3 Decembre 2008
The 10-day countdown began today as 10 becomes a pretty standard number to looking down to single digits. It’s interesting to me that there are many things about Cameroon that are trying, but I think a lot of what has become mentally draining has nothing to do with being in Cameroon at all. For instance, running around researching, living with a family that isn’t yours, and being in sweltering heat are things that would be draining no matter where one was. So, while I’m ready to just relax, have a break, spend time with people I’ve missed, there are still so many things I’ll miss about the beauty of Cameroon. However, I always pray that my life adventures will never stop no matter how tired or drained I become. I’ll have time to sleep when I’m dead, until then, try me.
1/5 of our group has quit the program… haha, sounds worse than it is, but really 3 girls have left. 1 for malaria; 1 for typhoid and worms; and 1 who didn’t want to finish the research. There weren’t kidding when they said this program was in a “hardship country.”
8 Decembre 2008
As I’m sitting in the office this morning waiting for my final language proficiency exam, and I find myself having so many things to reflect on, even though there are 5 days left for me in Cameroon, this is probably the last time I will have internet before I get to Paris, and therefore my last opportunity to post to my blog while actually being in Cameroon. That being said – here it goes. The ending…
Today is the last day we will spend with our families before we move in the monastery again tonight for the last 5 days. The presentation of my research is at 11:00 a.m. tomorrow, and it should last about an hour for a panel of the other students, directors, and advisors. Once I’ve finished that, I’m more or less home free, as one might say, gladly or not.
I had my final standoff with Mekouti today as I was walking to school. Of course he knows where I live now, so he was on my street when I left the house, and he of course began walking with me. He was saying all of these things, like how I had broken his heart, and his soul was burning with some sort of fire for me, and he wasn’t stupid, and he knew I was never going to come back to visit him… finally, he grabbed my umbrella as if to pull me toward him, and I yanked it back, saying, “Mekouti, you are a fool. You have no idea how to love me and you don’t love me. You bother me all the time with your silly texts and metaphorical banter. I’m leaving for America today. That is all.” I turned and walked away as he stood at my back calling things after me. It was a very bittersweet ending to the love affair we really had. He makes beautiful art… I’ll give him that. And, I assume you have to be just a little crazy to be so artistic – but, I’ve got to keep my notoriety for being a heartbreaker.
Friday night was the party my family threw for me and my friends, which was absolutely lovely since my mother prepared all of my favorite Cameroonian foods – grilled fish, SANGA!, chicken wings, plantains, carrot and coconut salad, and she even made a chocolate cake – on the stove top because we don’t have an oven! It was probably the moistest cake I have ever eaten, and we really had a wonderful time.
My mother and I have been frequenting the hospital lately, but I can’t at this time disclose the reason. However, I will… very soon.
Last night was the final party for all of the families. We had a really nice buffet at Foret Bantu, a restaurant in Tsinga, with dancing, a slideshow of family pictures, a fashion show of our African clothes, and all the food and drinks you could ask for. It was really nice to have a final au revoir and merci to our families, and a little sad to think it was the last “out with a bang” so to speak. As Cameroonian as this is, the families cleaned out the buffet and stole all of the wine and whiskey from the tables – certainly not a typical American standard at parties – but that’s why we’re in Cameroon. We crammed a taxi full of 10 people and drove home about midnight – WAY PAST OUR BEDTIME, hah – after all of the festivities. It was just smashing, simply smashing.
Abbie and I got to help at swimming lessons the other day at the American School in Yaounde, which was absolutely like walking into a private elementary school in America. All the teachers are American, and they have 175 K-12 students; most children of Peace Corps and Embassy workers. Shirley told me SO much about getting into Foreign Service – and excuse my French - but it is the shit. They get the most amazing perks in exchange for giving up 2 years in America. For instance, the embassy provides them with a house, free shipping of all their home goods to their service country, shipping of one vehicle from America to the country, schooling for your children, job placement for your spouse, 1 month vacation homestay to America with paid air-fare and lodging, and 2 weeks R&R vacation to your choice of city in the world! Can you believe all of that – plus your salary is almost double in a hardship country (like Cameroon) even with all of these things… crazy perfect.
How did I get here? In this past few weeks, I have often found myself wondering how I even managed to get here so quickly. Time passes so incredibly fast – it seems like yesterday that I was fretting over how much OFF to bring with me so that I could combat the dreaded palu (and yes – mom, I have like 4 bottles leftover). Now, here I am, with 5 days left until I get to Paris, with so much new insight into the world, I can’t possibly decide what to do with it all, and difficulty deciding how to share it. I’m torn between the world I left behind and the world I’ve found that lies only a 12 hour plane ride outside of my comfortable walls, and I’m terribly caught in-between.
Cameroon is such a beautiful country. Between the tropical climate and the (usually) very friendly people, it’s somewhat of a hidden African gem since there are so many misconceptions about Africa in general. It’s unfortunate that Cameroon continues to be a fourth world country with so much poverty and government corruption, but if every westerner could just see the wonderful, inspiring things Cameroonians are doing, I don’t think they would see it as “Africa.”
I think one of my biggest goals for going back to the United States is to de-myth the stereotypes associated with “Africa.” What if as Americans we were always associated with “North America?” Do we have the same history as Mexicans, Canadians, Guatemalans, or Haitians? It’s one of the daily struggles of Cameroonians to separate themselves from other Africans – as if their plight was the same. I think overall, I learned the extremity of being an American, and the world power that it holds. I’ve been born as lucky as they come, and it would be a horrible mistake to forget that. I hope that if you’ve been keeping up with this blog, or when I go to re-read this, that we’ve learned something about the world, Cameroon, or Africa. But it’s my more sincere hope that you’ve learned something about yourself. Sometimes I think the best thing you can do for anyone in the world is to know yourself, and stick by that. If you’re a responsible human being taking responsibility for your actions, whether or not you have the means to do something for someone else, you’re impacting the world.
