Tuesday, March 18, 2008
more photos
Sunday, March 9, 2008
so this is home for the next two years
Bon annee, happy new year!
Sorry this is so late. I thought I had posted it about a month and a half ago. Will write newer updates soon.
Christmas au village.
My Christmas was both wonderful and humbling and definitely different from the materialistic, commercial and hyped up American Christmas we are used to in the states. This holiday for me started in the marche around 8am Christmas eve day. I decided to accept the invitation to go to my counterpart’s house and knew I needed to bring a gift so another volunteer recommended bringing a chicken and yes this means bringing a live chicken. So I asked my neighbor if she would help me. She met me in the market where we went to the animal section and started picking up and inspecting several different chickens, after charlotte told me which one was nice and plump and we argued the price down, I stopped on my way home to eat some beans and beignets. The woman in the hut tied the bag so the chicken wouldn’t escape while I ate; it wasn’t tied tight, so I didn’t think anything of it. I Got home, showered, changed and when I came out of the bathroom the bag was no longer moving or making noise. He suffocated. Not only do I feel horrible for killing the poor thing, a slow torturous death, I was also convinced I ruined Christmas and was ready to pack my bags, go to Yaoundé to go back to the states so I could eat lobster stew with my family instead of a dead smelly chicken. Once my little homesick freak-out was over, I Left the dead guy on charlottes porch (which they later cooked and ate) and went to the same woman who sold me the first to buy another. So 6,300 cfa later accompanied by horrible guilt, feelings of incredible stupidity and frustration because I couldn’t get a car and people wouldn’t stop deranging me at the gare routier, I made it to Michel’s house (my counterpart) where they were really excited to get the chicken which we ended up eating on Christmas day (I was fed the gizzard-this is an honor- but thought I was going to puke, a little too chewy for my taste).
Michel took me on a petit tour of his quartier (neighborhood but it is in the bush so it doesn’t really feel like a neighborhood). We went up the road from his concession (the land that belongs to his family. his fathers wives and all the extended family each get a piece of it and when Michel’s father passed he moved back to bayangam to take care of the concession, this is tradition) to see this giant house up the road. Well 3 giant houses. By a guy that doesn’t even live here year round. This is a big problem here in Cameroon. People with lots of money leave their villages to live in the big cities but come back only to build monstrosities (kind of like the African version of a mcmansion) that they visit maybe 3 times a year. It’s really sad when there are people who have nothing and they just come and build a house and do nothing for their towns. Anyway, Michel showed me a house that he wants me to move into, which is beautiful, overlooking a huge corn field, but also unfinished, in the middle of no where and thus will never pass Peace Corps approval. And then we started drinking. Michel’s moto broke down at our first stop so I was escorted back to the house while michel waited for someone to help him repair the moto. I ended up spending most of the day hanging out in the traditional (outdoor) kitchen next to the fire trying to keep warm; it was so cold. We ate pork and baton de manioc (this long paste like stick that is cooked in a banana leaf and smells like dirty feet) and poisson braiser (grilled fish), drank and drank and drank. They do not have electricity or running water so they splurged for the holiday and rented a generator to have electricity for the evening, we hooked up a radio for music, which of course worked on and off the whole night. We sat around a big bonfire, sang and danced under the full moon. Christmas day, I went to church with the family, not a great idea since the service was 3 hours and in patois (the local language), but I figured it would get me out of being drunk before 10 am, and I have never had Christmas and not gone to church. It is a catholic church but was interesting because it was so much more lively than mass in the US, lots of singing and dancing. and after (kind of like a fellowship hour), they all ate nkui (which is this traditional dish that you have to slurp up and cannot eat with a spoon or fork because it is so slippery and rubbery) and fufu (corn couscous) out of giant marmites. the kids had their pictures taken, dressed in their Sunday best, in front of booths with photos kind of like the ones you see in Chinese restaurants. When church activities finished up, we hiked back from bangou, which is the neighboring town, ate another large meal with 3 types of carbohydrates, meat, fish, and piment (hot sauce)-delicious. And then made the rounds, to the fetes in bayangam. It is tradition on Christmas and new years here that you travel around to different friends houses to celebrate. At each stop you eat and drink, the whole town is there. There is so much eating and drinking that I am amazed I was able to walk. One house we went to had a school of kids in the front yard with plates waiting to be served. There was music blasting, and when we walked inside, benches were set up around a room, every seat was filled and there was a giant table in the middle covered with food and drink. When I went home later that night I stopped in at my neighbors to say merry Christmas and charlotte insisted that I eat more. It’s also amazing how hospitable people are here. Honestly, Christmas here wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Being that I had a family to spend it with, but also that fact that it’s sunny and warm and everything I experienced was so new for me, it felt like another day in Cameroon. I was surprised (but not surprised when you think about poverty levels here) to see that there is not really any decorating or gift giving ( although there were some beautiful hand cut paper ornaments that Michel’s kids made and hung at their house). I also did not hear a single Christmas song or hymn. Anyway it was a great holiday and as much as I missed Christmas at home I had a very memorable experience here.
We also had our own little Christmas party with the volunteers in the west, “Christmas at Quinn’s” we cooked a big meal, our host, who is obsessed with Christmas, made stockings for everyone, and we taught the kids in the street how to sing jingle bells. It was a ton of fun. Unfortunately everyone that drank the homemade eggnog that day ended up with food poisoning. Lesson learned; don’t eat raw eggs in Africa
A Hot Commodity in Cameroon.
It’s a strange thing to say this and I do not mean it in a derogatory sense it is just how some towns are here, that white people are a very rare thing, something like a local celebrity. It is also tied to the unfortunately deep roots and effects of colonialism in Africa that people get excited when they see white people coming to their tiny village. This is something that peace corps tries not to facilitate, that is why we are working with Cameroonians to develop sustainable projects with Cameroonian community leaders. If only Cameroonians can understand that the development of their own country lies in their hands and not the hands of anyone else, they will be able to do great things. With that said, the volunteers in the west were invited to meet the staff of a health center where another volunteer works. Since We are encouraged to do cross collaboration projects with other volunteers, my friend’s supervisor decided to organize what started off as just a lunch and meeting to see the center and meet the staff, but turned into a full blown celebration with all the town notables, a feast, speeches, singing and dancing. He picked us up in bafoussam in the center’s van and we were off to the health center in a little village on top of a big hill. On the way we drove through and ended up stopping and were given an impromptu tour of an amazing tea plantation. We were late to our own party for this, but when we arrived fashionably (1 and a half hours) late, there were traditional dancers and singers and almost the whole town in the road there to greet us. As the 6 or 7 of us piled out of the van, we had to go down a line of maybe 20 people to shake hands and greet the town. We were escorted into the health center and were instructed to sit at a table in the front in a line facing an audience of maybe 30 people. The supervisor introduced us and then the town sang a traditional welcome song for us. Then they looked at us and said “now it’s your turn.” Not knowing a traditional American welcome song or any songs for that matter that we all knew the words to, we quickly decided on Rudolph the red nose reindeer (it was only 2 weeks after Christmas). We had to stand and most of us got maybe all of two words out the whole song, Dave, the kid whose village it was, was the only one who carried the song to the end. We were all crying we were laughing so hard and the audience stood and started clapping and cheering us on which just made us laugh even harder. It was absolutely wild, we were incredibly embarrassed but they all told us they loved it. The day went on, Dave gave a speech and various other members of the town gave speeches. Then we danced and danced some more, ate and drank, had a photo shoot and were on our way home. It was a wonderful day but of coarse was not complete until we stopped on our way home to pay our respects to the chef of the village and have a drink with him. Life in Cameroon sometimes just feels like a big party.
