There is something happening in Cameroon that I wish more of the world could see.

I see it in the children who invent games when there are no toys. I see it in artists creating with limited equipment, entrepreneurs building businesses from their phones, and people finding ways to keep moving even when the electricity goes out or an internet connection disappears.

I also see something that should concern every one of us: extraordinary stories, skills, ideas, and talent that have not yet been given the opportunity to reach the world on their own terms.

When I sat down with Claudine Linwe on ROC TV, we talked about all of it. We talked about why I came to Cameroon, why I believe African people must own the telling of African stories, how a smartphone can become the foundation of a media company, and why artificial intelligence is only as empowering as the person using it.

We also talked about the parts of my life that are much harder to discuss: addiction, incarceration, trauma, disability, faith, forgiveness, and the purpose that keeps me going.

To me, those subjects aren't separate. Ownership means very little if we have not first learned to take ownership of our own lives, our stories, and the gifts we have been given.

Cameroon Chose Me

When people ask why I chose Cameroon, I give them the same answer I gave on ROC TV: Cameroon chose me.

My connection to Africa goes back much further than my arrival. I spoke on the show about experiences and visions from childhood that, through the lens of my faith, I have long understood as part of a calling to serve on this continent. Years later, I began teaching people in Africa remotely and sharing the earliest versions of Media Company in a Box.

Then I interviewed Princess Abumbi from Bafut. A conversation about storytelling, media hubs, and what we might build together turned into an invitation to come serve in person. I arrived in Cameroon on March 17, 2026.

I did not arrive with an answer to everything. I arrived with questions, an open mind, the knowledge I could share, and a desire to work.

Living in Limbe, I have fallen in love with the ocean, the landscape, the food, and the way communities come together. Bafut and Bamenda hold a different but equally special place in my heart because that is where the original mission took shape. I was humbled to receive the traditional title of Tah-Lah, meaning Father of the Land , in Bafut. It is an honor I want to spend my days working to deserve, not simply a title to wear.

And while I am inspired by the ingenuity I see, I refuse to confuse resilience with a reason to accept hardship. People should not have to become experts at surviving power outages, poor connectivity, or a lack of basic resources just to create a future for themselves. Their determination deserves real infrastructure and opportunity.

The World Has Not Heard Enough of Cameroon's Own Stories

For generations, much of the world's understanding of Africa has been filtered through stories produced somewhere else. Film and television have enormous power to shape what audiences believe about a place, its history, and its people.

But nobody can tell your story entirely from the outside. They can interview you, study you, and attempt to represent you. It is still their perspective.

That was one of the most important points I made during the interview: African filmmakers, journalists, artists, and communities must have the opportunity to tell and distribute their own stories.

Cameroon has stories of survival, beauty, innovation, family, art, faith, conflict, invention, and everyday life that international audiences rarely encounter. Even within Africa, Cameroon does not always receive the attention it deserves.

This is not an invitation to wait for Hollywood to discover those stories. It is an invitation to build the capacity to make and distribute them here, with Cameroonian people at the center of the creative and economic decisions.

The goal is not just representation. It is authorship, participation, and ownership.

Your Phone Can Be the Beginning of a Media Company

One of the questions Claudine asked was what a young Cameroonian could build with a smartphone and access to the internet.

My answer was simple: a media company.

With a phone, a person can begin producing interviews, documentaries, podcasts, educational videos, live broadcasts, books, photographs, promotional campaigns, and digital services. Not all of it will be effortless. Mobile data costs money. Connectivity can be unreliable. Good production takes skills and practice. But the entry point is no longer reserved for the people who can afford a television studio.

That is why I created Media Company in a Box. It is a practical framework for turning the equipment and knowledge you already have into a platform for storytelling, service, and entrepreneurship.

A farmer can document farming knowledge and create a direct relationship with customers. A tailor can explain the meaning behind a design while showcasing garments. A musician can build an audience and sell performances or merchandise. A teacher can turn lessons into educational content. An organization can publish its own field reports instead of hoping somebody else comes to cover its work.

Media is the vehicle. The real destination is opportunity.

Being Visible on Social Media Is Not the Same as Owning Your Platform

I have had content removed and accounts disrupted. I know what it feels like to build an audience on a platform and discover how little control you have over the relationship.

Facebook, TikTok, YouTube, and similar platforms can be useful distribution tools. But their algorithms, accounts, policies, and monetization programs are controlled by the platforms themselves. Your own work may still be protected by intellectual property law, but owning the content and controlling the channel that distributes it are not the same thing.

My recommendation is to build a home for your work that people can find independently: a website and, when possible, your own domain name. Connect it to a mailing list or another contact channel you can export and maintain. Keep copies of your original work. Understand the licenses and terms of the services you use. As resources grow, consider more direct hosting and distribution options.

A free website is a useful beginning, although it is not the same as owning the underlying hosting infrastructure. Ownership is a process of reducing dependence, preserving your work, and strengthening the relationship with the people you serve.

When somebody asks where to find you, give them your website first. Let your social platforms lead people there rather than becoming your entire business.

Don't Build a Business That Depends on Views Alone

I told Claudine that even a large number of social media views does not necessarily produce meaningful income. I have experienced that disconnect firsthand.

