Wow. Fantastic weekend. Don't even know where to begin, but my experiences this weekend are exactly what I hoped to get out of study abroad.
On Friday after French class, we drove to the city of Bamenda in the Northwest region. It was a solid five hours drive and I did not have my iPod (which I am currently counting on being momentarily misplaced and not, well, lost) so I expected it to be a looong five hours but honestly the trip flew by -- the scenery was just that gorgeous (and my nap, unexpectedly long). The trip took us from the Centre Region, which is known for its dense, lush rainforest to the Nord-Ouest grassland zone. The grassland zone was gorgeous: rugged, rolling hills and in the valleys you can see scattered farm plots and homes made from bricks or wooden houses with tall, tin triangle roofs. I'm doing an absurdly terrible job describing the scene, but it was stunning. It was pretty funny here Prof. Muitia describe the grassland zone as "prettier than Scotland" but then learning that he only had seen Scotland in the movie "Braveheart."
By 6 PM we arrived in Bamenda, the capital of the region. Three immediate reasons why Bamenda is amazing:
1. English-speaking region
2. Dry heat. Yaoundé is beyond humid, especially now that we are right before the rainy season but Bamenda was hot without being stifling. Cameroonians even describe Bamenda as cold.
3. Nicer people/less chaotic. That's a huge generalization, of course, but I did find people to be much less aggressive than those in Yaoundé.
On Saturday, we got up and headed to an Artisan Workshop near Top-Station. Top Station is the highest point in Bamenda and is the location of the first German colonial offices before their lost their hold in Cameroon after WWI. Today though, there are still the 19th century European homes made from stone. But the artisan market, so great. We all went nuts there and spent a large chuck of our stipend buying souvenirs. Tourism doesn't really exist in Cameroon so the goods you are buying are traditional and authentic and not like a lot of the juke you see in American cities. I mainly bought souvenirs to bring back for family and friends at home, which if you're reading this, probably includes you. Elite readership here. For myself though, I bought a pair of bronze candlesticks with fish carved out of the stand and wicker bowls. Without a doubt though, I spent more money here than I have spent in an entire single day my whole time in Yaoundé.
Afterwards, we went to the palace of the Chief ("Fon") of the Bafut tribe. It is less of palace than a compound, but the Fon has over eighty wives so this is no joking matter. The Bafut tribe is noteworthy because of how well it stood up against the Germans when they tried to take over. The Germans did eventually win against the Bafut but only after years of fighting a losing guerrilla war and with the forced aide of the surrounding tribes that had previously conquered. Before the tour, we attended a tribal dance that apparently only happens once every two years. Drums, masks, stilts, Grass skirts. Everything that you think of when you imagine Africa and truly amazing. The only hint of westernization was the Cameroonian man in the corner, filming the event in his hand-held movie camera.
Then we headed back to the hotel to freshen up and see the central market of Bamenda. We didn't make it there until nearly closing at 5 PM but I did get to wander inside for a fifteen minutes. Once again, Bamenda Marchee was better than the marchees in Yaoundé -- instead of wooden stands crowding the pathways; here the Marchee had set small closets for each vender to sell their goods from and were organized clearly by product. I ended up buying a western style dress for six dollars and a maroon knit sweater that is sold for the Bamenda school uniforms. Obviously, I would buy a heavy maroon sweater while in Cameroon, but I really do love it and plan on sporting it all next year.
Next day, we began our journey home stopping halfway at Baffossum in the Ouest region. At this point, we are back in Francophone territory n the transitional zone, so not quite rainforests but by no means grasslands. After getting to Baffossum, we followed this dirt road up a steep winding road until we got to the village where we were going to spend the night. I am about to do a terrible job describing the day at the village, but before I do, I can honestly say the next twenty-fours were unbelievable and easily lists as one of the most inspirational days in my life.
