The Official Update
7 Septembre 2008
One cannot truly comprehend the phrase culture shock until experiencing a part of the developing world. The norms are completely different from our own, and I am constantly being reminded of how privileged I am, and others view me to be. I realize now that because of cultural norms – such as the impoliteness of taking pictures, I will have to express to you through words my experiences abroad. Some pictures may filter in, but I have to hope that my words can convey the extremity of this place, as it is both everything you expect sub-Saharan Africa to be, and everything you do not. It’s a world caught between rapid modernization and ancient practices, which constantly leave it in a place searching for identity. I hope this journal to read as smoothly as a Hemingway novel, but I cannot guarantee this is so. Read On. Lights. Cameroon. Action!
Last week began with our arrival to the hostel, or what we thought would be a hostel, turning out to be a Cameroonian monastery (le monastre) – the additions of French are simply to allow me the practice of vocabulary while maintaining the authenticity of a French speaking world around me. It is currently the rainy season is Cameroon until mid Octobre, and the rain is always falling. It can be somewhat dreary at times, but the fact that is gets dark so early is more depressing to me. I’m quite a fan of daylight.
One of the greatest challenges to me on this trip will have to be the food. Aside from the fact that it is swimming in palm oil (l’huile de palm), which has a very distinct taste almost equivalent to dirty fry grease, one drop of unfiltered water or lukewarm meat is enough to make you sick for days. On my first night in my home stay, I accrued food poisoning from the dinner, and found myself throwing up all over my bedroom – a consequence of that fact that I did not know how to open to the bathroom door with its lock on the outside. Food is also the image of wealth in a family, and being able to provide for guests is very important. Unfortunately, some guests – like myself - don’t always want to be provided for when the meal is fish heads and rice every two hours throughout the day. However, even if I only give myself a little bit, mon papa heaps on about 3 more helpings and says that I do not eat enough. To most Cameroonians, most Americans do not eat a lot, and my “cousin” who eats with us is determined that I will return to the United States fat. I have, however, lost weight already, so I’m not sure how this will exactly take place. Sometimes, it really is just too much for me to choke down, but even in this case, you have to pawn the leftovers off on a child –who from what I hear is usually very grateful – but of course my 6 year-old host brother pretty much hates everything (which sort of reminds me of a certain real sister that I haveJ) So in my case, you have to politely ask if there is a way to save the leftovers for another time – when I assume I will have to choke them down. And there is no concept of dessert here – there might be cake on a birthday, and there is chocolate to buy in the street, but other than that snacks and desserts are unheard of… a matter I am trying to adjust to.
My home is very modest – tiny, somewhat engrained in the earth about a block behind my school. I have my own bedroom, which is wonderful, but with the constant flow of aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, friends, and children – the place can get a little crowded. My family consists of mon papa –Roger Mgova, sa femme – Emilie (and she knew her name was the same as my best friend’s from the letter I sent them in March), mon petit frere – Arnaud, and le bebe de 4 mois – JoJo. They also have a pseudo housekeeper like girl, Rosaline, who very often prepares the meal or boils the water for my showers. It makes me feel guilty that they do so much work for me; I ask if I can help, but they always say no. Taking a shower from a bucket of water also takes some getting used to. It’s difficult to maneuver the bucket just right in order to get all the soap off of you before the bucket is empty. Plus, as with any vat of boiling water, it’s extremely hot, but waiting for it to cool is not really feasible when it has been prepared for you that moment. Plus you’re ready to take a shower then, so you brave the heat, and let it momentarily scorch your skin – no big deal. However, I did drop my soap down the toilet today, after which I was laughing hysterically, and I have to think my family thought I was crazy laughing in the shower like a hyena. Another point of interest might be the fact that there is no toilet, only a flushable hole in the ground. If there is one thing that I have no prior experience with, it’s this. I’ve really had to re-vamp my style – elegance is out of the question.
