"I know that you'll never be the same again / We can just roll on down this road my friend / I know that you'll never be just never be alone / I know that you'll be there when I will say goodbye"

In May, we did our biannual campaign to ensure that all children in village were caught up on a trifecta of vaccinations/medicines: Vitamin A for vision, Mebendazole to de-worm, and measles (rougeole).  This involved a lot of walking en brousse to the area nursery schools (écoles maternelles).

No sooner had I gotten settled into Bapa when it was time to leave again – this time heading for the Southwest region to collaborate with another volunteer and teach First Aid.  Our first presentation was with the drivers and other support personnel for the Cameroon Baptist Convention, a health organization.   The next day, we did the same for the men of HADY Guiding Service, a company that provides guides and porters for Mount Cameroon.  It was a welcome relief to get to teach something I feel confident in sharing – especially because I could do so in English!

Because my work there fell on the 5^th of May, I got to crash that region’s Cinco de Mayo party which featured the typical spread of Mexican-like food, as well as a homemade piñata!  Later, the party moved to a middle-of-nowhere karaoke place where the entertainment continued.  There was a pretty impressive selection of songs to choose from, and the volunteers held their own in taking center stage.  (Although, perhaps even funnier were the Cameroonians who didn’t know the words to the songs and decided to just make up their own lyrics.)

For the monthly Vaccination Day presentation, I decided to tackle Family Planning and was so grateful to have a fellow volunteer come to provide her expertise with introducing the topic.  Reproductive Health is a big issue throughout Africa, and my village is no exception.  Generally, women don’t understand their own bodies – let alone that they can have some control over when they get pregnant.  Combine that with the cultural push to have large families, and you end up with women routinely having six or more children back to back but not the economic means to provide for them.  It’s a sensitive issue, and the best approach is to explain that you’re not trying to necessarily limit the size of the family.  Rather, that by planning, births can be better spaced - a win-win situation for mother/father/child/community.  The presentation went well and the audience was engaged asking questions as they learned – many for the first time – about their anatomy and how various contraceptive options work.

At the normally unproductive monthly Health Club meeting at the high school, I was surprised to learn that a Bafoussam NGO, CIPCRE (Cercle International Pour la Promotion de la CRÉation), was scheduled to attend.  After discussing their organization with the students for a little bit, we surveyed the land around the school grounds for a projected garden/tree nursery (jardin/pépinière).  I was unsure about the funding and other logistics, but was excited that we had a concrete plan to do something. 

 Sure enough, they returned a few weeks later for a work day.  Although some students were busy with their end of the year exams, we rounded up enough people and started breaking ground.  It was a little unorganized and confusing as we were dealing with three separate plots, but it all came together.  I dug right in (pun intended) and got my hands – and legs/knees/feet – dirty helping to dig trenches for the trees, adding compost and mixing in fertilizer before plopping the saplings into their new homes and tenderly covering their fragile roots.  By the end of the day, we had planted 860 trees around the high school that will hopefully help with erosion control.  I was proud of the kids that stuck around for the full day of work and was glad that I had made 4 banana breads the night before so I could share some small refreshments to thank them for their efforts.

Much of the rest of the month involved working at the library, attempting to organize the books that had been received during Phase I of the Books for Cameroon project – and trying to install those given during Phase II.  The shelves were dirty and the books stacked incomprehensibly, but I actually had fun blaring music and cleaning/re-shelving/alphabetizing/creating a card catalog. 

After much planning with Peace Corps administration, we also finally put together a regional training for volunteers and their counterparts.  The Men As Partners strategy is a recognition of the fact that, although many development initiatives are focused on empowering women, in many countries men are the ones who have the decision-making power in partnerships when it comes to sexual relations and reproductive health (when to have children, whether to seek health care, or whether to use protection during sex).  The curriculum encompasses many topics ranging from Gender/Sexuality and Health/Reproductive Health to Substance Abuse, Healthy Relationships, and Fatherhood.  I brought the nurse from my health center because she is dynamic enough that I had confidence that we could work together to educate the men in our village.  The material presented was interesting and the seminar was actually surprisingly fun (how often do you get to say that about a conference?).  On a personal note, being put up in a hotel (i.e. warm, running water and television) with a bunch of friends for a few days was pretty nice, too.       