The village where we were staying is home to Mr. Kumdra, a young man - perhaps thirty-five - who after attending university in Germany started his own coffee company which seeks to fix the huge disparity in between the pathetic price that Cameroonians sell their coffee beans for and the absurd profit that European/American companies make when they sell the finish product. Basically, its neo-colonialism since this big transnational organizations under the label of "Free Trade" go into Cameroon (and countless other third-world countries) and buy the raw resources for dirt cheap (because the farmers have no choice to sell since to attempt to negotiate for a higher price is financial suicide) which they then make into a finished product and sell to the rest of the world for an absurd jacked up price. Mr. Kumdra though is trying to stop this cycle, building a collective of thirteen small organic farms from his village and the surrounding area, buying their coffee at a fixed fair price and then selling it to Europe, at this moment just companies in Germany but Dickinson is trying to set up a partnership with his company. In doing so, he guarantees the women who sell the coffee a set income that is independent of market prices and the bully of big business. It's Free Trade v. Fair Trade.
Previous to this, I think I would've argued for Free Trade. Sure, I knew that Fair Trade was better for the workers, but I had taken the outlook that for a country to lift itself from poverty it was necessary to build up the economy as a whole, which was best done through Free Trade. And sure, the theory holds for the US and other European powers. But in Africa and Central America, this essential allows big business to step in, avoid environmental regulations that exist in their home country, and promote unsustainable economic and environmental practices for their profit. Hello Dickinson, I get it now.
Mr. Kumdra took us on a tour of the workshop where the women sort their coffee and bag the product before shipping it abroad. Then, we saw the village hospital that was built at the help of the money that Mr. Kumdra business brought in. It's only an eight room hospital with a pharmacy closet, doctor's office, three patient rooms, maternity ward, and reception area but the other option is traveling back down to town, easily a thirty minute ride in the car.
And there is Mr. Kumdra himself. He is young, kind of looking like a black Kramer or Einstein and speaks five different languages fluently: German, English, French, and two village languages. He is incredibly hard-working, living in the village for only four months a year, spending four months in Germany, and then traveling the world for the four months trying to promote his company. He was so happy to have us, taking countless photos with camera. Literally he would standing up, talking, walking us around the coffee fields and then in his right hand, just snapping pictures without looking. I'm sure we were a sight: nine young white women in this little, rural village. (Peter had returned early to Yaoundé to pick up his parents).
At night, we had a true Cameroonian feast, attended a village dance put on for our benefit which we then joined in on (dancing, terribly, I'm sure) and then finally crashed in our bedrooms where I actually, unbelievably, was freezing, bundled up in my jeans and sweater but still shivering -- it had poured earlier in the day, the temperature had finally dropped, and we were without a blanket. Whew. Next morning, we returned to Yaoundé.
So, there is my long winded description of the weekend, but it was amazing. I am definitely going to back a bigger effort to buy Fair Trade products and am going to try to only buy coffee Fair Trade which is certainly manageable considering how "hip" it is in the US.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Goat killings, Clubbing, and Kossam.
All of this was on Saturday, plus a lot more so needless to say it was fantastic, or if in defense of animal rights, at least incredibly interesting (and, for the record, I didn't kill the goat, my friend Peter did. Impressive).
Once again, I was the lazy one in the family sleeping in to 7:30 which by that time everyone except for nine year old Ivy had been up for at least two hours, if not more. This family is honestly super-human. I am not sure when any of them sleep. Anyways, up and at 'em though and by 8 am I am cooking over open fire making ground nut paste. TIA. Then, I had a quick breakfast of bread and coffee, with the necessary Vache Qui Rit. Then, more cooking where I helped to make this really fantastic cabbage dish, fried potatoes wedges, and Eru (super Cameroonian and universally disliked by all of us. It is basically really spicy mowed grass). We cooked straight until 2 pm and probably would've continued to work had the rains not come putting us inside. Had the day ended there, I would've considered it an excellent Saturday already.
Afterwards though, I hung out with Melanie and Helen. Melanie had told me that the Senegalese man at the corner store was asking where I was (and no, he doesn't even call me La Blanche, but knows my name!). I thought this was incredibly flattering. After all, what is more indicative of your integration into a new place than being known at the corner store by name? Driven by that then, Melanie, Helen and I walked down to the store to buy water. Even better, I found out the corner store sold Kossam which is this yogurt, milk thing for 100 francs (~25 cents) and it is delicious. I first had it in Briquetrie, the Muslim neighborhood, and assumed you could only get it there so finding out right in Mendong obviously made my day. That said, it is slightly risky to eat it since it is milk product and could have bad bacteria. Considering how much work Krissy put into to making the soft serve fit health codes at Nona's (and, which it many times fell short of), I probably should be more apprehensive but it is Kossam and just too good...
