My Own Pikins

Cameroonians often say, "that is my own" instead of "mine" or "my".  I first noticed this when I returned to Cameroon in June 2010 shortly after Eunice died.  After visiting Eunice's grave I was holding Baby Kate  in a taxi and asked if she would share her groundnuts (peanuts) with me.  She promptly said, "No, they are my own."  Since meeting Eunice in 2005 her children have become a special part of my life and I now affectionately call them my own pikins.  This past year has included many special memories with them beginning by celebrating Youth Day last February and concluding by celebrating Youth Day again and an afternoon of swimming.

Every major holiday in Cameroon is celebrated with children marching in an open field.  Below is a picture of a child holding the sign board for the Sacred Heart Primary School, where Lord, Babila, and Kate attend.        

I arrived at the field just in time to see Babila and Lord march pass wearing their brightly colored uniforms.

After the marching all of the children gather to eat rice, a special treat.  I arrived to find Kate with her friends eagerly awaiting their heaped plate of rice.

After all of the marching the children do relay races.  One of the relay races includes small children wearing nothing but their underwear and running across the field to see who can dress the fastest.  All of the other people stand around and eat food and buy special treats for the children.  One of the things I bought for my pikins was alaska, which is really nothing more then frozen colored water.  I bought it shortly after Peter and I shared a memory of Eunice making alaska and ice cream and selling it for Youth Day years ago.

Baby Kate is not such a baby any more, even though she corrects people if they just call her Kate.  The days of her falling asleep in my arms are fleeting as she is getting older, but the days of making her laugh by tickling her I think will still be around for awhile.

The day after Youth Day, I took Peter and the kids to a pool that recently opened in Bamenda.  Considering that they have never been in a bathtub, much less of a swimming pool, they had no idea what to expect.  I spent an afternoon searching through heaps of European cast-off clothes lying on the ground in the market to find swimsuits for everyone and was fairly successful.  Kate's swimsuit took some innovation, but we made it work.

Thankfully I was able to borrow some water wings from a Baptist missionary to prevent everyone, including, Peter, from drowning.

Babila was scared by the water and the first time he went in he only lasted about 5 seconds before scrambling out.  He preferred to spend the time sitting in a raft in the kids pool.

And after the two days of intense stimulation and fun, there was nothing left to do, but sleep.