Sylvie Ngoube - Community Health Program Manager for PC Cameroon (a.k.a. my boss)

May 20^th saw another National Day come and go.  Essentially Cameroon’s Independence Day, it’s sadly one of my least favorite events in country.  It involves the requisite marching and skits/songs, but they cluster the celebrations in the districts which means, rather than just being surrounded by the people in my village who know me, I feel more on display to strangers.  I knew I didn’t want to spend the day seated up front with all the grands, so I bowed out saying that I wanted to be able to walk around and take pictures.  It wasn’t a complete lie…

They take marching very seriously

The woman in blue is the mother of the Chief of Bapa (and, in her own right, a Princess of Batoufam)

I rounded out the month with another soy demonstration in village.  Due to miscommunication (and admittedly, my lack of confidence that all the necessary parties would follow through) we wound up with nearly 6 kilograms of soy to prepare!  This was double the amount I normally work with during a presentation, so it was twice as time consuming.  So, while we sat around waiting for the milk to boil, we covered the usual topics of nutrition and talking about all the benefits of soy.  Then, they decided to tell me about another pressing issue.  After a year and a half in village, I felt like I had a pretty good grasp on a lot of the major problems – but also recognize that there’s always something new to learn as the “outsider.”  What was their concern?  They were upset with the condition of their breasts.  Yup…  As it turns out, saggy boobs (or, breasts that fall - seins qui tombent) are really worrisome to the women (and men).  They explained that, after breastfeeding, they find their ladies aren’t so perky.  Not only does this make them feel unattractive, but it has larger cultural implications.  This was shocking to me since, after seeing breasts day in and day out in public during breastfeeding, I wouldn’t have assumed they’re a body part that is as sexualized as they are in America.   However, the women said that it leads their men to stray, and the men nodded in agreement.  We chatted again about the number of children that women typically have, and I again pointed out that better spacing of these births allows the body a much-needed rest in between.  They were dismissive of this rationale, explaining that this happens to women even after the first child. I also talked about the type of work women do.  Fieldwork is all subsistence farming, bent over close to the ground for many hours doing the labor with hand tools.  Further racking my brain and thinking on my feet, we had a conversation about the lack of proper support. Many older women don’t wear a bra, and those that women do purchase here are normally the cheap second-hand variety found in the open air markets.  They said that this isn’t even a problem American women deal with and I countered that yes, actually, changing muscle tone and loss of elasticity in the breast is an inevitable part of aging.  However, we’re often able to “hide it” longer with bras that bind and lift.  Just another day in culture sharing…    

Hmmm…food.  I suppose my new guilty pleasure has been buying cheese whenever I go to Bafoussam.  Spicy bean sandwiches have always been great, but add a bit of cumin gouda?  Fuh-get-ah-bout-it (Fuh-“gouda”-bout-it?  Too easy…).  I’ve also been trying my hand at homemade falafel and pita.  It’s actually not too difficult so I plan on making it a more routine dish in my normally predictable repertoire of meals.  While exploring our regional capital, we also stumbled upon a swanky hotel with an official-looking sign advertising an ice cream shop.  Our hopes were dashed though, when we entered and found a dapper Cameroonian wearing a bow-tie - but no ice cream.  I suppose it’s for the best…  Also, I gave taro and yellow sauce another try after my less-than-impressive experience with it the first time around in January 2011.  As it turns out, it was pretty good.  Kind of like lumpy mashed potatoes with a creamy, salty gravy.  I guess it just goes to show you that sometimes first impressions can be deceiving. 

