…will you go to a wedding where the bride rides into the reception (which though said to being promptly at 7pm, began only at 9:45pm when the bride and groom arrived – this being after the church ceremony that occurred at 1pm) on a white horse which then proceeds to poop on the floor when it gets stuck going under the balloon arch.
also this week…
I had some interesting taxi rides. On one, I got yelled at by the taxi driver for specifying the price. On another, Morgan and I were in the back seat with a woman who had gone to undergrad at Loyola in New Orleans and grad school at University of Georgia. We had a lovely chat! On the way back, we were getting into a taxi at the same time as another women who, when a guy on the street said he wanted to marry us, demanded he pay her the brideprice (all in jest!).
This weekend is my host brothers’ First Communion which means a HUGE party at my house! Both side of the family plus my friends – we have so many drinks and the food is going to be far too much for the fridge! It should be a lot of fun! The weeks are winding down, and GASP! I actually have work to do. Which I don’t remember how to do anymore! Plus I’m squeezing in as much as I can in terms of family time, souvenir finding, and still discovering parts of Yaoundé I haven’t in my time here! I’m savoring every last second here, and while I am psyched to go home, I am going to cry my eyes out when I have to leave Cameroon!
I hope all is well in your corners of the world – I will be seeing some of you before you know it!
Love from the land of kabas and beautiful fabric,
Kait
29 April 2009
24 April 2009
Girls Gone Waza and Riding the Struggle Bus - Spring Break 2009
Bon soir, tout le monde! I have been back from my spring break trip to the Extrême Nord (Far North) since Tuesday and it has taken me a while to recuperate after spending over 72 hours collectively in trains and buses. I’m going to begin by apologizing for the length of this entry but a lot happened and it was a spectacular way to spend a week and a half! We left Yaoundé on the 13th on the 6pm train, which we would be on for 17 hours to get to Ngaoundere. Thank goodness I love trains, since we spent so much time on them! I hold firm to my belief that trains are the best way to travel and see a country and this ride proved it. Believe it or not, the Cameroonian train, in a developing country, was far better than the overnight train I took from France to Switzerland on my first-ever trip abroad back in 2001. With beds made of old backseats of cars, we were living in luxury and had great views whenever it was light out our window. Four of us shared each room, and my room actually got a decent night of sleep. We woke up for breakfast (train food here is fantastic and consisted of chicken, fries, pineapple and bread for dinner and omelettes and tea for breakfast) and to discover that we were stuck due to a lack of communication on the tracks. The girls in my bunk and I spent the time giving the 3 boys who were standing outside our train window our leftovers and them trying to convince us to be their wives (they claimed they were 15 but were definitely younger!). Once communication was regained, we soon arrived in Ngaoundere and waited for a bus to take us on the 8-hour ride to Maroua.
Now, this is where the scoop on African public transportation comes in. Buses are packed to the brim, and 5 or 6 people are squished where 4 people would sit in the United States. Additionally, the bus doesn’t leave the station until it is FULL; there are not timetables. Morgan and I thought we had chosen a good seat – the one near the door they can’t fit 4 people in, but we were kicked out of it by policemen carrying AK-47s. The buses need to have police on them so that they can protect passengers from bandits, who are allegedly renowned in the Far North, although we fortunately had no run-ins. I wasn’t going to fight with a guy with such a huge gun, so we made our way to the 2nd to last row of seats and squished in with 3 others in our row for the long haul. The woman next to me, wearing a dress made of the fabric from the Pope’s recent visit, had a beard going on under her chin, and the man sitting next to Morgan sang in a girl voice. LOVE CAMEROON. I was incredibly thankful that I was not suffering from traveler’s diarrhea on this particular day, being squished in and not being able to stop often like we are able to when it is solely our group. Unfortunately this was not the case for our dear Big Ben, who did a marvelous prance and leap off the bus into the bushes (nature’s toilet) much to the delight of all the Africans aboard. All us white people just looked the other way, commiserating with him since we’ve all been there. After 8 hours we made it to our hotel in Maroua, and the lovely Morgan and I (roommates for the week thanks to sharing a suitcase) were pleasantly surprised by working air conditioners in our rooms and ostriches (behind a fence) right outside!
On Wednesday, I stayed in bed until 9, following the strict orders of Mr. Teku who did not want to see anyone out of their rooms before then. Breakfast was glorious all because of fresh mango juice! Then we all met our bus driver for the week, the FABULOUS Robert, and founded the Disabled Backseat, comprised of myself, Morgan and Harry. I absolutely cannot remember why we called it this, but it stuck throughout the trip, as the bus became the Struggle Bus after many long hours on bumpy roads (if you could call them that!). Basically, we were the cool kids that sit in the backseat. Our first stop was the Artisanal Market in Maroua, the site of the loss of all my CFAs due to some serious bargaining and shopping! The Far North is primarily Muslim and I’ve discovered that I must prefer shopping and buying from Muslims because the men don’t harass you like the non-Muslims in Yaoundé because of their religion. I wish I could have bought it all, but I did make some fantastic purchases and some headway on my gift list! I won’t tell you what I got because it could be for you, but I will tell you of my proudest purchase. The North is cow country, and thus leather country. I bought a huge brown leather school bag for next year and two beautiful leather wallets for 17000 francs, or about 35 USD! And I talked the guy down from 40000 francs! I was pretty proud. After much bargaining and a delicious lunch of ground beef with plantains, peas and tomatoes, we headed to the brand-new University of Maroua, where the president is the former Dickinson-in-Cameroon director. He invited us to his home for dinner and after a free afternoon of swimming at the hotel, we met his lovely wife who cooked us a FEAST, and hung out with his ostriches. Yeah, you know, just your normal pet.
Thursday we arose early to head off to Maga lake in the hopes of seeing hippos (I said many a prayer to ensure that we would see them, since part of Morgan’s coming to Cameroon was due to her love of hippos and I knew if we didn’t see at least one it might be the end of the world). After a bumpy ride past mud huts and women trekking long distances to the wells (the Far North is desert and water is precious – right now there is no water in the rivers!), we arrived and piled into the piroque (like a canoe mixed with a motorboat) to search for the hippopotâmes! We rode past nomadic herders from Chad with their hump-backed cows grazing along the river, and I was amazed at how these people live in temporary straw shelters under the BLAZING sun (another note: the Far North is HOT, a different hot from Yaoundé, and really dry). I could never do it. After an hour and a half or so, I was beginning to lose hope. The lake was lower than normal and the hippos weren’t in their normal hangouts. Our guide suggested turning back and at this moment, Morgan looked absolutely defeated. So Harry and I wished really hard, and half an hour later…voilà – hippos! And man were they terrifying! Hippos are I think the most deadly mammal or something like that – basically you don’t want a hippo to be mad at you. And we were in a wooden boat in the water with them, and there were a lot! They were beautiful and majestic, although a little scary (not for Morgan though!).
After snapping lots of photos we headed back to shore and got back in the Struggle Bus for an even bumpier ride on cracked earth to Waza National Park. Again thankful I don’t get carsick, we arrived in the park and pretty soon after saw our first GIRAFFE (j-raffe for Mikey)!! So one of my goals in life was fulfilled – seeing a giraffe in the wild. But then it got better – we saw antelope and tons of birds as well as jackals. And then, it got even better – we drove up to the watering hole right as two giraffes were arriving to get an evening drink! And let me just say that giraffes are possibly the most awkward animal of life – they can’t bend their knees, so the do half-splits with their front and back legs in order to bend down to refresh themselves! I loved it! After our animal spotting, we rode a while more to our home for the night – the Waza huts, complete with double-bed, electricity, a thatch roof and a fan that circulated the unbearably hot air. After a dinner of rice, tomato sauce, chicken and gumbo, I indulged in a hot shower (hot due to the heat of the desert!) and met a girl from South Africa living in the huts since January while researching the 25 lions in the park! I can’t imagine living there – it is just too hot, as we all discovered soon after stargazing (right up their on the incredible star scale with LeaderShape) when we attempted to get some sleep. It was simply too hot to sleep, and paired with sunburn, it meant an absolutely miserable night (even Mr. Teku said he didn’t sleep because he was “cooking”).