Then, I went over to Anna's for and hung out with her family who I adore. First off, the whole family is absurdly beautiful and I have to stop myself from commenting endless on each of their good looks. On top of their stunning good looks, (and really, they are gorgeous) I have so much fun there. Even though they are Francophones and my French is terrible, I can go over and joke around with the family which makes me feel at home and is great practice for my French.They do some what force feed Anna which is hilarious for me as Anna struggles to finish each of her giant meals that her host family insists she would simply starve without.
At 7 pm, I headed over to Peter's for what he described as a "reunion" but seemed to be a meeting an entire village -- everyone was dressed in the traditional African wear, speaking the mother tongue, and boozing hard. Apparently, they had been a serious business meeting before I came, but by the time I was there it was simply a party. Also, Peter killed a goat for the occasion which he describes as being put on him as "Hey, Peter, wake up. We need your help" and then, well, being given the goat. Poor goat. But we all agree, even though we all feel uncomfortable killing the animals ourselves, it is simply a reality that Americans have the privilege to sterilize and avoid thinking about, buying our meat neatly packaged in the grocery store.
Finally, and okay, this post is getting far too long, all us -- the majority of the students and our Cameroonian friends -- went to the bar for a couple of hours before going out to the club which, from my limited clubbing experience, was more or less like any club just with lots more African music.
Whew. So there is Saturday. Long day, but I got a crash course in Cameroon.
Once again, I was the lazy one in the family sleeping in to 7:30 which by that time everyone except for nine year old Ivy had been up for at least two hours, if not more. This family is honestly super-human. I am not sure when any of them sleep. Anyways, up and at 'em though and by 8 am I am cooking over open fire making ground nut paste. TIA. Then, I had a quick breakfast of bread and coffee, with the necessary Vache Qui Rit. Then, more cooking where I helped to make this really fantastic cabbage dish, fried potatoes wedges, and Eru (super Cameroonian and universally disliked by all of us. It is basically really spicy mowed grass). We cooked straight until 2 pm and probably would've continued to work had the rains not come putting us inside. Had the day ended there, I would've considered it an excellent Saturday already.
Afterwards though, I hung out with Melanie and Helen. Melanie had told me that the Senegalese man at the corner store was asking where I was (and no, he doesn't even call me La Blanche, but knows my name!). I thought this was incredibly flattering. After all, what is more indicative of your integration into a new place than being known at the corner store by name? Driven by that then, Melanie, Helen and I walked down to the store to buy water. Even better, I found out the corner store sold Kossam which is this yogurt, milk thing for 100 francs (~25 cents) and it is delicious. I first had it in Briquetrie, the Muslim neighborhood, and assumed you could only get it there so finding out right in Mendong obviously made my day. That said, it is slightly risky to eat it since it is milk product and could have bad bacteria. Considering how much work Krissy put into to making the soft serve fit health codes at Nona's (and, which it many times fell short of), I probably should be more apprehensive but it is Kossam and just too good...
Then, I went over to Anna's for and hung out with her family who I adore. First off, the whole family is absurdly beautiful and I have to stop myself from commenting endless on each of their good looks. On top of their stunning good looks, (and really, they are gorgeous) I have so much fun there. Even though they are Francophones and my French is terrible, I can go over and joke around with the family which makes me feel at home and is great practice for my French.They do some what force feed Anna which is hilarious for me as Anna struggles to finish each of her giant meals that her host family insists she would simply starve without.
At 7 pm, I headed over to Peter's for what he described as a "reunion" but seemed to be a meeting an entire village -- everyone was dressed in the traditional African wear, speaking the mother tongue, and boozing hard. Apparently, they had been a serious business meeting before I came, but by the time I was there it was simply a party. Also, Peter killed a goat for the occasion which he describes as being put on him as "Hey, Peter, wake up. We need your help" and then, well, being given the goat. Poor goat. But we all agree, even though we all feel uncomfortable killing the animals ourselves, it is simply a reality that Americans have the privilege to sterilize and avoid thinking about, buying our meat neatly packaged in the grocery store.