I hope when I look back on this trip, I will have seen much more of the beautiful, diverse, blooming Earth that has been created. Until then, that’s a wrap.27 Novembre 2008
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!! I surprisingly had a wonderful Thanksgiving because we were invited to an American Thanksgiving buffet! Georgette, our dance instructor, is married to a director at the Peace Corps, and they, with their 3 children, have lived in America for the majority of their life. Abbie and Laura were with her the other day, and she asked if we had any plans yet for Thanksgiving… of course we had none other than eating in a restaurant possibly some American sandwich or something. So Georgette says she will call us… turns out she does, and she invites us to her huge American home with American Thanksgiving buffet! It was delicious because their family orders all of their food directly from Amazon.com and then it ships to Cameroon – so it’s all legitimately American. Plus, the embassy allows ex-pats to order off a list of frozen foods for a shipment once a year – and a turkey is one of those items! So we definitely ate our own body weight in turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, rolls, stuffing, gravy, pies, and tarts. I thought I was going to be sick right then and there… but luckily made it home for ANOTHER Cameroonian meal. Perfect. However – it was completely worth it as we were in Little America, with a very loving and generous American family for about 3 hours.
Mekouti is getting a little angry at me as he is constantly sending me texts now saying things like, “What do you want from me, and I’ll do it.” It’s really awkward since I see him nearly everyday on our run…. He runs along side us for about two minutes, realizes we’re not going to talk to him, and then turns and goes the other way…
My mom and I had a conversation about Cameroonian cemeteries, and it turns out there are just people buried all over Cameroon. It’s a strong tradition to bury family members underneath your home since they act as protectors or guardian angels of the house. Especially with babies, who are buried under the outermost frame of the house support structure.,
30 Novembre 2008
Sometimes, I think I forget why I’ve made a decision in the past. I suppose that’s the reality of growing up, you’re capricious, and you often think you have lost something by chance that you purposely meant to lose. But there will always be subtle reminders from time to time about why you chose to leave something of your former self behind, and you’ll remember that it was the best decision you could have made in anticipation of the future.
I think I faced my first real battle with homesickness yesterday, and I’m not exactly sure what triggered it, but it wasn’t pleasant… but of course, there is always a beautiful outcome to those times that we dread the most. In this case, I honestly couldn’t have felt any closer to the people who have been so dear to my life. It’s easy to forget that a lot people don’t have a compassionate, supportive, understanding, vibrant group of family and friends. People that you can go to to hold you or push you, and who sometimes have more faith in your prospects than you do. It’s times like these when I think how my daily vim and vigor is contingent on the positive, fun-loving, driven, generous, reliable, selfless, worldly people around me to cushion my image, since I’m not perfect, and serve as a reflection of the beautiful things I desire after most in life.
I have learned a huge lesson in generosity while being in Cameroon. One always loves giving Christmas gifts more than receiving them… and all of those sorts of things. But I realize that generosity goes beyond doing the things that are dropped into our laps. I’m beginning to believe that generosity is one of the number one virtues a person can possess because with generosity comes true selflessness, a very difficult quality to possess. Generosity can be such a simple gift to give as it could be buying someone’s dinner when you’re out to eat instead of them doing it or it could be going out of your way to call someone you haven’t talked to in a while but would love to hear from you. It’s surprising someone with something they weren’t expecting, and yet it is one of the most gratifying experiences for the giver…
So as I was walking to the Foire yesterday evening with my mother (the giant artisans festival near our home) where there are items from all over Africa as well as a huge Indian and Lebanese group of artisans, I found myself walking directly parallel across the street from none other than Mekouti… who I should point out lives NOWHERE NEAR ME… yet is walking within 100 meters of my house. Anyway, it was impossible to ignore him as the road is not very wide, he knew it was me, my mother was walking at 1 m/hr, and he kept texting my phone to hear if it was going off in my bag. Finally, I turned to look at his impending glare, said “Bon Soir,” and kept on walking. Of course, that didn’t suffice, and he crossed over the road to greet me personallly. I again said, “Bon Soir…” and kept walking uncomfortably next to my mother, Jojo, and Arnaud who were talking to another neighbor on route. So, since I have no one else to distract me, and Mekouti is awkwardly walking along side, to make conversation, I say…
“So… Mekouti… where are you going?”
-“To the opera.”
“Mekouti, there is no opera around here.”
-“I am riding my horse to the opera.”
(Okay, how much acid has this guy dropped today?) “Mekouti, you’re not riding a horse anywhere. There is no horse here… Do you see that?”
-“Yes, but my horse is riding to the opera where I will find you.”
“Okay, well I gotta go, and not to the opera.” (Actually, I had NOWHERE to go since my mother was chatting it up with the neighbor, walking in her high heels as slowly as possible.)
Then he asks me who I’m with… and I grudgingly introduced him to my mother… and he creepily says “enchanted,” and plays with Jojo’s cheeks. My mother looks annoyed and keeps on walking… but of course, Mekouti is also going to the Foire….
So, after he leaves, FINALLY, I say to mother. “Maman, c’etait Mekouti, l’artist sur la colline qui me derange chaque jour.” I told her that he sends me really gross text messages, and she is just appalled. So she says, “Well, we’re just going to take his number out of your phone, and if we change the language of your phone he won’t be able to call anymore.” (I’m not sure what the logic is with this one… but I let her do it, since it made both of us feel better.)
Then straight out of a nightmare, within this giant Foire, Mekouti is everywhere I am. I walk past a booth, and he pops out clutching a bracelet saying, “Hollie, take this, take this, it’s for you…” Creeptastic…
My mom has made my favorite meal 3 nights in a row because I finally told her my favorite Cameroonian things to eat (which don’t amount to many). It’s completely vegetarian, which keeps me from having to eat questionable meat, and made from corn and mashed up weedy green vegetable, plus you put enough sugar cubes in to adequately cover up the taste, and you can eat a ton! It’s perfect… except I had a horrible case of heat exhaustion last night, which didn’t help me do much of anything. My family here always gets VERY concerned when I have anything from a headache upwards… it’s very thoughtful, but highly unnecessary worrying…. I wish they could understand how sickness n’est pas grave.
1 Decembre 2008
IT’S DECEMBER! That’s really incroyable to me since in September I never thought I’d make it this far.