Arnaud is always very interested in what I am doing in my room. He is constantly coming in, rambling something in French, and then rummaging through my bags looking for either a gift or “un autre joue” as he would say. I gave him the Nintendo DS, and he sucked the battery dry… he doesn’t seem to understand that the charger is American and keeps asking me for a “transformateur” which I assume to mean a plug converter. Unfortunately, the plug is my room is dangling from the wall – so my guess is that it doesn’t work. He has gotten yelled at for the past 2 days though for playing with it at dinner – I suppose that’s my fault – so it’s probably good that the battery is dead. The baby, Jojo, also gets pawned off on me a lot. On numerous occasions when I have been in my room with Arnaud, the mom calls for Arnaud and he returns toting Jojo, promptly giving him to me. I don’t really mind all that much – I’m just amused that I’m a bit of a glorified babysitter.
My host father is very funny and very kind. He is eager to help me learn French because he is a professeur de geographie and would like to give me dictations. I have quite a bit of studying to do for my classes, but we were told to spend sufficient time with our families, and my French could use some help. Cameroonians also have a distinct native language, and a lot of what they are saying is French that I don’t understand – I speak pretty well, but listening and comprehending in a challenge. I’m working on it.
The city and the marketplace is incredible – it is so busy, and the movement of people really makes me think how unaffected everyone is of everyone else’s existence. Taxis invade the streets, and prove to be the most challenging part of the day. When you’re not very comfortable in French to begin with, and then you’re trying to bargain a price – hardships occur. Most taxi drivers already rip Americans off because we cannot speak the language or move confidently throughout the culture. However once inside the taxi, the ride is worth the price. The bumper to bumper traffic, with less than an inch of space between most cars is a scream fest as drivers speed through red lights, bump into pedestrians, and make left-hand turns into on-coming traffic. It’s extremely amusing, and true to their colonizers, Cameroonians love to argue. If you can catch any of the insults being fired back and forth, it’s more than enough to make your day. On my first two tries taking taxis alone in the city, I definitely paid well over the normal asking price of about 50 cents (American money) which is about 200 CFA, of course, on my first two rides I paid nearly 1500 mille CFA, almost $3 for the barely a 4 minute ride. I’m learning though. Life is rough.
Cell phones are very popular in Cameroon, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t expensive. However, they aren’t used for calling, - per say. Instead they are used to notify someone that you have one, or to say a quick hi, which is done by “beeping” someone. All day long people “beep” each other by calling a friend, allowing it to ring once, and then hanging up. This way the caller doesn’t have to pay for the call if the person calls them back, and it’s simply a way of saying – what’s up, you’re cool – or something like that. Anyone, everyone, gives their number to any new shmoe they meet on the street here, so I collected a few numbers the other day at the market, and have been getting beeped non-stop ever since. And because rates are cheapest from 11p.m. to 5 a.m., the phone never stops ringing at night. I have at least 20 calls from numbers that I don’t know – I assume someone I did give my number to gave them out to others. The presence of any white people, especially women, is a huge novelty here. You constantly hear children muttering, “regardez la blanche…” when you walk by, but even though this is quite an insult, Cameroonians are know for their appreciation for and their own wittiness, so a quick response of, “regardez le noir…” usually gives them a run for a their money.
Today we finally get to begin school, which is very relieving to see each other and speak English again. Sunday was a long day to spend with a family you barely know, and can’t understand half the time. My closest friend who is also another SIT student is Abbie. She is from Hawaii, and we get along really well. It was almost instantaneous. She’s very funny, and I feel as though our families from America are very similar, which makes us very similar. It’s also her first time abroad – so we have a lot to connect over. The whole group sort of had to bypass the “getting to know you” stuff anyway since we were thrown together at JFK Airport a few weeks ago. It’s not worth hiding anything from each other, and the personal details about people I have just met are certainly a highlight of the trip so far.
