Identity?

In Africa we don’t know suicide, or I should say, we rarely hear about it. In fact we consider it to be vile, but crossing the Mediterranean, although a form of suicide, is considered noble, for one does while trying to save once life and that of the family. Although in most cases it is out of vanity. To prove oneself. To be accepted. To be respected. For my ethnic group, to be a noble was the greatest of prize. You were respected throughout the villages. Today a person from Europe is the ultimate noble. We aspire nobility by that.

Europe also “represents” an unbelievable form of hope. Have you had everything strip from you to the point where there is absolutely no option. No other way out. The last thing you will want will be some idea that refute what you have been building in your mind. We belief in that not only because we need that but because there is no other option. How much blood had to flow for most people to stop believing in what they believed? how much time did it take for ideas of the past to die? How many mistakes have we committed, how many do we have to correct? What about those leaving, do we really think we have a cure, this is a believe, it is an anchored believe; moving to Europe or to any other country out of Africa is gonna change things for us. It takes a lot to change a believe.

A huge task, indeed.

I saw a lot of young Africans leaving the motherland. I saw many Cameroonians searching for a better future somewhere else.

For lack of a better way to die, some chose to drown in the sea, not knowing how to swim—just like this author. For lack of a better way to live, you sold yourself as a slave for your family, thinking of it as a noble act. But for what? To die as a hero? A martyr? Trying to better one’s life?

“Life is sacrifice,” one would tell me. “To live is a choice,” says another. You did offer yourself as a form of sacrifice. When I came to Europe, I thought it would better the condition of my family. I lived under the hope that, in one way or another, I would be able to change the situation in my country and for my family. I dropped out of college not just because I didn’t have money, but also because I thought that taking more money from my family would literally ruin them, or put them into even more debt.

I tried as much as I could to properly assimilate into French culture, by speaking with a French accent, eating, and even thinking like a French person. I made the choice to focus on my assimilation in France at the expense of my own culture. I realized how much I had changed when a Cameroonian friend invited me to a Cameroonian party. Everyone was aware of the trends going on in the country, except me. I had become a stranger to my own country.

Strangely enough, while I had been working on my assimilation into French culture, I am still not fully versed in certain aspects of French life. I became too French to understand my culture, yet not French enough to be considered French. Right now, I’m nowhere to be found, having one foot in France and another in Cameroon. This has been my personal form of suicide. It became even clearer when I lost my student visa after dropping out of college.

In Africa, we don’t know suicide. In fact, we consider it vile. But crossing the Mediterranean, although a form of suicide, is considered noble, for one does it in an attempt to save one’s life and the life of the family. Although, in most cases, it is driven by vanity—to prove oneself, to be accepted. In my ethnic group, to be a noble was the highest prize. You were respected throughout all the villages. Today, a person from Europe is considered the ultimate noble. We aspire to that nobility.

Europe, by the way, represents an unbelievable form of hope. Have you ever had everything stripped from you to the point where there are absolutely no options left? No other way out? The last thing you will want is some idea that contradicts everything you’ve been building in your mind. We believe in it not only because we need it, but because there is no other option.

How much blood had to flow for most people to stop believing in what they believed? How much time did it take for the ideas of the past to die? How many mistakes have we committed, and how many do we still have to correct? What about those who are leaving? Do we really think we have a cure? This is a belief, an anchored belief: moving to Europe, or any other country outside of Africa, will change things for us. It takes a lot to change a belief.

Sometimes you wish you were not in such a situation. You wonder why exactly you are in a country different from your own, with a culture different from what you have known. You have to start everything from scratch. You have to learn how to speak, eat, sleep, rest, and sometimes even think like the people of the host country. You have to assimilate yourself into the culture. Your assimilation is not for the people of the country but for yourself—to make things easier.

I know you so well, my friend, because I am you. Sometimes all the efforts seem pointless. You came to France on the fifth of January 2020, on the eve of COVID-19. You had prepared yourself to leave your home country since your fourteenth birthday. Now that you are out of the country, a global pandemic has emerged. As a student, you expected to find something that would be useful to your country in the future. But what? That dream was questioned by life itself. Having no source of income because the world was shut down, your first instinct was to move back home, to the motherland, to your mom. You were ready to sacrifice all you had invested to move out, but more than that, you were ready to sacrifice becoming a man for the comfort of your home. Luckily, your mom was not willing to let you move back home. Despite all the love she had for you—or rather because of her love for you—she wanted you to face your battles and become the man you were meant to be.

