There are compliments, and there are backhanded compliments, but living in Cameroon has introduced me to a whole new breed of compliments; compliments that, depending on the day, either make me want to crawl into my bed and cry myself to sleep or unleash my hyena laugh because of the ridiculousness spouting from my friends' mouths. These are, in no particular order, my top five favorite Cameroonian compliments:
5. "You have gotten so fat!" The fat compliment is the most tried and true of all Cameroonian compliments, its popularity stretching to all corners of this vaguely chicken-shaped country. During PreService Training in Bafia (it is worth noting here that PST is debatably the most vulnerable and insecure period of a PCV's service), when our homestay families and language trainers first lavished us with aggressive commentary on the shapes of our bodies and their ever-increasing sizes, we were beyond mortified. Our French may have been a bit on the shoddy side, but we could deciper select words, like "weight" and "fat" and "body," especially when paired with gesticulations directed at our problem areas, and my personal favorite, the puffer fish face to mirror our own jowly visages. The onslaught was constant- my homestay sisters took every opportunity to express their envy of my rotund figure, my homestay mother bragged endlessly to friends and family about my giant, insatiable appetite, the lunch ladies at the training center took notice of my clean-plate club membership and [loudly and publicly] complimented me on it daily, my language trainers gushed over how I filled my new caba (muumuu) so nicely, my tailor could not say enough about my "basin (butt)," and how I had the shape of a Cameroonian woman, and how my host family must be feeding me very well and so on and so forth. I started running and doing Zumba classes with other trainees, but my resistance was futile. A year into my service, I am still fielding the same assailment of fat comments. Upon returning to village from any length of time away, without fail, I am always greeted with some variation of the fat compliment: "Ooh Sarah, tu as pris le poids/ le corps!" ("Ooh Sarah you have put on weight!"), "Wow Sarah tu es devenue grasse jusqu'a!" ("Wow Sarah you got so fat!"), "Tu as bien mange la-bas! Ca se voit!" ("You ate well there! We can see that!"), etc. After my trip to the states for Christmas, I was regaled for weeks with new and creative ways of expressing how fat I had gotten while away, which was fair considering my month-long indulgence in all of the things, but a couple of weeks back, after having gone on a running/ P90X binge since returning to post in February, I was in Maroua for a week- still running daily, mind you- and met up with my best friends Habiba, Lucie and Temwa at the end of the week for a drink, and Temwa started going on about how fat I had gotten in the seven days that I had spent in Maroua. WHAT! I stopped him mid-fat compliment, and went on a full-blown psycho, insecure girl tirade: it must be the shirt I'm wearing! There is no fucking way that I have pris'd any poids- I have been working out like a madwoman! You take it back! and YOU CAN'T SIT WITH US! He rescinded, but my outburst sparked some questions from Lucie, who cannot for the life of her understand why I wouldn't want to get fatter and is now concerned that she would receive no love in America because it seems like we are really against getting fat. I thought about explaining "chubby chasers," but instead went with how I think black women hold their weight much better than white women do, and reassuring her that I do think that she is beautiful. My b, gurl. My b.
4. "Your hair would make a great weave." I have been asked multiple times by friends in village to cut off my hair so that they can use my locks as a weave. When approached with this proposition, I always want to ask a few questions of clarification, starting with "you do realize that my hair is a completely different color and texture than yours, correct?" and "can't you see how hideously dry, brittle and ridden with split-ends my hair has become in your extremely arid desert climate?", and finally "you can buy a weave for 500 fcfa (equivalent to 1 USD. ONE. U.S. DOLLAR.)... is my natural hair only worth 500 fcfa to you?" to which the answers are always a resolute "yes, yes and yes." This past week, Lucie told me that she is in the market for a wig of my exact length and color of hair so that we can be "vrai jumelles" (fo real twins). Get ready for those pics, y'all.
