For Those Displaced

I hope you people didn’t doubt me when I said I’d write again before the end of the year. Even though it’s too soon to shout that I am back, I think I am finding my way towards being consistent again.

Few days ago, not exactly sure what triggered my mind, but I found myself thinking about the civil war in Sudan. Yes, that war. The civil war that lasted 21 years, 7 months, and 4 days from June 5^th, 1983, to January 9^th, 2005. A war which roughly took two million lives and displaced four million from their homes. Again, not sure what triggered this thought, maybe it’s the fact I traveled to East Africa this year or the memory recollection of Blood Diamond.  

As some of you may know, ‘Blood Diamond’ is my favorite movie of all time. This movie is packed with lessons from the opening scene to the end credits. The title of the movie refers to “diamonds mined in war zones and sold to finance conflicts, and thereby profiting warlords and diamond companies across the world.” The setting of the movie took place during the Sierra Leone Civil War which lasted about 11 years causing many casualties and displacing many throughout the country. Not wanting to give much information about this movie I am going to stop myself here, however I will highly recommend that you watch it.

Going back to Sudan Civil War, I remember learning about a British foreign aid worker by the name of Emma McCune. Her story is an intriguing one. My first encounter with her was through a song called “Emma” by Emmanuel Jal who was a child soldier during the civil war and now musician.

Emma McCune

Fun fact: Emma was born in Assam, India. If you replace the first a with an e, you’ll get Essam which is one of my names.

During her stay in Sudan, Emma became known to be a woman who liked to get her hands dirty. A woman who does not let the fact that being a foreigner can prevent her from coming to aid those in need. During the war, Emma was able to rescue more than 150 children, one of which was Emmanuel Jal. So, you can imagine the impact she has left in his life.

I’m sure by now you guys are wondering why the history lessons. Well, before I get there. Remember the tittle of song mentioned above Emma, well in the song Jal asked the question: “what would I be if Emma never rescued me?’ This is a question worthy to be asked. Jal was still a child when he was rescued. Most of his life was spent away from home, not knowing where any other family members were. Imagine if Emma weren’t there to provide a helping hand, where would he be today?

All around the world today, many people have been displaced for various reasons, some of which cannot even be understood. In our own very small way, we can all be an Emma for someone. We can be the reason someone’s life takes a positive turn. We can be the reason that someone makes it in this life.

As we step into the holiday season, it is the absolute best time to reach out to people and organizations who are working tirelessly to help those displaced find their way back. In my own small way, I am doing my best to fight for these people. One thing I’ve realized in talking to people about the projects I do, is that people are always willing to help or be part of change, but they just haven’t heard of organizations that bring about these changes nor know about the best channel their resources.

If reading this makes you want to do something great, I can share with you the current project that I am working on and also connect you with some wonderful organizations who are doing amazing things across the world.

Talk soon,

Boy D’jine

PS. Pretty sure I have one more post left in me before the year runs out.

HEAT, BREEZE, TENDERNESS

Imagine narrating your life during the war, how you were captured, put in prison, and eventually found a way to escape. Only for the person on the other side of the conversation shocking you with the revelation that they indeed did capture you. This is a true story that happened to Winston Churchill during his time as a War Correspondent.

It’s been so long since I put pen to paper and I can’t even write a proper hook, but the lesson here is that the world, as big as it is, is actually very small.

Speaking of Churchill, I was fortunate enough to join a book club this year and one of the books I read was his autobiography and something he said in that book really got my hairs tingling. He said, “The whole creation is but a dream; all phenomena are imaginary. You create your own universe as you go along. The stronger your imagination, the more variegated your universe. When you leave off dreaming, the universe ceases to exist.” I’ve said so many times on this website that the world is all there is, but you must create your own small universe within everything around you; that’s your trigger.

I wanted to narrow it down to three points, Heat, Breeze, and Tenderness.

