Death in Cameroon

I was watching Interstellar (a lucky occasion for me) when I was struck by a comment in the film about how a parent should not have to see their own child die. And while it may be true, it certainly is a luxury of the developed world to have such a concept. It reminded me of a ceremony that I attended the other day for a neighbor who passed away. She was only in her thirties, had one young daughter, and also lived with her younger sister (in her twenties) who also had a daughter. It was the sister who had hosted the reception, and in attendance was a pastor who gave a small speech. The young woman began to cry during it and he told her, “Tie your heart. Be strong. You are still young so maybe you don’t know as some of the others in the room, but death comes for all. Tie heart. You don’t need to cry. You will also die. Your daughter will die. Next it might be your child. It might be you.” I, of course, was rather shocked as I doubted that much comfort came from being told your four-year-old daughter might be the next to die. It seemed insensitive to me. At the same time, however, it is the culture here. Death is simply more common. There is a funeral celebrated every single weekend in my village. I have known more people who have died here, in the past year and a half, than I have in the rest of my American life. And while death is still always sad here, it is more a part of life.

Death in the American mindset is always unexpected. In the Cameroonian mindset, death is always expected. In America, no one ever considers their own death; death is not imminent. Here, people reference their own death all the time. I will be talking about some sort of event that is to take place in one week and some one will say, “Yes, I just pray I will still be alive to attend it” or “I hope I live long enough to see that day” or something along those lines. People can be young, healthy, happy, but they still often reference their death as if it is imminent. And the thing is, it is. Or at least, it very well could be. People die all the time here, often with no real warning. In America we have the luxury of knowing death as something that comes for the old, but here, in Cameroon, death comes for all. The concept of death in not necessarily linked with age. Often in America we associate death with elderly people or some sort of accident, like a car crash. But here, random (and often preventable) diseases, illness, accidents, or other unknown causes create death continually, without regard to age. Death really is imminent. From the time they were born, people here have had a closer relationship to death. They are familiar with it, experienced with it. Everyone knows death. Part of it is due to the nature of relationships here—when a community is so strong and everyone is like your family, any person who dies is like a close relative. But more people also have true family members who have died. Indeed, the sister who held the service, lived with her elder sister (the one who passed away) because both of her parents were already dead.  

And so, while it might seem rather insensitive to tell someone who has lost a loved one to tie their heart and be strong, it is also necessary in this culture. Which brings me back to the idea that a parent should not have to bury his or her own child. It is an idea that most Cameroonians would agree with, in concept. But in the developed world it is an expectation: no parent should see their child die—here, it is a desperate wish. People in Cameroon expect death because life does not often afford them the luxury of abiding by that maxim. In fact, the woman who passed away had already lived through the death of her only son. Death truly comes for all here.