Finally, and okay, this post is getting far too long, all us -- the majority of the students and our Cameroonian friends -- went to the bar for a couple of hours before going out to the club which, from my limited clubbing experience, was more or less like any club just with lots more African music.
Whew. So there is Saturday. Long day, but I got a crash course in Cameroon.
Getting on African Time
Well it is two months into the program and classes are starting to pick up here. Actually, that is a tremendous lie if I am compare my workload to America, but nevertheless, I am starting to actually feel "busy." My schedule is as such:
Monday: French Lit. class 10-12, Contemporary Cameroon 2-4, African dance class 6-8
Tuesday: IR of African states 2-4
Wednesday: Free!
Thursday: French 9-12, Creative Writing course 2-4, Dance class 6-8
Friday: French 9-12
Mind you, I have absolutely no work for these classes. Really the bare minimum in terms of what is due. My complete homework of the past two months culminates to: reading a short French novel, writing a handful of short paragraphs for French, and then two 1 page reflections for Creative Writing. It hasn't exactly been tough, but nevertheless I keep my To-Do list never gets any shorter (Also, To-Do list? I think this goes directly against the African spirit). But that said, I am happy to say that the reason why I feel busy are only reflective of how much there is that I wish to do. I love to explore the neighborhoods, go shopping in the markets, hang out in Mendong with my family, learn to cook with my host Mom, take a lazy lunch with a beer (which is justifiably a cultural experience), visit friends' host families, study French, try a new bakery, hang out with Cameroonian friends -- and of this is on top of "classes," chores, and the sparse time spent on the internet or reading/writing.
Monday: French Lit. class 10-12, Contemporary Cameroon 2-4, African dance class 6-8
Tuesday: IR of African states 2-4
Wednesday: Free!
Thursday: French 9-12, Creative Writing course 2-4, Dance class 6-8
Friday: French 9-12
Mind you, I have absolutely no work for these classes. Really the bare minimum in terms of what is due. My complete homework of the past two months culminates to: reading a short French novel, writing a handful of short paragraphs for French, and then two 1 page reflections for Creative Writing. It hasn't exactly been tough, but nevertheless I keep my To-Do list never gets any shorter (Also, To-Do list? I think this goes directly against the African spirit). But that said, I am happy to say that the reason why I feel busy are only reflective of how much there is that I wish to do. I love to explore the neighborhoods, go shopping in the markets, hang out in Mendong with my family, learn to cook with my host Mom, take a lazy lunch with a beer (which is justifiably a cultural experience), visit friends' host families, study French, try a new bakery, hang out with Cameroonian friends -- and of this is on top of "classes," chores, and the sparse time spent on the internet or reading/writing.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Huit Mars, La Journee de la Femme
March 8th, International Women's Day.
alors, Bonne Fete!
Honestly, this was one of my favorite days in Cameroon and will always be something I remember.
So after waking up and having a special breakfast of fried dough , I put on specially bought hot pink Women's Day kaba and went off to school. Now, for weeks, all the seamstresses have been displaying this year's fabric from their storefronts and LaKing, the big fabric store in Centre Ville has been having lines out the door as women rush to buy their fabric. But nevertheless, as I went to take my taxi, I felt terribly self-conscieous. I just had that feeling you have right before you go to school on Halloween and you wonder if you're the only person in costume. But, by the time I got to the main road, everyone was shouting out to me "Bonne Fete!" and I am pretty sure I have never been recieved so well in Cameroon.
At 9 am, after taking the necessary group photos of all us in our traditional Women's Day dresses, we headed downtown to watch the parade. I was afraid it was going to be similar to Youth Day, but downtown was hopping and the women were all lined up to march and were shouting out to us to join. We all would've died of heat exhaustion had we tried to walk so sitting and watching was more than enough. All the women who work in varying government dept. and some businesses (hospital, insurance, a nursing association etc.) marched by in this giant groups, wearing -- bien sur -- this years fabric, and just waving and smiling. Again, much better than Youth Day where you had the principals yelling at students to improve their match formation. I could go on attempting to describe the scene, but hopefully I'll find a way to upload photos here.
