A New Home, New Name

My first day in the village. I'm currently sitting on the patio of a Cameroonian home, safely in Taku. Praise the Lord! I think that rough car ride did something to my insides, but God watched over us, like He promised. I slept like a baby under a mosquito net last night until I woke up to the sound of a rooster crowing and children running outside early this morning.



I spy...several school children in their uniforms grouped together not too far away, pointing at me, whispering, and giggling. I waved; a few brave souls waved back while the rest shyly turned to one another and laughed some more. So this is what animals at the zoo feel like... Here's a closeup of the gang. :]



So as we trekked into the deep woods and cornfields late yesterday evening, I kept practicing my Limbum greeting in my head. By the time we got out of the car, it was dark outside...pitch black; no hint of electricity in sight. Of course as soon as a Wimbum woman swept me into her arms, I completely froze and stuttered "Weh sah' keh!" I couldn't see who was in front of me, but we all heard roars of joyful laughter. I was so shocked by their hospitality--they greeted us like we were old family members returning from a long trip. The lingering fear I kept shoving to the back of my head quickly dissipated the moment an elderly Wimbum man excitedly grabbed my arm and exclaimed,

"When I first saw your face, I saw the face of CHINA!"

haha oy. This is going to be interesting. Of course the entire team started laughing before we all sat together in a small living room that was dimly lit by several candles. Food had already been prepared, and we (the team and what seemed like half the village!) all sang praises together in both Limbum and English. SO beautiful you are, Lord. One woman came around with a bucket of warm water for us to wash our hands, and we had the meal we've all heard so much about: the infamous njaama njaama and foufou :) We were famished, and I actually didn't mind the extra palm oil in my green leaves.


L to R: njaama njaama and foufou

After dinner, we said goodbye to our team leaders and split into our different homes. My host mom is Lucy. She's a pregnant mother of four beautiful children, and I got a chance to converse with her under the most beautiful collection of stars outside. I've never seen so many stars in the sky. I'm so in awe, and can't wait to see them again tonight. Anyways, amazed as I was, I asked Lucy what "star" was in Limbum. She smiled and replied, "kangssi." SERIOUSLY? I exclaimed, "hey, that's my last name!" So there you go. From now on, you can call me Kangssi. :]

Breakdowns and Breakthroughs

Last night was our first African “adventure”—I guess it was a little taste of the days to come. As Silas, our dear Cameroonian comedian and friend, always says:

“Mission work is looooooooooooooong suffering!!”

So true. I am currently sitting in the living room of our Bamenda headquarters with the girls who are also documenting last night’s experience. So what went on yesterday?


lots of bumpy dirt roads and rain

We split into two cars and started out for Bamenda, passing through the Yaoundé and even getting a glimpse of the president’s house along the way. Not long after, our first car broke down by the side of the road. Forced to stop, we were instantly surrounded by the locales who flocked over to sell some of their items or just stand and watch us. Several pointed and shouted, “la blanche!” to us (even me, the only Asian in the group), which means “white person!” in French. After enduring a torrential downpour in the midst of such heat, I learned to appreciate the small breezes that came our way—they were God’s little gifts reminding us that He was still there with us.


first breakdown; mechanic and Silas

I realized towing is one of the many luxuries we enjoy in the States. Silas had to borrow a motorcycle, buy a replacement part for the car, and bring a mechanic over to help put it together. We were soon on our way again when the second car succumbed eventually next to some cornfields, and as Silas put it, “its heart stopped beating” altogether. This time we were outside of civilization, baking in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think it’s coincidence that our devotional this morning was on “expectations.” Haha.

We finally roped the other car to ours and headed to the “gendarmerie,” the local police station where we sat and waited for a bush taxi to take us all the way through. Nearby, chickens scurried around for food and a group of unclothed African children bathed using buckets. From the outside, it’s hard to tell that we were at a police station. Its condition was equivalent to a rundown gas station in America. The police asked us a few questions and checked our passports, eventually letting us go as Silas appeared with a crowded bush taxi in tow. After transferring our luggage and securing them to the roof of the old van, we tried again. I admire the patience and strength of our dear friend Silas. Only after our second breakdown did he show even a HINT of frustration. He simply smiles, chuckles, and sings songs. Silas taught us a few along the way to pass the time. Here’s one:

Jesus is a winner man, a winner man, a winner man. Jesus is a winner man, a winner man all the time! ….Satan is a loser man, a loser man, a loser man. Satan is a loser man, a loser man all the time!

We shared a lot of laughs. It seems like African songs are comprised of fun juxtapositions and repetitions. I can't wait to learn more, and I really can't believe that we'll be in Taku soon. I'll be sleeping in the village after meeting my host family for the first time tomorrow!

Thank you for coming to our rescue today via bush taxi today Lord, and bringing us laughter with it. Please continue to be with us tomorrow. Yesterday was a little scary. :)