My Mom and I had a conversation about fears last night because she is deathly afraid of snakes… and I really couldn’t care less about a snake… so I said this to my mother. And she says, (in a teasing tone), “mais tu as peur de la paludisme!” (you are afraid of malaria). And this kind of aggravated me since an American can actually die from malaria since we don’t have it in the U.S., but then she continues to say, “But I guess I can understand because you don’t have mosquitos in America.” – and this is why there is so many misconceptions about America.
This morning we went to Marche Centrale in Centre Ville to search for Eto’o futbol jerseys, before going to visit Laura - who is in the hospital hooked up to a wonderful African IV on rusty metal poll for malaria - but of course that turned into a horror film. The market was ridiculous as usual, vendors making obscene comments at us and the usual overpricing of items for “whiteys.” Finally, after about the 30th marriage proposal… which romantically is usually said by, “Tu es déjà mariées?” (So sweet, I know), and I finally said, « Yes, Yes, I am already married, and I have 20 children. » You would have thought that the market was on top of an active volcano because these vendors just about died of laughter that I said I had 20 children.
I heard a Christmas song today! Joy To The World was being blasted over the loud speakers at the market, and while the weather doesn’t make things feel especially “Christmasy” it was a nice reminder of what life will be like when I get back to the States… and Paris for that matter.
20 Novembre 2008
I’m realizing that after all this time in Africa, there must be something about me that has changed, but it’s nearly impossible for me to recognize since I witness my own actions everyday. But, one thing is for sure, I believe that I’m changing into a young woman that is a force to be reckoned with, and if I can honestly say that after I’ve been in Africa or anywhere, I’ll always feel accomplished. Nothing goes down without a fight, and in every capacity I hope that I can always give my best energy and most positive outlook.
So one movie that I KNOW TELEPATHICALLY is playing in the U.S. is the new James Bond, and I’m really sad I’m missing it… so maybe could someone go with me when I get back if it’s even still in theatres?
23 Novembre 2008
I have so many things to bring back to the United States, I don’t know if it’s even possible. If my luggage cannot hold the cadeaux coming, you know it’s going to be good… get excited!
My all-time favorite Mekouti (my crazy lover artist’s) quotes, sent via text message to me:
“I adore the horse because he never leaves his master. With him I am coming always at the hour of the opera. Even though the roads are soaked, he finds a way. It is strength and love.”
“Only she understands me. Mekouti, who will understand you? She. But who is she? Do you know to what I compare her? Say no.”
This weekend, I was a 13 year-old girl again as my mom took me to buy bras because I, of course, made the mistake of commenting that her bra was pretty since she took it off right in front of me the other night. So she says, “We’ll have to get you some, they are so cheap here.” Turns out, they really are only 500 CFA ($1 each), but are probably the most hideous bras you have ever seen. So we go into the market, where bras are sold out of a bag under a tiny little umbrella with more bras hanging off of it. Then you sit down under the umbrella on a tiny little bench with the vendor who goes through the garbage bag full of bras and tries to find something you like in an appropriate size. I let my mother choose 2 bras (soutiens) for me since they were all so beautiful, I just couldn’t choose. As we were looking through them, my mother found one that she thought was so pretty, so I bought it for her even though it cost me 500CFA! Anyway, she was thrilled… and now we have matching bras. Cute, huh?
Laura and I had a great encounter with a man who wanted to marry us on our walk home. We were walking, and an English speaking Cameroonian comes up to us, and the convo goes a little something like this:
“Hello! Hello mes filles! You are so beautiful! Too beautiful for me, where are you going?”
“We’re just walking. Thanks.”
“Oh, you are just so pretty. You are just too beautiful for a *nigger* like me.”
[So I just go off because he says this] “Why would you call yourself that? That is a horrible thing to say. That is absolutely not true.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m a sports trainer, can I go with you?”
“No.”
“But where do you live?”
“In America. You will never see us again.”
“Yes. Yes. I will. Las Vegas. I go in Las Vegas. I’m a rapper. You know 50 Cent? That’s me. G-Unit? That’s me.”
“Okay, that’s really not you. We have to get home.”
“Am I bothering you?”
“Yes, you’re trying to date us as we’re trying to walk home.”
“What are your names? Where are you going? Can I go with you? I will see you in America.”
[Laura says] “This is Allison, I’m Tiffany, and we don’t have time for this, we have got to get home!”
Guess who scored a Thanksgiving dinner with the Marines. Oh yeah, yours truly.
On Friday, we decided to break down and order a pizza from Espresso because we have found that as a general trend in Cameroon, one goes about 5 days of eating as little Cameroonian food as possible, and then becomes completely famished and resorts to binge eating. So Friday was binge-eating day. It started off normally for breakfast, but then when we got into town, we found that ice cream man had MINT VANILLA SWIRL soft serve for the first time ever! It was delicious! Better than Dairy Queen if you can believe that. Anyway, so we had that about 5 times that day since it’s only 50 cents a cup. Then after that, we had to get kettle corn because it was right next door. Then – we ordered the pizza, which was horribly overpriced, but absolutely delicious. We have this joke, because on the menu the pizza is obviously trying to be called “cheese party,” but is instead written “Chesse party.” So we ordered a Chesse party pizza, which was a your typical American thin crust pizza with mozzarella, feta, and goat cheese – delicious, but was a painful taste of what the first week of food in America is going to be like because it pretty much destroyed our stomachs. After all that, when I got home, my mom had made sweet potato fries, which were unbelievably good – but one more thing I didn’t have the tolerance to put into my stomach.
I’ve found something to be very sad about Cameroon. Because in general, Cameroonians cannot buy things to decorate their homes, they have the most ugly (but precious to them) things on display. For instance, we have a Spongebob McDonald’s toy on top of the TV, which my mother told me she bought in the market, and it is prominently displayed on top of the TV next to a calendar cut-out of puppies and a dandelion on the wall. All of those things Americans shamelessly toss into the garbage. Especially McDonald’s toys, which get left in Happy Meal bags and on restaurant tables, when it’s considered an item of value in Cameroon.
