Sachets and Tears: A Very Cameroonian Xmas

Sachets and Tears: A Very Cameroonian Xmas – December 27, 2012

Well, I just had probably the weirdest/kind of fun/kind of depressing xmas that I’ve ever had.  I had it in a town on a lake called Lagdo with a couple of my friends from stage.  In order to get there, I took the bus to Garoua first, which was, as usual, pretty crowded.  After that, I took a moto to ‘by the bridge’, where the cars going south are.  From there I got in a bush taxi – a small Toyota that they packed ten people in to.  There were four people in the front, including me.  Since it was a stick shift, the guy literally had to shift between another guy’s legs.  After four or five hours of travel, I finally made it to Lagdo. 

When I got there, one buddy and I went to get some food, while our other friend went to do some shopping.  She had been feeling sick, and probably wasn’t going to drink with us that night.  She went to the bakery first, and ended up fainting, taking out the glass and falling to the floor.  Luckily the people there helped her get a moto and bring her home.  She was probably just dehydrated; luckily she’s ok now. 

We left her lying on her floor (because we are that good of friends, don’t worry, we made her drink some water) and hit up a bar on xmas eve to did a bit of drinking.  While at the bar, a drunken guy came up to us and, as happens a lot, wouldn’t leave us alone.  Every time we tried to just continue talking to each other, he would interrupt again, but he really didn’t have anything to say except “hello, you are American, happy festival.”  We thought we were doomed to have this companion for the rest of the night, but all of a sudden my buddy broke him.  He said, “we both have two eyes, one nose, one mouth, ten fingers – we are the same.”  The guy said, “Yes, yes we are,” and then walked away.  It was awesome. 

We headed back to check on our friend, before going out again to meet up with her counterpart and a couple of other Cameroonians.  We got back to the bar and it was crazy – a huge party with tons of people.  There was a line of maybe ten people outside trying to get in with a bouncer, the first time I’ve seen that in Cameroon.  When we walked up, the bouncers started yelling at everyone to move out of the way, because there was white people coming, and immediately let us go in front of everyone else.  It’s really weird being treated like a VIP everywhere you go, definitely a first for me. 

The VIP treatment continued that night at the bar.  At one point, I had to go to the bathroom, so I made my way towards the latrines that had room for maybe 8 people.  One of the guys who worked at the bar saw me walking towards them and rushed ahead of me, telling me to wait.  He went inside and after about 15 seconds, everyone in there was cleared out.  He then told me to go in, while he guarded the door.  I had the entire bathroom to myself, which was even weirder. 

The next morning involved a hangover for both of us – of course my sick friend didn’t drink and was still nursing her oral-rehydration salted pineapple-flavored water.  All of a sudden, half a dozen kids showed up, which apparently happens a lot.  They stayed there for a while, until my buddy started yelling in English, and I walked out of the bedroom shirtless.  Until we left, we spent most of the morning chasing chickens and kids out of the house.  I’m a great youth development volunteer. 

Of course, we had to have breakfast too.  My friend brought a papaya… unfortunately it had already started rotting.  We cut off the worst parts and ate the rest.  My other friend made pancakes, and managed to burn all of them, even burning the honey we put on top of them.  Of course, we had cinnamon and sugar and a really weird tasting ‘butter’ to go with it. 

That morning in Lagdo was incredibly dusty and hazy.  Between the trash everywhere, the weird rock formations, the used sachets on the ground (small bags of liquor), and how dry it was, it looked like the apocalypse.  As one of my friends said, “the ground is covered in tears and sachets… it just looks bright, dusty, and sad.”  I think it’s safe to say we were all a bit depressed about our first xmas in Africa, though glad we were spending it together. 

That day we went to the village of my friend’s counterpart.  He claimed that they would be killing a whole cow for a feast, which turned out to be a gross exaggeration.  We didn’t get to eat that much, but we did drink quite a bit of beer, folere wine, and scotch with a bunch of Cameroonians.  While we were sitting there, my friend turned to me and said “if I could have seen last xmas what I would be doing this xmas… oh, oh boy.” 

