9 Things I Miss Most About Living in Cameroon

Praise and worship in Cameroon often come with spirited leaders who direct the congregation. A young worship leader can take charge from the stage, issuing lively, enthusiastic instructions that everyone follows. The energy is infectious — people respond to calls like “If you love Jesus, put your hands on your head,” “on your shoulder,” or “on your waist,” and then move together as the song builds. That commanding, joyful atmosphere becomes part of the worship experience.

Markets in Cameroon are full of color, noise, and bargaining. Unlike fixed-price shopping elsewhere, here you often haggle with sellers in good-natured, rapid exchanges. A dress priced high can quickly turn into a negotiation scene:

You: “Di close na ha mush?”
Seller: “Fifteen tasand.”
You: “Mamamiye! How e deer so?”
Seller: “E no deer. Na better close dis for fyn geh like you.”
You: “I get na 5 tasand ya.”
Seller: “You di look de close fine? Okay, make we no ova talk, gimme thirteen tasand.”
You: “Nooo! I get na six tasand.”
Seller: “See e mop like six tasand! Ah pick de close na pick am?”

It’s lively, personal commerce — sometimes loud, sometimes playful, and always part of the market’s charm.

Mami Koki’s koki is unforgettable. The aroma when you unwrap the banana or plantain leaves, the warmth of the steamed beans, and the simple joy of eating it with unevenly colored ripe bananas — all without spending much — brings a flood of happy memories. Small, everyday foods often carry the biggest comfort.

Family ties run deep. Being away makes you miss parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, in-laws and close friends. Those daily connections, celebrations, and the easy presence of loved ones are hard to replace and are sorely missed when you are far from home.

There’s something special about unhurried visits: friends dropping by, long conversations that roam from trivial to profound, and the warmth of face-to-face connection. Those relaxed moments, where time isn’t counted and talks can last as long as they need to, are deeply missed.

Locally reared fowl — often with a distinctive, rustic scent — has a flavor that city-bought chicken can’t match. When properly cooked, the taste is rich and satisfying. It’s a reminder of the home-cooked meals and neighborhood life that shape everyday comforts.

Public transport comes with its own kind of theater. Sitting in the back of a taxi can mean awkward negotiations for space — like three passengers who seem reluctant to shift for the person entering. It’s a small, humorous tension that often ends in everyone squeezing in and moving on together.

Riding an okada (motorbike taxi) brings a refreshing breeze on a hot day. For many, that wind across your face is a small pleasure — part freedom, part relief — and a simple, sensory reminder of being outdoors and moving through the city.

Nature is near and tangible back home: fruit trees you can pluck from, long walks and hikes, and constant contact with plants, earth and animals. The simplicity of being surrounded by living things — domestic animals, friendly pets, and the wild that edges nearby — creates a deep sense of belonging and peace.

Sometimes I wish I could appear in Cameroon in the blink of an eye. Home is a feeling: familiar sounds, flavors, faces, and places. What do you love most about your home country? Share your thoughts — let’s celebrate the small things that make a place feel like home.