I asked my fiancée what heat is associated with, and she replied, “fire.” When you think of fire, it’s scary, but in some instances, it’s comforting. Then again, that’s not the kind of fire we are discussing here. This is the fire that burns inside you, the one that sparks greatness in you, the one that makes you get out of bed every day, the one that gives you a purpose. That is the HEAT, the fire. Have you ever thought about what drives you? Please don’t say Uber. Think about it. It is very difficult to accomplish anything if you don’t have that inner desire.

When it rains, it pours. What happens when it suns? The BREEZE aspect in our scenario here is pretty much things in life that you cannot control. I remember one time I woke up, got ready for work, but when I went to leave, someone had hit my car the night before. There I was, perplexed and confused. I couldn’t turn back time and tell whoever hit my car not to. I simply had to fix the car and keep it moving. You can go outside today and it’s a slow breeze, but tomorrow, you find yourself in a hurricane. That’s just life.

Handling life on your own can get rough at times. Having someone to help you along the way is a very big, yet underrated blessing. TENDERNESS. I’m sure you haven’t already forgotten my car example from above. Obviously, the car fixing wasn’t done by me, I had help. More importantly, I made two phone calls to two people who are very close to me to tell them what had happened. They were able to calm me down and assure me all will be well.

How you create your own small universe goes a long way in shaping your life. From what drives you from within, to understanding that there are things in this life that you simply cannot control, and ultimately surrounding yourself with people to help you on this journey of life.

I forgot to properly handle the elephant in the room earlier, but it’s been very busy year. I cannot believe this is my first post of 2021. I promise it won’t be the last.

Oh! Don’t forget to call or text someone you love and thank them for going on this journey of life with you.

Talk soon,

Boy D’jine

This Red Earth

“The government must listen to us. We are peaceful protesters, and we are not hurting anyone” – Nigerian Youth

I was on Twitter few days ago and most of my followers were tweeting #ENDSARS. I wasn’t sure what it was about, but after scrolling down some more, I noticed it had something to do with Nigeria. I quickly sent a message to my Nigerian friend, Syd, to find out the meaning of SARS and what was going on. He told me SARS was an acronym for Special Anti-Robbery Squad, a unit of the Nigerian Police. He also said, “These guys have taken it up a notch and they summarily execute, kidnap, and extort people.”

Protests began early October following the alleged killing of a young man by SARS officers according to BBC. Protesters are calling for the “rogue” unit to be disbanded. With their vicious track record, some would even refer to them as a “Crime Syndicate.”

As of October 13, 10 people have died in Nigeria from the ongoing protest. Same protest which began as a means to put an end to SARS has now elevated to a protest against police brutality. “The excessive use of force by the police in response to the protests reveals the longstanding disregard for the right to life by Nigerian security forces,” Amnesty International Nigeria

To the east of Nigeria sits Cameroon. A country that used to be known for being quiet and peaceful, but now these two words are nowhere close to describing that country. Cameroon is a bilingual country, 80% French and 20% English. For years now both sides have coexisted in relative harmony. However, over the last three years or so, there have been violence in the English regions of the country. Hundreds of citizens have lost their lives and about 500,000 have been displaced, most of whom have fled to Nigeria. The government claims that separatists from the English regions have terrorized civilians and attacked government forces and left them no choice, but to strike back. However, an article in the Washington Post says that, “English speakers displaced by military raids on their villages recounted how Cameroonian troops opened fire on unarmed civilians and burned down their homes. Soldiers often arrived at Anglophone villages early in the morning, they said. But instead of looking for armed independence fighters, they fired indiscriminately, at times leaving the bodies of young men piled in the streets.”

How did we get here? These aren’t the only tragedies going on in Africa right now. In fact, the whole world actually. According to UNICEF, Nigeria, India, Pakistan, China, Democratic Republic of Congo, and Ethiopia, account for 50% of all the deaths of children under the age of 5 in 2019. Let that sink in. 6 countries out of 195.