After a sleepless night, we regathered on Friday at 5:30am for breakfast before our safari, then climbed back into the bus for our wildlife-spotting adventure. After seeing probably 10 giraffes, people were ready for a change (although I was content with the giraffes!). We saw a ton of antelope and pretty much all of the birds from The Lion King, including Zazu. And then….ELEPHANTS! We came across a huge pack of elephants who were all protecting a week-old baby! It was incredibly to see all these animals in their natural habitat and an experience I’ll never forget! After safari, we ate a quick lunch and then bumped back along the road to Maroua for some more market bargaining (where we used tactics like “well you sold this to my friend the other day so this means we’re friends now and you should give my the price for friends” – all in French of course!) and swimming. After dinner and a big cuddlefest, we all turned in early for some good sleep before our next bumpy car ride.
Saturday morning, we bid Maroua adieu and commenced the 4-hour INCREDIBLY turbulent ride up into the mountains to the village of Rhumsiki. This area is known for its phenomenal peaks and the beauty of the landscape was overwhelming, particularly when compared with the surrounding poverty. We rode past family compounds comprised of many huts, signifying polygamous marriages with a house for the man and one for each wife. We saw more than enough goats, sheep and donkeys, and I am surprised our hands were still attached to our wrists after all the waving to small children we did! We arrived at our resort of a hotel in Rhumsiki mid-afternoon and found ourselves staying in air-conditioned huts with a swimming pool overlooking the grand peaks. Apparently, the first president of Cameroon had kept the place as his private getaway and when Paul Biya became president he kind of let it go, so how it’s a hotel. While holding onto the side of the ridiculously deep pool and viewing the magnificent mountains, I was overwhelmed by the contrast: down the slope from the pool was a fence separating it from a family compound. The children were watching us from the fence in between gathering water and doing their other chores. They live in such a beautiful area yet must view this glorious pool each day, and will likely never dive into its water. I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to poverty or felt so privileged, and it was shocking. Rhumsiki survives on tourism, and so I guess me swimming in this pool was in some way hopefully helping the community and these children, but who knows really.
After dinner at the hotel, we headed off to the bar with Mr. Teku, who insisted that 1000 francs for a beer at the hotel was too much (that’s about 2 bucks for a beer the size of 2 American bottles and in Yaoundé, it would cost 500 francs!). We had a good time being all together, although Mr. Teku turned out to not be very vigilant after returning to the hotel and investigating a beetle infestation in some of the girls’ huts, and left his key in Alie and Gina’s room. Being the kind man he is, he did not want to wake them, and thus slept outside all night, which we all thought was a great story the next morning upon discovering him! Once the early morning swim was out of the way, we set off for some trekking in the mountains, with the strict instructions from Mr. Teku to be vigilant and not climb any ridiculous rocks (this year was the first time in 3 years no one has had to go to the hospital in the Far North after falling on rocks!). We even crossed the border (illegally) into Nigeria for a bit, and I was surprised to see all the people from Nigeria coming to the Sunday market in Rhumsiki. With blisters from my intense shoes, I quickly jumped into the pool upon return to the hotel, and then made the mistake of sunbathing at high noon near the equator. Needless to say, I’ve got quite the sunburn-turned-tan currently. But now I look like I’ve been in Africa for almost 4 months! In the afternoon, we visited a woman who makes pottery out of clay and paints it black with a paint made from goat poop and then headed to the “crab-man sorcerer” for some telling of futures! I paid 1000 francs to ask one question, and the old man, who communicates with a crab that reads the future, interpreted the crab’s response. The crab is put in an urn and based on how it moves around the stones and pieces of broken calabash inside, your question is answered. I know it sounds incredibly sketchy, and I’m not taking the response as truth, but who knows. Diviners and sorcerers are highly respected in Cameroon, and it was definitely an experience! After all that, we saw parts of a traditional marriage (arranged, bride really young) and then headed to the Breadman’s house for dinner. He is just a village resident who makes amazing bread, and we enjoyed a 6-course meal complete with guinea fowl! I have NEVER been so stuffed in my life! Morgan and I packed all our stuff and new purchases and went to bed early, preparing for the 10 hour bus-ride to Ngaoundere the next morning – talk about Struggle Bus!
After a long bumpy ride with much traditional guitar playing and singing from Harry (“Tiptoe through the Tulips”), we made it with time to spare to Ngaoundere and caught our train to Yaoundé. I have never been so happy to be on a train for 15 hours! It was nice to stretch out and get a good sleep – something you probably think is impossible on a Cameroonian train! We arrived back in Yaoundé Tuesday mid-morning and I’ve spent the last few days catching up on sleep and enjoying not bumping along all the time. I loved the trip to the North, though – probably my favorite of my semester abroad! And now with that, I am savoring my last 30-some days here in Cameroon! It’s hard to believe I’ll be home in a month – I’m excited but know I am going to miss my family and friends here just like I miss all of you at home!
I hope all is well in your corners of the world! To all my abroad friends, savor your last weeks and months and I can’t wait to swap stories! And to all those sending me letters and cards – I love you and you don’t understand how great it is to get mail in Africa (thanks for the most recently received things Abby, Grammy and Gramp and Mom and her 1st graders!).
Thanks for reading and caring!
Love from the land of mangoes and giraffes,Kait
Now, this is where the scoop on African public transportation comes in. Buses are packed to the brim, and 5 or 6 people are squished where 4 people would sit in the United States. Additionally, the bus doesn’t leave the station until it is FULL; there are not timetables. Morgan and I thought we had chosen a good seat – the one near the door they can’t fit 4 people in, but we were kicked out of it by policemen carrying AK-47s. The buses need to have police on them so that they can protect passengers from bandits, who are allegedly renowned in the Far North, although we fortunately had no run-ins. I wasn’t going to fight with a guy with such a huge gun, so we made our way to the 2nd to last row of seats and squished in with 3 others in our row for the long haul. The woman next to me, wearing a dress made of the fabric from the Pope’s recent visit, had a beard going on under her chin, and the man sitting next to Morgan sang in a girl voice. LOVE CAMEROON. I was incredibly thankful that I was not suffering from traveler’s diarrhea on this particular day, being squished in and not being able to stop often like we are able to when it is solely our group. Unfortunately this was not the case for our dear Big Ben, who did a marvelous prance and leap off the bus into the bushes (nature’s toilet) much to the delight of all the Africans aboard. All us white people just looked the other way, commiserating with him since we’ve all been there. After 8 hours we made it to our hotel in Maroua, and the lovely Morgan and I (roommates for the week thanks to sharing a suitcase) were pleasantly surprised by working air conditioners in our rooms and ostriches (behind a fence) right outside!