Afterwards, we went to a popular local bakery and bought some street food. Ahh street food. Again, something worthy of its own blog post (and again, here I am writing about food). But anyways, for 300 francs, I had a baguette filled with avacado, egg, sausage, piedmont (hot HOT spices), maggi (soy sauce-ish), and tomatoes. Then we headed to Chicken&Beer of earlier fame which while normal quite on a weekday was packed,filled with the African Mamas who were hanging out with their girlfriends and just boozing in the middle of the day. Bonne Fete. The Mamas --and this is truly their name, reach middle age and strangers call you Mama or Ma Mere -- were wild, starting their own dance floor and just holding court in the bar. It was fantastic. Nothing though compared to when we joined in dancing. They flipped! It was so wonderful to see the women so happy and pleased with us for, despite the wild difference in age and nationality, joining in and fully embracing the culture. Not only did the women crowd around us and kick up their dancing to even greater intensity, but everyone else in Chicken&Beer started taking photos of us!
So that was our day, parade and bar. And really, it was such a great day. Everyone just seemed to so happy and you couldn't help but see the feelings of sisterhood.
alors, Bonne Fete!
Honestly, this was one of my favorite days in Cameroon and will always be something I remember.
So after waking up and having a special breakfast of fried dough , I put on specially bought hot pink Women's Day kaba and went off to school. Now, for weeks, all the seamstresses have been displaying this year's fabric from their storefronts and LaKing, the big fabric store in Centre Ville has been having lines out the door as women rush to buy their fabric. But nevertheless, as I went to take my taxi, I felt terribly self-conscieous. I just had that feeling you have right before you go to school on Halloween and you wonder if you're the only person in costume. But, by the time I got to the main road, everyone was shouting out to me "Bonne Fete!" and I am pretty sure I have never been recieved so well in Cameroon.
At 9 am, after taking the necessary group photos of all us in our traditional Women's Day dresses, we headed downtown to watch the parade. I was afraid it was going to be similar to Youth Day, but downtown was hopping and the women were all lined up to march and were shouting out to us to join. We all would've died of heat exhaustion had we tried to walk so sitting and watching was more than enough. All the women who work in varying government dept. and some businesses (hospital, insurance, a nursing association etc.) marched by in this giant groups, wearing -- bien sur -- this years fabric, and just waving and smiling. Again, much better than Youth Day where you had the principals yelling at students to improve their match formation. I could go on attempting to describe the scene, but hopefully I'll find a way to upload photos here.
Afterwards, we went to a popular local bakery and bought some street food. Ahh street food. Again, something worthy of its own blog post (and again, here I am writing about food). But anyways, for 300 francs, I had a baguette filled with avacado, egg, sausage, piedmont (hot HOT spices), maggi (soy sauce-ish), and tomatoes. Then we headed to Chicken&Beer of earlier fame which while normal quite on a weekday was packed,filled with the African Mamas who were hanging out with their girlfriends and just boozing in the middle of the day. Bonne Fete. The Mamas --and this is truly their name, reach middle age and strangers call you Mama or Ma Mere -- were wild, starting their own dance floor and just holding court in the bar. It was fantastic. Nothing though compared to when we joined in dancing. They flipped! It was so wonderful to see the women so happy and pleased with us for, despite the wild difference in age and nationality, joining in and fully embracing the culture. Not only did the women crowd around us and kick up their dancing to even greater intensity, but everyone else in Chicken&Beer started taking photos of us!
So that was our day, parade and bar. And really, it was such a great day. Everyone just seemed to so happy and you couldn't help but see the feelings of sisterhood.
"Cool Temper"
Pidgin for "Chill Out" and otherwise completely unrelated to what I am about to write. But I love pidgin, so there's that.
Anyways, this weekend. Friday night all of us went to Chicken&Beer, our name for the restaurant down the street from the Dickinson apartment that seems to sell, well, chicken and beer. Sure, it's a limited fare, but oh man, this chicken is really worth noting. (Honestly, I should just stop blogging about Cameroon as a whole and really just keep to the food here because, for better or worse, it something else). For 2,500 francs, you get a plate of fried chicken and plantains all covered in green sauce with some raw onion sliced over it all. No clue what the green sauce is but it is fantastic. Then to drink, a giant bottle of beer which costs about a dollar.
