From One Place to Another
I woke up in a confused
state, I was panicking, but my panic lasted for probably two minutes. I had no
recollection of where I was, so I lay still, trying to remember. This is the
fourth bed I have slept in in seven days…
I have been working in Eastern Cameroon since the end of June. There are
a few border towns that have seen an influx of people from Central
African Republic due to the conflicts that have been ongoing. Not to
mention the other parts of the country that share borders with other
countries dealing with various conflicts! There is a full blown
humanitarian crisis and there are needs at different levels that have to
be met.
During my last field trip, we drove into a place and I
was unsure of what it was. It looked like a residence, but I figured that the
owner might have built more rooms, then opened it to the public. The rooms were
so small, then I opened the door that led to the bathroom. The bathroom was
narrow, I would probably not be able to stretch my hands out if I stood in
there. We asked for the toilets and were led outside, the lady pointed at two
structures, shared toilets. I walked back to the car and waited for my
colleagues to finish deliberating then I asked if there was another place.
We
got to the only other place in the village but the set up was not so different.
Only this time, there was a toilet in the middle of the bathroom! My colleague
must have felt sorry for me because he kept asking if I was okay. I assured him
that I was, it was absolutely no fault of his that these places were the way
they were. If I had ever called any hotel where we stayed before basic, this, I
had no idea what classification to give.
We were in this village for
a night, so spending the most part of the day out of the lodge worked perfectly
well. I spent a good part of the night moving from one part of the matrass to
the other as it dipped once I lay on it. Eventually, I ended up on the edge,
just on top of the wood. The bathroom however, almost sent me into panic mode
each time I thought about it so I just didn’t. I didn’t use it, I patiently
waited to get to the next town to have a bath. I deliberately drank little
water and did not eat any food to avoid any need for the toilet. I ate two
apples and biscuits and I was absolutely fine.
Two days earlier…
After a long and exhausting
journey, we went to eat. When we returned to the hotel, I walked to the
reception with a smile, said hello to the receptionist who looked on like he
was not there. I said my room number then he looked me in the face and asked if
that was my room. I responded in the affirmative but he kept looking
suspiciously at me so we stared right into each others eyes. Some silent
communication took place and I’m not sure what he took away, but for me, I was
saying that I did not have the strength to argue. Finally he conceded and went
to get the key. He asked one more time if it was my room and I said yes, but he
didn’t bring the key to me, instead he dropped it on the counter, a few steps
away from where I stood. I walked to him to get it, all the while looking
straight into his eyes. I wondered whether my being alone was a problem. Not so
long ago, I checked in with colleagues, both male, I wasn’t asked any
questions. I wondered whether I did not look as womanly as he might have
thought that women should look. I was briefed that this was a conservative
place where of course I would expect that it would be male dominated so I
dressed to suit the occasion and this time I even had a veil over my head out
of respect, but no, it was not enough. He finally said “I wasn’t the one who
checked you in so I have to ask”. I was already walking away but I turned
around and said “I know”, hoping that must have made him/his ego bigger!
I walked to the room with
only one thing on my mind, sleep. The room had a damp smell but I did not have
the strength to go back down two floors to request that my room be changed.
After struggling with the windows which I did not manage to open, I settled for
leaving the door to the balcony open to allow some air in. Next, I put my
things in place, then pulled up the covers and the sheets felt slightly wet! I
thought I didn’t feel right, so I walked to the bathroom but the towels were also
not dry. I came back to feel the sheets once more and the two sets covering the
bed were the same. That made sense, that was where the damp smell was from. I
had no choice but to go back to the reception. The phone that should have saved
me that journey was nicely tucked away in the wardrobe.