I was listening to a podcast the other day and they were talking about tradition and how it is something that is passed down from one generation to the next and I keep wondering who will be left to collect whatever is there to be passed down if all the youths are being killed. Rather than going to school, youths are forced to become activists in the streets and on social media. What kind of life is this?

All this blood shed makes me think of a scene in the movie, Blood Diamond…

“This red earth, it’s in our skin. The Shona (an ethnic group in Southern Africa) say the color comes from all the blood that’s being spilled fighting over the land. This is home. You’ll never leave Africa.”

Believe me when I tell you that if us, Africans could get the best out of our continent, we wouldn’t have a reason to migrate. We migrate because our leaders continue to fail and terrorize us.

Africa is so fucked!! This tweet tells you everything you need to know. My generation has only ever known this guy as president. Even when they know they’re doing a terrible job; they hang on to power for whatever reason.

My love for Africa is immense and I don’t like talking bad about her, but sometimes I have to say it as it is. Every week on social media brings forth a new hashtag. We have to do better.

Ayé Africa

Boy D’jine

Checking In! 6 months Into 2020 – How Are YOU Coping?

What a year 2020 has been. When we were shouting ‘vision 2020’ I bet none of us saw this coming. From wild fires in Australia, to the global pandemic…

Checking In! 6 months Into 2020 – How Are YOU Coping?

Le Guinéen (The Guinean)

“Please don’t be saying that Africa’s poor, we got the whole world knocking on our door.” Emmanuel Jal

…

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Conakry where the local time is just after 5 p.m.” These were the sweet words mentioned by the Air France pilot June 17^th moments after we touched down in Conakry, Guinea from Paris. The flight was about six hours which included a brief stop in Nouakchott, Mauritania. This was my first time entering both countries and I couldn’t be more excited.

I originally wanted to go to Cameroon, because I miss home, but we all know that going to Cameroon isn’t the smartest idea at the moment, unless your trip is to the French part and back.  Many of you know or perhaps have seen or heard that Cameroon, for some time now, has been going through some crisis. Basically, the English region, which is 20% of the country is trying to form a separate state — but that is a story for another day.

My last trip to Africa was in 2015. I went home. It was the summer after my junior year in college and I knew it’ll be my only chance to spend a lot of time home, since I would be finishing my degree and getting a full-time job after my senior year. I think I was home for forty-five days. When I told people, I was travelling to Guinea, many asked, “Why Guinea?” “Where is Guinea?” “What is in Guinea?” “Which of the Guineas,” and to be honest I didn’t know what to expect, but I was ready for an adventure, a new experience, and a different air to breathe. A friend of mine who was my neighbor here in the States had moved back to Guinea and I wanted to see him so that’s the why part. Guinea is on the West African coast bordered by Sierra Leone, Mali, Ivory Coast, Liberia, Senegal, and Guinea-Bissau. As far as for what was in Guinea, that was the exciting part I couldn’t wait to find out.

I booked my flight April 23^rd, thus confirming my getaway. Being the aviation enthusiast that I am, I’d previously read that Airbus would be stopping the production of their A380 in 2021. This is the biggest passenger plane ever built. It has two full floors of seats and a wingspan of almost 262 feet. This was the perfect opportunity to fly in one as I didn’t have any planned international trips after this one. The best option was to fly from John F. Kennedy (JFK) airport in New York. I booked my flight with Air France which would transit via Charles de Gaulle (CDG) airport in Paris. The first part of the flight would be on the A380.

I don’t exactly remember if I got my visa before buying the plane ticket, but the process was weird… in a good way. I never visited the Guinea Consulate in New York. Remember I said my Guinean friend used to be my neighbor? Well, his mom is still here and when she was going to visit her daughter-in-law who lives in New York, I gave her my passport and all the relevant documents to obtain a visa. The daughter-in-law knew someone at the consulate who could approve my visa application. A week or so later, I had everything I needed to cross borders.