In all this, Cameroon is wonderful so far – it is obviously a HUGE adjustment for me, and there will always be new adventures everyday. However, it’s challenging like I wanted and anticipated, so I can only look forward to each new experience even if it is out of my comfort area. I will surely elaborate on all these things as the time goes on. I can only hope tomorrow holds the answers to today’s questions, and that it stirs something in me to think a bit differently.
8 Septembre 2008
We thankfully began school today, which brought on a whole host of new challenges and realizations for me in Cameroon. My host mother didn’t seem to understand that school started at 8 a.m., so she woke me up at 6 a.m., and we left the house at 7 for a one-block walk to school. I’m not exactly sure why that happened – I feel as if I should clarify that for tomorrow since I was very tired. I was very pleased to see that no breakfast was being forced on me – even though breakfast is the best meal of the day, usually consisting of a baguette with Nutella, and Nesquick, an American luxury they love to show off to me. Cameroonians are obsessed with cleanliness, ironically, because the city and overall country in filthy. There is no regard for litter or trash hence the horrible sewage and sanitation problems overall, and one can never find a garbage can (hence the bag of puke from food poisoning still sitting in my room – I know, way too much information and disgusting, but the truth of my experience here); however, they will politely beat around the bush about you showering at least twice a day. I choose to take only one shower a day, though, and this is proving to be pressing for my host mom. She always dresses to the nines for work, and wears her “diamonds,” and she has a beautiful new weave this week, that our housekeeper, Rosaline, who is I would guess to be 16, did for her last night. Rosaline loves my real hair, and while she cannot speak English well, whenever I get out of the shower and my long hair is down my back – since it is usually up – she says “wow.” She’s insisting that she will braid my hair, and I’m definitely looking forward to that. Anyway, this morning before school, when I did not take a shower, my mom was putting on a bottle of perfume, and she asked me if I would like some. Of course I said, yes… and she continued to spray the bottle on my neck, under each armpit, and in my crotch. I was a bit surprised to say the least, but certainly grateful she didn’t want me to go to school smelling less than the best.
As we walked the 2-minute route to school, an hour early for me, the road was disgusting. I had mud all over me when I reached the school, and the trash in the streets was unbearably thick, mostly banana peels, wrappers, rotten food, and shoes?. However, nearly escaping breakfast was out of the question, and Maman asked me if I had money with me. Of course I did, and she took me to the store to get something to eat. The lady behind the counter very skeptically looked me up and down until my mother explained to her that I was an SIT student staying at her home… I am her “American daughter,” and the lady seemed to relax a little. I got half a baguette filled with Nutella, which is about 8-10 inches long. Way too much for breakfast.
After departing from my mother for school, relief swept over me as I saw Abbie and another close friend, Laura, waiting at school. Finally as break from broken French and cultural confusion. School was extremely interesting, and while it was especially long today because of our lecturers from the peace core, I learned a lot in both my French class and Development theories lecture. Some random points of interest concerning the plight of Cameroon include: 6-10 children die every minute of hunger or disease, 600 new Cameroonians are infected with HIV/AIDS everyday, life expectancy is averaged at 52.9 years, There are 78.7 deaths/1000 births of babies, 1 out of every 100 children that graduate from their primary education graduates from the university, approximately 5.9 children are born to every mother in Cameroon… just to name a few of the challenges. Not to mention the on-going corruption of the government, police force, lack of health care, destruction from the pipeline, and ignorance among people. However, many beautiful wonderful things are happening in Cameroon, never to capitalize on the negatives such as: the rising literacy rates, beautiful climate including zones of desert, lush rainforest, mountains, and forest, the young population is flourishing, and the fight against corruption is finally gaining force, plus the ongoing work of NGOs in the country is really helping. Another noticeable quality of Cameroonian people is their lack of negativity. They are extremely secure in the notion of fate, and both life and death take their course whenever it is right, not when they are wanting or expecting it. Cue lines for hospitals are often blocks long, and many times sick patients cannot even be helped that day… but there is no rush because the time to die will always be the same whether or not they receive quick medical attention. My host family lost a two year-old baby, whom I over apologized for as we would in the U.S., but they nonchalantly said that it was no problem, and it allowed them to have their newest baby Jojo. I couldn’t help but be astonished at their profound acceptance of life, and the plan God has for their lives – since the country is primarily Christian, Muslim, and indigenous religions (50%, 25%, 25% respectively) While some it stems from the ignorance to preventative measures of medicine and sanitation, the mentality is appropriate for their circumstances, and I admire them fully for their courage. Americans rely on technology to cure them – a notion quite silly if considered fully.