On Wednesday, I stayed in bed until 9, following the strict orders of Mr. Teku who did not want to see anyone out of their rooms before then. Breakfast was glorious all because of fresh mango juice! Then we all met our bus driver for the week, the FABULOUS Robert, and founded the Disabled Backseat, comprised of myself, Morgan and Harry. I absolutely cannot remember why we called it this, but it stuck throughout the trip, as the bus became the Struggle Bus after many long hours on bumpy roads (if you could call them that!). Basically, we were the cool kids that sit in the backseat. Our first stop was the Artisanal Market in Maroua, the site of the loss of all my CFAs due to some serious bargaining and shopping! The Far North is primarily Muslim and I’ve discovered that I must prefer shopping and buying from Muslims because the men don’t harass you like the non-Muslims in Yaoundé because of their religion. I wish I could have bought it all, but I did make some fantastic purchases and some headway on my gift list! I won’t tell you what I got because it could be for you, but I will tell you of my proudest purchase. The North is cow country, and thus leather country. I bought a huge brown leather school bag for next year and two beautiful leather wallets for 17000 francs, or about 35 USD! And I talked the guy down from 40000 francs! I was pretty proud. After much bargaining and a delicious lunch of ground beef with plantains, peas and tomatoes, we headed to the brand-new University of Maroua, where the president is the former Dickinson-in-Cameroon director. He invited us to his home for dinner and after a free afternoon of swimming at the hotel, we met his lovely wife who cooked us a FEAST, and hung out with his ostriches. Yeah, you know, just your normal pet.
Thursday we arose early to head off to Maga lake in the hopes of seeing hippos (I said many a prayer to ensure that we would see them, since part of Morgan’s coming to Cameroon was due to her love of hippos and I knew if we didn’t see at least one it might be the end of the world). After a bumpy ride past mud huts and women trekking long distances to the wells (the Far North is desert and water is precious – right now there is no water in the rivers!), we arrived and piled into the piroque (like a canoe mixed with a motorboat) to search for the hippopotâmes! We rode past nomadic herders from Chad with their hump-backed cows grazing along the river, and I was amazed at how these people live in temporary straw shelters under the BLAZING sun (another note: the Far North is HOT, a different hot from Yaoundé, and really dry). I could never do it. After an hour and a half or so, I was beginning to lose hope. The lake was lower than normal and the hippos weren’t in their normal hangouts. Our guide suggested turning back and at this moment, Morgan looked absolutely defeated. So Harry and I wished really hard, and half an hour later…voilà – hippos! And man were they terrifying! Hippos are I think the most deadly mammal or something like that – basically you don’t want a hippo to be mad at you. And we were in a wooden boat in the water with them, and there were a lot! They were beautiful and majestic, although a little scary (not for Morgan though!).
After snapping lots of photos we headed back to shore and got back in the Struggle Bus for an even bumpier ride on cracked earth to Waza National Park. Again thankful I don’t get carsick, we arrived in the park and pretty soon after saw our first GIRAFFE (j-raffe for Mikey)!! So one of my goals in life was fulfilled – seeing a giraffe in the wild. But then it got better – we saw antelope and tons of birds as well as jackals. And then, it got even better – we drove up to the watering hole right as two giraffes were arriving to get an evening drink! And let me just say that giraffes are possibly the most awkward animal of life – they can’t bend their knees, so the do half-splits with their front and back legs in order to bend down to refresh themselves! I loved it! After our animal spotting, we rode a while more to our home for the night – the Waza huts, complete with double-bed, electricity, a thatch roof and a fan that circulated the unbearably hot air. After a dinner of rice, tomato sauce, chicken and gumbo, I indulged in a hot shower (hot due to the heat of the desert!) and met a girl from South Africa living in the huts since January while researching the 25 lions in the park! I can’t imagine living there – it is just too hot, as we all discovered soon after stargazing (right up their on the incredible star scale with LeaderShape) when we attempted to get some sleep. It was simply too hot to sleep, and paired with sunburn, it meant an absolutely miserable night (even Mr. Teku said he didn’t sleep because he was “cooking”).
After a sleepless night, we regathered on Friday at 5:30am for breakfast before our safari, then climbed back into the bus for our wildlife-spotting adventure. After seeing probably 10 giraffes, people were ready for a change (although I was content with the giraffes!). We saw a ton of antelope and pretty much all of the birds from The Lion King, including Zazu. And then….ELEPHANTS! We came across a huge pack of elephants who were all protecting a week-old baby! It was incredibly to see all these animals in their natural habitat and an experience I’ll never forget! After safari, we ate a quick lunch and then bumped back along the road to Maroua for some more market bargaining (where we used tactics like “well you sold this to my friend the other day so this means we’re friends now and you should give my the price for friends” – all in French of course!) and swimming. After dinner and a big cuddlefest, we all turned in early for some good sleep before our next bumpy car ride.
Saturday morning, we bid Maroua adieu and commenced the 4-hour INCREDIBLY turbulent ride up into the mountains to the village of Rhumsiki. This area is known for its phenomenal peaks and the beauty of the landscape was overwhelming, particularly when compared with the surrounding poverty. We rode past family compounds comprised of many huts, signifying polygamous marriages with a house for the man and one for each wife. We saw more than enough goats, sheep and donkeys, and I am surprised our hands were still attached to our wrists after all the waving to small children we did! We arrived at our resort of a hotel in Rhumsiki mid-afternoon and found ourselves staying in air-conditioned huts with a swimming pool overlooking the grand peaks. Apparently, the first president of Cameroon had kept the place as his private getaway and when Paul Biya became president he kind of let it go, so how it’s a hotel. While holding onto the side of the ridiculously deep pool and viewing the magnificent mountains, I was overwhelmed by the contrast: down the slope from the pool was a fence separating it from a family compound. The children were watching us from the fence in between gathering water and doing their other chores. They live in such a beautiful area yet must view this glorious pool each day, and will likely never dive into its water. I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to poverty or felt so privileged, and it was shocking. Rhumsiki survives on tourism, and so I guess me swimming in this pool was in some way hopefully helping the community and these children, but who knows really.
After dinner at the hotel, we headed off to the bar with Mr. Teku, who insisted that 1000 francs for a beer at the hotel was too much (that’s about 2 bucks for a beer the size of 2 American bottles and in Yaoundé, it would cost 500 francs!). We had a good time being all together, although Mr. Teku turned out to not be very vigilant after returning to the hotel and investigating a beetle infestation in some of the girls’ huts, and left his key in Alie and Gina’s room. Being the kind man he is, he did not want to wake them, and thus slept outside all night, which we all thought was a great story the next morning upon discovering him! Once the early morning swim was out of the way, we set off for some trekking in the mountains, with the strict instructions from Mr. Teku to be vigilant and not climb any ridiculous rocks (this year was the first time in 3 years no one has had to go to the hospital in the Far North after falling on rocks!). We even crossed the border (illegally) into Nigeria for a bit, and I was surprised to see all the people from Nigeria coming to the Sunday market in Rhumsiki. With blisters from my intense shoes, I quickly jumped into the pool upon return to the hotel, and then made the mistake of sunbathing at high noon near the equator. Needless to say, I’ve got quite the sunburn-turned-tan currently. But now I look like I’ve been in Africa for almost 4 months! In the afternoon, we visited a woman who makes pottery out of clay and paints it black with a paint made from goat poop and then headed to the “crab-man sorcerer” for some telling of futures! I paid 1000 francs to ask one question, and the old man, who communicates with a crab that reads the future, interpreted the crab’s response. The crab is put in an urn and based on how it moves around the stones and pieces of broken calabash inside, your question is answered. I know it sounds incredibly sketchy, and I’m not taking the response as truth, but who knows. Diviners and sorcerers are highly respected in Cameroon, and it was definitely an experience! After all that, we saw parts of a traditional marriage (arranged, bride really young) and then headed to the Breadman’s house for dinner. He is just a village resident who makes amazing bread, and we enjoyed a 6-course meal complete with guinea fowl! I have NEVER been so stuffed in my life! Morgan and I packed all our stuff and new purchases and went to bed early, preparing for the 10 hour bus-ride to Ngaoundere the next morning – talk about Struggle Bus!