The moto ride back was a bit worrisome, but I past the time by telling my friend in front of me to ‘look left, we’re in Africa, look right, we’re in Africa,” over and over again.  May have been a bit repetitive, but I was trying to get us both in the moment.  Several times I said “I’m gonna fall right off this moto,” probably because I kept shifting my body right and left each time I told her to look.  It didn’t help that we were driving on deep sand.  Luckily, I didn’t. 

The next morning, I came up with a great DJ name for myself: DJ Caution Hippo.  We’re going to make t-shirts that say “DJ Caution Hippo is the Fucking Man” with one of the hungry-hungry hippos on the front with his arms crossed. 

Definitely a strange xmas, but could have been a lot worse.  

A Walk Through Town

A Walk Through Town – Thursday, December 20, 2012

I walk out of my front door and through the small dirt courtyard in front of my house.  To my right I pass the clotheslines that I recently hung, a small mound signifying the grave of a previous occupant of my house, and my neighbors’ garden with a ‘fence’ of cut-down branches.  To my left I pass a small barrier of trees and then the huts of the other family that lives in my compound; mud with thatched roofs.  I walk through a narrow path and then the red door to the street.  I step across the cinder blocks that create a small bridge that crosses the gutter running along the street, about a foot wide and a foot deep. 

I turn right onto my street, which is paved, and pass a number of children who stare at me.  Maybe a couple of them respond when I say hello.  A dirt road leads off to my left, where I see a number of Muslim men praying on a carpet, and a small boutique in front selling an assortment of items, including soaps and shampoos.  To my right is a thatched-roof overhang against a mud-brick wall, where a couple of women sell beans, beignets, and spices in small bags.  A woman asks if I’m sorry.  I ask sorry for what, and she says for not buying beignets from her more often.  I lie, and say I don’t eat a lot of beignets, when the real reason is that another woman around the corner makes them much better. 

I continue walking until I get to a more main road, which I turn left on.  If I go right I will pass another boutique and eventually the house where I buy my flats of fresh eggs- there are a few dozen chickens there, and a small bar.  I keep walking, passing another small boutique on my left selling bags of a small dried fruit (a great snack, tasty and takes a while to eat because of the seeds in the middle and only 25 CFA each) along with an assortment of other items.  On my right is the woman selling the really good beans and beignets that I usually get.  Wooden benches surround the fire-pit she uses with at least half a dozen people sitting there.  She is the main reason I leave my house by 8 every morning – I have to make sure I get there while everything is still hot and fresh.  By 9, beignet-selling women are shutting things down.  She only speaks Fulfulde, so our conversations are limited.  But breakfast is delicious and only costs me 200 CFA – about $0.40 considering the exchange rate is about 500 CFA to $1. 

This is the main road in my quartier of the town, Beberi, so there are motos whizzing past fairly regularly.  Those without passengers honk at me to see if I want a ride.  Most places I go cost about 100 CFA to get there.  I keep walking for about five minutes, saying hello to everyone I pass, usually people sitting around a boutique (which is a charitable way of describing the wooden stands set up), each one selling slight variations on the same things.  Usually powdered milk, tomato paste, magi cubes (a kind of bouillon), cigarettes, eggs, and beignets.  To might right and left are dirt roads running perpendicular to the one I am walking on.  If I’m going to volleyball or the post office, I take the one on the right.  Sometimes I walk along the one on my left to or from the market, to add some variety. 

I turn left on the main road, passing the Nassaroa store (the store that sells things like toothpaste, soaps, and powdered milk and coffe in ‘bulk’) and boulangerie (bakery) on my right.  I usually stop by the boulangerie around 4 PM when the bread is finished baking for the day.  It’s a place where you walk in and pick your baguettes straight from the oven for 100 CFA each. 

I turn right at the main intersection of the town.  If I turn left I will hit the place where I buy my phone credit and the more expensive restaurant.  As I walk, I pass by Credit du Sahel, where my post-mate works, a bar, and a couple of places where you can buy alcohol.  I cross the street to walk through the market.  Market day is on Fridays, so it is fairly small today, but still a good size.  Those selling potatoes and onions are up front.  There are ropes crisscrossing above that I have to duck under.  The ground is well-packed dirt; the path is fairly narrow, passing between stalls.  Motos still drive through here, and honk to get people out of the way. 

