[Joe Abey]

Thanks for the big smile you took with you to the Cameroons.Stay blessed.

[Billy Mukoi]

Ashia ya big mami.

[ginger]

Thank you all - Merci tout le monde!

I am back home now - a little tired, a little lost - but forever changed by my experiences in beautiful Cameroon!

Blessings!
ginger

[Nico]

OMG! my heart is still weeping. How come everyone could not see the world through lovely Ginger's eyes.
I am touched but more so happy that she was out there on her mission and even does more so when she is leaving.
My heart is heavy to see her leave but also happy to know that she was moved in a special way by our poor country.