What do you mean it’s funerai season?
Well, this is a little hard to explain because I am not quite sure if I understand it completely myself yet. But I will do my best. So right now is the dry season. With this means that there is no water and thus there is not much work to do on the farm (remember the majority of Cameroonians are farmers) which means people have a lot of time to have funerais. Also because of dry season, the earth is dry (duh) and thus there is a ton of dust. When I say a ton of dust I mean ridiculous amounts of it. You are still dirty even after you scrub with a hard bristle brush; I have even found it in my belly button. Aside from being dirty all the time, there are allergies and cold nights, and with that people get sick. So that is why it is funerai season. There are different types of funerals here. There is the doi, which is actually very sad (but still with lots of singing and eating) for someone who has just passed away. Then there is the internment, which comes the morning after the doi, when the person is buried (usually on the family compound, often right next to the house). And there is the funerai which is essentially a huge party in memorial of someone who has been dead for some time, maybe 10 years maybe 30 years, it all depends, but there is tons of eating and dancing and singing and celebrating.
I have been to one internment, 2 dois, and many funerais and have several more to go to in the next month or so.
Are you working or are you on vacation?
I am working, I promise. It’s just a little slow. Peace corps is not your typical 9-5 which is actually pretty fantastic. But also, like I said there is not much happening now because it is dry season, I have had several meetings and am doing as much as I can to make contacts in the community to make work happen. I have a women’s farming gic (community initiative group) that I am working with already. We have had several meetings about the basics of agroforestry and they have already made their first tree nursery. My first meeting with the environmental club at the lycee (high school) is this coming week. I had my first class teaching English at the handicap center last night. I will also be working closely with this center’s director on a commercial plantation project. I have presented to 18 gics in baham at a regional meeting and am waiting on responses from them. And I am working on meeting and scheduling many more meetings and formations with various groups in my three village post. I have had a few failures, which is par for the course. My counterpart and I scheduled a water pump demonstration (the manual treadle pumps that look like Stairmasters, I think they may have had a similar one at the cooper Hewitt design for the other 90% this summer) with a gic this past Sunday, we had a whole crew of people come to the town to do the presentation and when we arrived at the gic’s office, it was locked and empty and the president of the group was no where to be found. Fortunately, we were in the company of seasoned volunteers who understand that this happens quite often here in Cameroon. People will show up 2 or 3 hours late to a meeting or not show at all, in this particular case, they had changed the date of the meeting and failed to contact us. So instead of feeling frustrated and defeated we relocated and took the pump out at a busy section of the main road to show people, and within minutes had a crowd of maybe 20 people. This facilitated us scheduling another pump demo for a different group for next week. Pretty sure this is what Peace Corps means when they say you have to be flexible.
Sometimes you just have to pretend no one is home.
There’s something strangely comical yet irritating about Cameroonians and how many of them have no concept of appropriate timing. The other day I set up a meeting with the landlord of my house. He said he would come over at 4 to talk and to sign the lease for my house. Surprise surprise, he never showed. Well the next morning around 6 30 or 7, I was in the middle of a very strange dream about be a goat, when I woke up to banging on my door and someone yelling my name in the front yard. It was my landlord, he had no idea that maybe he should have called first, but was very nice as I was standing in my pajamas half asleep trying to speak in French with him.
I have a bunch of little kids that like to come by my house now. I much prefer the little ones to the older high school boys that just ask me for money (I think they are slowly getting the hint that I don’t want them at my house). The little ones come to the front door or stand in the entrance to my yard and yell my name until I come out, then they run away. It’s really cute. My favorite is a little boy, amen, who lives across the street. He is two and pretends to be scared of me. He yells my name or comes over and then when I respond he puts his face in his hands with a giant smile, runs and sometimes falls over in the road. Sat on the porch the other day trying to sort through seeds for my gic and all the kids came by. I gave them paper and pens to draw with while they sat with me. It keeps them occupied instead of going into the house and touching all my stuff. I got some girls in trouble I think, they were hanging out on my porch when they were supposed to be home doing chores. Their mom came to find them and didn’t seem too happy with me. I just had two pieces of raffia furniture made for my porch so I can spend more time sitting outside instead of in the house.
Escapades with animals.
My Cat got vaccinated. It was quite an event. The vet came to my house and my neighbor and I Ran around the house like a crazies trying to get the cat to sit still; he even tried to jump out of a closed window hitting his head pretty hard on the glass. Finally once I corner him to hold him down while the vet vaccinated him, he shat all over me. good times. Now all Cameroonians that come to my house, the cat thinks are the vet and he hisses and goes crazy.
There is a Mouton (an incredibly filthy dirty sheep) and a goat that looks like a deer that frequent my yard. They are such characters, possibly the subject of a future children’s book. They stand in my yard and stare at me. They like to run around and head butt each other. The mouton has started eating my compost. He gets in the pit which is about three feet deep and eats everything I throw in there; including a Lipton tea bag which he had hanging out of his mouth for an entire day. This morning we had a staring contest while I was sitting on my porch eating breakfast, when this happens he just looks at me and then after maybe 2 minutes squats and starts peeing.
I saw a monkey and it wasn’t dead. This was huge. There are supposedly no monkeys left in the west (people have hunted all of them) and until that day I had only seen dead ones being sold on the side of the road, bush meat. It was pretty big; light colored and ran across the paved road.
I was attacked by a giant duck. My counterpart has a giant goose duck that they call the guardian who romes their yard. He is quite the character and He also hates me. I know this because he chases me every time I am at my counterpart’s house. The last time I was over, I was chatting with Michel’s wife in the backyard trying to help with some cooking and all of a sudden I felt something biting my leg. Everyone started screaming and he bit me again and they basically grabbed him by the neck and threw him across the yard. They were all horrified and worried that I was in terrible pain, it hurt, but all I could do was laugh.
You mean you re not dying in Africa?
Someone the other day asked me how my health was, probably expecting me to say I had ebola or malaria or something horrible like that. Fortunately for me (and I think it is the same for most of my friends), my response was well I feel great. No complaints, and I have accepted the fact (it’s really not a big deal just a fact of life here, we talk about it all the time) that I Haven’t had a solid poop in maybe since I arrived here. The only other thing which was not fun was getting chiggers. The littlest toe on my right foot started hurting one day and at first I thought it was an ingrown toenail then it started getting swollen and black and I thought that maybe I had stubbed it and it was broken. It was throbbing in the middle of the night, I couldn’t wear shoes and it hurt to walk. Well it turned out to be chiggers. There were two places on one toe that had been infested. These bugs bite you and burrow under your skin, they sit there until they are removed and lay eggs in your skin. Well, let me tell you, I had maybe 100 egg sacks in my toe. And after I had a friend kindly do the dirty job of digging them out, I had a hole that was deep enough to go to china. They are absolutely disgusting and I hope that I never get them again.