There are Christmas lights in the center of the city in Yaounde! As we were walking home the other night, very close to dusk, the lights at the Carrefour came on, and it had Christmas lights all over it. It was a beautiful reminder that even though it’s 100 degrees, it’s still Christmastime!
As of today, we have 2 more weeks with our host families before moving into the monastery for the final week. I re-read the first entry in this journal today, and it’s absolutely unfathomable to me considering where I have come from. I’ve been trying to reflect, in the past few days, on my time in Cameroon since we’re coming so close to the end. I realize that I have learned so much, and one of my greatest fears is that I will not be able to express those realizations efficiently to people in America. It would be completely unjust for me simply say my time in Africa was, “great or fun,” because that is absolutely not true at all. It hasn’t been “great” and most of it hasn’t been “fun.” I have to think of a good adjective for those people who are just asking to be polite.
24 Novembre 2008
Every single morning my bedroom smells like weed. I think it’s coming from outside, but it’s something they should try to learn to control.
My mother was telling me today about the black magic that still has a huge stronghold on Africa. One of those practices is sending boa constrictors through the toilets into other people’s apartments so that they will bite them and kill them… and afterwards they steal all of their things.
A roach was crawling on my back last night, obviously he was inside of my mosquito net, but since I was dreaming so deeply, and exhausted I didn’t wake up to actually kill it, but instead had a restless night sleep as I just kept swatting it off of my back.
So on Friday is our fabulous, or not so, dinner with the Marines. Because they are unavailable on Thursday, Nora, Laura, Abbie, and I are going to go out for a nice dinner at Café Yaoundé, a pretty upscale European restaurant in Centre Ville. Then on Friday, the marines invited us over to their house for a little dinner party, saying that they would provide the sides if we provided the turkey. Well, since turkey doesn’t exist in Cameroon, we’re going to buy roast chicken and try to pawn it off as turkey… they won’t know any better. Really, the cinch of the deal was the fact that Logan – my dear Marine friend – said that the pool was right behind the Marine house and we could definitely take a dip to “get that Cameroonian scent out of our nose..” Plus, they are going to drive us home in their air-conditioned armored tank… so we decided to take the deal, and put up with the maybe not so intellectual Marines for swimming, some good food, and Americanisms. However, this kid is really a piece of work as he refers to himself as the “pimp daddy” since he coordinates all the party plans for the Marines, and he also suggested that his experience has been just like ours since, you know, he lives in a fully furnished American apartment, while being driven around in a bullet-proof Escalade, and he told us we could take our chances with Cameroonian corn on the cob (which we have bought and eaten off the street at least a dozen times and not gotten sick) saying that eating it was like “handing a drink to an alcoholic – it’s just not smart.” Can you tell this kid is brilliant, yet? I’m sure this Friday is going to be one to remember. Nora, Laura, and Abbie have decided they are going to refer to me as the Pimp Momma while we’re there.
As Abbie and I were exercising this morning, Mekouti ran past and slapped us both on the arm, rather forcefully to say hello. The loving text messages have ceased to subside and instead have actually intensified. Today’s actually point blank said, “Je sais que tu sais que je t’aime.” (I know that you know that I love you.)
On Friday, we went to visit another artist who lives up the hill from our quartier named Fdona, and we arrived to the most amazing house ever. It was like we had arrived to the Willy Wonka house, as the entire thing was a mix of painted pipes and awnings and masks and doors, all brightly painted. Inside he offered us some wine and snacks as one of his good friend serenaded us on guitar. It was really cool, and his home was amazing. We all thought Christiane should get him to be a SIT homestay family.
25 Novembre 2008
There are quite a few stories that Cameroonians like to tell, which often times it’s difficult to know whether or not are true. However, some of them I’d like to believe are true since it would be truly American to not know about ongoings in Africa. For instance, Cameroon has discovered a plant that is said to be a cure for AIDS, but is currently too lethal to administer to patients. In either case, the French won’t allow Cameroon to send the plant out for testing or research because if it does cure AIDS it will be recognition and beneficial for Cameroon. How sick is that? Which, I actually lean toward believing because the French still have a very strong paternal control here, especially with the current Biya administration – seeing as how he spends nearly half the year in France.
We passed a mechanic shop on the way to the market and chained to one of the steering wheels of a gutted, rusted out car frame was a very large gray monkey. It very clearly wanted to be off of that chain and more or less charging us.
The top news story this morning was that 7 people had died instantly from buying and eating poisoned “buea” (remember the Bisquick drink) from a street vendor. Apparently, there are a lot of occasions when flour is replaced with lime (the chemical) because it is cheaper, and no one can tell… until they’re dead.
My mother told me a story about how there are diamonds underneath the Palais du Congres, but no one knows about them. She said there were a few Chinese explorers who came to Cameroon and discovered the diamonds, but since the Cameroonian government wouldn’t let them be extracted, when one of the explorers died, they filled his corpse with diamonds and shipped it back to China in a casket. Now, how true is this story? And where do they get this stuff from?
Chickles still isn’t fat enough… he’s just roaming around outside the house, eating garbage. That’s what he is getting fat of off… garbage. Delicious.
12 Novembre 2008
My package still is not here… Nathalie went to the post office yesterday, but could not carry the packages, so I don’t have it.
Our workout regiment sucks. It’s hard, and I hate it, but I’m still going to do it.