“Sunset sailing on April skies / Bloodshot fire clouds in your eyes / I can't say what I might believe / But if God made you, he's in love with me”

Back in Cameroon, I threw myself into the large-scale Books for Cameroon regional project.  While I had been on vacation, the shipping container had cleared customs which meant we were finally in possession of the 21,000+ books!  I missed my fair share of the book-sorting, but was able to pitch in for the last few days – a major undertaking to say the least.  With several volunteers rallying for the final push, the work went quickly.  It helped that all this was being done in Batié, a town 4 kilometers from me.  That community really rallied and supported the project by offering building space, helping with meals, and contributing boxes during the final round-up.

The days leading up to the ceremony were busy with last-minute details and Cristina, the volunteer who coordinated it, deserves recognition.  The kids in my neighborhood contributed by coming to my house and making American, Cameroonian, and French flags (les drapeaux).

April 11^th was probably my busiest day in country.  Having spent the night at Cristina’s to assist with final preparations, I woke up early and booked it back to Bapa for our monthly Vaccination Day presentation.  After that, members of the high school’s Health Club (Club Santé) came to the Health Center.  Along with my counterpart and another volunteer, we had an engaging discussion about HIV/AIDS (VIH/SIDA for those francophones keeping track).  The nurse was passionate and enthusiastic and, although I’m not entirely sure all the information she was spouting was correct, I was glad to have the support.  Then, the students all got tested (dépistage du VIH).

We quickly made our way to Batié for the Books for Cameroon ceremony.  Many people were already loading up their share of books, and people were obviously proud standing around the vehicles burgeoning with boxes destined for their communities.  In typical Cameroonian fashion, the ceremony didn’t even come close to starting on time.  We waited several hours and the frustration was palpable among the students and guests – many of whom had been there since morning.  Eventually, the “dignitaries” (Peace Corps staff as well as local chiefs) arrived one-by-one.  Those organizing the event gave the cue for the speeches to start, and the Sous-Prefet arrived.  Five hours tardy, the Prefet made his appearance (though, in his defense, at least he apologized).  The Chief of Batié gave a speech and, in a grand gesture, named Cristina a queen – a very high honor.  She received the traditional garb and headdress, and I was bursting at the seams with excitement for her.  Distinguished guests were invited to a dinner and then, back at Cristina’s house, the party continued.  After all that had gone into the project, it was so good to relax and celebrate with other volunteers.      

    

Newly-crowned Queen Cristina

A few days later, my village arranged for our books to be picked up and brought to Bapa.  Here, school boys carry the boxes the last leg of the trip.

Following up on the HIV tests, I was ecstatic to learn that none of the 28 Health Club members had tested seropositive!  In other youth development work, I got to announce to the high school staff that four bright young ladies were the recipients of A2Empowerment scholarships for the 2012-2013 school year.   

I went to Yaounde mid-month as the regional representative of Peace Corps Cameroon’s Health Steering committee.  I went a few days early since I had arranged beforehand to serve as the featured speaker during EducationUSA’s monthly public offering at the US Embassy on higher education opportunities in America.  I spent a few lazy days in Yaounde watching movies and relishing the company of other volunteers as we cooked, went shopping, and generally just chilled.  I got to better know some of the newer volunteers and we took in Happy Hour at the Hilton Hotel.      

A few friends wanted to do a bit of travel, so we headed back to the West together and I showed off Bafoussam in all its dilapidated glory.  Coming from the North though, it was like a different world to them, and that shock continued as we went to my village.  The hills, the red dirt, the sheer greenness of everything (“It literally hurts my eyes” Jeff exclaimed) – it’s easy to forget how diverse this country is when you’re used to seeing your same portion of land.  Another volunteer joined us and we feasted on delicious faux Indian food chez moi: naan, peanut/ginger/carrot curry, a spicy potato dish, and rice.  They had been warned about how cold it was up in the mountains, but the weather cooperated and we sat out in my courtyard to enjoy the stars, fresh air, and music.  The next day, they helped lead a wine-making demonstration at a friend’s house in Bapa.  We made a large batch of foleré (hibiscus flowers) and a small bottle of pineapple (anana) and I was amazed at how simple it is to ferment things.