After a long bumpy ride with much traditional guitar playing and singing from Harry (“Tiptoe through the Tulips”), we made it with time to spare to Ngaoundere and caught our train to Yaoundé. I have never been so happy to be on a train for 15 hours! It was nice to stretch out and get a good sleep – something you probably think is impossible on a Cameroonian train! We arrived back in Yaoundé Tuesday mid-morning and I’ve spent the last few days catching up on sleep and enjoying not bumping along all the time. I loved the trip to the North, though – probably my favorite of my semester abroad! And now with that, I am savoring my last 30-some days here in Cameroon! It’s hard to believe I’ll be home in a month – I’m excited but know I am going to miss my family and friends here just like I miss all of you at home!
I hope all is well in your corners of the world! To all my abroad friends, savor your last weeks and months and I can’t wait to swap stories! And to all those sending me letters and cards – I love you and you don’t understand how great it is to get mail in Africa (thanks for the most recently received things Abby, Grammy and Gramp and Mom and her 1st graders!).
Thanks for reading and caring!
Love from the land of mangoes and giraffes,Kait
12 April 2009
girls weekend
Joyeuse Paques - Happy Easter! A quick post before I head off on the last big trip: a week in the Extreme North! My weekend started on Tuesday after Orality and has been one of my favorite here in Cameroon! Our group was really spread out this weekend - 6 people went to Mr. Teku's village starting Wednesday, Alie went to her host family's village of Dchang, and that left me, Gina, Soo and Emileigh with the apartment to ourselves and much to explore! Thursday, Soo and I set off on a quest to find a good hair place to get braids. And yes, I now have braids and have left them in for more than 7 hours. They are kind of like cornrows, only halfway back and it looks pretty sweet, if I do say so myself. And it only took 3 hours for both of us to get tressed. Then, we ventured with Gina and Em to the new Korean restaurant here (surprisingly and deliciously, there is a population of South Koreans in Yaoundé, which Soo, who is from South Korea, discovered). It was amazing and a nice change in cuisine, with super fast service, something unknown at Cameroonian restaurants! We even saved 10% because Soo is Korean, so we used the leftover money to buy icecream and made plans to meet Friday morning for an all-day Marché Mokomo extravaganza. Friday was also Em's 21st birthday and we set off to make it a good one! After finally located the pre-made kaba section of Mokolo I went a little crazy and got 2 new kabas - pictures to come - and Em got a pair of lightly-used Birkenstocks for 4 USD!! LOVE Cameroon! After meeting up with Soo, who had somehow survived the jersey vendors solo, we taxied to Briqueterie for lunch of soya, beignets, and fresh yogurt, at Em's birthday request! Freshly roasted meat has never tasted so good! Then some fabric shopping and a bit more braving Mokolo before Gina and I headed back to the apartment to be bums and watch chick-flicks (nothing wrong with that though!). I headed home after a while because Mama So was cooking hamburgers, and we spent the evening watching music videos and singing and dancing (she also told me I have good taste - African taste- in fabric, which is pretty much the highest compliment she could give!). Saturday was a total girls' day. We continued Em's birthday celebration by watching more chick-flicks, dying Easter eggs with fabric-dying inks that may or may not be toxic, wine and chocolate rice krispy treats! Plus, I went to traditional African dance class (I still can't dance, even though the Chieftain, the head of the rasta-men who teach dance says if you can eat you can dance) which was really fun and the chicken at the chicken-and-beer bar was by far the best ever.
After a sleepover at the apartment last night, I returned home early so I could go to Easter mass with my host family. My colored eggs were a hit, and Mama So insisted we make some for the family reunion after mass. Mass was fantastic - Catholic church here is infused with African traditions, particularly in the music, and it is just so much more dynamic. Everyone was there in their Easter best, and I was definitely the only white person there, which I am growing to not really notice. When we got home from mass, Papa Fernand, Joey (Bambi's new preferred name), Jason and I colored eggs without dye using just crayons and it worked beautifully! We departed for entre-nous, the family reunion with some beautiful eggs, chicken and plantains (Papa Fer is quite the artist!). The reunion was a blast and one of my host cousins (blanking on the name) took me under her wing and we chatted in a mixture of English and French all afternoon. The food and the company were fantastic and I felt like such a part of the family! And my French has definitely improved since I first met everyone in February!
Alright, that's it for now - I leave for the Extreme Nord tomorrow night (woohoo 17-hour train ride + 7-hour bus ride!) and don't return until the 21st! I'm crossing my fingers I see a giraffe! We'll be going on a safari and visiting a ton of markets, so prime souvenir time! I hope all is well in your corners of the world, thanks for reading and I'll post when I get back from what promises to be an epic trip!
Love from the land of endless fried plantains,
Kait
P.S. I got to see a week-old African baby, my new host cousin Lincoln, Monday. African babies are way cuter than American and white babies in general. I make an exception to my babies-are-ugly rule because of this.
After a sleepover at the apartment last night, I returned home early so I could go to Easter mass with my host family. My colored eggs were a hit, and Mama So insisted we make some for the family reunion after mass. Mass was fantastic - Catholic church here is infused with African traditions, particularly in the music, and it is just so much more dynamic. Everyone was there in their Easter best, and I was definitely the only white person there, which I am growing to not really notice. When we got home from mass, Papa Fernand, Joey (Bambi's new preferred name), Jason and I colored eggs without dye using just crayons and it worked beautifully! We departed for entre-nous, the family reunion with some beautiful eggs, chicken and plantains (Papa Fer is quite the artist!). The reunion was a blast and one of my host cousins (blanking on the name) took me under her wing and we chatted in a mixture of English and French all afternoon. The food and the company were fantastic and I felt like such a part of the family! And my French has definitely improved since I first met everyone in February!
Alright, that's it for now - I leave for the Extreme Nord tomorrow night (woohoo 17-hour train ride + 7-hour bus ride!) and don't return until the 21st! I'm crossing my fingers I see a giraffe! We'll be going on a safari and visiting a ton of markets, so prime souvenir time! I hope all is well in your corners of the world, thanks for reading and I'll post when I get back from what promises to be an epic trip!
Love from the land of endless fried plantains,
Kait
P.S. I got to see a week-old African baby, my new host cousin Lincoln, Monday. African babies are way cuter than American and white babies in general. I make an exception to my babies-are-ugly rule because of this.
04 April 2009
Harry bought a machete (and other stories)
Life has been pretty chill since returning from the trek to Bamenda that I last wrote about. Last weekend, I decided to stay in Yaoundé and take a break from traveling, while others headed to the beach town of Kribi and the north-western village of Kumbo. Katelynn, Emileigh, Cecilia and Alie also hung back, which definitely called for a girls’ night, complete with chicken and D’jino and…MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP ICE CREAM SUNDAES (followed by raspberry sorbet!)!! Unfortunately, the power went out for something like 8 hours, canceling our chick-flick viewing, but we improvised with story time and ice cream by candlelight. The rest of the weekend was very relaxing, spent with my host family. My host- grandma was in for the village so this past week has been one of traditional food and cute cousins. I’ve palated three new dishes: gombo (not the same as in the US, rather mucus-y, but delicious, and eaten with fufu, which is impossible to describe), nkui (an even more mucus-y substance kind of resembling The Blob and eaten with fufu-corn and vegetables to counteract the spice), and coquille (a spongey orange loaf made of mashed-up beans and cooked in banana leaves, also wicked spicy). It’s been an experience, and I’m always incredibly thankful for my bottle of water, and even for the Top Grenadine I used to hate but have come to appreciate as a spice-killer! We unfortunately missed out on the Cameroonian premiere of High School Musical 3, but it was worth it to have that quality time with the extended family.
