The children’s responses paint a picture of innocence laced with understanding and the urge for change. In their honesty, they remind us of what a country should be – a place where leaders lead and where the Presidency is not just a race to be won but more importantly, a job to be done.
Colbert Gwain @The Muteff Factor (formerly The Colbert Factor)
Children, as playful as they are, often surprise us with insights beyond their years. In their mischief, they might call out from under the bed covers, inviting parents or siblings to search for them, or break a glass right before your eyes and then insist they didn’t do it. A child may even sneak a piece of fruit behind their back, claiming innocence with a grin. Parents often think kids are simply too young to know much, and it’s common to hear “Shut up, what do you know?” That same dismissive attitude is often mirrored by governments and policymakers, who seldom consider children’s voices, forgetting that kids are perceptive and aware. In truth, children know more than we often realize.
As kids growing up in Muteff village, in the Fundong Sub Division of the then Menchum Division, North West Province, Cameroon, our most exciting moments during long holidays were when we accompanied our parents and older youths on clearing expeditions to the “angheli” forest gallery on the slope of Ijim Mountain. Although clearing was a difficult and tedious task for us, we never wanted to miss the opportunity to join the elders. This wasn’t just because we got to enjoy well-prepared chicken or meat; more importantly, our section of the forest was closest to the mystical Nantang Yoh shrine.
Having grown up hearing frightening stories about the shrine and its goddess, particularly the claim that no one who approached the shrine ever returned alive, we became increasingly eager to catch a glimpse of the shrine or the goddess herself. In our childish innocence, we believed that no harm could befall us. According to village mythology, the goddess would emerge from the pool of water after heavy rains to bask on the surrounding rocks. During clearing periods, we’d spend most of our time peeking in the direction of the shrine, hoping to spot her.
With no clear description of the goddess from our parents or elders, our imaginations ran wild. We pictured her as a fearsome, brown-skinned figure with long blond hair. We’d also heard that the mystical Order’s drums beat continuously in the shrine, and before long, we convinced ourselves that we could hear the sounds whenever we were near that part of the forest.
Generation upon generation of kids in this breathtaking Muteff village have suffered from the temptations of this untamed wilderness of imagination in much the same way as the kids in the small community of Maycomb in the town of Alabama in the United States of America. In her award-winning book “To Kill a Mockingbird”, Harper Lee explains the travails and anxieties kids in Maycomb go through trying to figure out what the reclusive character, Arthur “Boo” Radley, looks like. The children grew up only hearing rumors about Radley from the elders and never having an opportunity to catch a glimpse of him. A reclusive and mysterious character, Radley lives down the street from Atticus Finch and his two children, Scout and Jem. Radley becomes the children’s focus when their friend Dill becomes intrigued with the town’s legends and conjectures about him.
In trying to figure out what Radley looks like, Jem suggests he may be six feet tall and lives on squirrels and cats. Like Muteff kids, the children in Harper Lee’s novel challenge each other to set foot on the Radley property or even touch the house. So obsessed with catching a glimpse of Radley or persuading him to come out of the house, they throw stones at his roof. In frustration, Scout describes Boo’s appearance:
“His face was as white as his hands, but for a shadow on his jutting chin. His cheeks were thin to hollowness; his mouth was wide; there were shallow, almost delicate indentations at his temples, and his gray eyes were so colorless I thought he was blind. His hair was dead and thin, almost feathery on his head.”
It must have been the same obsession that drove CPDM politicians, elites, traditional rulers, clergy, and some student union leaders (though if it were for another candidate or party, one would have heard “Laissez l’école aux écoliers et la politique aux politiciens”), to file past the Presidency last July and August, hoping to catch a glimpse of President Paul Biya, whom they plan to support in the upcoming October 12 presidential election. However, instead of meeting the President, they were received by the Secretary General, who informed them that the President they had come to see was alive and kicking though merely represented by his photographs hanging on the wall.
Inspired by this, we asked 43 children across Cameroon (aged 5-15), what they think of President Paul Biya as he struggles to pick up an umpteenth mandate at 92 years old. This was because of the significantly reduced public appearances of the President, as well as the unconvincing reassurances from his close aides. Their responses reveal dreams, fears, and hopes for the future. Younger children mostly talked about their schooling experiences, while older kids voiced concerns about democracy and human rights. But all of them expressed their views with a mix of humor, honesty, and innocence. Get a pick of a few voices.
Ngeumo, 10, didn’t mince his words: “I think President Paul Biya is invincible because he doesn’t care about us.” Asked to give a score, he gave 2/10. Eleven-year-old Vanesa said, “I picture him with a mask because he doesn’t show his face to people.” I score him 3/10. Seven-year-old Michael, on the other hand, seemed more resigned: “I only see him on TV. He cares only about his children. I give him 1.5/10. Then there was Sophie, an 11-year-old with a sharp sense of humour who said: “All I know about the President is that he has a funny moustache. I give him 3.5/10.”
Others were more concerned about his long stay in power. Njoya, 12, averred: “My mom says he’s more interested in staying in power than helping our country.” On his part, Emmanuel, aged 11, observed that, “I imagine him surrounded by guards because he’s afraid of his own people.” Six-year-old Lucia’s concerns hit closer to home: “Sometimes my family doesn’t have enough food. If the President helps my parents, who are university graduates, get jobs, I’ll give him 8/10.” And for Jean Paul, who is aged nine, “I’ve heard he’s very old, maybe too old to be President, and doesn’t understand what’s happening in Cameroon.”
As we talked to more children, more opened up with their thoughts. Nadine, 15, said: “I imagine him with a heavy chain around his neck, symbolizing the weight of his mistakes in 43 years.” Kevin, aged 10, did not have any opinion about President Biya rather relied on his friend’s thoughts: “My friend says he’s like a dictator, making rules without listening to anyone.” While Brian, 13, thinks he’s losing touch with reality because he’s been in office for so long, 12-year-old Aimee thinks Biya is busy enjoying his power to think about the struggles of ordinary Cameroonians. On his part, Rodrigue, 15, pictures the President with a frown because he’s always making people unhappy with his decisions.
Another group of children shared their thoughts about President Paul Biya, revealing their perceptions of leadership and power.
Marvin, 11, expressed concern about corruption in Cameroon, saying, “My dad says he’s corrupt, so maybe he has a big room filled with money that doesn’t belong to him.” In contrast, Hadja, 6, imagined President Biya wearing a crown like a king, believing that “that’s why he’s always in the inner chambers of the palace.”
Other children had more whimsical views. Kevin, 10, pictured President Biya with sunglasses because “my friend drew a picture of him like that, thinking he’s too cool.” Ngono believed that President Biya has “a big library at home because he’s so smart and has been president for so long,” despite the criticism he faces.
Some children tried to explain President Biya’s longevity in power. Elodie, 8, joked, “Maybe he has a special suit that makes him invisible when he wants to visit his people in Yaoundé.” Grace, 7, imagined him as an elderly figure, saying, “My mom says he’s very old, so I picture him with a walking stick and a warm smile, like my grandfather.”
Rodrigue, 14, speculated that President Biya might have a secret superpower, such as “super-strength or the ability to make people angry, yet still keep him in power.” Anthoine, 15, had a more mystical view, imagining him as “a wise old wizard, with a long white beard and a kind face.”
Michelle, 12, who has never seen President Biya, said, “I’ve seen pictures of other presidents, so I think President Biya might look like them. I would have loved for him to visit our school, but I hear he hardly visits his own people.”
Ndam, 9, pictured President Biya as an elderly man with wrinkles, saying, “My dad says he’s very old, so I think he has wrinkles and walks with a cane. But I’m surprised he doesn’t want to retire and go home and rest, like my grandfather did some years back.”
The children’s responses painted a picture of innocence laced with understanding and the urge for change. In their honesty, they remind us of what a country should be – a place where leaders lead and where the Presidency is not just a race to be won but more importantly, a job to be done.
Colbert Gwain