I only had one day of down-time before I was off again.  First, there was a wedding party for a volunteer in our region who had married a Cameroonian a few weeks prior.  With music, paper crowns, and the news that she had recently learned she was pregnant, it was an extremely jovial celebration!  We prepared four times as much food as was necessary, which meant stuffing ourselves on a Mexican meal of tortillas, beans, guacamole, mango salsa, fajita peppers, and rice.  We still managed to make room to snack on cookies, chips, and cheese though – while oohing and ahhing over the dress and wedding pictures.

The next morning, we were up early to head to Bamenda in the Northwest region.  From there, it was another vehicle to the town of Jakiri for a tofu demonstration.  Having been there last year, it was good to see that the road was better than before, but it still took awhile coupled with multiple stops at check-points.  True to Murphy’s Law though, right as we put the soaked beans in the grinding machine the power cut out.  We waited a few hours but eventually had to go with an alternative plan – paying someone to grind the 3 kilos by hand!  Due to the delay, the demonstration started late, but it went well.  Sadie, the volunteer there who had requested the soy expertise of Marcelle and I, had arranged for a car but it wasn’t ready for us as promised so we had to wait for another.  After a long day of cramped travel, we pulled into Bangui for the night where the volunteer there welcomed us with tomato soup, salad, and banana cake. 

We set off the next day for Fundong (yup, that’s a real place), but of course had to stop half-way there to change the brakes.  After a quick bite to eat, we found motos to take us up to Abuh –20+ minutes straight up a mountain.  The volunteer there, Sam, had arranged for us to do a soy presentation with her Girls Club and people from the local health center.  Abuh is possibly the most beautiful post I’ve seen in Cameroon, but it’s also extremely remote.  With no cell phone service or electricity, Sam is an absolute champ.  Not only does she not mind doing without these, you can tell she absolutely loves her village.  The tofu turned out wonderfully and we wrapped up just as the rains came.  In full headlamp/flashlight glory, we made individual pizzas for dinner before sitting in the glow of candlelight chatting and roasting marshmallows for S’mores.

Beautiful Abuh

Sam's Pig Project

   

"Watching the sky / Watching the painting coming to life / Shifting and shaping / It all goes passing by"

From Kenya, I set out for Ethiopia to meet up with my cousin, Tyler, who was working as a one-year Project Director overseeing a grant at a hospital.  It had been a few years since we’d seen each other, and even that had been a short interaction, so I was looking forward to catching up.  I tend to remember people as the age they are in my mind’s stand-still picture of them, so it was strange to see him as a young man, talking about college and his future professional plans.  I’ll admit that it made me feel proud…and, to be honest, a little old.

  

As it turns out, he was the perfect travel companion since he had researched all the touristy things to do but hadn’t actually had the opportunity to see them himself yet.  We quickly put together an action-packed itinerary for the week before enjoying a bit of what the capital had to offer.  Addis Ababa is an interesting city that seems on the cusp of getting its act together.  There is construction at every turn, but it lacks a sense of flow and coherence – almost like it is being developed by a dozen different teams of urban planners.  In the spirit of Life-is-Short–Eat-Dessert-First, we had black forest ice cream before heading to an Ethiopian restaurant for food and traditional dancing.

 

Nearly all food in Ethiopia is served on injera, a moist and unusually foamy bread with a slightly bitter taste.  You eat by tearing pieces of the injera off and dipping them into the various sauces smothering the "pancake-like plate."  The variety served here ranged from acidic to spicy.

The next morning, we were up early to catch our flight up to Lalibela, home to what many consider the 8th wonder of the world - 11 rock-hewn churches.  There, we had an amazing tour guide who explained the impressive history and intricate symbolism of the structures carved directly from the rocks after King Lalibela had a vision.  We took advantage of playing tourist by taking a lot of pictures and eating at a cozy restaurant that served huge portions of Western food.