My friend actually wanted me to come in March since the weather would be perfect. Africa has two seasons: dry and rain. I couldn’t go because it was my last semester in my graduate program. Also, the trip would serve as a graduation present to myself. Imagine working 9-5 Monday to Friday only to wake up every other Saturday and be in class from 9-6. Ouch!! Until I actually bought my ticket and sent a screenshot to him, he still thought I was kidding. He was over the moon when I showed him the airline confirmation.

Graduation came and went, and it was time to travel. June 16^th was the day. Packing for the trip was easy. When you travel internationally, you can normally carry two 50-pound luggage’s and a carry-on. I always travel lite, but I had a lot of things to go donate and my friend’s wife was also sending him a care package. Everything entered and there was still some space for more. From where I live to JFK is a little under two hours. My girlfriend made the trip with me to the airport. I still remember when she stood a floor level up watching me slowly disappear to my gate. We were talking on the phone the whole time. From my point of view, she looked like Jesus on the cross after he’d died, and everyone was returning home.

After getting through airport security, I made my way to my gate and there she was, the A380. I’d never seen one up close before. She was elegant, exquisite, extraordinary, and excellent. I instinctively took out my phone and snapped a picture. The time was 18:32. It was a wet evening, but I sat confidently in my window seat (essential) fully assured that, this 446-million-dollar aircraft will safely get us to Paris. That is exactly what happened.

We touched down around sunrise in Paris. It would’ve been just after 2:30 am in New York. The layover was under 2 hours. Back in New York while in line to check in bags, I met a Guinean who lives in Philadelphia. His name was Aliou Thiam. He was with his wife and son. Aliou was excited that I was visiting his country, but equally disappointed that would only be there for 10 days. We revisited this conversation again when I spotted him in Paris. From Paris, we made a brief stop in Nouakchott, Mauritania. We didn’t get out of the plane in Nouakchott, but no one will ever say I’ve never been to Mauritania. From Nouakchott to Conakry, Guinea is a little under two hours. It was daytime so I was able to see some of the city from above. It’s very flat and dry as it sits in the Sahara Desert. The airport itself opened in 2016 and can handle two million passengers a year. Not bad for a Saharan country. I don’t remember seeing any planes there at the time, at least from my side of the plane, but their flag carrier, Mauritania Airlines, as I later found out, offers flights to Abidjan, Bamako, Casablanca, Conakry, Dakar, etc.

When I got out of the plane in Conakry, I could almost taste the air. It was fresh, not so humid, and smelled like food. Maybe I was just hungry. Everyone was rushing to get in line at the customs, but I was busy enjoying the views. I was back on African soil. T.I.A. I finally joined the line. Somebody once told me that they were refused entry into a country because they’d planned on getting a visa upon arrival and it backfired. By the time I got to the counter to state my reason for coming to Guinea, I’d taken off my fleece jacket, not only because it was hot but, what was to come. I got to the counter and the security guy asked me why I had an American passport but wearing a Cameroon jersey. I told him, je suis Camerounais monsieur. He laughed and stamped my passport.

I connected to the airport Wi-Fi and texted my friend that I’d landed and was waiting for my luggage. He was already in the area. I grabbed a cart and waited for my bags. The airport had 3 bag-check places, but only one was working so everyone had to be in one line. On my way out the door, a security lady called me to the side. She asked about one of my bags and told me I had to pay for it. This is the other reason why I’d remove that jacket earlier. Many times, when you travel to Africa and you look foreign, you will more than likely get scammed. I’d been there before. I actually didn’t have to pay anything to this lady, but anyone who doesn’t know about this will pull out the cash. I told her I’m Cameroonian and I’m not giving her anything. She kept insisting and I just stood there looking at her make noise. At one point I just grabbed my bags and left, but she chased me, and we came back inside. I sat on the floor because I was getting tired of her. By this time everyone on that flight from Paris had left. I was this lady’s only hope, but all her eggs where in the wrong basket. Another officer showed up and from the medals on his uniform, I knew he was superior to the lady who had quarantined me. I explained to the guy that every single person on that flight from Paris had left, but I was still here. He gave her “the look” and I was on my way. I met Mory outside, explained the delay to him and we laughed about it. T.I.A (This Is Africa).