I pass by the guy that I buy hot peppers from on my right, and after a few more yards, the woman I buy okra from.  The market becomes a maze here, one that I’m proud I know how to navigate.  The deeper in you get, the more stuff is hanging on the ropes above your head, and it feels like you are moving underground.  I turn right at the next intersection to say hi to Joy, the English-speaking Nigerian woman who is incredibly helpful, telling me where to find things I need and how much I should pay for them.  She walks over with me to buy green peppers and tomatoes from a man close-by, after which I say goodbye to her so I can get a papaya from a guy down another path.  I avoid the meat section of the market.  It has an unappetizing smell and big hunks of beef sitting out, each covered in flies.  I wander around more of the market, saying hi to as many people as I can, especially the ones I usually by things from. 

I try to get my items from the same people.  The more you buy from one person each time, the better prices they will give you, and the more cadeaus (gifts, like 300 CFA worth of okra when you only buy 200 CFA worth).  Each one makes sure to tell you that they are giving you a cadeau.  Everyone I pass stares at me, a lot of them trying out their limited English, quickly slipping back into French, or trying to teach me the Fulfulde words for things.  I stop buy a vendor and by a kilo of rice, then haggle over the price of a broom and squeegee with another.  I constantly hear people hissing at me.  It sounds ominous, but is how you get someone’s attention here; how you call someone over to you.  Each one wants me to buy from them.  I make sure to stop and say hi to the Anglophone bean lady as I walk, then start slowly making my way back home.  

The Guider Cultural Festival

Monday, December 17, 2012 – The Guider Cultural Festival

Last weekend there was a cultural festival in Guider that happens every two years.  It ran from Thursday to Saturday, and PCVs from both the North and Extreme-North came down for it.  Several people from the last staj (the same one as my post-mate) were on their way to IST, the training that happens 3 months after you get to post, and came for the first day or two.  It was nice having everyone in town, and to get to show off my new post. 

Thursday we all went to the opening ceremonies.  It was interesting when we got there – I walked up with a couple of friends and we tried to move to the back of the crowd.  Immediately, an official looking man and four women in matching panja (the fabric their outfits were made out of) walked up and ushered us in front of everybody.  We were escorted to the VIP stadium seating under tents that only a small portion of the crowd was allowed in.  Until the ceremony actually began, we watched groups of ornately dressed musicians and dancers, either carrying their instruments or swords, and men on decorated horses with spears that would rush towards the crowd every now and then. 

The show began after a while with government ministers and other important people arriving in motorcades before being formally brought to the front, welcomed, and introduced to the crowd.  Traditional music and dances followed, largely performed directly for the VIPs.  Then came the speeches, all fairly long and incomprehensible do to a poor sound system and, of course, the language barrier that we still face. 

Finally came the act that everyone was waiting for.  A line of women (young girls) in matching panja wraps came out with men playing instruments behind them and started doing what would charitably be described as a dance, but was really just more of a shaking movement.  Before long, and accompanied by a loud applause from all of them men in the audience, those wraps fell away and the women continued their ‘dance’ topless.  While I knew this was coming, it was still fairly surprising considering the conservative culture of the region.  Two-thirds of Guider is Muslim, and those women normally can’t show shoulders, knees, or the tops of their heads.  Even the Christian third dresses conservatively, though slightly less so.  Either way, I’m not complaining. 

The opening-ceremonies ended not long after, and so we walked around the area, which was set up with stalls for people to sell things – everything from food to traditionally carved and decorated bowls, figurines, jewelry, artwork, mats, and instruments.  The entire time we were followed by a troop of children, who pretty much just stared at us, and met many of the locals.  For the rest of the evening we just went back to my post-mates house (which is much larger and better for gathering than mine) and had some dinner and drinks. 