    

  

Traditional two-story hut around Lalibela (the first level is for the animals)

These are some seriously huge churches.  Note how high we are looking down at the shoes in the entryway.

Our awesome guide, Hailu.

View from the top - St. George's Church

View from the side, St. George's Church

Mummified remains

Site of the king's throne.  An entire gorge separated him from where I'm standing.  

Perfect lines, incredible symmetry.  Hard to believe this was all done by hand with basic tools. 

Our trip continued with a puddle-jumper flight up to Aksum.  Although we probably got ripped off in the negotiations, you almost need a tour guide to hit the main attractions as they’re scattered throughout.  Aksum has a good vibe – decidedly touristy and slightly cosmopolitan without being in-your-face about it.  After taking in the sites, we walked around exploring the town and hiking some rock cliffs.  Dinner was Ethiopian food and amazing mango tea before calling it a night.  (Seriously, I can’t stop thinking about that tea – we even had another cup before heading out the next morning.)

Queen Sheba's Palace

According to legend, the birthplace of injera

The mountain range in the background is the boundary between Ethiopia and Eritrea

Stele Field

Hallway in an underground mausoleum

St. Mary of Zion Church

Allegedly, where the Ark of the Covenant is housed

Aeriel view of Aksum

Flying back to Lalibela, we found a van heading in the direction we needed to go.  We got out in a truck-stop town a little unsure about the next step.  At first, it seemed a man there was trying to scam us, but he helped arrange for us to hitch a ride with a generous truck driver willing to carry us towards our destination.  The step of the monstrous vehicle was at waist level but we pulled ourselves up into the cab and set off with the man who didn’t speak English.  With the combination of a couple tons of cargo and dangerously steep and narrow roads through the mountains, it was a slow moving trek, but the views were breathtakingly beautiful.  Night had fallen when we pulled into the nameless town that our driver indicated would be our stopping place.  He refused payment but I insisted that he at least take some snacks.  Lodging options were limited and we were shown a sparse room comprised of only a bed, four walls, and a metal door.  At less than $2.50 a night, it was sketchy even by African standards, but we ate our cheap meal downstairs and called it a night.

The next morning, we flagged down yet another mini-bus for Bahir Dar, a comparatively upscale lakefront community.  The hotel should have been a step up from our previous night’s sleeping quarters, but the fact that they were pumping sewage out of the center of the courtyard put a damper on it.  However, I did enjoy breakfast vaguely resembling French toast (they took a dinner roll and soaked it in egg batter) at the in-house restaurant.  We explored the outdoor market and then strolled around the lake.  Having worked up a thirst, we had fruit smoothies that were as delicious as they were beautiful.  Our walking continued after we had hydrated, and we covered much of the city.  With tired legs, we finally settled on a boardwalk restaurant that served great Ethiopian food and offered perfect people-watching opportunities.

Our venture to the Blue Nile Falls began with the run-around common to foreigners (faranjis) traveling in Africa.  It was incredibly frustrating, but we eventually found a bus and paid the normal price.  Although they weren’t at the peak of the season, the falls were beautiful and the fact that they were a little tamer meant we could get up close. 

You can see a faint rainbow in the mist from the falls

Suspension bridge you have to cross to go down to the base of the falls

 Our travel woes continued back in Bahir Dar as we attempted to find something going in the direction of Addis Ababa.  We traversed the car park multiple times following various leads from unhelpful men attempting to fill vehicles, but a helpful police officer led us to a van going half-way there – the closest we could get given the time of day.  Tyler and I each took an ear bud from my iPod and we covered a couple hundred more kilometers of travel throughout the countryside.  It was raining as we pulled into Debre Markos.  Following our previous sure-fire travel instincts, we settled on the first non-sketchy/reasonably priced hotel we found.  We were in for a treat as the room had two queen-sized beds. Strangely, the downstairs bar/restaurant also served the best shirro (lentil and chickpea mush) I’d eaten in Ethiopia – though perhaps it was just a combination of hunger and being cold and wet.

