Thursday, July 28, 2011

"I don't mean to seem like I care about material things / Like our social stats / I just want four walls and adobe slats"


To celebrate America’s Independence Day, a few of us took a quick vacation to the Southwest region, an English-speaking (anglophone) province.  Getting there ended up being more interesting than even the normally amusing travel.  I was making the journey with a friend, but we struggled to reach a consensus even among Cameroonians on the best way to get to Buea, the regional capital.  I had been informed by a few people that there was a bus service that went directly from Bafoussam to Buea.  However, no such place existed when we arrived at the general area we were told.  After a few confusing conversations, we arranged to be picked up by a bus that happened to be passing through.  After waiting a few hours, we were suddenly whisked away in a taxi to go to the intersection (carrefour) where this exchange was to take place.  When it started raining our “handlers” proposed an impromptu solution – they recognized a man who was driving by in a private car.  As luck would have it, he was driving right to Buea and would be glad to take us.  I’ll admit, climbing into a stranger’s car could be dangerous, but in retrospect, it was a fantastic decision.  As it turns out, he is originally from the Southwest region but is currently working on his PhD in Biochemistry in Finland!  Not only did we not have to be crammed in a van with dozens of other people, but we were able to whiz right through official check-points and enjoyed a fascinating conversation the whole time!                   

After seeing a bit of Buea, we made our way to Limbe, a tourist town primarily because of the water-front geography.  There, we ate delicious food at a restaurant within a gorilla preserve. 

Nothing like eating crepes while watching primates!
Because it isn’t really peak season, we basically had the beaches (les plages) to ourselves.  I can’t imagine a more perfect way to spend the 4th in a foreign country than alternating between swimming in the Atlantic Ocean and relaxing on the isolated black sand beach.  It was simple, yet gorgeous, and the day ended with dinner under the stars among friends followed by an American dance party.     


 




 

Food update:  The rainy season is well under way which makes Bapa even colder.  In a bizarre comparison to those of you stateside who are suffering an unbearable heat wave, I’m making a nightly cup of tea or homemade hot chocolate before snuggling under the bed covers.  The weather is also lending itself to various “comfort foods” lately: quiche à la cookstove, honey bread, and an endless mélange of beans with vegetables for a sort of vegetarian chili.

On the “work” front, I’ve been attending various neighborhood (quartier) meetings in the hopes of identifying the needs (les besoins) of my village.  Unfortunately, we’ve hit a wall with distinguishing between needs and wants, and I’m now faced trying to explain why establishing electrical lines is not a priority of mine…and I certainly don’t have 12,000,000CFA (approximately $24,000USD) to start that discussion. 
I did compile a rather comprehensive survey for the members of my Health Committee to complete, though.  At a hefty 10 pages single-spaced, it covered everything from the Health Center, Mother-Child Health, education, HIV/AIDS, economic improvements, and general community development.  For their time, I promised a party at my house (une fête chez-moi).  Actually, I was sure not to use the word party, calling it a gathering (rassemblement) instead so the expectations wouldn’t be too high.  Hosting an event for a dozen or so adult Cameroonians was a bit more stressful than I originally thought, but it turned out okay in the end.  Of course, there were some minor hitches: the awkwardness while sitting around my living room at first, the onslaught of a rain storm so intense I had water coming in under my door, the power being knocked out and the room being even darker when we closed the window to keep the rain out.  After the storm had let up a bit and people were on their way making trudge back to their respective homes, I was exhausted and had slick muddy floors, but felt good about the day.
Celebrations are a big deal here though, and mine paled in comparison to the shin-dig my landlord threw for friends and family.  During the school break (congé), it’s customary for students who live in the larger cities to visit and experience village life for a bit – and vice versa.  My normally quiet and empty concession soon became home to 25+ children for two weeks.  Then, overnight, the courtyard transformed into an array of tables, plastic chairs, buffet tables, and tent awnings so accommodate a hundred or so guests.  Sometimes it’s hard to believe I’m in Africa when these Western scenes happen…  The mother in my compound was responsible for feeding everyone during this time, so was busy morning, noon, and night preparing, serving, and cleaning up after each meal.  It was an incredible amount of work for which she got very little sleep and not enough thanks, so I made her a zucchini cake once the last guest had left.      

Monday, July 18, 2011

“It's alright to be little bitty/A little hometown or a big old city/Might as well share, might as well smile/Life goes on for a little bitty while”


As always, a quick shout-out on food:  Having acquired some almond extract in this country, I successfully made (and ate far too many) almond cookies.  I’ve also tried an interesting treat they only sell in the anglophone regions - Scotch eggs.  I have no idea how the name originated and, while they’re alcohol-free, I think they could be marketed as an ideal hangover food.   Step 1: Peel the shells off of boiled eggs.  Step 2:  Dip the whole, intact egg into thick beignet batter.  Step 3:  Deep-fry.  These can be served as is, hot or cold…though I prefer warm with a bit of spicy piment pepper sauce.  They’re fattening, filling, and oh-so-good.    

I’ve been exploring my region a bit more and greatly enjoyed a hike with friends to the rock formations in Baham.  The town also boasts a fantastic museum and it was very interesting to learn a bit more about the history, culture, and traditions of the Bamilike people.

At the end of June, I went to Yaounde for a workshop on Sexual Harassment in a Cross-Cultural Context.  As always, travel was a blend of amusing and annoying as the other passengers refused to open the windows on the bus.  There are usually two trains of thought for this strange habit:  some are certain that they’ll get the flu (la grippe) if they breathe too much outside air, others are afraid of evil spirits entering the vehicle.  So instead, we sit squished together breathing warm stagnant air and ironically, sharing our germs.  Nevermind the fact that whatever “spirits” managed to enter are also now trapped with us – but I digress…
The workshop was informative, as were the conversations I was able to have beforehand with Cameroonians regarding the topic.  While I’m thankful I haven’t had too many overt instances of sexual harassment, it’s unfortunately a problem many volunteers face.  It was enlightening getting the opinions and insight from host country nationals about perceptions and interactions between males and females, and the associated bystander intervention training was also useful.
Because I was in the country capital, I managed to get myself invited to the “event of the year” at the US Embassy.  This party was highlighting the Peace Corps since we’re celebrating 50 years of service worldwide, so many staff members and other volunteers were in attendance.  Being within the perimeter of the Embassy is like entering a wormhole that dumps you into another world though.  The culture shock began at the security check-point body scanner.  Even more jarring than the mechanical innovation was the basic concept of standing in a line – something unfamiliar to most of us at this point.  After all, at the bank, the post office, or the neighborhood boutique, it’s usually just a push and shove system of elbowing your way to the front and crowding around with the others who have done the same.  Needless to say, I think we surprised the guard a bit as we rushed the contraption as a mass crowd and all threw our possessions into the same gray plastic container instead of following the one-at-a-time procedure.  Eventually, we were deemed safe to enter (despite our uncivilized approach) – though opening the glass door to the compound only made me feel even more villageoise.  With perfectly manicured lawns, a pool, and a gently sloping golf course in the distance, I suddenly felt very aware of just how far-removed I was from my normal day-to-day life in village.  Nevertheless, it was nice to escape into the fantasy for the night and mingle with people while nibbling on appetizers that were being carried on trays by Cameroonian waiters wearing red-white-and-blue Uncle Sam hats.  After the Ambassador gave a speech, the music started and we PCVs “earned out keep” by performing a hastily practiced “flash mob” dance routine.  It was a great evening, but I was ready for a more informal get-together.  Good thing the 4th of July was just around the corner…