Arnaud and I have become quite close friends, and he spends quite a bit of time in my room. Today, I allowed him to use my plug converter to charge the Nintendo DS, which I got a report on it’s progress from a red light (lumiere rouge) to a green light (lumiere vert), and hugs me every ten minutes once it had fully charged. If he loves that much, I would just as happily leave him both the DS and the charger when I leave, but he’ll surely have the game beaten by then. I also met my cousin, Boris, (the one who said I would be fat) who is studying to do translation at the university. He is very HELPFUL to me, and translates a lot. Plus we have a cool handshake when he sees me that I gather he thinks is American because we slap hands like ghetto-style and then do the gun-point at each other. I like it, but it still makes me laugh to think about it. Cameroonians are always singing too, which is a beautiful thing. They sing when they are cooking, or cleaning, or watching T.V. They are simply incredible multi-taskers, and they have no shame in singing out loud. Stereos are blasting all over the city, usually American hip-hop or rap CDs about 5 years too late. It amuses me that I could potentially sing along, and they are singing or whistling away to Dr. Dre or Mariah Carey trying to sing English words, which they aren’t really getting all the way. It’s still beautiful to have noise in the house, and I will never complain about a pretty voice singing along to a familiar tune.
To my blissful surprise, we receive money from school to go into town to get lunch with each other. It’s always more enjoyable taking a taxi somewhere with other Americans, and you don’t get ripped off nearly as often. We went to a boulangerie for lunch, “Boulangerie Calafetas” and got sandwiches with one piece of salami, one piece of cheese, and three slices of tomato on another half of a baguette, which was about mille CFA or $2. The line is always long at market stores like these, and people push themselves forward in the line, but as a white woman, again, you are always noticed, and the clerk calls you forward to pay before everyone else. It’s a skewed system, and we were told that we would always feel guilty for our simply American traits. For one thing, I do miss American sandwiches, but I can’t complain since it was better than another meal of rice and sauce. We ate on a loading dock and many children came up to us begging for food – they point to a gash on their leg or an ailment on their skin, and ask for food or money as a response out of pity for their misfortune. It seems like a very rehearsed form of begging, but you can’t help but feel awful when a 10 year-old boy, who should be in school, comes up to you with a mangled wound on his leg – the condition of the city is difficult to bare here.
My host family is really growing on me… we shared a really nice dinner together (which had a form of French fries!), and my cousin again noted that I had a healthy appetite after my papa heaped another two scoops of rice. My mother had to work very late tonight, and did not return home until about 10. I believe my father was very upset with this, and he said he missed his wife, and tried expressing to me in English that it hurt his heart when she was gone – I found that extremely beautiful.
I have another cousin, Tatiana (a name I cannot escape), who never really says much. I gave Rosaline a gift of lipgloss, and she nearly died of excitement – she kissed me twice on the cheeks, and I couldn’t help but keep smiling for hours after. They are all so generous and kind here, and they truly just want to get to know you. They are very curious about everything Americans do, and are always laughing about my habitual tendencies. My host father gave me a French dictation today, and was very proud of me for my writing… that was definitely a high point.
All in all, things are really improving everyday, and my experience is proving to be everything I wanted it to be. There are a lot of times when it is very challenging, and I have to be careful not to get too overwhelmed or invested in a particular difficulty. I found a cup to wash my hair with today – so I no longer have to hoist the scorching bucket over my head. This, my friends, was a good day. J