The sun was setting when we left the airport. I didn’t hear anything he was saying as I kept trying to see as much before nightfall. I spotted some kids playing soccer on a beach and it was a perfect opportunity for a picture. I told Mory to pull over. The beach was on the other side of the road, but that didn’t stop me. The picture was worth it. After taking the picture, I stood there for a minute admiring the beauty of the setting sun, and trust me, the African sunset is something to behold.

People travel for various reasons. It could be to learn, escape, challenge themselves, and perhaps to celebrate. I travel to eat. No, seriously. I’m very fortunate to be able to eat and appreciate everything under the sun. Well maybe not everything, everything, but if it looks decent enough, I’m munching. The first night, we had shawarmas at a spot called Heroes Coffee in Kipé. I stayed at an Airbnb in Nongo. Residence ZK is the name of the place and I highly recommend it. My room number was 102. The place had all the amenities I could need. Mory had booked it for me a month before my arrival. By the way, I also travel for the adventure, seeing, and appreciating the different aspects of other cultures. It’s nice when someone shows or tells you about something, but it’s way better when you go see, and experience it first-hand. I slept like baby that night.

The next morning, Mory came by so we could go to bank to exchange money. I also needed a local sim card for my phone. He lived about twelve minutes away in Yimbaya. We made our way to Prima Center, one of the places I’d written down as a must see. I felt like a millionaire after I exchanged a hundred dollars to Guinean franc. In fact, that $100 lasted the entire 10 days. There was a supermarket within Prima Center, so I did some grocery shopping for essentials: bread, milk, eggs, orange juice, etc. It was already midday by now. We drove to Yimbaya and I saw Mory’s home. It’s a beautiful one-story fenced house on a dusty road right next to the Medina Railway. One evening, the train passed by while I was at his house. It was heading to Kankan which is about 345 miles east of Conakry.

I felt right at home. It reminded me of Bamenda, Cameroon. The place where I grew up. Kids were running around playing and some where taking turns showing of their bike skills. I offered them candy from the care package Mory’s wife had sent him. These were the first friends I made in Guinea. The African Nations of Cup, a soccer tournament for the best team in Africa was right around the corner. Guinea had qualified and there was a lot of national pride around the city. Some mornings, I’d walk around and all I could see was a city plastered in rouge, jeune, et vert (red, yellow, & green).

The rest of the friends I made were all older. Most of them Mory’s family, and friends of the family. I still remember the morning I made scrambled eggs for breakfast and they laughed at me. Scrambled eggs in Guinea? That was a first for them. They did eat it, but that was the first and last time I hosted breakfast at my place. Abdourahmane who goes by Infamous, Sekou, who is a former Olympian, Karamo, Iliassa, and Andrew. There was also Ahnita, who saw my camera and asked me to take her picture. All these people made the trip worth it and I will always appreciate them. Almost a year later and we still communicate.

Ten days went by very fast, but it was more than enough time for me to fall in love with the country and become one of its people. From Kipé, to Nongo, Dubraka, Coyah, Camayenne, Belle Vue, Kaloum, Koleya, Yimbaya, and Forecariah, the views and experiences were plenty.

I felt right at home and that was the most difficult part about leaving. At the airport on my way back, Mory and I had one last lunch. It was around 17:34. He was very emotional although he tried to hide it. He expressed his happiness that I’d made the trip to see him. That was the end. When I sat down in my seat on the plane back, I remembered that the visa was valid for reentry for the next three years. I smiled, opened the book I was reading and waited for takeoff.