Are you an herbivore or a carnivore?
Some have asked about the whole vegetarianism issue over here. Well, there are many volunteers that arrive here and become vegetarians and then there are those that become meat eaters. I am one of the latter. I think I could get by not eating meat, but I am not getting protein in any other way so I often find that I crave meat. It is also very true that you shouldn’t turn down meat when offered, you seriously can offend people. So far I find that goat is delicious, and surprisingly so is rabbit. I love eating meat on a stick we call them brochettes or soya. Also in the meat realm or just realm of eating weird things, I had fried crickets the other day (which are very tasty, kind of like potato chips), and was fed what they call rey, either a manta rey, sting rey, or some type of skate, that was dried and smoked and put in a yellow sauce made from tree bark, but kind of tastes like dirt, that is traditionally eaten at funerais and by notables. I only eat meat out or when it is fed to me. I do not prepare it myself, for two reasons, One I don’t know how and two I would have to kill the animal myself.
Transportation woes.
Every time I ride on a moto here I feel like I should have the song wipe out playing in the background. I have officially fallen off three motos and had handful of close calls. The first time it made no sense how or why this could have happened we were going so slow and there were no bumps in the road, but somehow all of a sudden we were falling on the ground. Fortunately I was not hurt, just really dirty. The second my leg got burned, it’s fine now but has been an interesting conversation piece with every Cameroonian I have met since it happened. This is one thing that is kind of funny about many Cameroonians. They will point out and ask you how you got any, cut, bruise or blister on your body. I started to till my front yard for a garden and ended up with terrible blisters on my hands. Every single person asked me how it happened and when I said I was working they were very surprised. The third time, we went all of five feet and the driver fell, I literally flew off. I also only fall of motos when I ride with my friend danny another volunteer close by. We are cursed.
The great cultural divide. (a few things I have noticed about culture here).
People like to Announce and state the obvious. Tu est la. When someone comes into your house, they say, you are here. No shit.
Bon annee. People continue to say this even though it is now February. I think that it will just continue until it starts all over again.
Soccer is the national sport. Right now is the cup du monde. The Africa cup. Everyone follows it here and Cameroon will be playing on Saturday night in the final against Egypt- GO LIONS! I love watching soccer games with Cameroonians they get so excited and make the best noises. people take the games very seriously, much like how the US is with baseball and how crazy red sox and Yankees fans can be. I have also started playing soccer one day a week with the nuns and some of the girls at the catholique mission. They are good!
It’s so different here, than when I was in Europe and tried not to let people know I was American. People here are very happy to hear you are American. It is best to make sure they do not think you are French. They hate the French.
I was directly asked for a visa to the states the other day, I am sure the first of many times this will happen.
Cameroonians love to dance. I am pretty sure they all practice in front of mirrors for hours at home. Even in clubs they stand in front of mirrors and will watch themselves dance.
A game that people have started playing with me is kind of like guess who. They will approach me and ask where I know them from. This is the most difficult and annoying game ever. I meet so many people and I can’t remember everyone!
I have had many people tell me that I argue like a Bamileke (the people of the west). They are very sharp businessmen and are always out to make a buck or two. But also, I have learned that I have to argue and barter prices, its what everyone does here. Sometimes it is overwhelming, but if you are nice and somewhat persistent you can usually get a good deal.
I guess that is about it for the moment. I have so much more to write about, but not the time at this second. I just received all of the Christmas cards that were sent to me, I guess better late never! Hope all is well stateside and I will write again soon!
Sorry this is so late. I thought I had posted it about a month and a half ago. Will write newer updates soon.
Christmas au village.
My Christmas was both wonderful and humbling and definitely different from the materialistic, commercial and hyped up American Christmas we are used to in the states. This holiday for me started in the marche around 8am Christmas eve day. I decided to accept the invitation to go to my counterpart’s house and knew I needed to bring a gift so another volunteer recommended bringing a chicken and yes this means bringing a live chicken. So I asked my neighbor if she would help me. She met me in the market where we went to the animal section and started picking up and inspecting several different chickens, after charlotte told me which one was nice and plump and we argued the price down, I stopped on my way home to eat some beans and beignets. The woman in the hut tied the bag so the chicken wouldn’t escape while I ate; it wasn’t tied tight, so I didn’t think anything of it. I Got home, showered, changed and when I came out of the bathroom the bag was no longer moving or making noise. He suffocated. Not only do I feel horrible for killing the poor thing, a slow torturous death, I was also convinced I ruined Christmas and was ready to pack my bags, go to Yaoundé to go back to the states so I could eat lobster stew with my family instead of a dead smelly chicken. Once my little homesick freak-out was over, I Left the dead guy on charlottes porch (which they later cooked and ate) and went to the same woman who sold me the first to buy another. So 6,300 cfa later accompanied by horrible guilt, feelings of incredible stupidity and frustration because I couldn’t get a car and people wouldn’t stop deranging me at the gare routier, I made it to Michel’s house (my counterpart) where they were really excited to get the chicken which we ended up eating on Christmas day (I was fed the gizzard-this is an honor- but thought I was going to puke, a little too chewy for my taste).
Michel took me on a petit tour of his quartier (neighborhood but it is in the bush so it doesn’t really feel like a neighborhood). We went up the road from his concession (the land that belongs to his family. his fathers wives and all the extended family each get a piece of it and when Michel’s father passed he moved back to bayangam to take care of the concession, this is tradition) to see this giant house up the road. Well 3 giant houses. By a guy that doesn’t even live here year round. This is a big problem here in Cameroon. People with lots of money leave their villages to live in the big cities but come back only to build monstrosities (kind of like the African version of a mcmansion) that they visit maybe 3 times a year. It’s really sad when there are people who have nothing and they just come and build a house and do nothing for their towns. Anyway, Michel showed me a house that he wants me to move into, which is beautiful, overlooking a huge corn field, but also unfinished, in the middle of no where and thus will never pass Peace Corps approval. And then we started drinking. Michel’s moto broke down at our first stop so I was escorted back to the house while michel waited for someone to help him repair the moto. I ended up spending most of the day hanging out in the traditional (outdoor) kitchen next to the fire trying to keep warm; it was so cold. We ate pork and baton de manioc (this long paste like stick that is cooked in a banana leaf and smells like dirty feet) and poisson braiser (grilled fish), drank and drank and drank. They do not have electricity or running water so they splurged for the holiday and rented a generator to have electricity for the evening, we hooked up a radio for music, which of course worked on and off the whole night. We sat around a big bonfire, sang and danced under the full moon. Christmas day, I went to church with the family, not a great idea since the service was 3 hours and in patois (the local language), but I figured it would get me out of being drunk before 10 am, and I have never had Christmas and not gone to church. It is a catholic church but was interesting because it was so much more lively than mass in the US, lots of singing and dancing. and after (kind of like a fellowship hour), they all ate nkui (which is this traditional dish that you have to slurp up and cannot eat with a spoon or fork because it is so slippery and rubbery) and fufu (corn couscous) out of giant marmites. the kids had their pictures taken, dressed in their Sunday best, in front of booths with photos kind of like the ones you see in Chinese restaurants. When church activities finished up, we hiked back from bangou, which is the neighboring town, ate another large meal with 3 types of carbohydrates, meat, fish, and piment (hot sauce)-delicious. And then made the rounds, to the fetes in bayangam. It is tradition on Christmas and new years here that you travel around to different friends houses to celebrate. At each stop you eat and drink, the whole town is there. There is so much eating and drinking that I am amazed I was able to walk. One house we went to had a school of kids in the front yard with plates waiting to be served. There was music blasting, and when we walked inside, benches were set up around a room, every seat was filled and there was a giant table in the middle covered with food and drink. When I went home later that night I stopped in at my neighbors to say merry Christmas and charlotte insisted that I eat more. It’s also amazing how hospitable people are here. Honestly, Christmas here wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Being that I had a family to spend it with, but also that fact that it’s sunny and warm and everything I experienced was so new for me, it felt like another day in Cameroon. I was surprised (but not surprised when you think about poverty levels here) to see that there is not really any decorating or gift giving ( although there were some beautiful hand cut paper ornaments that Michel’s kids made and hung at their house). I also did not hear a single Christmas song or hymn. Anyway it was a great holiday and as much as I missed Christmas at home I had a very memorable experience here.