As for the restaurant, it is just an outdoor patio with tables and chairs that is right along the main road. When we go to Chicken&Beer during lunchtime it is always completely empty except for maybe one or two customers who are nursing a beer and watching the soccer game on the TV. But Friday nights its absolutely packed with a live DJ and the whole place is really wild. You can't hear yourself talk, so you just take in the scene. It's wonderful, chaotic, and completely Cameroon.
Unfortunately, my Saturday and Sunday though this weekend were shot. I had been sick earlier this week and started taking the medicine this weekend which, I am not kidding, knocked me out. On Saturday, I thought it was just a fluke that I slept for four hours in the middle of the day. But Sunday was even worse. I took the medicine at 9 am and then from 11 am to 4 pm was dead asleep. It wasn't so much asleep as completely immobile. I would wake up here and there, feeling so guilty for sleeping in the middle of the day but just couldn't move. My body just felt so heavy. I ended up calling the doctor and asking if I could stop the medication. In the packet for the medicine, it did list "somnolence" as a side-effect, but this is a HUGE understatement.
On Saturday night though, after my four hour nap, I did manage to make it a short trip to the market with Melanie and help cook a bit. Then at night, my host brother Njako (pronounced Jacko) and I went to my friend Elizabeth's bar (er, the bar of her host family) at Monte Jouvence. We had a real gang there, just five Americans but we all brought our host sibs or Cameroonian friends so that in the end it was at least a group of twenty.
I really feel this deserve its own post, but what I love about the program here is how intergrated Dickinson students become with Cameroonian society. Our host families provided us not only a place to stay, but are the main fixture of our social lives. I was terrifed of living with a host family and pictured myself spending all my time in my room with my door closed and always feeling awkward and out of place. Nothing could be further from the truth, I make a point to keep my bedroom door opened whenever I am there and if, for some reason it is closed, I count on my family to knock and come in sooner rather than later. In America, privacy is the ideal but here, the community is everything and privacy, well, I can't really say it exists. While I may cherish my time alone in the US, here it is wonderful to always be in the company of my host family.
Anyways, this weekend. Friday night all of us went to Chicken&Beer, our name for the restaurant down the street from the Dickinson apartment that seems to sell, well, chicken and beer. Sure, it's a limited fare, but oh man, this chicken is really worth noting. (Honestly, I should just stop blogging about Cameroon as a whole and really just keep to the food here because, for better or worse, it something else). For 2,500 francs, you get a plate of fried chicken and plantains all covered in green sauce with some raw onion sliced over it all. No clue what the green sauce is but it is fantastic. Then to drink, a giant bottle of beer which costs about a dollar.
As for the restaurant, it is just an outdoor patio with tables and chairs that is right along the main road. When we go to Chicken&Beer during lunchtime it is always completely empty except for maybe one or two customers who are nursing a beer and watching the soccer game on the TV. But Friday nights its absolutely packed with a live DJ and the whole place is really wild. You can't hear yourself talk, so you just take in the scene. It's wonderful, chaotic, and completely Cameroon.
Unfortunately, my Saturday and Sunday though this weekend were shot. I had been sick earlier this week and started taking the medicine this weekend which, I am not kidding, knocked me out. On Saturday, I thought it was just a fluke that I slept for four hours in the middle of the day. But Sunday was even worse. I took the medicine at 9 am and then from 11 am to 4 pm was dead asleep. It wasn't so much asleep as completely immobile. I would wake up here and there, feeling so guilty for sleeping in the middle of the day but just couldn't move. My body just felt so heavy. I ended up calling the doctor and asking if I could stop the medication. In the packet for the medicine, it did list "somnolence" as a side-effect, but this is a HUGE understatement.
On Saturday night though, after my four hour nap, I did manage to make it a short trip to the market with Melanie and help cook a bit. Then at night, my host brother Njako (pronounced Jacko) and I went to my friend Elizabeth's bar (er, the bar of her host family) at Monte Jouvence. We had a real gang there, just five Americans but we all brought our host sibs or Cameroonian friends so that in the end it was at least a group of twenty.