My family definitely thinks they have to feed me better because I gave them that stipend. For one thing, they have been making these really expensive meals for the past two nights… for instance; we had a salad of tomatoes, avocados, eggs, and lettuce before a meal of plantains and sauce, yogurt for dessert, and Fanta orange to drink. All of those things are very expensive, and very unexpected since I haven’t had them once for dinner yet. Yesterday, my mother made the African version of caviar and promptly told me that it was extremely expensive and normally only served on airplanes. Plus, my dad brought me my own package of chocolate cream filled cookies that I was told not to share with anyone else (of course I did). Plus, tonight we’re having barbecued fish with mustard because I unknowingly mentioned that I liked mustard much better than mayonnaise in the United States, and my mother then said it was a necessity that we have it then… I don’t know how to tell them that this pampering is unnecessary, and that the money is for them not for me…
When I arrived home yesterday, I walked in the door and there was a live chicken just perched on the back of one of the kitchen chair. I asked my mom why it what there, and she told me that grandma had given it to Jojo as a present (apparently it’s tradition for the grandmother to offer the baby a chicken as a gift). Anyway, I, of course, asked if that meant it was a pet, and she laughed and said, “No. It’s just not fat enough to eat.” So, now we have a live chicken strapped to a string next to the refrigerator just waiting to be fat enough…
13 November 2008
MY PACKAGE CAME!!!!!! Even though it WAS opened, and I had to pay $10 to get the box, those are the best tasting preservatives I have ever had… mini Oreos, Goldfish, buttermilk ranch pretzels, Reeses’s puffs, wheat & cheese crackers, and granola bars… all of which might as well be Jesus’s personal blessing to mankind because I could devour them all just thinking about it.
My mother yells at me every morning because my clothes aren’t ironed. And obviously, they are folded up in a suitcase, so they’re pretty wrinkled. So today she finally said, “Pourquoi Hollie? Pourquoi tu ne presse pas vos habilles?” And I said, “Maman, in the United States, we don’t iron our clothes.” And she says, “Comment tu faire?” And I say, “Rien. No one cares if your clothes are wrinkled.” So hopefully she lets that go… because I’m not going to start ironing my clothes…
So during my trip to the embassy this afternoon, I had a bit of a security problem. After I had finished going through the first metal detector, the guard told me to leave the building and start again because there was a problem. “A problem?” I thought, “what kind of problem?” So I went back outside, and the guard tells me that they have detected explosives on me. He then asks if I have touched anything that would somehow trigger this, and of course, where would I be anywhere near explosives in Cameroon. So finally about 5 more times through security, they let me in after I say that I’m really not trying to blow up the embassy; I need to do research there. Still an armed guard had to escort me into the main building. The security alert probably went up a level because of me and all of my explosives.
15 Novembre 2008
Researching certainly is a lot of work. I’ve never had to devote all of my time to compiling information on one topic before, and working solidly from 7 a.m. – 6:30 p.m. everyday after waking up at 5 a.m. is really taking it’s toll, and it’s only been a week. Hopefully, I’ll get my second wind when I begin writing my paper in the third week. However, on the flip side, it’s been a week of research already, and I only have 3 left to put all of this together.
Cameroonians have very strong stereotypes. For instance there is a cartoon that is about white explorers to Alaska, and I noticed that the characters are constantly changing color. Finally, I asked, why are they changing color? Is it something wrong with the television? And my mother responds, “Don’t you know? Like you, when whites are mad, they are red; when they are scared or sick, they are green; and when they are dead, they are blue.” And I responded, “Oh yeah, I must have forgotten that I change color with my emotions like a chameleon.” Also, they really don’t like the French. I suppose with good reason, it’s just interesting to hear how they really hate an entire country of people based on one stereotype.
I find myself wanting to spend more and more time with my family, and it seems to come at the perfect time. Usually weekends are dreaded here because there is little to do but stay around the house. However, as my friends looked for ways to get out of their homes this weekend, I’m thrilled to be staying home today. It’s finally a break from the researching, and I really can’t get enough of my family. Today, my mother gave me a gift of two more African dresses. I have an absolutely gorgeous African wardrobe, and it’s probably all I will wear at Christmas -lies, that and maybe sweatpants.
My mother and I had a long conversation this morning about being Christian. Turns out, when my family was asked if they would host a student, my mother made only one request, and that was for the student to be a Christian. Sure enough, I’m the only Christian of the 15 students on the trip, and her testimony could not have inspired me more.
A note: According to my mother, all African men are unfaithful to their wives…. So in case you were going to marry an African – think twice.
16 Novembre 2008
This has been another week of not really feeling well. Now that my stomach has adjusted to the food, my family feels it necessary to feed me tons of it. And I can only handle so much palm oil before I feel sick. Basically, the sauce of anything is just oil poured over top of it… Today, especially, I’m really feeling sick, but it’s probably because these are officially the days of the climate change. It went from being rainy and hot to dry and hotter. Almost miserable. I’m actually missing my beautiful fall/winter climate of November in Ohio.
JoJo is at a really annoying age now where he is WAY too big to be held because he’s constantly squirming around, but he can’t crawl or walk yet. Plus, it is like 100 degrees here during the day, so who wants to be holding a sweaty baby… oh well… the joys of motherhood await – I suppose it might be different with your own child.
Because Canal 2 has been cut for the past few days, we haven’t been able to watch la Belle-Mere, so instead we’ve been watching Bob L’Eponge because it’s at the same time. And I’ve transcribed some of the lyrics for you.
« Vous êtes prêtes les enfants?!
Oui Capitaine!
Je ne peux pas entendre!
Oui Capitaine!
OHHHHHH….
Qui habite dans un ananas sous la mer?
Bob L’Eponge Carre! » – Literally = Bob the square sponge.
18 Novembre 2008
This week is awful… way to many interviews, and way too much research. My head is spinning with every piece of information pertaining to foreign affairs in Africa, diplomacy, Cameroon…
However, I had an awesome day at the Embassy today. I had an appointment to meet with the Embassy’s security advisor, but she had called in sick, so instead, she had me meet with her assistant – who it turns out is a graduate of Wooster (Wittenberg’s rival school), and a native of Medina, Ohio. So, already, we are just hitting it off. Then, we have the interview in the main lobby of the embassy, and all of these people are passing us that know, this guy, Brad… so he’s introducing me to all of them. First, his wife Shirley passes by, and she is the Embassy aquatics director (which yes, they have a pool that I had no clue existed)… so I’m trying to get in on some swimming at the embassy. Then a Marine walks by, and Brad says something about how we are looking for Thanksgiving plans, and the Marine takes my phone number, and then Anne comes in, who just arrived as a Cameroonian Fulbright, and is living in an apartment in Yaounde with absolutely nothing to do. Not only that, but soon after, I was invited to sit in on an unprecedented event in the Embassy, opening it up to Cameroonian University students who are considering graduate studies in the U.S., then Brad pulled me out of the lecture because the man second in command at the embassy had some time to talk to me. All in all… it was a fabulously informative afternoon.