You lost your student visa because you couldn’t afford your studies. Nine months later, you were given an OBLIGATION TO LEAVE THE FRENCH TERRITORY. But you chose to stay, bringing the situation before a judge. For the following three years, you lived not just as an illegal immigrant but also as someone under the obligation to leave French territory. From here, you came to see the best and worst in men—especially in yourself. Choosing to stay in France as an illegal immigrant was like choosing to remain in an open prison. For almost five years, you have not felt the warmth of a hug from your mom. The only difference between you and a prisoner is that the door of your prison is open, but you do not dare to step out. Is it courage? Or is it cowardice? Ladies and gentlemen, let us look at my friend’s journey, at my journey.

Five years in France. From COVID to now. Man, this is one of the greatest achievements of my life. I have had so many ups and downs. How lucky I am to be an illegal immigrant in this country. I never thought I could work this hard and live on my own. However, I cannot live like this forever, this is the time where everything gets solved. Or I leave.

Is it possible that she would come back just for this?

Out of my sight those who hate halfway what they love halfway. At least do me the honor of being hated, because one only hates those for whom one can feel immense love.

Love and hate lose their flavor when diluted. We all know that fast food is not good. So, why industrialize love? That’s what makes it lose its flavor. She will come back if I were to show her that my life has changed?

I asked you to become better for her, but will your better version see her in the same light? You cannot change yourself without changing your perspective, without changing your eye. Will that eye see her as it did in the past? Maybe that’s why you’re afraid to burn yourself in your own flames ? Everything will have to be redefined. Even what you considered to be love and hatred.

Farewell.

I want you, more than anything, to learn what it means to lose.

You gave all that you had, as you said you would, and this is where it ended. This is exactly what happens when you die: you are completely forgotten. Nothing remains of you. People clapped for you when you were alive; people said that you had a certain capacity for work and for affairs. But desert that place, that affair, and you shall be replaced. It sounds cruel, but that is just how things are. To whom will your image remain? Perhaps to those who were deeply attached to you, but even then, with time, your presence will fade away, and you shall be history. If anything of you remains, it may only be some words.

Do you remember when you wanted to travel to France? You got your visa to France. Then you lost it. Now you are an illegal immigrant. You are lucky to have a job, but keep in mind that your status puts your job in a relatively weak position. You could lose it at any moment. If it happens, please don’t be shocked. For two days after losing your visa, you were depressed. The same happened after dropping out of college. I know this to be the only thing you truly wanted. But you were able to live without it. So why are you afraid to die when you have to, to take the move you need to when the time comes? Winning or losing, life has to continue.

This is why I urge you to live. To be yourself. To tell yourself the truth and not be ashamed to live. Why must you be ashamed? You will be forgotten after your death. The rate at which you are forgotten might vary, but still, you will be forgotten.

Of all there is to learn, I want you to learn how to die. This, just like living, is the foundation of life. Yet, it is often overlooked by those who teach us how to live. I say this because I want you to live fully. You cannot live fully if you are a slave to the fear of loss. This is a simple truth, my friend: you will lose everything. So why mourn what is not yet gone? Oh, dear friend, this is the trick of it all. If death or loss surprises you, it means you never prepared yourself mentally for such a thing. To be prepared for the worst-case scenario is to free your mind. It means conquering that fear. It means conquering death itself.

You are too tied to what life has given you. Oh, do not mistake me—I want you to enjoy the good things in life. But know when the time comes to let them go, as it should be, without any withdrawal symptoms. Do I want you not to mourn? Oh no, my friend. I simply do not want you to mourn more than is necessary, or if possible, not mourn at all. Are you a victim? Admit it, but do not make a show of it to the rest of the world.

In embracing this mindset, you reclaim your freedom. The inevitability of loss and death ceases to be a chain around your spirit. Instead, it becomes the very reason you live—truthfully, courageously, and fully.