I really feel this deserve its own post, but what I love about the program here is how intergrated Dickinson students become with Cameroonian society. Our host families provided us not only a place to stay, but are the main fixture of our social lives. I was terrifed of living with a host family and pictured myself spending all my time in my room with my door closed and always feeling awkward and out of place. Nothing could be further from the truth, I make a point to keep my bedroom door opened whenever I am there and if, for some reason it is closed, I count on my family to knock and come in sooner rather than later. In America, privacy is the ideal but here, the community is everything and privacy, well, I can't really say it exists. While I may cherish my time alone in the US, here it is wonderful to always be in the company of my host family.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Rise and Shine
Cameroon mornings start early. VERY early. Like 4 am early. My bedroom is on the first floor and every morning at 4 I wake up to Jacko washing the car outside (no really, everyday they wash their car, its like the hobby of choice here). After that, Susan, Melanie, and my Mom come downstairs and start preparing breakfast, boiling water and well, I'm not actually sure what else because it is 5 am and I am still asleep. Either way, I am up by 6:30 am -- 7 am at the very latest -- otherwise my Mom knocks on my door and asks "Anne are you awake?" Classes don't start until 9 am, and even then the majority of my classes aren't until the afternoon, but regardless I am out the door by 7:30 am. The first Saturday here, I slept until 8 am which was clearly a mistake because the rest of the day my family asked if I was "feeling alright" since I slept "so late."
Everyday for breakfast I have either a pancake (different than American pancakes and certainly no syrup) or bread and Vache Qui Rit. Really, I should a whole paragraph on Vache Qui Rit considering the absurd amount that I eat. Vache Qui Rit is just the Laughing Cow brand of cheese that we have in the US and that I never really liked before. But here I am, in Cameroon, and it is ALL I EAT. This really has nothing to do with Cameroon, rather it is a bizarre side effect of my stay here. Maybe it is because I am missing dairy from my diet, but regardless all of us are constantly picking up Vache Qui Rit from the bakery (That said, there isn't any other brand of cheese unless you head to Score, the one of the two supermarkets in Yaounde and tres cher).
After breakfast, I walk to Anna's house which is short ten minute walk. My host sisters taught me a shortcut, so instead of walking along the roads, I cut across a soccer field, government housing area, Catholic elementary school, construction site, and finally down the road to Anna's house. The walk is all dirt roads and filled with chicken and goats wandering around, reminding me just how far I am from Dickinson. Along the way, I past all the families bringing their kids to school and I think I must look pretty weird-- a white, clearly an outsider, who isn't completely out of sorts. Even more so, I live in Mendong, a neighborhood far away from the rich Centre Ville and Basto area where it is fairly common to see whites. Honestly, I'm becoming such a snob when I see other whites, we all point them out to each other ("Did you see the blanche?") and then we stare and try to guess their nationality or why they are in Cameroon. It's one thing to see an old white guy and just assume he works for business or government, but today we saw five young women and Anna and I just couldn't wrap our heads around it. If this what I think about whites, I can imagine just how bizarre I look to Cameroonians.
Oh, and well for those who are interested (ie: Mom) here are the classes I'm taking:
1. French. 6 hrs/week (everything else is only 2 hrs/week)
2. Contemporary Cameroon. Mandatory course that covers current issues in Cameroon.
3. Le Roman Camerouniase. French lit. class on Cameroonian novels.
4. Orality and Language. Creative writing course with field trips around city. Best prof.
5. International Relations of African States. Much more interesting in a state with a "benevolent dictator"
Everyday for breakfast I have either a pancake (different than American pancakes and certainly no syrup) or bread and Vache Qui Rit. Really, I should a whole paragraph on Vache Qui Rit considering the absurd amount that I eat. Vache Qui Rit is just the Laughing Cow brand of cheese that we have in the US and that I never really liked before. But here I am, in Cameroon, and it is ALL I EAT. This really has nothing to do with Cameroon, rather it is a bizarre side effect of my stay here. Maybe it is because I am missing dairy from my diet, but regardless all of us are constantly picking up Vache Qui Rit from the bakery (That said, there isn't any other brand of cheese unless you head to Score, the one of the two supermarkets in Yaounde and tres cher).
