Cameroon, Day 93 - 100: Bye Bye Bali
Yesterday, we left Bali and said our goodbyes.
It took us down to the wire, but we were able to accomplish almost all of our business goals for the trip.
We put together a database of thousands of farmers in the Northwest Region of Cameroon that signed up to be involved in Jola Venture’s platform.
We gathered a massive amount of information on the SolPOD’s performance in the target environment, so the engineers back in Boston can make final modifications for the production model.
We came up with a business model for the beautifully simple corn scraper, which will be launched later this year.
We put together a very comprehensive market study on the business challenges of agriculture in Cameroon and discovered trends that have never been publically documented before. The reports will be coming out soon if you’re interested.
We set up a radio show, “The Farmer’s Voice”, which will broadcast weekly in Bali and the surrounding areas.
We laid the groundwork for the Village Technology & Entrepreneurship Center, which will help farmers, youth, and the general population to learn things like basic accounting, inventory control, and computer skills to help manage their businesses and develop their careers.
I have about a dozen more videos I’ve created over the last couple of months, but the Internet prevents me from uploading them. However, they will be on YouTube soon.
When you leave a place like this, it really makes you realize just how much of a home it’s become over the previous few months.
There are things I know I’m going to miss, like:
When I say fresh, I’m not talking American “fresh”. I’m saying that every time you eat meat, that animal was probably alive a few hours before. The lack of food preservation here guarantees it.
Buying food here is a completely different experience and I’ve grown to love it. There are no supermarkets – just people on the street selling one or two things. Want fish? You go to Dorothy, the roasted fish lady. Want beef? You go to the Muslim guy that grills it every evening down by the junction. Want some vegetables? Stop by any of the hundreds of people in town that have brought the harvest from yesterday to sell today. I love this kind of community grocery shopping, because it’s a catalyst to building relationships with the people around you. I wish we had more like this in the US.
In the United States, we operate on a perpetual time famine. There is never enough of it. When is the last time you asked someone, “How is it going?” and they didn’t say something along the lines of, “I’m crazy busy right now.”
This isn’t a bad thing in itself – hard work is good. However, I don’t think we’re too busy. I think we’re afraid of not looking busy.
We occupy our days with tons of noise – lots of little actions that cover themselves up as “work” but really don’t accomplish much of anything. Yet they cause us to feel overworked and that we don’t have enough time. I’m talking specifically about habits that have been broken (with force) by this environment, like:
Checking email enough times that you’d be embarrassed to actually say the daily number in conversation, if you could even count it.
Reading article after article and telling yourself it’s a productive use of time.
At the slightest hint of boredom, whipping out the smart phone and using one of the hundreds of colorful apps you’ve downloaded to have something to look at.
I have to confess - at times, not being able to do these things has been embarrassingly painful. Here I am in an area where people regularly work a farm, a job, and school - not to mention the hours it takes to do daily tasks by hand like laundry, cooking, and cleaning, - and I’m freaking out about 48 hours without an Internet connection.
It’s embarrassing, but that’s what it took. I realized that by occupying my time, energy, and focus with these little US “necessities” I was robbing myself of the time it takes to think and talk deeply about things that truly matter.
People here always have time to talk with you. Yes, I believe this is one reason for the slow growth of the economy, but I think it is also a reason that you don’t see anyone stressed out like you do at home.
People that call you “brother”, “son”, and “uncle”
Family relationships in Africa have been the most amazing surprise to me, because they go so far beyond your actual family.
I wrote this the first week I got here –
We talk with Peter, a neighbor, family friend, and former school principle that tells us, “In our dialect, we have no word for uncle, aunt, nephew, niece, or cousin. Only father, mother, son, daughter, sister, and brother. If you are my father’s brother, you are my father. If you are my mother’s sister’s son, you are my brother. If you live nearby and you come to our door while we are eating dinner, come and sit with us. You are our son.”
In Bali, this became real.
The neighborhood kids called me “Uncle Andrew”, my close friends would call me a “brother” and I would do the same, and older people would either call me “papa” or “son”. The Fon gave us Bali names last week, so people also started calling me “Bobga”. It’s hard to put your finger on what this does to the community, but you can feel the strength, like a tightly weaved basket.
And going along with my last point – people here have time for their family. If they don’t have it, they make it.
Now, I’m ready to get the next chapter of this thing started. It’s been a long 3 ½ months and I’m excited to go home, see everyone again, and to take back these lessons I’ve learned to incorporate them into “real life”.
This experience has given me “wow” moments, it’s been scary at times, it’s made me uncomfortable, and at times it has given me clarity that can only come when you’re forced into the unknown. Most of all, it’s humbled me in ways I can’t describe, and I’ll never forget it.
For now, onward to South Africa!