We also had our own little Christmas party with the volunteers in the west, “Christmas at Quinn’s” we cooked a big meal, our host, who is obsessed with Christmas, made stockings for everyone, and we taught the kids in the street how to sing jingle bells. It was a ton of fun. Unfortunately everyone that drank the homemade eggnog that day ended up with food poisoning. Lesson learned; don’t eat raw eggs in Africa
A Hot Commodity in Cameroon.
It’s a strange thing to say this and I do not mean it in a derogatory sense it is just how some towns are here, that white people are a very rare thing, something like a local celebrity. It is also tied to the unfortunately deep roots and effects of colonialism in Africa that people get excited when they see white people coming to their tiny village. This is something that peace corps tries not to facilitate, that is why we are working with Cameroonians to develop sustainable projects with Cameroonian community leaders. If only Cameroonians can understand that the development of their own country lies in their hands and not the hands of anyone else, they will be able to do great things. With that said, the volunteers in the west were invited to meet the staff of a health center where another volunteer works. Since We are encouraged to do cross collaboration projects with other volunteers, my friend’s supervisor decided to organize what started off as just a lunch and meeting to see the center and meet the staff, but turned into a full blown celebration with all the town notables, a feast, speeches, singing and dancing. He picked us up in bafoussam in the center’s van and we were off to the health center in a little village on top of a big hill. On the way we drove through and ended up stopping and were given an impromptu tour of an amazing tea plantation. We were late to our own party for this, but when we arrived fashionably (1 and a half hours) late, there were traditional dancers and singers and almost the whole town in the road there to greet us. As the 6 or 7 of us piled out of the van, we had to go down a line of maybe 20 people to shake hands and greet the town. We were escorted into the health center and were instructed to sit at a table in the front in a line facing an audience of maybe 30 people. The supervisor introduced us and then the town sang a traditional welcome song for us. Then they looked at us and said “now it’s your turn.” Not knowing a traditional American welcome song or any songs for that matter that we all knew the words to, we quickly decided on Rudolph the red nose reindeer (it was only 2 weeks after Christmas). We had to stand and most of us got maybe all of two words out the whole song, Dave, the kid whose village it was, was the only one who carried the song to the end. We were all crying we were laughing so hard and the audience stood and started clapping and cheering us on which just made us laugh even harder. It was absolutely wild, we were incredibly embarrassed but they all told us they loved it. The day went on, Dave gave a speech and various other members of the town gave speeches. Then we danced and danced some more, ate and drank, had a photo shoot and were on our way home. It was a wonderful day but of coarse was not complete until we stopped on our way home to pay our respects to the chef of the village and have a drink with him. Life in Cameroon sometimes just feels like a big party.
What do you mean it’s funerai season?
Well, this is a little hard to explain because I am not quite sure if I understand it completely myself yet. But I will do my best. So right now is the dry season. With this means that there is no water and thus there is not much work to do on the farm (remember the majority of Cameroonians are farmers) which means people have a lot of time to have funerais. Also because of dry season, the earth is dry (duh) and thus there is a ton of dust. When I say a ton of dust I mean ridiculous amounts of it. You are still dirty even after you scrub with a hard bristle brush; I have even found it in my belly button. Aside from being dirty all the time, there are allergies and cold nights, and with that people get sick. So that is why it is funerai season. There are different types of funerals here. There is the doi, which is actually very sad (but still with lots of singing and eating) for someone who has just passed away. Then there is the internment, which comes the morning after the doi, when the person is buried (usually on the family compound, often right next to the house). And there is the funerai which is essentially a huge party in memorial of someone who has been dead for some time, maybe 10 years maybe 30 years, it all depends, but there is tons of eating and dancing and singing and celebrating.
I have been to one internment, 2 dois, and many funerais and have several more to go to in the next month or so.
Are you working or are you on vacation?
I am working, I promise. It’s just a little slow. Peace corps is not your typical 9-5 which is actually pretty fantastic. But also, like I said there is not much happening now because it is dry season, I have had several meetings and am doing as much as I can to make contacts in the community to make work happen. I have a women’s farming gic (community initiative group) that I am working with already. We have had several meetings about the basics of agroforestry and they have already made their first tree nursery. My first meeting with the environmental club at the lycee (high school) is this coming week. I had my first class teaching English at the handicap center last night. I will also be working closely with this center’s director on a commercial plantation project. I have presented to 18 gics in baham at a regional meeting and am waiting on responses from them. And I am working on meeting and scheduling many more meetings and formations with various groups in my three village post. I have had a few failures, which is par for the course. My counterpart and I scheduled a water pump demonstration (the manual treadle pumps that look like Stairmasters, I think they may have had a similar one at the cooper Hewitt design for the other 90% this summer) with a gic this past Sunday, we had a whole crew of people come to the town to do the presentation and when we arrived at the gic’s office, it was locked and empty and the president of the group was no where to be found. Fortunately, we were in the company of seasoned volunteers who understand that this happens quite often here in Cameroon. People will show up 2 or 3 hours late to a meeting or not show at all, in this particular case, they had changed the date of the meeting and failed to contact us. So instead of feeling frustrated and defeated we relocated and took the pump out at a busy section of the main road to show people, and within minutes had a crowd of maybe 20 people. This facilitated us scheduling another pump demo for a different group for next week. Pretty sure this is what Peace Corps means when they say you have to be flexible.
Sometimes you just have to pretend no one is home.
There’s something strangely comical yet irritating about Cameroonians and how many of them have no concept of appropriate timing. The other day I set up a meeting with the landlord of my house. He said he would come over at 4 to talk and to sign the lease for my house. Surprise surprise, he never showed. Well the next morning around 6 30 or 7, I was in the middle of a very strange dream about be a goat, when I woke up to banging on my door and someone yelling my name in the front yard. It was my landlord, he had no idea that maybe he should have called first, but was very nice as I was standing in my pajamas half asleep trying to speak in French with him.