Friday we headed up to the Gorges de Kola, which is about 10 KM from Guider.  It’s a really cool ravine made from a grey rock that is both fairly narrow and deep – I am curious how full it gets during the rainy season.  We climbed down inside of it and looked around before heading back to Guider.  That night I went with a few friends who were in town and their Cameroonian friends to a concert back next to the stadium where the opening ceremonies were held.  A band had been brought in from Yaoundé that was really good.  We had planned on showing up for a beer or two and ended up staying all day and into the night.  The band played most of the favorites that we have come to love from the radio, and I can honestly say that outside of weddings, I danced more than I ever have in my life, including getting up on stage in front of everyone.  One of our party even impressed the sponsors so much they she won a Castal umbrella (the beer company sponsoring the concert).  The only casualty was my phone, which was lifted from my pocket at some point during the dancing.  When being groped by Cameroonian men and women, it is hard to tell when that groping turns into stealing. 

The next day it was back up to Gorges de Kola for more of the festival.  A friend and I had a fairly awkward experience where traditional music was being played and these two guys literally knelt in front of us blowing these horns – that sound a lot like bagpipes – into our faces for a good 10-15 minutes.  Apparently they wanted a tip, which we did not have the money to give, and I think were pretty offended when we didn’t give one. 

Either way, it was a great festival and really interesting cultural experience.  It was a great introduction into my new community and really good to have so many PCVs visit.  Peace Corps was also great about it, with the regional logistician driving people to all of the events and calls from the Country Director to make sure planning for the festival was going well beforehand and that the festival was going well during it.  

Protocol and a Bike Ride

Wednesday, December 12, 2012 – Protocol and a Bike Ride

My first couple of days at post were pretty hectic.  I went with my counterpart to do protocol, which basically means going to meet important people in my community, introducing myself and explaining why I’m here.  I’ve still got a couple people to meet, like the Prefet – the guy who is in charge of the district.  We’re waiting until we can get every new person in the cluster together for a meeting, since they all fall under the purview of the Prefet.  It’s pretty hard to get a meeting with him though. 

So far I met the mayor, commissaire of the local security, and Lamido, or traditional leader of the community.  I also met a bunch of other people in passing, including someone from the ministry of education and people from the community youth center that I’ll be working with. 

The Lamido was really interesting.  We had to go through a couple of different people before we were able to talk to him.  He was in a courtyard, sitting on a really nice metal lawn chair on top of a rug.  Everyone else, about 20 guys, was sitting on the ground all around him, not including the six guys outside the entrance to the courtyard.  We had to take our shoes off before we entered the area.  They actually gave me a plastic lawn chair to sit on, so I was the only guy not on the ground other than the Lamido.  I’m not sure if it was because I’m with the Peace Corps or what, but it was kind of awkward sitting up there with everyone else, including my counterpart, sitting on the ground. 

Either way, everyone I met was very friendly.  My counterpart was really helpful, introducing me and explaining who I was and what I was doing there, so I only had to say a few words.  I also had a letter from the Peace Corps to give to them, that included a pamphlet explaining what the Peace Corps does in Cameroon in general.  The meetings were all pretty quick, and I got offers from everyone to talk to them if I needed any help. 

After that, I went with my counterpart back to the community youth center and was introduced to the classroom of students.  There were mostly girls except for one guy, ranging between 13 and 25.  We were there for a bit more than an hour, and once again, he did most of the talking.  He is a bit long-winded, but a really nice guy, and seems to really care about what he’s doing.  I basically introduced myself, talked a bit about my background, what sort of things I would be teaching them, and asked if they had any questions.  At this point they are wanting me to teach English, Health (including sexual and reproductive health and AIDS), life skills, and microfinance.  Obviously I have more experience in some things than in others, but I have a lot of resources available to me, including other PCVs that can help. 

Finally, we went to the market, where he helped me find sheets and general stuff for the kitchen and my house.  I got some pots, silverware, cups, a bucket, and other stuff like that.  I spent quite a bit of money on all of it.  The sheets were also pretty terrible.  The bottom one was weird.  It was supposed to be put on like a glove or something, covering the entire mattress, but there was only a four-foot slit down one side.  That meant I had to shove the entire mattress into that little area, so I pretty much just had to rip the sheet down the side.  Plus after being on my mattress for only a few days, it started to rip on the top.  I bought a new one in Garoua afterwards, but not fitted, so I wake up with it just bundled all around me.  At least it is a lot better quality. 