That chicken in the kitchen keeps me up all time. I named it Chickles… so that it was kind of like Chuckles – except sadly not at ALL because he’s not furry, or cute, or fat, or playful. He’s just dumb – and getting fatter… Chickles the not-so-silly chicken.
You know that phrase, “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite?” Well, my question is, how exactly do you make it so the bed bugs don’t bite… because they’re biting me.
I sprayed Promethrin on my sheets… which is probably toxic, but I don’t care.
I found Guacamolly!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ll explain later.
The safari sunset at Waza
24 Octobre 2008
I’m falling in love with Ngaoundere, the weather is absolutely blissful being that it is very hot, somewhere near 85 degrees, but there is a pleasant breeze all the time. The mosque is usually playing some sort of chanting hymn, and it’s creates an interesting backdrop for a walk through town.
We met our host families today, and I simply adore mine – especially my host dad. Their name is Alfaki, and they are very devout Muslim. I am so excited to live with them. They speak a little French, but mostly converse in Fulfulde as I sit quietly listening. However, my host dad speaks very good French, and they have hosted many students who have come back to visit them afterwards (a very good sign). My father was at the mosque when I arrived, but I had a meal with my mother and older sister, Laila who is about 16 years old, and I apparently have another little sister who is at school. It’s of course custom to remove your shoes when entering since this is the first place in Cameroun I have seen rugs (for praying), and then we ate sitting on the floor around a mat. Of course we had couscous and a very slimy vegetable sauce, but I didn’t mind since I was so enamored with eating on the floor, AND mastering eating with my right hand. It’s very unclean in Muslim culture to eat or do anything with your left hand, and my mother had hers tucked in her blouse – very Napoleon style – as she maneuvered the couscous with her right. Unfortunately, being left-handed, I have to gracefully overcome my leftiness and manage silverware with my right hand. I must look like the beast when he’s trying to eat with a spoon during dinner with Belle. Tomorrow’s challenge: speaking Fulfulde.
26 Octobre 2008
So much has happened in only a few short days as a result of being thrown into what seems, sometimes, like a completely different culture. My family is absolutely fantastic, and having the opportunity to live with devout Muslims has been an eye-opening experience. Aside from the massive amount of very large crickets, roaches, and spiders, my house is beautiful, and perfectly storyesque. I have two little sisters: Laila who is 18 and Hadja who is 10. They are both very sweet and speak basic French, but I wish I could speak more Fulfulde so I could talk to them more. The entire town is very calm, and most people that come to visit the house are family members who end up praying, and then saying a quick, “sanou,” before leaving. I can say a few things in Fulfulde, but not enough to really get anywhere in conversation. My host mother is a phenomenal seamstress and promised she would make me a dress, Ngaoundere style, unlike the cabas of Yaoundé.
My mother has memorized every prior student they have had, and showed me every photo album they have left behind. I was stunned to see that they had a student from Wittenberg in 2004, and it was very bizarre scanning a photo album with pictures of not only my school, but also people I knew. Apparently this girl was “very timid,” but nevertheless it was very surreal to think that in some random house in Cameroon there are pictures of people I know in “real life.”
Dadda (Ironically, Fulfulde for Maman) told me that Laila was going to be getting married in December, and when I looked at Laila and asked if she was excited, she said, “no,” which I found to be extremely amusing.
So the food – because we know Cameroon isn’t Cameroon without some commentary on what I am eating. Couscous of either corn, rice, or mangnok is the staple of the diet, but it is often accompanied by gumbo or another very glissant form of sauce – however, first family so far to believe in after dinner/bedtime snacks – last night was fried plantain chips and tonight was beignet. J However, on weekends, the meal at lunch and dinner is the same, so if you didn’t like it once, you’re not going to like it again, as with today. Today, we had some couscous and sauce, but with it we had buea. Now buea is basically Bisquick is a bowl that you drink – 2 bowls. It’s made of mashed peanuts, water, and a whole lot of corn flour… that’s it, and it’s served lukewarm. Can you imagine the consistency and taste of this? Now imagine drinking 2 BOWLS of it… I thought I was going to throw up. Another problem is that they feed me SO much here. In Yaoundé, I’ve found ways to maneuver around eating, but not here. I get my own pot of everything to finish.
Hadja thinks Tessa is very pretty, and my whole family just adores the picture I have of Jacqui – you two are like celebrities.
27 Octobre 2008
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TYESSA!!!!!!!!!!!! I wish I could be there to celebrate it, but alas, I cannot. However, I told everyone I knew, and some I didn’t, that it was your b-day… so know that we’re celebrating for you here in Cameroon.
28 Octobre 2008
There is no class today because we have a very large presentation due on Friday, and we’re also meeting with Christiane and Dr. Taguem from the university here to discuss possible contacts and leads for our ISP. Abbie, Laura, Nora, and I have decided that to avoid going absolutely insane during ISP, we’re going to have some fun. I don’t know what that will entail yet, but for one thing, we’re getting on that Marine business because they have a private chauffeur and a huge house next to the embassy… now it would just be stupid not to tap that resource.
“If this is what my bachelorette party is like, I will kill myself.” (A reflection on a free night with 15 girls you’ve seen everyday for 2 months)
“You should tap that.” –Abbie (The quintessential problem with dating in Cameroon)
“Tap what?” –Me
In case you were wondering, of the few words of Fulfulde that I know, Nsara is one of them because it’s the word for “white girl,” which I probably hear most often in Ngaoundere.
It’s an odd phenomenon not understanding anything that is spoken at home – I actually feel a little relieved when they interject one French sentence for me about once every hour. However, it does provide a little time for my brain to just zone out without having to listen so intently.