After breakfast, I walk to Anna's house which is short ten minute walk. My host sisters taught me a shortcut, so instead of walking along the roads, I cut across a soccer field, government housing area, Catholic elementary school, construction site, and finally down the road to Anna's house. The walk is all dirt roads and filled with chicken and goats wandering around, reminding me just how far I am from Dickinson. Along the way, I past all the families bringing their kids to school and I think I must look pretty weird-- a white, clearly an outsider, who isn't completely out of sorts. Even more so, I live in Mendong, a neighborhood far away from the rich Centre Ville and Basto area where it is fairly common to see whites. Honestly, I'm becoming such a snob when I see other whites, we all point them out to each other ("Did you see the blanche?") and then we stare and try to guess their nationality or why they are in Cameroon. It's one thing to see an old white guy and just assume he works for business or government, but today we saw five young women and Anna and I just couldn't wrap our heads around it. If this what I think about whites, I can imagine just how bizarre I look to Cameroonians.
Oh, and well for those who are interested (ie: Mom) here are the classes I'm taking:
1. French. 6 hrs/week (everything else is only 2 hrs/week)
2. Contemporary Cameroon. Mandatory course that covers current issues in Cameroon.
3. Le Roman Camerouniase. French lit. class on Cameroonian novels.
4. Orality and Language. Creative writing course with field trips around city. Best prof.
5. International Relations of African States. Much more interesting in a state with a "benevolent dictator"
Limbe
This past weekend we went to Limbe, a beach town in the Anglophone region. There is a definite difference between the Anglophone and Francophone regions, not only is it a matter of language, but also behavior. Anglophones are considered to be more reserved than Francophones which I definitely felt -- for the first time, no one called out to us on the streets with "La Blanche!" or "Watt!" (Watt is the Francophone Cameroonians attempting to say "White" in English). The trip to Limbe was pretty uneventful/I was asleep for the majority of it, but I did get to see a bit of Douala. Douala is the biggest city in Cameroon, whereas Yaounde, though much smaller, is the capital so it's kind of like New York City v. DC in the US. The most memorable part of the ride was waking up to everyone shouting and seeing cattle being herded on the highway. The whole scene was pretty spooky because there wasn't any street lights, just the herder's flashlight and our van's headlights and out of the shadows were the cattle, with their sharply curved horns and bony, brown bodies.
We didn't get to the hotel until 8:30 pm, so we just had dinner and went straight to bed. The next day we woke up at eight and had breakfast at the hotel and then were off to Buea, a nearby town. There we saw a tea plantation (which is to say a green field) and this famous Cameroonian artist Max LastNameIForget?. Max's paintings were pretty cool -- lots of bright colors and very impressionistic, but I was a little confused about all the fuss. At one point, the UN offered to buy one of his paintings for ten million francs and he said no on the basis that he only sells his work after feeling that he has a positive exchange with the customer. Meanwhile, he has come to Dickinson and spoke at Hope Station, the community center in Carlisle where I ran Girl Scouts last semester. Best part of this was his navy sweatsuit with "Harrisburg" written across the front. How fantastic? I'm across the world and there it is, the glorious central PA.
Afterwards, we watched the Mount Cameroon race that was going on in Buea. Insane, these runners run up and down Mount Cameroon, the second tallest mountain in Africa, in six hours! Afterwards we headed to the zoo/rescue shelter and saw all the monkeys/crocs/pythons. Finally, at 2 we were at Semme Beach which was beautiful. At Semme, we swam, ate an excessive amount of ice cream, and even got to ride horses on the beach. It really wasn't a long ride, but at one point our guide started trotting ahead which then my horse tries to catch up with him -- I definitely was not ready for this and only barely managed to hang on. Then we headed back to the hotel to shower and get ready for dinner. After dinner, Julio, our driver, brought us to downtown Limbe. Julio's family was there too, so all of us went to this bar overlooking the water and just relaxed outside until 11. Next day, we headed home bright and early and got back to Yaounde at three pm.
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