Travel Short Stories

Study Abroad, Teach Abroad   by Eli Terris

In addition, I would like to announce that Eli is 'juif'. As the French word meaning Jewish concluded Pastor Tom's introduction of myself, 50 to-be Lutheran pastors echoed the word amongst themselves. I smiled, fully aware of Judaism's fascination to Cameroonians, particularly those with mastery of the Old and New Testaments. 

Since no Jewish community in Cameroon exists, my religious identity increased my exoticism as a White American. Shortly after the introduction, Pastor Tom led the habitual morning-prayer service in the quaint sanctuary, during which, glances were periodically turned in my direction with genuine curiosity.

After the prayer ended, we all congregated outside the Lutheran school. While the morning sun reflected off our bodies, dozens of students immediately circled me. A cluster of five goats and one calf trailed by catching my attention, yet the locals familiar with this motley bunch had not taken their eyes off me. 'I've never met a real live Jew before!' one stated bewildered by my presence. Another asked a series of questions which undoubtedly led to asking about my innate intelligence and wealth, two common stereotypes Cameroonians consistently hold of Jews. After answering the shower of questions as best I could, the director of the school made his way over to me. 

'Would you mind teaching my class tomorrow?' He asked with an expectant smile on his face. Completely caught off guard, and personally worried about my own academic work that was in dire need of attention, I reluctantly agreed to teach a 2-hour lecture on American Jewish identity and background on world Jewry in lieu of his Bible course. Am I knowledgeable enough to be teaching this? How do I morally feel about single-handedly representing the Jewish faith? I spent the afternoon exploring the vibrant market, relaxing under mango trees, and jogging along the red dirt roads while trying to mentally prepare my presentation. 

The follow morning I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to go. I put on my Cameroonian garb, which consisted of matching pants and shirt decorated with a rainbow of colors in varying patterns of stripes, polka dots, and chains. I strolled over to the same white two-story school from the previous day and marched up to the second floor. The director greeted me with the same warmth and smile, this time, sharing his limited knowledge of Hebrew. I sat down behind a large desk in the front of the room with a chalkboard to my back and faced a room full of twenty-five students. I briefly examined my small page of notes I had written the night before and dove right in. I spent the first hour talking about Jewish holidays ranging from Passover, Rosh Hashanah to Purim. The students sat respectfully, clinging onto my every word and would occasionally scribble away here or there. I tried to explain the complexity of Israel's divisive role among the American Jewish community, kosher practice, and attempted to erase the accuracy of the stereotypes of Jews. All the while I was concealing my secular identity, something we Americans had been instructed from the first day, for our safety and acceptance in Cameroonian society.

The first hour, despite being a huge testament to the improvement of my French, flew by fairly quickly. I opened the second hour up to questions, curious what would be of interest. Student's hands shot up into the air and touched upon topics ranging from Jewish communities in Africa, to mocking the laugh out loud hilarity of the Jewish belief that the messiah has not come yet. One student in the first row raised his hand with furrowed eyebrows and a puzzled look in his eyes.

'You talk about the diminishing Jewish community, but at the same time you also say that Jews do not preach or attempt to convert non-Jews. How do you explain that? Aren't the Jews responsible for their dying numbers?' I was baffled at this question, having never before correlated the two statements. In Cameroon 40% of the population is Christian, 20% is Muslim, and the remaining 40% is of indigenous religions. There is a deep history of forced conversions, some violent, that glimmer into Cameroon's past. It seemed inconceivable to this room full of students that a religion, would not want everyone to practice it through any means necessary. 'Do Jews not want us?' I tried my best to answer the question accurately and assuring the students that Judaism is open to anyone. It was the first time I heard my religion challenged rather than admired for not preaching.

Although I had to post-pone the wrap up of my final 40-page paper, I felt vindicated that I had made the right decision to teach. I was given a deeper insight to the Cameroonian perception of Judaism, the Lutheran Church, and education, while simultaneously felt I had parted with the gift of teaching others. Learning while in Cameroon was seldom contained to just the classroom, rather each day brought new insightful experiences. After the class ended the director gave me a warm handshake and thanked me for my time. Just as I was about to leave, he had one last request, 'Would you mind coming in tomorrow morning and doing this same lecture to my other class? They would be really sad if they missed it.'

resources : Eli is a recent graduate of Brandeis University with a BA in Anthropology and French. He is currently living and volunteering in southeastern Haiti with a nonprofit that focuses on reforestation and water conservation. Eli loves to write stories that relive his international experiences.