30 Octobre 2008
I went into the market today with Laila, and as we were heading in through the stands, we passed one tiny little box, which was packed with people – they were spilling out into the street. The box was probably about 4ft. x 4ft. and there were at least 50 people in and out of it. I, of course, wondered what could possibly be so interesting in there… so I approached the scene and tried to get a glimpse through the people. I saw a tiny little T.V. screen playing, but couldn’t exactly make out what was showing. As I got a little closer, anticipating some gruesome press release, I was able to see that it was definitely a Discovery Channel episode of lions mating…
My mother took me to visit her sick friend in the night last night, and as my sisters covered their heads and faces with scarves, my whiteness just blatantly shown through the night in the darkness. We headed through these tight little allies, straight out of the magic carpet ride, and came out in a tiled courtyard. We arrived at her home, and took our seats on the floor next to her bed as she lie there sniffling and gasping. I couldn’t understand in Fulfulde what she had, but I was hoping that it wasn’t something like the flu that I could easily heal if I had known. Then she wished to talk to me a little while (in Fulfulde, which I barely understand), and so my mother left the house… and when I left the house 5 minutes later, my mother was no where to be found. It was dark, I was stuck in a tiled compound I have never seen in my life – and my mother returns 20 minutes later and says, “Where have you been?”
My mother is a fabulous seamstress, and I found the perfect fabric for my dress today. My sister also took me to someone’s home to buy henna for my hands and feet on Saturday, and my mother is tressing my hair tomorrow. My family here is wonderfully sweet to me.
Even with the new language barrier, I’m getting the hang of this Muslim father-knows-best thing… when there were only 4 bananas and 5 of us, we all offered our bananas to him one by one as he replied, “no, thank you.”
Because host students are the one of the only ways by which people can get photos of themselves, my host family had me shoot them in a 2 hour photo shoot last night as they changed into every different outfit they owned, and then asked me to choose various poses of each outfit. My mother asked if I could send her a new 8x10 photo to fit the frame she has on the T.V.
Hadja wanted me to read the English dialogues with her from her school workbook, and I have to comment on the context of the dialogue. It was talking about the “duties” of children and respecting your parents, and the last line of the dialogue read, “Duties are things that you are supposed to do, like your parents whose duty it is to send you to school, keep you from harm, not submit you to child labor, or unwarranted abuse. – This is Africa, and yes, kids have to be taught that their parents selling them off as child labor is wrong.
The insects in Ngaoundere are HUMUNGOUS. My bedroom is currently a grasshopper/cricket graveyard, but only because these are NINJA grasshoppers that come in droves and kamikaze themselves into your face and back and skull. So I sprayed a deathline of promethrin around my bed so that they can’t get through – and when I wake up there are dozens of dead crickets, usually detached from their legs lying on the floor. This leaves me wondering if the GIANT spiders munch on their carcasses while I’m sleeping.
We’re heading to the Extreme North on Sunday, but the trip could face unexpected cancellation because of the recent kidnappings by bandits on the route. We were originally supposed to find our own public transportation there, but Christiane decided that wasn’t safe and arranged some for us. The bandits could still stop our bus though and have notoriously asked for money, passports, valuables, or for people to dance for them… seriously.
Quote of the week: “If for some reason Cameroon ran out of food, you’re telling me that you wouldn’t eat a white chocolate replica of the White House?” – Nora, after Abbie said that she didn’t think it sounded that good that the gingerbread house made for the White House at Christmastime was a white chocolate replica of the White House.
We went to visit a traditional doctor – aka witchdoctor – in the bush today, and after he showed us a bunch of weeds, which all looked to be the same plant yet cured drastically different illnesses, he read our fortunes by drawing some lines in a pile of sand. One girl asked if Obama was going to win the election, and he said he couldn’t tell. But Abbie asked how many kids she was going to have, and he said 3. I know you’re wondering what I asked – but it was nothing… I don’t believe in that psychic stuff.
31 Octobre 2008
So it’s the end of Halloween; I’m going to bed; I haven’t had one piece of candy today.
However, while I was in the market, I did see a cow’s face – only the skin of the face – lying on a table. And I almost trick-or-treated the market to see if anyone would give me anything.
1 Novembre 2008
It’s NOVEMBER! I can’t believe that… probably because it’s 90 degrees here…
They really start the girls learning young here. Our neighbor, who is two years-old, often comes over to the house, and when she was here eating lunch with us, my mother gave her a pretty hard smack on the back after she had told her to pass her the bowl of water and didn’t do it fast enough… a two year-old!
I hate to say this, but my family here may have surpassed my Yaoundé family in the polls. I just feel extremely comfortable with them, and I love being at home. Even when I don’t have to be spending time with them, I do because I just like it.
2 Novembre 2008
Today, we made the long 8-hour bus ride to Maroua in the Extreme North of Cameroon. This could be best described as the bus ride from Hell, since it was at least 100 degrees with a breeze, and we were stopped by the police (le gendarme) 3 times, had to wait for a baboon and herd of cattle to cross the street, stopped at a mosque to pray, the road was mostly made of more crater-sized potholes, and there were 50 people on a bus made for about 25… However, we made it, with no trouble from bandits, so I guess there isn’t a lot to complain about.
3 Novembre 2008
I’m finding it more and more difficult to find things to write because of how normal everything seems now. It used to be easy to pick out the very culturally different aspects of life here, but now I can’t recognize them at all.
4 Novembre 2008
Election Day! It’s difficult to know much of anything about the election because we traveled to Waza in further north in the Extreme-North where it is stereotypical beautiful African desert. We arrived, after a long belabored process on route, to Sahel Desert and set up our tents (yes, we camped in the desert for two nights). During the day, however, was time for safari! We headed out in a overcrowded open-air pick-up through the desert in search of animals. Unfortunately, we had a more difficult time because it’s the dry season, and many animals, like lions, have moved onto find water. However, we found plenty of birds, antelope, giraffe, ostriches, and warthogs. We stayed out in the hot 100-degree heat for 4 hours in the morning, and again went on a night safari in the light of setting sun. It was gorgeous, and I truly felt African in my safari hat, braided hair, elephant attire, and ride on a speeding jeep into the plains of the desert as it kicked up the sandy dirt behind us.