This week, things were back to normal with everyone together again. I don’t have my internship because schools are on a two-week spring break, which leaves me more time for exploring. However, I did have a frustrating experience with the director of my school this week when he set up a time for us to go and meet the school’s proprietress and never showed and expected me to be available all the time in order to fit her schedule. In other news, the stomach fungus is gone, thank goodness! The rainy season has really hit, and we are faced with a torrential afternoon downpour each afternoon at almost exactly the time we need to go catch a taxi to go to class (it’s super difficult to find empty seats in taxis when it’s about to rain!).
Thursday, I had my first “exam” here, which was multiple choice and pretty much a joke. C’est la vie! After the exam, no one had class for the rest of the day, so a bunch of us decided to head back to la briqueterie, the Muslim neighbourhood I’ve mentioned before, for some shopping and street food. We arrived right about the time of the first afternoon call-to-prayer, which is a sight I will never tire of. It’s so powerful to see all these men rushing to position their prayer mats towards Mecca and wash their hands and feet in time to pray. Ben and Harry devoured some streetmeat (washed down with the aforementioned Grenadine) and we hit the street for some serious fabric finding and hardcore bargaining. Successes in briqueterie: traditional tie-dyed shirt with elaborate embroidery (originally asked 20,000 francs, I paid 6,500) and typical Muslim scarf (originally 5,000, I paid 3,000 francs). Needless to say, I’ll definitely be paying several more visits before I head back to the States!
Soon after, we were joined by some other friends and trudged up the hill to Marché Mokolo. Now, I had heard some crazy stories about Mokolo by people who had gone already, about pickpockets and hassling vendors and sheer intensity. I was excited. We split up, and Ben, Morgan, Harry and I steered our way through the stalls of shoes, trying not to trip and fall in piles of trash and trying not to vomit due to the smell of dead, drying, fresh fish. We weaved in and out of sections containing kabas, jewelry, bags and almost anything else you can imagine. Prescription meds, knives, bras, Obama shirts – you name it, they’ve got it! I was in the pursuit of a Lions football jersey, the Cameroonian soccer team. This quest was probably the single-most overwhelming experience of my life, and I live in Cameroon currently, so that’s saying a lot! I walked up to a vendor selling the green, yellow and red jerseys and started bargaining. Before I knew it, I was SURROUNDED by vendors telling, or rather shouting, at me that their jersey was better quality and real and the like. I couldn’t hear myself think or talk for that matter (and I’m pretty darn loud!). I ended up screaming at the vendors to stop yelling at me or I wouldn’t buy and that worked for about 3 seconds before the voices overtook me again! All in French, I asked about quality and insisted that I had eyes and could see the two jerseys they claimed were the same were simply not! I ended up walking away with a nice jersey for myself at 7,000 francs/ 14 USD (down from 15,000) that is allegedly real and the kind the team wears to play in. And it has Eto’o #9 on the back. Oh but wait, the jersey endeavor hadn’t ended. Five minutes later and many stalls away, the guys were still following us trying to get us to buy more. So, Morgan got a legit jersey for 5,000 without even having to bargain! As we moved through the crowds and grabbing hands (at one point a guy would not let go of Morgan’s arm and Ben had to say something to him), we perused the wares, and then crossed the street for a cold drink and a look at the CDs for sale on the sidewalk.
This was when we made a new friend, Olivier. We discussed music and then Harry, after a thus-far unsuccessful quest for a machete, asked for some advice on where to get one. Olivier took charge, finding a good price and then leading us down an uber-sketch back alley to get it sharpened, while telling Harry the story of the time he was in France at a bar and got arrested and deported because it “looked” like he was doing heroin. Good. Once the two foot machete was sharpened to the appropriate point, we attempted to ditch Olivier and head back to briqueterie for some soya and yogurt, but with no luck. So we ended up sharing yummy roasted meat kabobs and beignets with the man and then catching a taxi back to the apartment before it got too dark. Completely exhausted but thrilled with our adventure, we took some funny pictures of Harry pretending to kill Ben with his new weapon (which is sheathed in our weapons corner now, don’t worry!), I decided to spend the night at the apartment and we went out for chicken and drinks and spent the evening relaxing.
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with Jason and Bambi watching an unhealthy amount of My Super-Sweet 16 on MTV (no, this is not what life is like for the majority of Americans, I tell them). We played some frisbee and ate dinner with Mama So and Papa Fernand before I left for the apartment for the night. We had been invited to a party at a neighbor’s bar/restaurant which ended up being awkward yet fun, dancing the night away and trying not to have to dance with that many Cameroonian men! Today was lowkey with quality host-brother time and tomorrow we’re having a potluck at the apartment with all the host-families which should be really fun and a great way to try different food!
Hope all is well in your corner of the world, wherever you may be! And to all my lovely friends turning 21 soon or who have recently celebrated, my host-mom told me last week that bananas are the best cure after a big night out, FYI! Also, thanks to all who have sent mail, I love every bit of it! But you should probably not send anything else or it won’t get here until after I leave! I still love email updates though!
AND…t minus 9 days until our big trip to the Extreme North and safari time!
Love from the continent that inspired The Lion King,
Kait
This week, things were back to normal with everyone together again. I don’t have my internship because schools are on a two-week spring break, which leaves me more time for exploring. However, I did have a frustrating experience with the director of my school this week when he set up a time for us to go and meet the school’s proprietress and never showed and expected me to be available all the time in order to fit her schedule. In other news, the stomach fungus is gone, thank goodness! The rainy season has really hit, and we are faced with a torrential afternoon downpour each afternoon at almost exactly the time we need to go catch a taxi to go to class (it’s super difficult to find empty seats in taxis when it’s about to rain!).
Thursday, I had my first “exam” here, which was multiple choice and pretty much a joke. C’est la vie! After the exam, no one had class for the rest of the day, so a bunch of us decided to head back to la briqueterie, the Muslim neighbourhood I’ve mentioned before, for some shopping and street food. We arrived right about the time of the first afternoon call-to-prayer, which is a sight I will never tire of. It’s so powerful to see all these men rushing to position their prayer mats towards Mecca and wash their hands and feet in time to pray. Ben and Harry devoured some streetmeat (washed down with the aforementioned Grenadine) and we hit the street for some serious fabric finding and hardcore bargaining. Successes in briqueterie: traditional tie-dyed shirt with elaborate embroidery (originally asked 20,000 francs, I paid 6,500) and typical Muslim scarf (originally 5,000, I paid 3,000 francs). Needless to say, I’ll definitely be paying several more visits before I head back to the States!
