"And men, you should try to wear khakis [in Cameroon] instead of jeans so that you blend in well."
"Um... what should I do about my white skin?"
In January, I finally take my first TransAtlantic flight (my first flight out of the country actually) when I head to Yagoua, Cameroon with 14 people who are, at this point, more or less strangers. I've never done anything like this. I don't even have a backpack.
As many of you know, I've been unemployed since April. I've been job hunting non-stop for the last seven months and I've tried to make the time as productive as possible by writing and writing (and mashing) and writing, but, without a doubt, it's taken its mental and emotional toll. Maybe I'm wrong here, but I feel it's a pretty universal sentiment to say that our jobs help give us purpose. They give us daily achievable goals, a sense of worth, a way to be needed. This long stretch of unemployment has taken a lot of that away from me and while my passion for writing has never been stronger, I've lost the sense of satisfation that comes from watching yourself leave fingerprints on the world. I feel like I'm wandering, I feel ghostlike. Inconsequential.
I knew the best way to reverse the jobless curse would be to get involved in something. Right away, I started to research options for international aid possibilities. (International because
a) as Americans, we don't really know what poverty looks like and
b) I knew focusing on something international would rachet up my anticipation and
c) I've always had this weird, deeply set guilt about pulling a lucky number and being born an American to a happy family on a beautiful, wooded, idyllic island and doing aid abroad seems like a decent way to attempt to offset that guilt.)
I had narrowed it down to a few options when my mom called. She had just been to a dinner party (see where I get my guilt?) and one of the attendees was leading, you guessed it, a mission trip to Cameroon. He was looking for more people. My mom thought of me. Hmmm... this intervention smells a little divine, no?
The words "mission trip" have always provoked the same sequence of emotions in me: skepticism, envy, and then more skepticism. While I'm aware that evangelism is a fundamental cornerstone of Christianity, I'm instinctively wary of any trip that's only mission is to convert. Perhaps Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs was engrained in me too early, but if you're going to spread the Word to the sick, hungry, or homeless, I believe you need to punctuate the Word with some long-term, sustainable resources that will help increase the quality of life. Without that, there's something seemingly self-serving about the mission, as if the experience is more for the visitors than the locals. "Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food?," James 2:15 says. "If one of you says, 'Go, I wish you well, keep warm and well fed,' but does nothing about his needs, what good is it?" I had no desire to be one of those jerks described in the verse. Luckily, I was able to breathe easy (and let go of my idiosyncratic reservations) when the mission was described in its whole.
The dinner party attendee my mother met is a physician and the trip's focus is equally divided between evangelical and medical. Our group's members--most of whom I know only as faceless email addresses--will be working with a local church to build up its membership, but we'll also be restocking and reopening a local hospital. Although one of the more stable nations in Africa, the need in Yagoua is quite large and I'm confident that we can make a lasting impression on the immediate region. Hearing all this, I didn't hesitate to sign on the dotted line. (Although I should probably pick up a Rosetta Stone pack for French...)
And while I'm incredibly self-conscious about this trip not being about my own self-worth or sense of purpose, it is what drove me to the mission in the first place. As this point in my life, I have trouble seeing it as only my responsbility as a privileged American and as a believer. It's also an opportunity. And I'm excited. And nervous. But the feeling of being needed, of contributing to the world in some meaningful way, provides a rush of peace.
The deepest, from-the-heart thank you to everyone who's contributed to my fundraising efforts. The outpouring of support has been pretty overwhelming. You'll all be getting more personal messages in the future (post-trip), but please know that each and every donation was incredibly helpful in making this endeavor happen.
Awh, look at me experiencing real human emotion! And I'm not even watching The Kite Runner trailer!
If you have any questions about the mission trip and what we'll be doing, please leave a comment or feel free to e-mail me.