A girl in my cluster lives in Larbak, which is only about 15 or 16 km from Guider.  It was her birthday a couple of weeks ago, so my post-mate and I rode our bikes out there.  I have to say, I am definitely out of shape, because I was dying by the time we got there.  It was slightly up hill basically the whole time, and I had to take three breaks on the way there.  In my defense, the road was dirt and very rocky, and even though this is the ‘cold season’, it is still 95-100 F everyday.  The way back was way easier though, and I didn’t even need one break.  It helps when you’re mostly going downhill.  I did, unfortunately, get one flat tire on the way there and another one the way back.  That happens when your bike tube is pretty much covered in patches.  We stayed the night there, went to her market, drank some Bil-Bil (locally-made beer), and made some ‘Mexican food’ (or as close as you can get out here).  It was a pretty fun night. 

I still haven’t caught up to the past week, but that will have to wait until next post.  

My counterpart at the CMPJ talking to the class

Larbak, the village of a person in my cluster

Drinking Bil-Bil at the market

My New Post – Guider!

Tuesday, December 4, 2012 – My New Post – Guider!

Well I have been in my post for about a week – it’s been going well so far.  The first day was really hectic.  We arrived at my house and unloaded everything off of the bus for everyone in my cluster.  There are now 7 people in my cluster, including myself.  There are two guys who have been here for about three months, my post-mate and another about an hour away, and then the four girls from my training group.  One person had their stuff loaded back on the bus, and they were taken to their post (along with a bunch of Cameroonians going that same way).  Two others shared a car to their posts.  The fourth loaded her stuff onto three motos and was driven to hers.  It took quite a while to get everyone moving.  The majority of that time was spent with them negotiating the prices of their rides. 

The street I’m on looks nice; it’s paved with big trees all along it.  It looks almost suburban until you turn your head right or left and see everything from mud huts with thatched roofs to people selling beans and beignets.  There are entrepreneurs everywhere.  People selling food, building shelves and tables, boutiques selling cigarettes, phone credit, and powdered milk.   Guider is a fairly large town, anywhere from 50,000-100,000 people.  It’s hard to tell, and depends on how big of an area you count as part of the town.  It’s weird when you walk around close to the center and there are still donkeys, goats, chickens, sheep, and cows walking around.  I’m also only about a ten minute walk from my post-mate, which is nice. 

My house itself is pretty good.  I live in a compound with another family in it.  I’ve tried to talk to them, but they only speak Fulfulde, a language that I am still barely learning.  Our conversations have basically consisted of:

Me: Sanut (hello).  Jamm-na?  How are you?

Neighbors: Soko (thank you) Soko-jeu (thank you very much) 

…And that’s it.  I know.  Thus far my charm is irresistible.  Luckily we have a nice little copse of trees between the houses for some privacy.  Our shared outdoor water tap gives them time to get a good look at me though, usually while I’m cooking dinner.  My kitchen isn’t attached to the rest of the house, so I have to walk back and forth when I want to eat and all that.  Kitchen, by the way, is being generous.  It is more like a room with a shelf in it – the only piece of furniture that my house had. 

I’ve already spent way too much money trying to remedy that problem.  I spent quite a bit buying stuff for the kitchen so I could actually make meals.  I spent more on food, an Internet key (which is slow as hell), plus the stuff I mentioned earlier (mattress, stove, propane tank, mat, etc.).  The mat really ties the room together though.  I’m actually kind of out of money at this point, just waiting for the next paycheck to arrive.  I got an email saying that it should be here, but when I went to Garoua, it wasn’t at the bank yet.  Luckily my parents just sent me money from them and my Grandma for xmas.  I should be able to pick it up at Western Union in the next few days.  Perfect timing too, since we have a big festival here on Thursday through Saturday.   

I’ll write more about what I’ve done so far in Guider on my next post.  This includes a bike trip to Larbak, protocol, market day, sports, and generally wandering around.  Get excited!  

Loading up the bus

My street, pretty picturesque

The welcoming committee 

My little copse of trees

My front yard

The mat really ties the room together