In the evening, with darkness coming so early, we stayed around our campsite, and had a few sachets of whiskey while pining away over our recognition of all things African… it was beautiful, and probably the best day by far in Cameroon.
5 Novembre 2008
Election Results: Africa is going crazy! Basically everyone in Africa believes that Obama is the answer to their prayers, and that he will bring recognition to Africa and black people everywhere. Not only that, but most Cameroonians are ADAMANT in the fact that Obama is a Cameroonian name, and that his father was definitely not Kenyan, but Cameroonian. Just ask them… they all know the truth. However, in this one situation, I feel very honored to be an American, as a large number of people congratulated me on our new president, and really said they were happy for the American people – a wonderfully charming sentiment from one country of people to another, if you ask me.
This morning, we drove in another very small little bus, miserably to Guider to find the most wonderful thing God has ever created… the route took 6 hours, and I was absolutely miserable as I had Abbie sleeping on me from the left and Ashley plucking away the African ukulele she bought on my right. All of this of course taking place in 100 degree heat, with rows of four sardines on plastic seats– the bus ride from Hell. However, once we reached Guider, we went to the Gorge of Kola, which is an absolutely breath-taking gorge, and since it’s the dry-season, there was the perfect rush of clean mountain water flowing through it. We cascaded down into the gorge, and walked/swam through the towering marbled slabs of rock as the sun set. I’m not sure if I agree that it’s “the most beautiful thing God has ever created.” But, He certainly did a good job.
Patience. If there is one quality I hope to have learned or retain when I return to the States, it’s patience. As Americans with our timetables and constant ambitions, we are SO QUICK to be sharp and angry with people. From a distance, it’s an absolutely abhorable characteristic, and truly brings out an ugly face of most people. Remember to be patient today, with even those who you seemingly can’t stand. They have something wonderful to offer you, even if you – from behind your judgments – cannot see it. Be aware of how you’re reacting and remember that you are responsible for yourself, and that is how people will see you and begin to react to you. You cannot blame being frustrated or terse with someone on anyone but yourself – take responsibility for being a choice-making human being.
7 Novembre 2008
We are currently 3 days and a train ride away from ISP research month, which is exciting, but also extremely daunting. I’ll be conducting my research in Yaoundé primarily at the U.S. Embassy, but I’ve also scheduled some interviews with very influential people in Cameroon including the head of the Peace Corps, the director of the ministry of the exterior, the U.S. ambassador Janet Garvey, a few U.S. diplomats, and Dr. Fru Ndi. I have no class from November 10 – December 5, when the project is due. The final product consists of 4 bound, published copies of a 50-page research document, a comprehensive work journal, and presentation of supplemental materials. The presentation will take place the final week of the program for all of the students, staff, and advisors. I’ve never tackled a project this large solely independent, but my excitement to finish it equals my terror. J
Last night when I returned home from the Grand North, after another 8 hour, squished, 3rd-degree burns bus ride, and having been stopped by the police 8 times, my mother showed me my finished dress, and it’s gorgeous. I want to wear it everyday as I feel much like an Arabian princess in it.
I saw the largest spider yet in my room this evening, and it was during a moment of complete frustration as I was having huge difficulties constructing my mosquito tent even though I have done it 1000 times already. This giant, disgusting spider about the size of my hand crawls out of the cracks of a cabinet and scurries into another cabinet about 2 feet from my bed. Not only that, but I heard it falling in and out of the china in the cabinet – that’s how big it was… it made noise like a mouse.
9 Novembre 2008
We’re arrived by train back in Yaoundé today with a more than bitter-sweet ending. Of course, I’m thrilled to be back in Yaoundé to see my family, especially because I haven’t seen my mother since before her mother’s funeral, which was over 3 and a half weeks ago, but I was also VERY sad to leave my family in Ngaoundere. They gave me a beautiful necklace and earrings before I left, and I gave them my photo album to keep until “la prochaine fois.” They are so anxious to meet my real life family – I cannot let them down… so buy your plane tickets guys! We’re going to Cameroon!
ISP officially starts today. I’m not going to overkill it – but know that these next few weeks, I’m in for it.
10 Novembre 2008
Abbie and I decided that because we would need some stress relief in our life, and a little more time out of the house, we would create a workout regime. Basically, we just go running in the morning and then do core work in the center of town, but the two of us being primarily swimmers – running today was painful. However, I have a lot more energy now, and I can hopefully ward off malaria for the rest of my time here.
Wittenberg’s newspaper is doing a feature on my time abroad… J No one will probably read it, but I’ll still have something to say.
So the lock on my bag broke that I took to Ngaoundere, and now I can’t get any of my stuff out, which is really not a problem since I only have my malaria meds, tennis shoes, pajamas, and crocheted doilies my host mom made in there.
That man with the little ice cream machine has officially lured me daily.
In case it went unsaid, Allie and I deactivated our sorority at school and will be living in an apartment together next semester – and we’re going to have a pet bunny. It’s going to be perfect.
I LOVE my family in Yaoundé. I always forget how true that is when I leave, but am reminded each time I return. Saying goodbye might warrant the first flow of American tears in Cameroon – I’m going to try not to think about it.
So as part of ISP, since you could choose which family you wanted to live with either in Yaounde, Dschang, or Ngaoundere, SIT gave us 200,000CFA for all of ISP (to eat lunch, take taxis, make copies, buy time at cybers), and 75000CFA of that was to go to our host family to feed us. Well, SIT purposely gives us the money to give to them so that it seems as though it is coming from us, and we then “get the credit.” Well 75000CFA is about $150, and when I gave it to my family, you would have thought that I told them they had won the lottery. They kept telling me that I was a saint and an answer to their prayers, and now when they could buy a bigger house, they could have a room for everyone I brought with me from America. This went on for literally 30 minutes, as my father almost began to cry. I was extremely sad that there was so little that I could do that would make such a dramatic impact on their lives. If only I could $150 to every family in Cameroon.
Tomorrow is MAIL DAY!!!!!! This means Bobo goes to the post office to get everything sent to SIT students… and I know I have a package there of very processed American snacks!