Mory Kaba, Le Guinéen

THE LONG GAME

“Show me your friends and I will tell you who you are”

I am not sure where the above quote originated from, but I have heard it so many times that I’ve had to re-evaluate how I define what a friend is and who I can truly call a friend. When I was growing up in Cameroon, I had this friend, Kelly. Every morning, she was at my house, sometimes before sunrise, to wake me up to go play. We’d play from sunrise to sunset and sometimes even forget to eat. Some days I’d hear my grandmother screaming my name from a mile down the road. Kelly was my first true friend. One morning, Kelly never came to the house and I slept until about 11a.m. I finally woke up, but my grandmother did not want me to go to her house. Being the good child that I was, I listened. Half hour later, she still said no. Let’s be honest, I’m very stubborn. I ended up sneaking out of the house and going to Kelly’s house. You had to go down a hill to get to her house and by the time I was halfway down, I noticed a huge gathering of people at her house. I got scared and slowed down as I did not know what was happening. By this time my grandmother had noticed I wasn’t home and caught up to me. She stopped me and told me that Kelly never woke up that morning. I did not know what death was, but I cried and cried and cried. I was six, she was five.

I guess my definition of a friend is someone I’d cry for if I were to lose them. It’s difficult finding people like that these days if we are being honest. Playing the long game means identifying people you want to be teammates with in the long run. How many of your friends know where you work? Do you know where your friends work? What about their favorite color? What motivates them? What gets them out of a bad period? Their mental health? Do they ask where you see yourself in a few years and vice versa? It’s not always about, “Yo, what we doing tonight? Friendship is much more than that. Have you ever visited someone you thought was your friend and they found it/you weird for visiting, because “who does that?” LOL can you imagine?!

One of my Kenyan friends used to work at an airplane hangar, and he knew that I love planes. One day he invited me over and gave me a tour of the place. I even got to sit inside one of the private jets they had. As much I enjoyed visiting, he enjoyed being able to share what he’s passionate about with a friend. I’ve always felt that people will eventually show you their true colors overtime. You can’t buy friendship. You will have good days, and you will have bad days with your friends, but every good and true friendship will stand the test of time.

One very important thing to note is that you’re not the only one playing the long game. That friend you think will be a good teammate in the long run might not see you the same way. In such instances, don’t force the issue. Mutuality is key and when you find your real teammates, love and cherish them because they might be taken from you at any moment.

 

Boy D’jine

CULTURAL INTEGRATION

You left Africa three months ago and you’ve finally made some friends in the United States. You decide to invite them over to an African party hosted by one of your parents’ friends. As you and your new friends arrive at the party, there’s obviously going to be a lot of African food and perhaps pizza. Here you’re faced with a cultural decision of either diving into some fufu or some attieke, or maybe you think your new friends will judge you, so you settle for pizza. Which African are you in this scenario? 

I was a month away from my thirteenth birthday when I left Cameroon for the States. It was a huge change for me. One of the advantages I had at the time was that I was young and it kept me away from a lot of things. I spent my first few months mainly observing how kids at school operated. When I felt like I was ready to mingle, I made friends with a girl from Mexico and another from Ghana. Boom, diversity. I realized we had a lot in common as we were all outsiders trying to survive in a new environment.

As I got older, I was able to learn more about Cameroon, because I had internet access; something which I did not have back home. It was almost as if I had to leave Cameroon to fall in love with it. With this knowledge, I am able to share it with the many people I’ve met over the years. Yes, I know Cameroon isn’t perfect, but let me not catch anyone badmouthing my home. I’ve even been told a few times that “you’re too African.”

Now that I’ve drifted a bit, let me get back on track. As people move into new places, part of adjusting is integrating within the new culture of the place. If you want to survive, you really have to integrate. Now, integrating DOES NOT mean substitute your own culture for the new one. You have to juggle both of them. I have seen many people leave Africa for the States and within a matter of weeks forget all there is to know about home. Some even forget the same language they’ve been speaking since birth.

Part of the blame has to be on the parents. Your child might have been born in America but his/her parents certainly weren’t. Bring up your kids to be open minded and be able to appreciate both sides of the Atlantic. The reason I say part is because some kids are just so stubborn to the point where they completely refuse to open themselves to other cultures and norms. I might only be focusing on Africans, but this pattern occurs in many societies. If you think your “friends” are going to make fun of you because of what you eat or because of how you dress, then I don’t think you should be wasting your time with these people. It is not everywhere you go that you seek love and admiration.