I mentioned to the young
man (another one) at the reception that my sheets were not dry. He looked back
down at what he was doing then said “oh that’s the same thing in some rooms as
it rained today”. I was so stunned by his response that I had to take it in
before responding. I asked him if he was saying to me that it was okay that the
sheets were not dry. He mentioned that he didn’t say so, but the best he could
do would be to ask me to wait for his colleague who had stepped out as there
was nothing he could do about it. I sat at the reception for maybe five minutes
reminding myself that this was one of the best hotels in town. Between having a
certain man want to sit beside me and have a conversation, and some other one
speak so loudly just outside, I could have sworn he was drunk, the realisation
that this was a battle I would not win dawned on me, so I walked back to the
room to find a solution. There were two duvets on top of the sheets so I spread
the red one over the bed sheets, at least it kept the cold from the damp sheets
at bay, and the blue one served as my cover.
Guess what! The matrass was good
so I had a good night’s sleep, and oh, the towels were clean too! I did not
intend to catch a cold from the chilly wind or the damp bed. I was in this town
to work not to fall ill. This however was no comparison to the other experience
and I wondered whether my reaction to this might have been different if we went
to the village first.
There have been more misses
than hits with the places we have stayed in, but the shocking part at this
supposed top ranking hotel was the indifference with which the staff responded.
I have had to constantly remind myself not to expect different. Many times I
travel to places that are quite remote for work in the humanitarian domain so
expecting to stay in luxurious hotels would be rather farfetched. But I still
am shocked at certain things. I know that they might not know better but the
manner in which the messages are passed by the staff sometimes, make it a
harder pill to swallow. The least I would expect from anyone working in
hospitality would be courtesy. However, in comparison to the beneficiaries of
our actions, this is bliss. I think about how in one instant they lost everything
and how I might be if I were in their shoes so I go to bed each time with a
smile knowing that my ‘plight’ is all in the bid to make someone’s life better,
it makes all these experiences worth it. I hardly get stressed over these but I
always think to myself that there must be a solution and try to find a way
around.
I thought about my family
quite a bit while I was in the field, I imagined my mother being very proud of
how I have handled things, then I imagined my father being equally proud and
giving me that knowing smile, as work in the field is nothing new to him,
especially in rural areas. He would understand every bit of each tale, and
warned me anyway that I would see the other side of life. I thought about my
siblings who continue to cheer me on, although my younger brother has sometimes
not been able to make sense of the risks and restrictions involved in the work
I do. One of the times I mentioned one possible war torn place I could get
posted to, he looked at me incredulous and reminded me that it did not have to
be this job. He had me reeling in laughter! The restlessness in me and my love
for adventures is what probably says to me that it’s okay. My family has come
to accept that, and they give me all the love and support I need. There has to
be much more to life - I say that to myself all the time, especially as I
recount these and try not to feel guilty in comparison to the people who have
brought me out here in the first place.
I’ve been in this country
for a month already but this is the first time since I got here that I have
thought of Bertoua as home. So I am looking forward to going home albeit for a few days, before I head off to the field again in another region of the country
:-)
Also featured on Bella Naija
Also featured on Bella Naija
Warming up for more places to "anothers"....Lol
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading :-)
DeleteA pat on the back girl.Hoping for better places for you after this.
DeleteLet's keep our fingers crossed for that!
DeleteYou're a tough cookie and it's great what you're doing!!
ReplyDeleteThank you Neomi :-)
DeleteEne mi,weldone,that bathroom picture though,sigh,it reminds one to be grateful always for little things we take for granted. You go girl
ReplyDeleteIme, I couldn't agree more! Thank you hun.
DeleteWeldone Ene... Am sure you've seen worse. This is a reminder to be thatnkful for the little comforts we take for granted
ReplyDeleteThank you Maryam. I agree, these days, I hardly have reasons to complain!
Deletewow... nice read... come to think of it, i thought you were chilling(smiles).
ReplyDeleteawesome work.more grace and strength for the days ahead... those receptionist deserve koboko.
Chilling indeed! Many thanks.
DeleteAstonishing read. Keep it up. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteThank you for stopping by.
DeleteWow, wow, wow, well done, and thanks for all you do. In the end, it's worth it.
ReplyDeleteThank you Zhebati.
DeleteI would have run for the hills at the sight of that bathroom, Wattttt?? What you guys endure in the field is so profound. Well done!
ReplyDeleteThank you :-) You should come along sometime...
Delete