Auntie Bébé was the youngest of my mother’s siblings, which, in our traditions, meant that her word held little value. There were also five men ahead of her, a curse in our patriarchal society. This simply meant that her opinion was rarely sought. That was the reality in Fanta Citron in Mvog Ada, the slum where I grew up in Yaoundé, Cameroon.
Auntie Bébé was resourceful. She had improvised and established herself as the “accountant” of the family’s actions. She kept track of everything — reminding everyone of past statements, commitments, curse words, wagers, failures, poor decisions, and whatever she deemed a mistake. Over time, her “ledger” became a fixture in the family. We children had even nicknamed it “Trouble,” because every time Auntie Bébé pulled it out to remind one of her siblings of something they’d said or done wrong, it would inevitably lead to a heated exchange of arguments, denials, and shouting. It was her way of holding them accountable — making them confront their actions and (she hoped) express remorse and regret.
“Sisters, she must be upset,” Auntie Bébé said to my mother and Aunt Blandine one day. She was excited. “I told you she would regret it. I wrote it down.”
She pointed to her own head, where her ledger lived. She had summoned it to announce to her sisters that Auntie Ebogo, their older sister, was going to regret voting with their brothers to give part of their land — considered barren — to relatives in the village.
My mother, Auntie Bébé, Auntie Blandine, Auntie Philomène, Auntie Juliette, and Auntie Nnomo believed that if Auntie Ebogo had taken their side, they could have pressured their brothers into not giving up their land. They had hoped to use it to grow peanuts and cassava in the coming years. But their brothers were unanimous: the land in question was worthless. Consequently, they believed that giving it to their relatives would help ease tensions with a part of the village that felt they should lose their land because they lived in Yaoundé, the capital.
My uncles were convinced that their peace offering was the best option to secure their future in the village. My mother and my aunties, however, were certain it was a big mistake — that their distant relatives would continue to fight them, and that this gesture would only signal fear. They were also convinced that the land in question was not barren.
“What are you talking about, sister?” asked Auntie Blandine.
“Sisters, don’t you know?” replied Auntie Bébé, with a look of “I know, I know” that often annoyed her older sisters. “They are planting now in one of the plots of land that we gave them. Ebogo didn’t want to listen.”
“What?” my mother and Auntie Blandine asked simultaneously. They stood up. They imagined their older sister apologizing to them, acknowledging she had made a mistake. They repeated their “we told you, sister, we warned you. This deal was not good for us. It’s going to blow up in our faces. We’re going to pay the price.”
Auntie Ebogo said nothing of the sort. She remained silent and calm. For her, the fact that their relatives were planting on the ceded land was a sign of something positive: it meant they would keep their word. She was thinking long-term, not just about the immediate. She remained optimistic.
“Nothing has changed, sisters,” she said quietly, after my mother and my other aunties sat her down for their “we warned you” moment. “This is a marathon, not a sprint. We’ll meet at the finish line.”
It is a similar optimism that I’ve found in my barbershop in Harlem, New York, regarding the first two thunderous weeks of President Donald J. Trump’s return to the White House. On this first day of February, which coincided with the announcement of new U.S. tariffs on important trade partners like Canada, Mexico, and China, the barbershop was buzzing. The three barbers present and the patrons all had one word on their lips to sum up the beginning of the new Trump presidency.
“It’s crazy!” trumpeted my barber. “Crazy!”
The others nodded in agreement.
“Crazy?” I asked. “Does it mean you are disappointed by him? Are you regretting having voted for him?”
My barber burst out laughing. He turned off the clippers to make sure I was looking him in the eyes.
“No, bro. You don’t get it,” he said slowly.
“He’s doing what he said he’s gonna do, bro,” one of the customers sitting at the empty barber station elaborated. “He is delivering, bro.”
“I told you Trump is gonna do what he said," said the second barber. "He is the man.”
They had been closely following the Trump administration’s war on illegal immigration, which included targeted raids in sanctuary cities like New York and Chicago, as well as the arrest and deportation of thousands of individuals, many with criminal records or ties to violent crimes. They smiled when I asked them whether they supported the crackdown on illegal immigration, especially given that it had led authorities to raid sensitive locations such as schools and churches.
“Man, he’s doing what he said during the campaign” the third barber responded. “There are too many people without papers here. They’re illegal, and we give them everything. We can’t take everyone in.”
“They say he’s racist. If people come here legally, he’s not going to deport them,” added the second barber. “They” referred to the Democrats, and “he” to Trump.
My Black brothers say that those who keep telling them they’ll regret voting for Trump — claiming that minorities will be the first victims of his second presidency — haven’t understood a thing. They argue that no matter what policies were carried out under previous administrations, whether Republican or Democrat, minorities were never the true beneficiaries. Their lives didn’t improve under Democratic administrations, they say. They remained at the bottom of the socio-economic ladder. With Trump, at worst, it’ll be the same status quo for them.
“They say he’s gonna be bad for us. What do they know about us?” asked one of the customers seated on the waiting bench. He was annoyed.
Before November 5, there was a kind of passion whenever I talked politics with my local barbershop bros; they were always animated when we discussed the candidates — whether it was Joe Biden, before he withdrew, then Kamala Harris, or Trump. But on this frigid Saturday, there was a certain calm in their voices, as if the waters of the river had settled. They were not particularly worried. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
The episode with the illegal immigrants that Trump wanted to expel in Colombia has fueled their optimism about the Trump administration. Gustavo Petro, the first left-wing president in Colombia’s history, had refused on January 26 to allow American military planes carrying Colombian deportees to land, citing concerns about the “dignity” of those on board. But after Trump threatened to impose customs duties on all Colombian goods entering the United States — initially at 25%, then 50% after a week — Petro eventually gave in.
“He showed them who is the boss, man,” said the second barber. “We are the f***ing United States of America. We are powerful. If they don’t listen, we use our power.”
“Columbia didn’t want their people," said the third barber. "Why should we take care of their own if they don’t want to do it? No, bro. You don’t want your people but you want us to feed them? Ain’t working like that, bro. Other countries know now you don’t mess with us.”
The episode showed that Trump is “a great business man,” and a “great negotiator,” who, they said, will revive the economy as he promised during the 2024 presidential campaign. For them, his threats towards Columbia are an indication that he will do what is on his power to keep his word.
“He said he’s gonna do good things for the economy," my barber said, trying to convince himself. "I believe him. Look at what he is doing with immigration.”
“Business is gonna to be good,” added the second barber.
I asked them if they weren’t worried that the trade war initiated by Trump might further increase the price of everyday products, potentially hurting their purchasing power even more.
“He knows what he is doing. Just be patient,” urged the third barber.
“He is gonna deliver. Give him time,” my barber agreed.
Patience is the attitude they seem to have adopted, much like Auntie Ebogo a few decades ago. They want to give the new president time before passing judgment. For now, Trump’s deportation actions have their full support. They smile at the Democrats and pundits who warn them that they voted against their own interests. To them, this is proof that the Democrats haven’t understood that the classic dividing lines in politics have shifted. Trump still has their vote.
“He is doing great, bro,” said my barber.
His response didn’t invite a follow-up. He continued to calmly cut my hair, a calm that symbolizes his approach to the new Trump presidency. It is clear that they are taking a wait-and-see approach, reserving judgment for the long term rather than getting swept up in the immediate chaos.
This post originally appeared on Medium and is edited and republished with author's permission. Read more of William Spivey's work on Medium. And if you dig his words, buy the man a coffee.