Soon after, we were joined by some other friends and trudged up the hill to Marché Mokolo. Now, I had heard some crazy stories about Mokolo by people who had gone already, about pickpockets and hassling vendors and sheer intensity. I was excited. We split up, and Ben, Morgan, Harry and I steered our way through the stalls of shoes, trying not to trip and fall in piles of trash and trying not to vomit due to the smell of dead, drying, fresh fish. We weaved in and out of sections containing kabas, jewelry, bags and almost anything else you can imagine. Prescription meds, knives, bras, Obama shirts – you name it, they’ve got it! I was in the pursuit of a Lions football jersey, the Cameroonian soccer team. This quest was probably the single-most overwhelming experience of my life, and I live in Cameroon currently, so that’s saying a lot! I walked up to a vendor selling the green, yellow and red jerseys and started bargaining. Before I knew it, I was SURROUNDED by vendors telling, or rather shouting, at me that their jersey was better quality and real and the like. I couldn’t hear myself think or talk for that matter (and I’m pretty darn loud!). I ended up screaming at the vendors to stop yelling at me or I wouldn’t buy and that worked for about 3 seconds before the voices overtook me again! All in French, I asked about quality and insisted that I had eyes and could see the two jerseys they claimed were the same were simply not! I ended up walking away with a nice jersey for myself at 7,000 francs/ 14 USD (down from 15,000) that is allegedly real and the kind the team wears to play in. And it has Eto’o #9 on the back. Oh but wait, the jersey endeavor hadn’t ended. Five minutes later and many stalls away, the guys were still following us trying to get us to buy more. So, Morgan got a legit jersey for 5,000 without even having to bargain! As we moved through the crowds and grabbing hands (at one point a guy would not let go of Morgan’s arm and Ben had to say something to him), we perused the wares, and then crossed the street for a cold drink and a look at the CDs for sale on the sidewalk.
This was when we made a new friend, Olivier. We discussed music and then Harry, after a thus-far unsuccessful quest for a machete, asked for some advice on where to get one. Olivier took charge, finding a good price and then leading us down an uber-sketch back alley to get it sharpened, while telling Harry the story of the time he was in France at a bar and got arrested and deported because it “looked” like he was doing heroin. Good. Once the two foot machete was sharpened to the appropriate point, we attempted to ditch Olivier and head back to briqueterie for some soya and yogurt, but with no luck. So we ended up sharing yummy roasted meat kabobs and beignets with the man and then catching a taxi back to the apartment before it got too dark. Completely exhausted but thrilled with our adventure, we took some funny pictures of Harry pretending to kill Ben with his new weapon (which is sheathed in our weapons corner now, don’t worry!), I decided to spend the night at the apartment and we went out for chicken and drinks and spent the evening relaxing.
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with Jason and Bambi watching an unhealthy amount of My Super-Sweet 16 on MTV (no, this is not what life is like for the majority of Americans, I tell them). We played some frisbee and ate dinner with Mama So and Papa Fernand before I left for the apartment for the night. We had been invited to a party at a neighbor’s bar/restaurant which ended up being awkward yet fun, dancing the night away and trying not to have to dance with that many Cameroonian men! Today was lowkey with quality host-brother time and tomorrow we’re having a potluck at the apartment with all the host-families which should be really fun and a great way to try different food!
Hope all is well in your corner of the world, wherever you may be! And to all my lovely friends turning 21 soon or who have recently celebrated, my host-mom told me last week that bananas are the best cure after a big night out, FYI! Also, thanks to all who have sent mail, I love every bit of it! But you should probably not send anything else or it won’t get here until after I leave! I still love email updates though!
AND…t minus 9 days until our big trip to the Extreme North and safari time!
Love from the continent that inspired The Lion King,
Kait
26 March 2009
Halfway
With my first blog-post as a 21-year-old, I thought I would not only describe the fantastic birthday that marked this milestone age, but also an account of the weekend trip to Bamenda, in the Northwest region of Cameroon. So here goes. After pedicures with Morgan and spending the night at the apartment on Wednesday night (which included one last visit to the chicken-and-beer bar we frequent before entering legal drinking age), we left bright and early on Thursday morning to beat the rush before the Pope headed off in the Popemobile to the stadium for mass (no, Grammy, we weren’t able to see him, but the city was BUZZING because of his visit). With Morgan as a bus buddy, I settled in for the 7-hour trip to Bamenda, reading, singing, hearing multiple early happy birthday wishes from Harry, and watching as the landscape changed from forests to grasslands (kinda like in the Lion King, although that movie does Africa no justice. But it’s a cartoon, so what do you expect?). With roadside stops for bathroom and food breaks, we experienced the transition between Francophone and Anglophone Cameroon, as the language gradually transitioned to a form of English called Pidgin. It is mindboggling – many of the words are English with random words from native tongues thrown in. It sounds pretty old-school: thank you plenty rather than thank you very much. Good thing I don’t have to learn this language!
We descended into Bamenda in the early afternoon after passing through a rainstorm, and I was instantly pleased by the cooler temperature. I can’t remember the last time I just stood somewhere without sweating, let alone felt the absolute need to wear jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. It was glorious. After settling in at the Presbyterian Church Center in rooms that reminded us of summer camp and figuring out with my sassy roommate Soo how to keep our bathroom door closed with a chair, the soccer team wandered into town, in search of beverages and beignets (called puff puffs there). We were not met by cries of la blanche considering it was English-speaking territory, but even the cries of white man! were few and far between – refreshing to say the least. We chose a small bar where a fly promptly flew down the neck of my drink and drowned itself – our bus driver Julio later told me this is good luck, which I’ll take! After a simple and yet delicious dinner at the church center, Julio took us out on a night driving tour of Bamenda, which from up above on the cliffs is gorgeous at night. Then out for drinks to a place called Dreamland, where Katelynn squished a rat’s tail as it ran over her foot and we would eventually eat two other meals. The night ended with some roommate chatting in the dark with the ever-fabulous Soo!
My birthday started with a cold shower. Now, this may not seem like anything crazy since I take a cold shower most every day of my life here in Cameroon, but when it is cold in your room and cold in the bathroom and cold outside and cold water comes out of the showerhead, a cold shower is not really that pleasant. I got through that, dressed in the beautiful new kaba Mama Solange had finished just for my birthday, and was soon greeted with birthday exclamations and hugs from my wonderful teammates. A superb breakfast of omelettes, papaya and bread with jam greeted us in the dining hall, as did more birthday wishes from Mr. Teku and Professors Fanso and Mutia. Our day continued with a super-exciting visit to the Regional Agriculture Center or something to that effect. Sense the sarcasm? This is where they work to find more effective ways of growing crops and raising animals, as well as better ways of preserving milk and cheese and such, which they then share with farmers. It would have been fine except it was super long, and forced me to not be able to talk for long to my wonderful parents who called to wish me a good birthday (thanks Mom and Dad – you’re the best!). Enough about that. As we drove up into the mountains, I received a beautiful birthday text message from the incredible Barb Capozzi (thanks, amazing lady!) and shot off one of my own to Papa Fernand, who happens to share my day of birth and was hitting the milestone of 53. The scenery was absolutely magnificent – wait until you see pictures – and I could not have asked for a more beautiful location to spend this day. We arrived in the rural village of Sabga and met an American missionary from Iowa who has been living there with his family since the early 90s, and after taking the customary jumping picture, we met the lamido, or chief, of the village, who was on his way to the mosque for Friday prayer, but spared some time for a group picture. We soon boarded the bus and were lucky enough to pass through the landscape we had driven by on our way up to return to Bamenda. After a late lunch, I opted for a nap at the church center while others went to the market – I needed to rest up for the night ahead!
At the end of my nap, I was bombarded with beautiful birthday gifts from my friends, complements of the market! Soo, my lovely roommate, gave me two beaded bracelets, followed by three more and fabric in my favorite colors from Alie, and two bottles of D’jino and a much-needed Twix bar from Emileigh. We all got dressed to go out (Abby, I wore the purple dress!), and I was led up to the picnic table where a beautifully-decorated but disgusting-tasting cake was waiting for me! After blowing out a match, bravely held by Big Ben, in lieu of candles, I cut the cake and Em, the next birthday girl, pulled out the knife (either a tradition here or from one of my friends, I forget). We ate cake as the sun set, and as I was wiping the frosting off Terence’s pocket knife, I sliced my finger. Not terrible, but enough for me to need to return to my room to wash it off and put a Band-Aid on it. I was terribly confused as to why all the girls were following me back to watch me wash my cut, but they all lingered in my doorframe observing. I soon found out it was not to watch this process but to see how long it would take me to find the balloons they had put all over my bed (discovered when I turned to get Neosporin out of my purse)! So that explained the popping sound I had heard earlier when they were blowing them up secretly!
