Blooper Reel: When ‘No’ Actually Does Mean ‘Yes’

I had the best laid plan to post this entry about a month ago - and the old adage about best laid plans certainly holds true here in Cameroon (gaaah to lack of reliable internet access). Although it's late and may not be totally relevant, I think it's still one of the more amusing posts I've come up with, so hope you enjoy! 

I decided to have this post to expound on several different ‘lost in translation’ or other interesting (both amusing and frustrating) cultural moments that have happened over my month or so in Kembong. The first, and by far most frequent moment occurs with my hair. In Cameroon, as is the custom in Africa in general, most of the women (if they don’t have their heads shaved), style their hair by plaiting it, or with what we refer to as ‘weave,’ but is called ‘mesh’ here in Cameroon. Because of my hair’s texture and style, many children and adults alike think that my hair is actually mesh. Frequently children have come to my house to greet me and chat, and after a lull in the conversation, they work up the nerve to ask me in a quiet voice ‘Aunty, your hair, is it mesh??’ and when I respond negatively, they look at me with wide eyes, to which I say that they are welcome to touch and feel my hair if they don’t believe me. They immediately shake their heads, but often, several minutes later, when they think I am not paying attention to them, their tentative hands reach out to grasp locks of hair, giving a little tug in the process to make sure. Younger children have even turned my hair into a game. When new children visit me, the regulars will ask their comrades whether or not they think that Aunty’s hair is mesh or not (pleased that they both know, and have tactilely confirmed the answer). They are highly amused when one of their friends guesses ‘mesh’ incorrectly, and then urge the children to touch Aunty’s hair. I find both instances very amusing.

            Another interesting lost in translation moment occurs at least once a day, often multiple times per day if I’m interacting with new people: incorrect responses to questions. For example, I will ask people upon greeting them “how are you” or “how’s the day?” and I will get the response of “yes.” But it’s always a very emphatic ‘yes’ and when I pause for a minute and wait for the correct response, they just stare back at me with the expression that seemingly says “why on earth are you looking at me like that?! I’ve just very nicely answered your question, you idiot!” Another favorite response is when I ask a question or make a statement, like ‘oh wow, it’s very hot today’ or ‘I’m going to Mamfe tomorrow to get some things’ and the response is ‘oh yes, thank you.’ One of the technical college teachers is notorious for doing this. When I told him what I was planning on doing for Christmas, his response was ‘ohh, tank you tank you’ (the ‘th’ sound really isn’t a thing, or very common here). Additionally, it’s VERY common to begin your response statement with the word ‘no.’ For example: “Are you going to the market today?” Response: “No, I’m just going there today to buy some small things.” Also, the response to a “how are you doing?” question has the abbreviated response of “no,” which would naturally mean that ‘yes, I’m doing fine, thanks for asking.’ Gaaaahhh. At this point in my time in Kembong, I’m pleased as pie that some people can actually understand me, make the correct responses to my question, and absolutely thrilled when I can carry on a more than five-minute conversation with someone. Really, it’s the little things in life. 

            On the subject of Christmas, it’s weird to observe the things that translate from American culture, like Celine Dion, and ‘Xmas.’ No one says ‘Christmas’ in my village, but instead ALL say ‘Xmas’ all the time. Additionally, Celine Dion is so incredibly popular here, it’s unreal. Case in point, at the wedding that I went to at the Apostolic Church, the groom and groomsmen processed/danced in while a churchwoman was screaming a Celine Dion song on repeat into the microphone. Additionally, after people open up to me, they often ask me questions about life in the United States, like: why do American women use so much oil on their skin (I can only assume that they mean sunscreen); is there a rule in the US that women can only have two children; do you have to shave your head as part of going to school (as it is in Cameroon); why are Americans so fat (the irony of this is that several people who have asked this are by no means trim and fit themselves); is it true that it’s only ten kilometers from Boston to heaven (whaat?! Talk about a question coming out of left field); why do you have a boy’s name (Valery is a boy’s name, particularly in the Anglophone region, as Valerie is a common girl’s name in the Francophone regions); why don’t US schoolchildren study African history like we have to study American history (a pretty valid question in my opinion), etc. It’s always interesting to hear what they want to know, or any preconceived notions that they have about American culture.  

            The final lost in translation moment occurred the other day when Njock, one of my friends here, and one of the many bushtaxi drivers in Kembong, took me out for a beer to celebrate Xmas. As a side note, I had originally come into my community with the notion that if I socially drank in my community that my community would get a bad impression of me. I quickly learned that this was exactly the opposite in a country like Cameroon with a huge alcoholism problem. In fact, me saying that I preferred to have ‘sweet drinks’ (soda) seemed to alienate me from people who wanted to enjoy a beer with me. With this in mind, I decided that if I was offered a beer, and in the mood, that I would accept it, and not actively try to never consume alcohol; this doesn’t mean that I’m going to practice alcoholic behaviors (I had to refuse palm wine offered to me by the Chief of the Health Center at 8 in the morning the other day…), but that I’ll be embracing the community custom of occasionally talking over a beer. Anyway, the following is the conversation that occurred between Njock and myself, with my thoughts being in parenthesis:

Him: Can I ask you a question?

Me: (thinking, uh oh, where is he going with this, because I’m really not in the mood to deal with a potential love confession, having had much practice in this respect with the horny, but harmless teenage boys in the community) Uhm, sure.

Him: Have you looked at yourself in the mirror today?

Me: (well this is definitely not what I was expecting, but not sure what he is trying to get at with this, so I’ll play along for now) Yes, I have. Why do you ask?

Him: No, I mean, have you really looked at yourself in the mirror today??

Me: (whaaatt??!) Uhm, yes, Njock, I have looked at myself in the mirror today.

Him: And what did you see in the mirror today?

Me: *unladylike snort emitted* Uhh, I saw myself. Just myself.

Him: Oh really? And nothing else?

Me: (no, you idiot, I’m done playing this game and have no clue what you expect or want me to say! Oh wait, yeah, I did in fact see the Boogymonster while putting in my contacts this morning!! Needless to say, I’m getting frustrated) Njock, where are you going with this? I saw myself in the mirror this morning, I don’t know what you want me to say…

Him: You didn’t notice anything different about yourself?!

Me: (did I suddenly develop a flesh eating bacterial infection on my face in the last five hours? I decide to feel my face, just in case, and attempt subtlety in doing it.) Well, I look pretty tan…(again, what does this guy want me to say?!)

Him: Well, that’s unusual, because you are looking really fat! You are looking like a real woman of the community now, being so fat. Yes, it’s true, you are fat! You are very fat.

Me: (baffled, since with the exercising and cooking for myself, I’ve actually lost weight being here…and more than a little annoyed that he would have the nerve to tell me this; or is this one of those weird things that translated, and he actually means ‘phat,’ as in ‘cool’?? gaaahh) Ehrm, is this supposed to be a compliment?! In the US, calling someone ‘fat’ is considered to be very rude.

Him: Oh no, you are looking good and fat!

Me: (internal facepalm)

I later learn in the conversation (after a few awkward moments) that calling someone ‘fat’ means that they are looking good, and that by telling me that, what he really meant was that I seemed like I was adjusting to the community and the community way of life (he had heard that I had tried some of their traditional dishes). Needless to say, if ‘fat’ is synonymous with ‘well-adjusted’ and ‘looking good,’ I can’t wait to find out the other interesting meanings of other seemingly inane words! Yahooo.