I have a bunch of little kids that like to come by my house now. I much prefer the little ones to the older high school boys that just ask me for money (I think they are slowly getting the hint that I don’t want them at my house). The little ones come to the front door or stand in the entrance to my yard and yell my name until I come out, then they run away. It’s really cute. My favorite is a little boy, amen, who lives across the street. He is two and pretends to be scared of me. He yells my name or comes over and then when I respond he puts his face in his hands with a giant smile, runs and sometimes falls over in the road. Sat on the porch the other day trying to sort through seeds for my gic and all the kids came by. I gave them paper and pens to draw with while they sat with me. It keeps them occupied instead of going into the house and touching all my stuff. I got some girls in trouble I think, they were hanging out on my porch when they were supposed to be home doing chores. Their mom came to find them and didn’t seem too happy with me. I just had two pieces of raffia furniture made for my porch so I can spend more time sitting outside instead of in the house.
Escapades with animals.
My Cat got vaccinated. It was quite an event. The vet came to my house and my neighbor and I Ran around the house like a crazies trying to get the cat to sit still; he even tried to jump out of a closed window hitting his head pretty hard on the glass. Finally once I corner him to hold him down while the vet vaccinated him, he shat all over me. good times. Now all Cameroonians that come to my house, the cat thinks are the vet and he hisses and goes crazy.
There is a Mouton (an incredibly filthy dirty sheep) and a goat that looks like a deer that frequent my yard. They are such characters, possibly the subject of a future children’s book. They stand in my yard and stare at me. They like to run around and head butt each other. The mouton has started eating my compost. He gets in the pit which is about three feet deep and eats everything I throw in there; including a Lipton tea bag which he had hanging out of his mouth for an entire day. This morning we had a staring contest while I was sitting on my porch eating breakfast, when this happens he just looks at me and then after maybe 2 minutes squats and starts peeing.
I saw a monkey and it wasn’t dead. This was huge. There are supposedly no monkeys left in the west (people have hunted all of them) and until that day I had only seen dead ones being sold on the side of the road, bush meat. It was pretty big; light colored and ran across the paved road.
I was attacked by a giant duck. My counterpart has a giant goose duck that they call the guardian who romes their yard. He is quite the character and He also hates me. I know this because he chases me every time I am at my counterpart’s house. The last time I was over, I was chatting with Michel’s wife in the backyard trying to help with some cooking and all of a sudden I felt something biting my leg. Everyone started screaming and he bit me again and they basically grabbed him by the neck and threw him across the yard. They were all horrified and worried that I was in terrible pain, it hurt, but all I could do was laugh.
You mean you re not dying in Africa?
Someone the other day asked me how my health was, probably expecting me to say I had ebola or malaria or something horrible like that. Fortunately for me (and I think it is the same for most of my friends), my response was well I feel great. No complaints, and I have accepted the fact (it’s really not a big deal just a fact of life here, we talk about it all the time) that I Haven’t had a solid poop in maybe since I arrived here. The only other thing which was not fun was getting chiggers. The littlest toe on my right foot started hurting one day and at first I thought it was an ingrown toenail then it started getting swollen and black and I thought that maybe I had stubbed it and it was broken. It was throbbing in the middle of the night, I couldn’t wear shoes and it hurt to walk. Well it turned out to be chiggers. There were two places on one toe that had been infested. These bugs bite you and burrow under your skin, they sit there until they are removed and lay eggs in your skin. Well, let me tell you, I had maybe 100 egg sacks in my toe. And after I had a friend kindly do the dirty job of digging them out, I had a hole that was deep enough to go to china. They are absolutely disgusting and I hope that I never get them again.
Are you an herbivore or a carnivore?
Some have asked about the whole vegetarianism issue over here. Well, there are many volunteers that arrive here and become vegetarians and then there are those that become meat eaters. I am one of the latter. I think I could get by not eating meat, but I am not getting protein in any other way so I often find that I crave meat. It is also very true that you shouldn’t turn down meat when offered, you seriously can offend people. So far I find that goat is delicious, and surprisingly so is rabbit. I love eating meat on a stick we call them brochettes or soya. Also in the meat realm or just realm of eating weird things, I had fried crickets the other day (which are very tasty, kind of like potato chips), and was fed what they call rey, either a manta rey, sting rey, or some type of skate, that was dried and smoked and put in a yellow sauce made from tree bark, but kind of tastes like dirt, that is traditionally eaten at funerais and by notables. I only eat meat out or when it is fed to me. I do not prepare it myself, for two reasons, One I don’t know how and two I would have to kill the animal myself.
Transportation woes.
Every time I ride on a moto here I feel like I should have the song wipe out playing in the background. I have officially fallen off three motos and had handful of close calls. The first time it made no sense how or why this could have happened we were going so slow and there were no bumps in the road, but somehow all of a sudden we were falling on the ground. Fortunately I was not hurt, just really dirty. The second my leg got burned, it’s fine now but has been an interesting conversation piece with every Cameroonian I have met since it happened. This is one thing that is kind of funny about many Cameroonians. They will point out and ask you how you got any, cut, bruise or blister on your body. I started to till my front yard for a garden and ended up with terrible blisters on my hands. Every single person asked me how it happened and when I said I was working they were very surprised. The third time, we went all of five feet and the driver fell, I literally flew off. I also only fall of motos when I ride with my friend danny another volunteer close by. We are cursed.
The great cultural divide. (a few things I have noticed about culture here).
People like to Announce and state the obvious. Tu est la. When someone comes into your house, they say, you are here. No shit.
Bon annee. People continue to say this even though it is now February. I think that it will just continue until it starts all over again.
Soccer is the national sport. Right now is the cup du monde. The Africa cup. Everyone follows it here and Cameroon will be playing on Saturday night in the final against Egypt- GO LIONS! I love watching soccer games with Cameroonians they get so excited and make the best noises. people take the games very seriously, much like how the US is with baseball and how crazy red sox and Yankees fans can be. I have also started playing soccer one day a week with the nuns and some of the girls at the catholique mission. They are good!
It’s so different here, than when I was in Europe and tried not to let people know I was American. People here are very happy to hear you are American. It is best to make sure they do not think you are French. They hate the French.
I was directly asked for a visa to the states the other day, I am sure the first of many times this will happen.
Cameroonians love to dance. I am pretty sure they all practice in front of mirrors for hours at home. Even in clubs they stand in front of mirrors and will watch themselves dance.
A game that people have started playing with me is kind of like guess who. They will approach me and ask where I know them from. This is the most difficult and annoying game ever. I meet so many people and I can’t remember everyone!
I have had many people tell me that I argue like a Bamileke (the people of the west). They are very sharp businessmen and are always out to make a buck or two. But also, I have learned that I have to argue and barter prices, its what everyone does here. Sometimes it is overwhelming, but if you are nice and somewhat persistent you can usually get a good deal.
I guess that is about it for the moment. I have so much more to write about, but not the time at this second. I just received all of the Christmas cards that were sent to me, I guess better late never! Hope all is well stateside and I will write again soon!