Comparing and contrasting societies across different cultures is valuable. It helps you see patterns in your own society that you might otherwise take for granted, and it enriches your appreciation of the diverse patterns of culture that makes all of us great. I think we ought to do better… Please talk to your friends.

Long Road Home

     I was halfway to Istanbul when it finally hit me that it’s rain season in Cameroon which isn’t the same as Summer in the United States…

 

After the end of junior year during my undergraduate degree, I was really missing home. This is usually the period many students start looking for jobs and internships because they’re close to completing their degrees. I didn’t have my priorities in check so I picked a date and bought my ticket 🤷🏾‍♂️

The next step was applying for a visa and this is were my trouble began. A lot of countries in the world have dual citizenship which means you can carry two passports. One for your place of birth and the other for where you currently live and work. In my case, it would be Cameroon 🇨🇲 and the United States 🇺🇸 respectively. Unfortunately, Cameroon is one of those useless countries that happen to not allow dual citizenship. When I got the blue American passport, it was effectively the end of my green Cameroon passport 😭 Imagine having to apply for a visa to go back your place of birth. How sad is that? (Let me know in the comments)

Anyway, I filled out the visa application and mailed it to the Cameroon embassy in Washington D.C. alongside my itinerary, 2 passport size photos, and of course a hundred dollar money order. Inside the envelop was also a return label for which the embassy has to send my passport back upon approving the visa request. This is a process that normally takes 3-5 business days.

I don’t remember the exact timetable, but I know two weeks before my flight, the documents hadn’t returned and I was obviously worried. I called the embassy and they said they sent it back but when I looked at the tracking number, it had not updated since it was delivered to the embassy. They asked me if I could come in and I said yes. I made an appointment and took the 2 hour drive. I checked in and when it was my turn to see the experts, I explained everything to them and even showed the tracking information. Another worker went to check to see if my passport might still be in the office. Nope, nothing. I asked if they could write me a letter stating that I had already paid for a visa and should be issued one upon arrival in Cameroon. No was the answer I got. I now had a week to find a way to get a new passport and a visa.

I called passport services and told them I needed an emergency passport and the only available appointment possible was the day I traveling. Luckily enough my flight wasn’t until 23:55 so I had all day to sort it out. My mom, siblings and myself arrived early at the passport office in Philadelphia. When it was my turn to go up, I explained to the lady everything that had happened and how I had a flight later that day. She felt sorry for me and told me to return at noon and pick it up. Tears of joy.

Noon came, and I went in and the passport was ready. The picture I’d taken for this passport was ridiculously ugly, but that’s a story for another day. Knowing that I didn’t have a visa to enter Cameroon, I had two options: get a visa upon arriving Cameroon or use my Cameroon passport to to get into Cameroon and use my American passport to get out with an exit visa. I went with the latter because my Cameroon passport fortunately still had a year before expiring.

I said my goodbyes and was on my way. While on the plane, it finally hit me that summer in the USA isn’t summer in Cameroon. I was going home in the rain season 😂😂 but there was no turning back. My time in Cameroon was great!! The weather was actually alright. It rained, but not everyday. I visited all my old stomping grounds and saw all the changes that had happened. I even visited my grandmother’s grave for the second time. I saw a lot of things, forged some new friendships. Walking around the city and seeing all kinds of things gave me some inspiration which led to (We Haven’t)

Home is home and I miss it night and day. Sometimes getting there isn’t easy, but when you’re there, you forget about everything and don’t want to leave. I look forward to going back and hopefully Cameroon will be allowing dual citizenships by then.

