Personal Narrative: Growing Up In Cameroon

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As most children growing up in Cameroon, I always wanted to travel to a different country because nothing was exciting for me to do. I wanted to know how people in other countries lived, what kind of food they ate, how they dressed, spoke, and everything about their culture. I thought the world except for Cameroon was science fiction and I often wondered how could movies stars like Tom Cruise could die on one movie and reappear in another. Well, I was small and I watched too much mission impossible. Later as I grew older, I wanted to speak different languages, further my education and earn a better job and a career for myself. All of my relatives who came home for x-mass from countries in Europe looked bigger, fresh and were highly respected.…show more content…
I will not know him grow or call me Papa, or teaching him how to be a gentleman like myself. All the sleepless night I suffered because of him and now, I was abandoning him. My wife and best friend, my high school sweetheart, for 7 years we 've been together, played and argued at the same time. She never complained, always positive and soft-spoken and talked very little with other people. If I leave who was going to console her? My mum, my greatest supporter and fan, she will support me whether I am wrong or not. How will these two beautiful women survive when I leave? My little enstine nephew Donald, who was going to pay for his education. I had a good job and salary package with extra advantages like paid vacation, health insurance for every member of my family. There was a possibility that me to become a senior manager. The job I had was one of those jobs we call “ hot cake jobs” in Cameroon. I had a nice piece of land and I was building my house. It was a beautiful family house with a living room, a kitchen, three bedrooms and two baths, after that I was going to buy my Toyota Camry 2002. All of these investments might fall if I left since no one could replace…show more content…
Starting on the first day I arrived at the kennedy international airport in new york and I had no one to pick me up. I was sleeping in a pentecostal church for two months before I found an old school mate who housed and helped me get my papers. People in the U.S. were not very friendly as I thought. The foods were different and tasted different, everything was like 500 time more expensive, the weather was horrible especially winter. Several times during those initial years, I wanted to return home to Cameroon even though my family supported me from home financially and morally. I have worked as a garbage man, a a car man, cashier, caregiver and many more in while in the
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