3. "You got so pale!" In the same vein as the fat compliment, I often get the pale compliment upon returning from a trip in cooler climates, i.e. Yaounde, the states. Normally, there are only so many variations on telling a white person how white they are: "Ooh Sarah tu es devenue blanche jusqu'a!" ("Ooh Sarah you have become so white!") and "Wow Sarah ton peau est devenue blanche blanche!" ("Wow Sarah your skin has become white-white!") are about as creative as it gets. Despite there not being many different ways to comment on my whiteness, my friends find ways to emphatically deliver the pale compliment, generally by repeating the same compliment again and again (and again) in one sitting. The other night, I was at Lucie's house after having just gotten back from spending one night in Maroua, and Lucie would not stop talking about how white I had become overnight; she kept repeating "ton peau est devenue blanche jusqu'a" over and over again, unable to focus on anything else I had to say, and eventually her absolute conviction inspired other ways to express her sentiments: how I was whiter than she had ever seen me before, how my entire body had become the color of my non-pigmented skin on the palms of my hands, how I was glowing, and then she began theorizing as to why I had become so pale overnight: I must not have spent any time in the sun in Maroua, my blood was thinned because of the heat, I had applied a new bleaching cream... After literally hours of discussing my pallid complexion, I excused myself and headed home, beelining to a mirror, trying to reassure myself that I was no whiter than I had been the day before. Satisfied that I was just as white as ever, I retired to my hotbox of a bedroom and cozied up on my mattress and pillows that, in true hot season fashion, perpetually feel as if they were just microwaved and drifted off into a sweet (sweaty), sweet (sweaty) slumber. In the morning, with the lengthy discussions of my colorlessness just a vague, distant memory, I arrived to Lucie's house, only for her to continue her rant about how white I was the night before, peppering our conversations throughout the day with further reflections on how pale I was yesterday and theories as to why. Equatorial Africa, man, you'd think it'd be doing me a couple of favors in the tanning department... apparently not. The ginger gene may be stronger than I'd feared.
2. "You are so simple." On a recent trip to the East region, I had a long chat with a man who I shared a cab with. We talked about differences between American and Cameroonian cultures, specifically pertaining to marrying and child-birthing ages, because that is generally where conversations with Cameroonian men end up, and then at the end of our ride, he asked for my contact information, so I gave him my email address, hoping to evade the inevitable onslaught of ceaseless phone calls that come from giving a Cameroonian your phone number. He sent me a short note the next day, ending it with: "You are a very wonderful and simple person. Hope to hearing from you very soon." I've been called simple and uncomplicated a few other times in this country and I hate it. As a person who thinks very (some might even say exceptionally) highly of herself, I resent being described as "simple." I'm interesting! I have depth! You don't know my life!! Knock-knock jokes are simple. Addition is simple. One dimensional shapes are simple. Do I look like a circle to you? [Insert fat compliment here.]
1. "Your leg hair is so beautiful!" This was a first for me. The other night, I was sitting at what I was told was a wedding ceremony (ended up being a political party event... easy mistake.) and Habiba was talking to me about her day at school, when all of a sudden she stopped mid-sentence and started caressing my calves, exclaiming, "Sarah! Your leg hair is so beautiful!" She went on to explain that her own leg hair is always getting burnt off because she cooks over an open fire, but my leg hair can grow out to its full beautiful potential because I cook using a gas stove. She also recounted to me that one summer she worked for a woman in Maroua who owned a gas stove, she was able to grow her own leg hair out like mine and she would rock mini-skirts on the reg and everyone would compliment her saying how her leg hair looked like a "gorko," a man's leg hair, and how awesome that was. By this point in the conversation, all of the small children present were also caressing my calves and gushing about how beautiful my leg hair was. Habiba encouraged me to start rocking mini skirts to show off my luxurious leg hair, and made me promise that I would never shave it off after I explained to her that in the states we usually shave off all of our leg hair with a razor. I promised. Then, two days later, I arrived in Ngaoundere and shaved off all of my leg hair because I wanted to get henna done and the last time I tried to get henna with fully-grown leg hair, the hair got in the way and messed with the drawings. Sorry, Habibz. Give me another couple of months and I'll be back to full-blown gorko leg status.
peace love and nice gorilla legs, girlfran.