Until next time…

Boy D’jine

Discovery

It’s been a while since I wrote something. My goal this year was to post at least one blog a month and I clearly failed as nothing was posted for March and today is the last day of April. Sorry 🤷🏾‍♂️ but this was clearly because I was in the middle of audit at work and the audit this year was brutal. Yours truly is also graduating May 3rd and this spring semester felt hard even though the classes were not. I spent more time in the office from January til the end of March than my entire 3 years at my job. Lol kidding, but you get where I’m going. Anyway, here I am and I hope everyone’s okay and still a fan of my content here. ☺️😉

For the longest time I’ve been asked by many people to explain the meaning of my pen name, Boy D’jine, and I’ve always pushed the question aside. The sad truth is not that I didn’t want to answer, but because I had absolutely no idea what it meant. 🤣🙆🏾‍♂️ This prompted me to go do some research and ask around.

Anyone who knows me will tell you I have a huge love for music. I’ve always been a fan of instruments, rhythm, and live performances. I search all over the world for high quality music which is why I have a very diverse playlist. One minute I’m in London and the next song takes me to Maputo, 🇲🇿 Mozambique. I think I mentioned in a previous blog, {MBALAX} that music is for everyone and you just have to find your rhythm. You should listen to what pleases you and not what the crowd thinks it’s good for you.

The origin of Boy D’jine, at least for me, was from a song of the same name by a Senegalese musician, Fallou Dieng. At first it was just a song, but I started playin it a lot and sharing it on Snapchat and Instagram. One time while I was playing for this indoor soccer team, they wanted to get new jerseys and they decided to get the Arsenal jersey. Being a Manchester United fan, I could not put my name on that shirt. 🌚🌚 My best friend recommended I put Boy D’jine and we went with it and it stuck.

Now that the back story is out of the way, let’s move on to the meaning. I found out that Boy is just a prefix and doesn’t mean much. It could’ve been girl, man, woman, etc. D’jine on the other hand is someone who deeply rooted in their personality is passion that wants to help others. Someone who family serves as the foundation of their values. Sounds like me so far? There’s more.

No matter how difficult a challenge is, they are capable of completing  it by using quick wits and tremendous adaptability powers. Socially very active and loves connecting with new people. Even though they strive for big success, they are practical and realistic. All these make sense, but what sealed the deal for me are these last two.

“Being a kind person who likes to help others can sometimes slow you down when trying to accomplish your own goals”

“Even if you reach your own goal at the last minute, you never miss a deadline because you always have a back up plan in your pocket”

I actually call it contingencies and not a back up plan.😏 I hope you all now have your answers as to where the name came from. I’m glad I took the time to find out myself.

Talk soon,

Boy D’jine

 

A Day Like This

This post was supposed to go up yesterday, February 27, but here I am typing it today. It’s not due to lack of inspiration, but I was waiting for the perfect one and it finally came. I hope everyone had a good month of February and is looking ahead to what March has in store.

The basis of the post started in November last year. I was on twitter one Friday night when I saw this tweet which asked people to reply and say what they needed or wanted and maybe, just maybe someone around the world would be able to help them. I scrolled down reading through the replies and came across this guy in Nigeria who needed transportation money to go submit an ethics paper. Ethics being of my favorite topics, I told him to message me so we could chat privately. Two days went by and no response. A few other people sent me private messages and one really stuck out. This guy, a student in Nigeria, said he was unable to feed himself and he just need some money to eat. So, I help him out and he was grateful.

Fast forward to yesterday when I got an unexpected message on twitter from this same person. The moral of the story is that you don’t have to be a rich to make a difference in someone’s life. Even a smile or a random compliment will do so much to the soul. Every small good deed goes a long way.

We are in a society were people are quick to tell you that “good things don’t last forever,” but how often do you hear that “bad things don’t last forever.” A positive mind yields positive actions. Emmanuel Jal, former Sudanese child soldier turned musician said, “storms only come for a while, and after a while, storms will be gone.” The goods days that you want will come and the bad days you’re currently in will go. Your current struggles will not be permanent.

 

A day like this will come,

A day like this will go.

 

Boy D’jine