“What Could Be Positive About War? Well… me, I guess.” | Joyce Dingue Ngaha

Open Dreams
Oct 7
5 min read

It feels strange to say that out loud, but it’s true.

I carry my mom’s story of fleeing conflict. I carry my own displacement. And today, I also carry a backpack from the University of Oxford - because I just started my MSc in International Health and Tropical Medicine on full funding.

I have carried this part of my story in silence for years, but I finally found the courage to share it.

I don’t come from privilege, and that’s why I take nothing for granted. Today, I honor my journey, my mom’s sacrifices, and the countless young people I want to inspire, because your background does not define your destiny.

Where It Began

My Dad is Cameroonian. My mom was born in the Central African Republic. Around the 1970s, when she was just a child, chaos forced her family to flee to Cameroon. In the midst of the crisis, my grandmother lost her husband to an accident. Life became unbearable, and she moved back to Cameroon. But she could not carry the weight of it all. She left my mom in the village with relatives and went to the city, where she later remarried and started over. In her new marriage, my grandmother had six more children, and with her three from her first marriage, my mom became the eldest of nine. So, my mom grew up away from her mother, in a village where survival was the only lesson. She tried school, but without enough support, she couldn’t complete secondary education. Still, she pushed through. Later, she met my dad, they married, and I was born. And sometimes I think about it now and realize: if that instability had not happened, my mom may never have left the Central African Republic, she may never have met my dad, and I would not even be here.

Why I Chose That Caption

When you first see the title of this post—“What Could Be Positive About War?”—it may sound shocking. But here’s what I mean: war changed the course of my family’s history, and though it left pain and loss, I stand today as proof that you don’t have to let your background write the script for your life. You can call the shots for your own destiny.

I’m grateful to God because He gave me the chance to do that.

And even though I am not ready to share everything now, I will say this: I too became a victim of forced displacement. After living most of my life in Yaoundé, I eventually had to move to Bamenda, which is still in the middle of one of the most neglected conflicts in the world, and displacement felt like second-generation pain. My mom was displaced as a child, and then me too. But I’ve learned that everything is still possible.

First Day at Oxford

Today was my very first day in the program. It’s rigorous and intensive, with students from all over the globe - medicine, psychology, political science, and more - all brought together because we share one thing: we have lived or worked in low-resource settings, and we care about improving lives on a bigger scale.

We received welcome kits: backpacks, tumblers, badges, hoodies. For many, these are small things. For me? I felt like a child who just got candy. Because at that moment, it hit me: this is real. I am here.

I came home emotional. For some, being at Oxford looks ordinary. For me, it is not. It is sacred. It is a privilege. It is something I cried over because God has been good to me.

This isn’t just any school. This is the school of my dreams. The program of my choice. Fully funded. I don’t have to worry about whether I’ll make it through the academic year.

Think about it: an admissions team at Oxford looked at a girl from Bonas and decided she has something to contribute to the global health landscape. That she deserves to be here. That she is worth equipping. And now, for the next months, that is exactly what they’ll be doing. That thought alone makes me cry.

Looking Back at Where I Came From

I grew up in a small, overcrowded neighborhood in Yaoundé. Poor infrastructure. Poor health. I saw what life at the margins looked like, and I knew I didn’t want to stay there.

My parents didn’t have much, but they fought to keep us in school. Even when they weren’t sure they could pay the fees, they encouraged us to push through.

And now, here I am. At Oxford. Fully funded.

Do you know what that feels like? To walk into a place where some people see it as just another school, but for you it is the impossible made real? I can only say: I am here because God believed in me, and because so many people along the way chose to believe too.

Why I Carry This Fire

Eight years ago, Open Dreams (www.open-dreams.org) believed in me when the world hadn’t noticed me yet. I traveled to a conflict zone to join their program, and that single decision changed everything.

I later received a Mastercard Foundation scholarship through the African Leadership Academy scheme. I threw myself into leadership. People often asked: where do you get the strength?

But how could I explain? When you come from where I come from, when you know what it cost your parents to keep you in school, when you carry the weight of others like you who may never get the same chance—you don’t waste opportunities.

You burn for them. You run.

Roots and Inspiration

I come from Balengou, in Cameroon’s West Region. A place where girls’ rights are still ignored. Where child marriage is common. Where education is a privilege.

But my mom, my biggest inspiration, did not let her own unfinished story dictate ours. She sacrificed her dreams so we could chase ours. When I say my mother is my inspiration, I don’t mean it as a cliché. I mean it because it is true.

That is why, beyond my work in medicine and health, I also work in education, development, and governance. Because young people need someone who looks like them to stand on platforms they thought were unreachable and say: it’s possible.

Why I Don’t Rest

Some ask me, do you ever rest? The truth is: not really, because I’ve seen what happens when potential goes unseen.

That’s why I spent my summer running outreach programs in Cameroon instead of resting. I met bright, talented young people who thought opportunities like Oxford were out of their reach. But after hearing my journey, they started to believe differently.

And if my story can shift someone’s belief about what is possible for them, then I will keep telling it, even when I’m tired.

Because if a girl from Balengou can prepare to matriculate at Oxford less than 110 years after the first woman did, then why not them too?

Gratitude

I am deeply thankful:

To the Nuffield Department of Medicine, which I now join as a postgraduate student.
To the Mastercard Foundation at AfOx, who lifted the financial burden and provided empowerment tools for me.
To Oxford University itself, for waiving my application fee so my background wouldn’t stop me before I even started.

I was shortlisted for the Oxford Refugee Academic Futures scholarship, considered for the Weidenfeld-Hoffmann Trust, and eventually chosen for the Mastercard Foundation AfOx cohort.

Each time I got an interview, I was reminded: I wasn’t chosen because of pity for my background. I was chosen because of my resilience, my vision, and my capacity to uplift others.