Instead of treating likes and views as the business itself, think about what your content makes possible.

Your videos can demonstrate a skill. Your interviews can establish credibility. Your stories can explain why your work matters. Your articles can make you discoverable to people searching for a service or solution. Then you can offer something of real value: production work, consulting, a workshop, a course, an original book, photography, garments, a performance, or another legitimate product or service.

This changes the question from How do I become famous? to Who can I help, what can I create, and how can my media connect that value to the people who need it?

You do not need millions of followers to begin. You need a clear purpose, something useful to offer, trust, and a way for interested people to reach you.

Artificial Intelligence Can Expand Freedom—or Deepen Dependence

The same phone that can help somebody build a business can also consume hours of their attention. Artificial intelligence magnifies both possibilities.

I use AI because it helps me continue to produce while living with disabling, frequency-induced tremors that limit how much I can work. Used thoughtfully, these tools help me research, organize ideas, develop creative work, and make better use of the hours I have available. That leaves more time for teaching, serving, walking, and living.

But speed is not the same as wisdom.

Without media literacy, critical thinking, fact-checking, and an understanding of the tools being used, AI can make a person more dependent rather than more capable. It can help produce misinformation just as easily as it can support good work.

Learn to ask better questions. Check important facts. Protect private information. Develop the skill before automating the skill. And remember that your lived experience—your judgment, relationships, values, and voice—remains the thing that gives the technology direction.

AI should be working for your purpose, not replacing it.

I Believe Cameroon Can Become a Global Creative Production Center

I have spent years around film, television, music, and media production. When I look at Cameroon, I see locations, stories, talent, and cultural depth that deserve a far larger place in global entertainment.

I look at the coastline in Limbe, the energy of Douala, and the landscapes around Bafut and Bamenda, and I see possibilities for films, festivals, production facilities, training centers, and locally owned creative businesses.

During the interview I compared the opportunity to California—not because Cameroon should copy Hollywood, but because a place with a concentration of creative talent and production activity can have an impact far beyond its borders.

That future will require more than enthusiasm. It will take infrastructure, reliable connectivity, training, partnerships, funding, distribution, and business models that allow local creators to participate in the value their work generates.

I am not suggesting that these challenges disappear because somebody has a smartphone. I am saying the talent is already here. The next step is to build the systems that let it thrive.

Before I Could Teach Ownership, I Had to Face My Own Life

ROC TV also gave me space to talk about the story behind the work.

I spoke openly about childhood trauma, addiction, incarceration, living with HIV, and the harm I caused other people when my life was ruled by pain and destructive choices. I described a turning point during my sixth incarceration, when I began confronting my relationship with my father, the need to forgive, and the life I believed God was calling me to live.

Forgiveness, for me, did not mean pretending the past never happened or excusing abuse. It meant beginning to loosen the hold that hatred had on my life.

Years later, severe tremors threatened the work I had built around my voice and my ability to be around people. I spoke about losing opportunities and even struggling with forms of connection that once felt ordinary.

That is why I do not treat purpose as a slogan. My faith and commitment to serving others have been central to how I have navigated recovery, loss, and disability. That is my testimony, not a claim that everybody's suffering has a simple explanation or that faith makes treatment and practical support unnecessary.

I am still learning. I still have difficult days. But the work I get to do with students, creators, schools, and communities in Cameroon gives me a reason to keep showing up.

No Community Can Heal While People Are Afraid to Tell the Truth

Near the end of the interview, the conversation moved beyond the media industry.

We talked about stigma, silence, painful family histories, addiction, HIV, personal identity, and the damage that can grow when people believe it is unsafe to ask for help or speak honestly about their lives.

I have experienced the cost of hiding. I have also experienced what becomes possible when someone is willing to talk about the hardest parts of being human.

Creating room for truth does not mean forcing anyone to reveal something private or dangerous. It means building communities where people can seek trustworthy support without humiliation, where they can be treated with dignity, and where difficult conversations are not automatically met with judgment.

That matters just as much as new cameras, software, or a media studio. Technology can amplify a voice. Community determines whether someone feels safe enough to use it.

The Invitation: Build, Own, and Tell the Truth

I came to Cameroon to serve, not to be its savior. I believe in the capacity of the people I meet here, and I want my contribution to be practical: share skills, help establish media systems, connect people with opportunities, and make it easier for stories to be told by the people who live them.

If you are a young creator, an entrepreneur, a teacher, a filmmaker, or someone with a story that has never been heard, start with what you have. Learn one skill. Record one useful piece of content. Make a simple place online where people can find your work. Develop an offer or a project that solves a real problem. Build relationships. Keep learning.

You do not need permission to begin telling your story. But lasting independence requires more than posting. It takes ownership, literacy, consistency, and the courage to create something of your own.

Cameroon does not need somebody else to imagine its future. It needs more opportunities for Cameroonians to build it—and to tell the world what they are building.

Read Media Company in a Box Free

I make the complete 2026 edition available for free, including practical guidance on independent media, phone-first creation, digital ownership, and building revenue around the work you create.

Read the complete book free at JoshuaTBerglan.com

Thank you to Claudine Linwe and the ROC TV team for the invitation and the opportunity to have this conversation. This article is an edited first-person adaptation of the interview, not a word-for-word transcript.