We chose the wrong day to sleep in until 7am since we arrived at the car park the next morning and learned that there is only one main bus that goes to Addis Ababa every day and it left at 6.  We walked in circles around the town trying to find another option but thought everything we were being quoted was overpriced.  As it turned out, the ridiculous price we were initially given was the best deal.  (I decided to put aside my headstrong Cameroonian bargaining/indignation for the rest of the trip.) We arrived in the capital and indulged our American cravings for pizza and fries.           

Bags packed, I left early the next morning for the airport.  However, I learned during check-in that the flight had been overbooked.  I waited to see if a spot would become available on standby or if they could re-route me through a different connection.  Instead, the wonderful people at Ethiopian Airlines asked if I would mind being put up a hotel for 24 hours.  And not just any hotel: the Hilton!  It wasn’t a hard decision - especially since they agreed to shuttle me back and forth, pay for my meals, and give me cash in-hand.  Um…yes please!  The hotel shuttle was running late, which didn’t bother me at all but made the other passenger who was waiting furious.  He was belligerently drunk and I was appalled at his behavior to the staff so tried to make up for his attitude by letting them know how much I appreciated everything they were doing.  I settled into my hotel room, watched some American television, and then visited the incredible lunch buffet.  The sheer quantity and variety of food was mind-blowing, and I couldn’t contain my glee when I saw there was an entire table devoted to impressive-looking desserts.  Cream puffs and peach tarts and strawberries, oh my! The Addis Ababa Hilton Hotel isn’t where you go to experience authentic Ethiopia…but it’s not too shabby, either.

I wandered around the city, eventually making my way back to where my cousin was staying and surprised him with the news that I was still in town.  Because he had work to do, I continued playing tourist by myself, walking around buying souvenirs and writing postcards.  For dinner, Tyler, a colleague, and I, went to a Greek restaurant and gorged ourselves on a cheese plate and amazing pizza and had a wonderful evening of interesting conversation before they walked me back to the hotel.  I wrapped up my last night of vacation watching television, taking a long warm shower, and pocketing the travel-sized toiletries!        

The breakfast buffet the next morning was another perfect sendoff, especially knowing that I faced a long day of flying and arrival into Douala, a city so sweltering that, as another Peace Corps Volunteer says “it makes your sweat sweat.”  Having left under unusual circumstances, coming back to Cameroon was bittersweet.  Climbing aboard the rickety bus packed full (nearly every woman had a child – or two – on her lap), I settled in for the long ride ahead and sighed with contentment that, although I had been away…it was good to be home.       

All in all, it was an amazing vacation and I’m so glad I went.  While there are certainly similarities, I was most struck by the differences between East and West Africa – and, even more so, from country to country.  While my time in Kenya was limited to the capital, from it I was able to see the potential of development in Africa – and, that that standard of living can be available to a larger portion of host country nationals.  In Ethiopia, I was fortunate enough to get a taste of it all – urban and rural, touristy and remote.  Unfortunately, I was saddened by a lot of what I saw.  Ethiopia’s economy looks, at least on a superficial front (people’s attire, lack of footwear, possessions), comparatively much weaker than Cameroon’s – despite better infrastructure in other areas (more paved roads, transportation slightly more comfortable).  For all the talk of corruption in Cameroon, I prefer the entrepreneurial spirit that I find many people have here.  I got the impression that Ethiopia has a severe culture of dependency (as in, dependency on foreign assistance), as we were constantly barraged with open hands and endless pleas of “Give me money!  Give me money!  Give me money!"  In Cameroon, you’ll always have someone’s hands in your face, but normally they’re asking you to buy something.  I was so heartened by this that I actually smiled on the bus back to my region, gladly doling out 20 cents here and there for mandarins, koki beignets, and pineapple wedges.