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Finally! Photos!
1. Injections!
2. Yaounde
3. Yaounde
4. Bangante
5. my kids
6. My home-stay family
7. swearing in
8. going to post
9. Christmas in Cameroon
10. tea plantation
11. funerai mommies
12. my women GIC
13. the Agro Crew FOVU
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Reporting From Post
It’s been quite a while since I last wrote and so much has happened. My last post was just before thanksgiving, had just gotten back from site visit and was still a stagiere and very much ready for it all to end. Well, now as I write this, I am sitting in my new house (have been here for almost two weeks), as a real life volunteer, listening to bbc radio, with a glass of wine in hand and a little kitten purring in my lap.
Lets start from where I left off.
Thanksgiving- was a hit. Everyone divided into various groups and dispersed throughout the various homestay houses to bake, shake and well, start the festivities if you know what I mean. The 11 chickens were killed and cooked, pies were baked in large metal marmites (large pots put over a fire or gas stove, the pie pan is placed in the pot on little metal tomato paste cans, rocks or sand), potatoes were mashed, stuffing was stuffed, and the instructors, stagieres and volunteers gathered and gave thanks with a fully satisfying and frankly, impressive feast, complete with a joyous performance from our very own stage band “les aulocodes” or for those of you who are French impaired, the cane rats.
The morning after- everyone had to force themselves out of bed at the crack of dawn, for better or worse, for a session on volunteer cross collaboration and then loaded into 3 peace corps safari vehicles to embark on a trip to the northwest province for the weekend. We stopped in bafoussam for a quick shopping spree at the white man store (super marche) for the perfect and trop trop cher dejeuner of whole wheat bread, sausage, real cheese, mustard, Pringles and beer and were on our way onward and upward and feeling more and more car sick as the paved roads turned to dirt, the lush hills turned to rolling savannah, the weather became dryer, the sun hotter and the francais suddenly became anglais or rather, pigeon English. We had pee stops, vomit stops, stops at check points to be bombarded by the vendors on the side of the road who force their goods (pineapple, peanuts, fruit noir, kola nuts, bananas) into the windows of your car, and we had stops to maneuver our way around cars stuck in holes or broken down enroute. There were a couple of close calls with sink holes that could swallow a car, puddles that an elephant could bath in, and rickety plank bridges that even the best gymnast might loose balance. But with our skilled drivers, we continued on safely to see the savannah turn to hills again or oddly shaped, lumpy mountains with beautiful string like water falls dispersed throughout. While the landscape was beautiful, the ride was treacherous, Sitting sideways in the back of a safari vehicle with windows that barely crack open. I have never fell so car sick in my life but, thank the lord, after eight hours we arrived to our destination, kumba. We stayed in kumba in the merryland hotel, it was so so so cold at night. And during the day went further up the hill to riba. This is the scenic location of an agricultural and agroforestry center that was started by a peace corps volunteer about ten years ago. We were greeted by some very friendly dogs and the center director riba George. A phenomenal Anglophone farmer who was our host for the weekend. He gave us the grand tour of the center, the farm, the livestock, and the view from the top of the hill. I felt like I was a character in the sound of music with the open rolling hills all around. Riba George answered our questions about agroforestry and imparted his wisdom on us, “produce what you consume, and consume what you produce.” A line I found very appropriate to our work here in Cameroon but also feel that many people around the world could learn a little from. Also, Did you know that the Sahara desert (which northern Cameroon is part of) expands 2000km every year? We played volleyball, watched dr. njiti do the moonwalk, and enjoyed the fresh air and good company of the agro group. It was like a honeymoon weekend before we all were sent off to various parts of the country for the next two years.
The ride home from rib- was like a dusty roller coaster with four girls wedged in the back seat and dr. njiti and his wonderfully hilarious driver, Antoine, in the front. We took a different route back to bangante that let us see the road to bamenda (the capital of the north west province), some more of the oh so beautiful and breathtaking landscape, and have a few more good laughs along the way. There were more savannah grasses, grass huts (so stereotypically African but so real), little kids playing in the road that would drop everything and run from the oncoming cars, we saw lots of women, men and children walking, carrying firewood, pots and other goods perfectly balanced on their heads. There were herds of cattle in the road that we had to come to screeching halts for and nearly grazed as we passed their long slow trek from north to south to be sold at market in douala. As our car was the leader and fastest of the group of three, we periodically stopped to wait for the others to catch up. In one town got to watch a hundred or more women dressed in yellow pagne marching for the cwf (a religious group of sorts), sucked on citrus fruits, had a dance party on the side of the road, and learned that when you make a pit stop you can also say that you are going to kill a rabbit. It was a great road trip.
Back in bangante- we had about a week and a half left of stage or also known as sitting around, biding your time until post. Everyone had to prepare a 20-30 minute presentation, in French, on a cross-cultural topic. I chose to talk about traditional cuisine in Cameroon. I learned how to make koki, my favorite Cameroonian dish to date, with my homestay mom and served it in the presentation, which went much better than I had originally expected. To say thanks to all the families who had done so much for us in the past 3 months, There was a homestay family appreciation dinner the last weekend that nura and I somehow ended up in charge of the decorations.
And we were on the road again- to yaounde, to enjoy the big city (or otherwise known as sleeping in the case, the peace corps hostel, and going broke on fancy Korean dinners, milkshakes, and pizza). We had to do paper work and banking and tie up all loose ends before becoming official volunteers.
Then there was swearing in- a formal affair with the us ambassador to Cameroon, representatives from a few other countries, the peace corps director, the mayor, prefet, sous prefet, and all the important people of bangante, photographers, news crews, homestay families, and most importantly 39 stagieres dressed in matching bamileke pagne ensembles (so bien integre) ready to laugh through the oath as we became official volunteers. There was a huge banner in the town center that read “US peace corps, serving in cameroon since 1962” in both English and French and following the ceremony, there was a very nice reception for the nouveau volunteers and attendees of the event. The afternoon was spent packing our bags, cleaning out our rooms/homes from the past 3 months, saying last goodbyes to homestay families. We celebrated in town that night and fully enjoyed our first night of freedom. We made it through stage!!!!
The voyage to post- was very easy for me and the others who are posted in the west. Everyone brought their luggage, metal trunks, bicycles, machetes, shovels, watering cans, hoes, moto helmets, etc. to the training house to load up the vans taking people to their respective provinces. Everything was piled on top, looked as if the mini buses would topple over at any moment or a large metal trunk would fly off the top. we were dropped off in bafoussam and then depoted a car to take all my things to my house. It was so easy, and I am sure easier than those who had to go to the far east or to the adamaoua on a 17 hour train ride. As my private taxi pulled up to my house, my neighbor charlotte came running out with several of her children to great me and help me lug everything inside. I am so so fortunate to have neighbors like this to look after me and be my surrogate family for the next to years.