After the birthday cake, we settled down for an hour of incredibly interesting talk with a woman in a polygamous marriage. Her situation is unique – she is married to the Fon of Chomba and is one of 7 wives. A Fon is a traditional ruler, like a king, and thus we addressed his wife as Her Majesty. She grew up in a polygamous home but was not forced into this marriage – she chose it, despite her father’s disapproval. An incredibly educated woman, she has no children of her own and seems to share a fairly equal relationship with her husband. Interestingly enough, she does not condone polygamous marriage really outside of the royal palace – it is practical for the Fon because the wives not only provide many descendants but also maintain the household and entertain and cook for frequent guests. She was most likely the most interesting and frankly honest person I’ve met in Cameroon, and I greatly value the time she spent with us. She left after extending an invitation to visit the Fon the following morning.
But before we could meet the Fon, there was some 21st birthday celebrating to do! We returned to Dreamland for dinner and drinks, where Katelynn and I both drank out of glasses that said Special all over them (yeah K²!). Just so you all know, my first drink as a 21-year-old, bought by Gina, was a large Gin Tonic, which is not exactly the same as a gin and tonic in the States. It did the trick though. After dropping Mr. Teku, the professors and Morgan (the sickling – I swear Mrs. Siegrist, I’m trying really hard to keep her well but I can’t control what she eats!) back at the church center, Julio took us out to a bar, where Harry gave the famous “halfway toast” to the birthday girl – halfway to 42 and incidentally halfway through our time in Cameroon! Next came the nightclub, and after meeting an older man who claimed to also be a Fon and asked me to return to his palace as his next queen (all this while spitting on me while talking, just what I want from my king!), we descended into the club, which was way calmer and less crowded (and in my opinion more fun!) than others we’ve been to. We danced up a storm (yes, me!) and some guy Alie made dance with me asked me to go with him to South Africa. The DJ announced my birthday and played a bunch of American music. We left around 2am and after clearing all the red balloons off my bed, I immediately fell sound asleep.
Saturday dawned too early, of course, and after a quick breakfast we stopped at the handicraft market for an overwhelming hour of trying to choose from all the masks and carvings and such what we wanted to buy. With our purchases in striped plastic bags, we headed to the Fon of Chomba’s palace! And it was a palace by Cameroonian standards, a mix of new and old, with a tomb building for all the previous Fons of Chomba, many shrines, places for the secret societies to meet and living quarters for the 7 wives and 20 children. The Fon was incredibly welcoming and open with us. Fun fact: The first-born son doesn’t necessarily become the next Fon – the current Fon chooses between all his sons, as to who is most up to the job. This helps explain the polygamy thing! More wives, more sons, more choices. During our Q&A session, the Queen served us Betty Crocker cake and fishy nems (like eggrolls). We left completely enlightened and with a better understanding of traditional leadership here.
Then it was back to Bamenda and Dreamland restaurant for a long-awaited for buffet lunch followed by Bamenda market time! Soo, Em and I haggled for good fabric prices, getting vendors down to 2500 francs (5 USD) for 6 yards. We also perused the shoe aisles, Soo and I getting sandals for the same price as the fabric, though I did have to punch holes in the straps so I could wear them! After purchasing some new sunglasses (the fake Guccis broke), we hit up another handicraft warehouse which sells artisans’ work. I’m not going to lie, I went a little crazy in there and bought many, many things – but hey, it was the day after my birthday and I’m in Africa! Eventually, we rounded up the team and headed home with our bags and then went scrounging for dinner. Bamenda’s great but lacks a plethora of restaurants, and there was no way we were returning to Dreamland. We ended up at Dynamic Spot Restaurant, with freshly cooked plantains, eru, fufu, rice and chicken, which were followed by little cakes (way better than my birthday cake haha!)! The ladies who owned the joint were so thrilled to have 11 customers that night and just kept thanking us profusely and telling us to tell all our friends to come to the Dynamic Spot! Stuffed with good food, we slowly made our way back up the hill to the church center in the dark and crashed early, preparing ourselves for the bumpy ride back the next morning.
Sunday was a bus day to the extreme. We made many roadside stops to buy produce, which is way cheaper in Bamenda area (ex: entire plastic grocery bag of fresh green beans for 1 USD), and felt every single speed bump. The highlight for me was our stop at a bakery in Bafussam (spelling negotiable) where we found MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP ICE CREAM!!! In case you were unaware, this is my favorite and though it wasn’t my mom’s mint chocolate chip ice cream cake, it was a good end to the birthday weekend! We arrived back in the heat and French chatter of Yaoundé late afternoon and I returned home to a cold shower that felt good, my gecko friends in the bathroom, and the goal to make the most of the second half of my time in Cameroon!
We descended into Bamenda in the early afternoon after passing through a rainstorm, and I was instantly pleased by the cooler temperature. I can’t remember the last time I just stood somewhere without sweating, let alone felt the absolute need to wear jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. It was glorious. After settling in at the Presbyterian Church Center in rooms that reminded us of summer camp and figuring out with my sassy roommate Soo how to keep our bathroom door closed with a chair, the soccer team wandered into town, in search of beverages and beignets (called puff puffs there). We were not met by cries of la blanche considering it was English-speaking territory, but even the cries of white man! were few and far between – refreshing to say the least. We chose a small bar where a fly promptly flew down the neck of my drink and drowned itself – our bus driver Julio later told me this is good luck, which I’ll take! After a simple and yet delicious dinner at the church center, Julio took us out on a night driving tour of Bamenda, which from up above on the cliffs is gorgeous at night. Then out for drinks to a place called Dreamland, where Katelynn squished a rat’s tail as it ran over her foot and we would eventually eat two other meals. The night ended with some roommate chatting in the dark with the ever-fabulous Soo!
My birthday started with a cold shower. Now, this may not seem like anything crazy since I take a cold shower most every day of my life here in Cameroon, but when it is cold in your room and cold in the bathroom and cold outside and cold water comes out of the showerhead, a cold shower is not really that pleasant. I got through that, dressed in the beautiful new kaba Mama Solange had finished just for my birthday, and was soon greeted with birthday exclamations and hugs from my wonderful teammates. A superb breakfast of omelettes, papaya and bread with jam greeted us in the dining hall, as did more birthday wishes from Mr. Teku and Professors Fanso and Mutia. Our day continued with a super-exciting visit to the Regional Agriculture Center or something to that effect. Sense the sarcasm? This is where they work to find more effective ways of growing crops and raising animals, as well as better ways of preserving milk and cheese and such, which they then share with farmers. It would have been fine except it was super long, and forced me to not be able to talk for long to my wonderful parents who called to wish me a good birthday (thanks Mom and Dad – you’re the best!). Enough about that. As we drove up into the mountains, I received a beautiful birthday text message from the incredible Barb Capozzi (thanks, amazing lady!) and shot off one of my own to Papa Fernand, who happens to share my day of birth and was hitting the milestone of 53. The scenery was absolutely magnificent – wait until you see pictures – and I could not have asked for a more beautiful location to spend this day. We arrived in the rural village of Sabga and met an American missionary from Iowa who has been living there with his family since the early 90s, and after taking the customary jumping picture, we met the lamido, or chief, of the village, who was on his way to the mosque for Friday prayer, but spared some time for a group picture. We soon boarded the bus and were lucky enough to pass through the landscape we had driven by on our way up to return to Bamenda. After a late lunch, I opted for a nap at the church center while others went to the market – I needed to rest up for the night ahead!
