The Art of Friendship in 2020
My (somewhat late) Self-ish Story of 2020
2020 was the year I put myself through various ‘experiments’ because I intentionally wanted to understand me: how my mind worked, how my body worked.
With my body, for example, I undertook intermittent fasting throughout the entire year, to see whether and how much I would lose weight or develop healthier eating habits. I did lose a few kilograms but as for the latter, I’m not so sure.
I also fasted from artificial sugar for the first half of the year, to gauge the effects that sugar was having on my skin (as I had earlier read somewhere that sugar was especially detrimental to the skin) and my overall health, and I fasted from dairy in the last quarter of the year to determine whether the latter was a stimulant to the severe primary dysmenorrhea that has plagued my entire adolescent and adult life. I got some curious and interesting results from testing my body in these areas but to say the least, there was no big revelation from all these experiments.
The watershed moments for me came from experiences in my relationships this year.
I moved (from Cameroon) to Europe in the last quarter of 2019, and by the time I settled into my new place and my school schedule, the year was pretty much done.
2020 was therefore the year I got to do relationships in a new country, on a different continent thousands of miles away from home. It was the year I learned that:
1. Stereotypes will rob me of great friendships if I let them.
When you label somebody and put them in a box, then you put the lid on the box, and you just never look inside again.
-Stephanie Beatriz
This was my first lesson in the art of friendship. I had come to a space where I met so many people who were different from me, in every respect. My roommate was a pretty Italian named Susanna, my class was made up of 64 people from 32 countries on all five continents and I was the only Cameroonian in every setting I found myself. Most times, the only African too.
I met people from countries I didn’t even think existed. I mean, who knew there was a country called Moldova?
Who would have thought I would fall in love with a lovely Pakistani girl, whose biryani I absolutely cannot live without?
Who would have thought I would spend my Sunday evenings drinking red wine and picking up bits of wisdom and KiSwahili from two wonderful Kenyan ladies? Nimekumiss sana, Judy and Grace!
Who would have imagined that an awkward introduction with ‘that Danish lady in a cute hat’ would lead up to the most heartfelt conversations and a friendship I am forever grateful for?
I could have thought “She’s Muslim and Pakistani (which has always sounded like trouble in the international media I have followed). How could I be friends with her?” and I would have missed out on one of my closest relationships away from home.
Or I could have thought, “Danes are so cold and reserved, a Dane would never want to be friends with me!” and I would have missed out on an amazing friend turned big sister.
I am so glad I didn’t and I can only hope I have the good sense not to put anyone in a box in every new place I go.
2. Just because we look the same doesn’t mean we can be friends.
You’re African, I’m African, we’re the only Africans here. We must become best friends!
This one, I learned the hard way. It’s easy to assume that because you share the same skin colour, language, accent, nationality, or are from the same continent with someone, you would easily be friends. Especially if you’re the only two of your kind in a space full of people who look and speak differently.
You think “You’re African, I’m African, we’re the only Africans here. We must become best friends. We’ll share inside jokes or gossip about ‘the other people’ together, and we’ll finish each other’s sentences when we’re talking about how both our mothers are alike.” After all, birds of a feather…
To my dismay, that was not the case. I found myself struggling to befriend someone for the above reasons and ending up in this awkward, forced excuse for a friendship, riddled with monosyllabic responses, pointless (seemingly unwanted at their end) conversation, and plenty of radio silence.
All of this, because my mind was craving for the familiar in a strange new place.
3. Virtual community is as potent as a physical one.
If anyone asked me, “What is hell?” I would answer, “Distance between people who love each other.”
-Anonymous
WhatsApp video calls, Skype calls, Zoom meetings...
Even without a global pandemic, these would still be the only means I could have talked to my family and friends back home in 2020 because we are, of course, thousands of miles apart.
In the beginning, I thought that even though it was nice to talk to everyone online, it would not last. There are time zone differences and people would have other important stuff to do than talk to me online. Eventually, it would get artificial, boring, or exhausting for either me or those at home and then we’d stop. I would miss out on family events and my friends would forget to tell me about new milestones and what was going on in their lives, and by the time I ever got back home, I would be completely out of touch with the world I met, having faded out of everyone’s minds.
I even wrote a poem titled “Fade” to buttress this point. Morbid, I know.
But the exact opposite happened.
I cannot explain how I now feel closer to my family than I ever have in the years I was living under the same roof with them. I can’t explain how my friendships have exponentially deepened and how someone I was barely conversing with before I left home has now become an indispensable part of my support system.
I attended a friend’s wedding via zoom, sang the birthday song for a friend on WhatsApp as his cake was presented, had all-night prayers online with friends for weeks, and I cannot even begin to count the number of times a friend would call me first, to give me good news about something that happened to them, or to vent about their awful day, even though there are plenty of other people close to them they could have gone to.
I did not fade and I am immensely grateful for this.