The days go by- very fast and very slow. I have 103 weeks left in Cameroon, which seems like a lot but I know it will go by incredibly fast. My concept of time is changing once again, having to adjust to a non-structured schedule with a lot of down time. There is too much to do and not enough to do at the same time, where does one begin? I do not have a set schedule for work as in agroforestry you form the schedule around times that are good for farmers to meet. Also, right now is the dry season, the holiday season, and the season for funerals, as a result, there is not much “work” going on. I will be spending the next three months just trying to get acquainted with my community, identifying and forming relationships with the people and groups with whom I will work for the next two years, learning French and hopefully a little of the local language of my town, and setting up my house, making it home.
Visitors- come to my house almost everyday. they usually are high school aged boys that help me do house work and yard work and just like to come in, sit, read and talk. It is often very awkward, us sitting in complete silence, them staring at me while I read or do work around the house. It’s a way for them to pass the time, I guess. My neighbor often comes by in the evening, her kids come over to sit as well, or I go to their house to hang out, watch tv, chat, and often eat. Charlotte tells me to come over whenever I want in the evening or in the day. she tells me, “tu n’es pas isole, je suis la.” You are not alone, I am here. They are a wonderful family and hopefully I will be a part of their family during the next two years.
French- is difficult but starting to come much easier. I have been speaking a lot when I walk around town and at this point I find I have a harder time understanding what people are saying to me than anything else. They speak very fast and not your basic textbook French. Often it is a mixture of French with the local language, which I do not understand at all. When I speak to people, they often look at me like I have three heads because they do not understand my French, or someone will translate my French into French for someone else. It’s kind of ridiculous.
Incomprehension- leads to fun events. When I don’t understand I usually just nod, smile and say oui. This has brought me to some interesting moments. One night, I told charlotte that I needed to go into town to make some phone calls where the reso is better, she said we would go together. While en ville, she asked me what it was I needed to buy, which was nothing, and then some how we ended up at someone’s house. Its turns out she was taking me to find someone to change the locks on my house, which I had asked her for help with. We sat a while, ate a meal, and talked with the family before a group of me, charlotte, the man coming to change the locks, 3 of charlottes kids, and my new moto driver friend all paraded to my house around 8 pm which is kind of late and very very dark. When we arrived to my house, the man began changing the locks while he played backstreet boys on his phone for background music. And everyone else started going crazy collecting the swarm of grasshoppers that were all over my front porch. They are a delicacy here, and now is the time of year to find them. You fry em and eat em. Have yet to taste though.
Friends- are pretty easy to make here, but you have to be careful. I was walking around town the other day, had to pay the utility bills and pick up a few things in the market when one of the marche boutique owners struck up a conversation with me. She knew and was friends with another white girl who had lived in baham for a little while and was excited to meet me. She told me to sit with her she bought me a beer (mind you it is noon), and introduced me to all her friends in the market, including one of my favorite people so far in baham, the only female moto driver i have seen in Cameroon.
last weekend- there was a big party- fete- a grand reopening of one of the bars in town. Myself and another volunteer in the next town over made an appearance. It was quite the night. All kinds of important people were there, there was a huge spread of food, flowing cold beer, and merriment. Many people came over to talk with us, including an interesting character that is a notable in my town. He was straight out of the 70’s wearing a tan bubu, a rasta like hat, aviator sunglasses, and he kept telling us how much he loves Michael Jackson and would, mid sentence, break out in song “we are the world, we are the people…..” it was absolutely hilarious. He told me about how he lived in france for many years but returned when his father died to take over his legacy, he is a farmer now and I may have the chance to do some work with him. He also told me I had to marry him and take him back to the states with me after two years.
that same night- I was invited to go to fovu (the amazing rock formations in my town) the following morning. My friend told me she would call at 10 and we would go together. When I arrived in town around town, marachel was waiting for me along with an entire soccer team dressed in yellow jumpsuits. I was invited to spend the morning with the veteran’s soccer team of bafoussam who were in baham for the day to tour the town, play a match, and bar it up after the game. As we toured fovu, an old grandma led us around chanting and saying prayers to the gods in local tongue. They were prayers saying that the rocks were an act of god and they were praying that we have safe passage through the giant boulders. I wish I could have filmed it, me with an entire team in yellow jumpsuits being lead through this touristic site. They invited me to play soccer with them, however I did not have the appropriate clothing to wear. So I got a seat on the sidelines with the rest of the team that sat out that day. They were all very very nice and funny and I had some of the most ridiculous conversations that afternoon.
This week so far- I have gotten quite a bit accomplished. I had a meeting with a women’s gic (ngo) with my counterpart on Sunday evening to meet them and pick a date to present agroforestry to them. I have almost finished doing my protocol in baham. Which is when you present letters and meet all of the important people in the town. It is essential to do this so that you can work in your town. Usually you do it with your counterpart however my counterpart lives in another town so I am doing it alone which is a little more daunting. So far so good, they are very kind and patient and between my French and their English we have been able to communicate what I am here to do.
I have met with the ministry of agriculture, and they are incredibly helpful. They are going to help me to locate and organize groups to present agroforestry and do demo plots with in January. and I will hopefully meet with the chef of baham and bayangam soon. I made my way over to the catholique mission to introduce myself and meet the sisters yesterday. There are 8 of them from all over, Cameroon, the congo, mexico, etc. they were so kind and invited me to eat lunch with them. I was introduced to two French volunteers working at the mission school. They are the only two other white people in town and will be here for about a year. I talked to the sisters about possible future projects and they all seemed very receptive and excited. Thank God for the sisters. They are going to be a wonderful resource in the next two years.
Other quick tidbits-
I got a kitten. Another volunteer gave me a kitten he didn’t want at his house. He is a little tiny tiger cat. So cute- I have named him teo. So far he has pooped on my couch, on my bed, on me and in various other places but I am pretty sure he is sick (worms) and I am on my way to get him some medicine for his problem. He follows me around the house yelling at me all day, and curls up and sleeps in my lap whenever he gets the chance. Yesterday he escaped and ran away for half the day. Sat in the yard next door crying and wouldn’t come back. I left the window open and finally he jumped back through. It’s really nice to have some company in this big house.
I love that I get called TaTa here. My home stay siblings called me tata Emily, and often little kids accompanied by their parents are told to salute me as tata. Its kind of like aunt. And it’s really cute.
There is this thing that Cameroonians do called beeping. It’s a funny concept for us Americans who are used to limitless cell phone minutes, but I think we are all becoming used to it and have started doing it ourselves. Because cell phone credit is expensive here and most do not have a lot of money, what you do is beep someone if you want to talk to them. You call their phone and hang up after one ring and hope that they will call you back. It’s kind of like a game and often people just beep you for the hell of it.
Refrigerators are not very common here. A cold beer is hard to come by and leftovers have to been eaten right away.
I miss good coffee and pizza more than anything else. Coffee here is instant Nescafe with a ton of condensed sweetened milk in it.
There is no such thing as a line. I was in the electricity office the other day waiting to pay a bill and had about 5 people cut in front of me. New Yorkers would hate it here.
Polygamy is very common in Cameroon. I think that I might be getting asked soon to be the second wife of one of my moto drivers here. He is a really nice guy but I have told him it is not possible it is against the law were I come from. Often times men with have two or three wives and lots of children. But is a practice that is becoming less popular. The traditional chefs will often have many more than 3 and when they become chef; inherit the wives and children of the chef before. They all live in separate houses on the same compound/concession at the chefferie.
I guess that’s all for now. I have to run, have a meeting to be at in a bit.
I can’t believe that Christmas is next week. It does not feel like it here at all. I will be spending the holiday with my neighbor on the eve and Christmas day at my counterpart’s house. Noelle is a big holiday here with lots of eating and drinking and the party goes on for days. Should be fun! I miss you all. And wish I could be there to spend the holiday with you. Now that I have a little more free time, I will try to get some letters and emails off soon.
Merry Christmas!
Ps I heard I have 3 packages waiting for me in yaounde. Hopefully someone will bring them up to my province before Christmas. Thank you so much to whoever sent them, I can’t wait to open them!
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Twas and interesting 2.5 weeks
Site visit.
1. My home for the next two years proves to be more posh than what Peace Corps lead me to believe when I signed on to come to
Baham, my town of residence, I find is much more developed and populated (by African standards) than expected but will prove to be a great town to live and work in for two years. There is a town center with a daily market, internet, many bars and boutiques, a petit boulangerie, and a petit super
2. The next town is bayangam where my counterpart lives. What is a counterpart? This person is my Cameroonian work partner for the next two years. Michel- who has told me he is my new Cameroonian father- lives in a nearby village on top of a hill on his family compound/farm. To reach his house, I have to take two different taxis, and then a moto to the top of the hill. Bayangam is way more rural than my town but is also much more scenic and tranquil. Michel is the sweetest man alive, incredibly intelligent and motivated. He is a model farmer who I will most likely be learning more from than he learning from me. But he has a wonderful rapport with his community and is very excited to work with a female volunteer so that I we can work more closely with women’s groups. He has worked with pcvs in the past so already has many agro techniques in use including live fencing, alley cropping, seed bank areas, cane rat production (a rodent that is raised here for food it is a cross between a guinea pig and a ground hog and very nutritious), improved cook stoves etc. I will be working with him on creating a medicinal plant garden and apiculture projects.
3. I will also have the opportunity to work in Bangou. We took a day trip here to meet the chef (traditional chief) who is the main work contact there. The volunteer I am replacing has done a great deal of work with this chef on his farm. As a result, he was installed and given a traditional title in the village- translation- he is an African prince now. To get to bangou we rented the best moto driver in my town for the day to take us the hour trip over a small mountain. the road goes up the mountain to the crossroads of my town and the next through another very small village and back down (one point we had to get off the moto and walk it was so steep) to the entrance of the chefferie. This was probably one of the most beautiful views I have seen yet. I will try to send pictures soon that will show you what a traditional chefferie compound looks like too. They generally have triangular shaped roofs and lots of wooden sculptures/wood carvings of lions and various African wildlife.
Bullet point time.
- Good or bad, Alcohol is a major part of the culture here and when you are out with Cameroonians you will often be cadeauxed a beer or two or three.
- Transportation woes. Three tries in three different cars to get back to village from baffousam. The first took us into the market and we sat for many minutes while they loaded raw fish and chickens into the back of the car, the second took us to the police station and we sat in the car waiting for the driver to come out for over a half hour. And finally the 3rd car got us to where we needed to be.
- There aren’t just mosquitoes in
- Second malady- not so good. I got my first ever urinary tract infection in
- The malaria pills may be making me a little crazy. (Or it could just be stage). I had crazy nightmares all night the other night including one about will smith and his wife. And I cried for half the day on Wednesday for no real reason (This is also a possible genetic disorder thanks to my mother).
- The aforementioned tech trainer Elvis, who is an expert in poultry farming, taught us how to buy chickens and kill them for our Wednesday night dinner(if you want to eat meat here you often have to kill it yourself). We went to the market in the rain got accosted by all the mommies in the market yelling at us for not speaking the local language, I tripped over a bunch of chickens and slid through the disgusting mud back to the kitchen of the training house where we detained the chickens in a closet (crowing loudly) until they were brought to their death bed where Elvis stepped on their feet, bent their necks in half and slit their throats.
- According to Cameroonians, The disconnected Internet epic is now being blamed on a cut cable somewhere in the middle of the ocean and which apparently has affected most of
- Food notes: there are these things called beignets, fried dough balls, which are so good but sooo bad for you. Many of us have a love hate relationship with them eating many per day. A common breakfast, or dinner, is a bowl of beans with hot beignets and a little bit of pimente (hot sauce). Also we have discovered the art of the omelet here. They are amazing mainly because they are a great source of protein but they are also cheap and delicious, especially when you get oeuf haricot or oeuf spaghetti (with beans or spaghetti). yes that’s right, spaghetti in the omelet. it sounds awful but is absolutely amazing and satisfying. Ask me in two years about omelets and I will probably have many different words for you but for now its good stuff.
- Taught my home stay children to tango the other night-it was absolutely adorable.
- Made my home stay family a huge platter of French toast when I got back from post. If I heard one more time about how the volunteer before me made French toast I thought I was going to scream. Done and done.
- Where the hell is the promised sunshine of the dry season?
- Also, ou est d’eau!?!
- My homestay family is so religious that I often don’t really know how to handle it. Last Sunday I told them I needed to do laundry and my mom told me it was a bad day for this because they had to pray ( I then locked myself in my room for the entire morning while they held a bible, praying, singing service in the living room and didn’t get to do my laundry). My homestay dad was up at 2:30 in the morning chanting/praying until 6 in the morning one night. My friend walked me home the other night and my homestay mom invited him in for dinner. when my homestay dad came home he started asking him all these questions about god and jesus and why didn’t he want to be like billy graham. Then we had to pray for him. It was very interesting.
- I have learned that Cameroonian men are very persistent. The first question I get asked by every man is, are you a Madame or a mademoiselle. I got groped at a bar the other night, and have been called 6 times at 6 in the morning on a Sunday by a guy that thought he was interested in me. Waiting for the fake wedding ring in the mail….
- Went to the tailor to have my first article of Cameroonian clothing made. I designed a dress and took the drawing to the tailor with the African pagne I found in the market. Having clothing made is so inexpensive here. It will cost me a total of about 10 american dollars to have a dress custom made! We’ll see how it turns out….
- Lastly I made French level! Intermediate high. I don’t really know how this is possible and it is slightly suspicious that everyone that was in intermediate mid and low passed level this time around. I think the language instructors might just be sick of us. But I’m not complaining. I don’t have to sit through class any more.
- Mom if you are reading this, I thought of a few other things you can throw in the package- American candy (chocolate, reeses pieces or peanut butter cups in particular), annies mac n cheese, q tips, travel scrabble, granola bars/protein bars, a pack of s/m white v neck hanes mens under shirts, printouts to rules for various card games and the rules to yahtzee, if dad has any old Atlantic monthlies that would be amazing, surprises are nice too. Thanks!
Thank god stage is almost over, I am so ready to be an adult again.
We are getting ready for our Cameroonian version of thanksgiving. Bought 11 live chickens in the market today for slaughtering tomorrow.
Have a happy thanksgiving all! Eat some cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie for me!
(sorry i didn't post this earlier, emily! xox-A)
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