At the end of my nap, I was bombarded with beautiful birthday gifts from my friends, complements of the market! Soo, my lovely roommate, gave me two beaded bracelets, followed by three more and fabric in my favorite colors from Alie, and two bottles of D’jino and a much-needed Twix bar from Emileigh. We all got dressed to go out (Abby, I wore the purple dress!), and I was led up to the picnic table where a beautifully-decorated but disgusting-tasting cake was waiting for me! After blowing out a match, bravely held by Big Ben, in lieu of candles, I cut the cake and Em, the next birthday girl, pulled out the knife (either a tradition here or from one of my friends, I forget). We ate cake as the sun set, and as I was wiping the frosting off Terence’s pocket knife, I sliced my finger. Not terrible, but enough for me to need to return to my room to wash it off and put a Band-Aid on it. I was terribly confused as to why all the girls were following me back to watch me wash my cut, but they all lingered in my doorframe observing. I soon found out it was not to watch this process but to see how long it would take me to find the balloons they had put all over my bed (discovered when I turned to get Neosporin out of my purse)! So that explained the popping sound I had heard earlier when they were blowing them up secretly!
After the birthday cake, we settled down for an hour of incredibly interesting talk with a woman in a polygamous marriage. Her situation is unique – she is married to the Fon of Chomba and is one of 7 wives. A Fon is a traditional ruler, like a king, and thus we addressed his wife as Her Majesty. She grew up in a polygamous home but was not forced into this marriage – she chose it, despite her father’s disapproval. An incredibly educated woman, she has no children of her own and seems to share a fairly equal relationship with her husband. Interestingly enough, she does not condone polygamous marriage really outside of the royal palace – it is practical for the Fon because the wives not only provide many descendants but also maintain the household and entertain and cook for frequent guests. She was most likely the most interesting and frankly honest person I’ve met in Cameroon, and I greatly value the time she spent with us. She left after extending an invitation to visit the Fon the following morning.
But before we could meet the Fon, there was some 21st birthday celebrating to do! We returned to Dreamland for dinner and drinks, where Katelynn and I both drank out of glasses that said Special all over them (yeah K²!). Just so you all know, my first drink as a 21-year-old, bought by Gina, was a large Gin Tonic, which is not exactly the same as a gin and tonic in the States. It did the trick though. After dropping Mr. Teku, the professors and Morgan (the sickling – I swear Mrs. Siegrist, I’m trying really hard to keep her well but I can’t control what she eats!) back at the church center, Julio took us out to a bar, where Harry gave the famous “halfway toast” to the birthday girl – halfway to 42 and incidentally halfway through our time in Cameroon! Next came the nightclub, and after meeting an older man who claimed to also be a Fon and asked me to return to his palace as his next queen (all this while spitting on me while talking, just what I want from my king!), we descended into the club, which was way calmer and less crowded (and in my opinion more fun!) than others we’ve been to. We danced up a storm (yes, me!) and some guy Alie made dance with me asked me to go with him to South Africa. The DJ announced my birthday and played a bunch of American music. We left around 2am and after clearing all the red balloons off my bed, I immediately fell sound asleep.
Saturday dawned too early, of course, and after a quick breakfast we stopped at the handicraft market for an overwhelming hour of trying to choose from all the masks and carvings and such what we wanted to buy. With our purchases in striped plastic bags, we headed to the Fon of Chomba’s palace! And it was a palace by Cameroonian standards, a mix of new and old, with a tomb building for all the previous Fons of Chomba, many shrines, places for the secret societies to meet and living quarters for the 7 wives and 20 children. The Fon was incredibly welcoming and open with us. Fun fact: The first-born son doesn’t necessarily become the next Fon – the current Fon chooses between all his sons, as to who is most up to the job. This helps explain the polygamy thing! More wives, more sons, more choices. During our Q&A session, the Queen served us Betty Crocker cake and fishy nems (like eggrolls). We left completely enlightened and with a better understanding of traditional leadership here.
Then it was back to Bamenda and Dreamland restaurant for a long-awaited for buffet lunch followed by Bamenda market time! Soo, Em and I haggled for good fabric prices, getting vendors down to 2500 francs (5 USD) for 6 yards. We also perused the shoe aisles, Soo and I getting sandals for the same price as the fabric, though I did have to punch holes in the straps so I could wear them! After purchasing some new sunglasses (the fake Guccis broke), we hit up another handicraft warehouse which sells artisans’ work. I’m not going to lie, I went a little crazy in there and bought many, many things – but hey, it was the day after my birthday and I’m in Africa! Eventually, we rounded up the team and headed home with our bags and then went scrounging for dinner. Bamenda’s great but lacks a plethora of restaurants, and there was no way we were returning to Dreamland. We ended up at Dynamic Spot Restaurant, with freshly cooked plantains, eru, fufu, rice and chicken, which were followed by little cakes (way better than my birthday cake haha!)! The ladies who owned the joint were so thrilled to have 11 customers that night and just kept thanking us profusely and telling us to tell all our friends to come to the Dynamic Spot! Stuffed with good food, we slowly made our way back up the hill to the church center in the dark and crashed early, preparing ourselves for the bumpy ride back the next morning.
Sunday was a bus day to the extreme. We made many roadside stops to buy produce, which is way cheaper in Bamenda area (ex: entire plastic grocery bag of fresh green beans for 1 USD), and felt every single speed bump. The highlight for me was our stop at a bakery in Bafussam (spelling negotiable) where we found MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP ICE CREAM!!! In case you were unaware, this is my favorite and though it wasn’t my mom’s mint chocolate chip ice cream cake, it was a good end to the birthday weekend! We arrived back in the heat and French chatter of Yaoundé late afternoon and I returned home to a cold shower that felt good, my gecko friends in the bathroom, and the goal to make the most of the second half of my time in Cameroon!
17 March 2009
Everything tastes better out of a glass bottle.
Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone! While it's not celebrated in Cameroon, obviously, I am still sporting the green today! Nothing too new and exciting to report, but here's some observations since I last wrote:
~ As I said in the title of this post, everything tastes better out of a glass bottle. Here in Cameroon, drinks at restaurants and bars are in glass bottles which you give back once done and they send them to the filling places for refills. Our group collectively has decided that every drink tastes better when in a glass bottle - no idea why. It feels more authentic, old-school, sophisticated maybe. It's going to be a huge shock once we get back and Fanta comes in a can.
~ I continue to be really lucky with my host family. This past Friday, I cooked hamburgers and french fries for them for dinner. It was so fun - my little brothers helped me the whole time and though a potato peeler was the best thing ever, even though I've discovered knives are easier. The meal was a hit and Jason asked me to make him one to take to school on Saturday to make all his friends jealous, so then of course Bambi wanted one for breakfast, too! We then proceeded to have hamburgers every day this weekend as well as steak on Sunday, so I'm getting over a red meat overdose that was very needed.
~ I was at the internet cafe calling my friend Ariel on Sunday and a guy in dreadlocks kept walking past my booth trying to make eye contact. Finally, he opened the door and passed me a note. Here is what it said, verbatim: "Hallo Lady, You are beautiful! I like the Afro costume you're wearing. You also have an impression of a lady I met while in Canadian. Sorry for any embarassment of inconvenience, I will like to know you if you don't mind. I am a musical artist." NO JOKE. Followed by his number. