Moving Cocoa: All Eyes on Cameroon

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It was January, 2008. I was 22 years old, travelling alone, landing at Douala airport. No one came to pick me up. Taxi drivers pulled at my suitcases from three sides in the arrival hall, where I was the only white face.

The heat was damp and thick, slowing my thinking. It was sensory overload, and for a moment, I seriously reconsidered my choice to go to Cameroon in search of adventure and something meaningful in life.

I regrouped my thoughts, picked myself up and left the airport. What started as a six-month internship became three years of living and working in Central Africa.

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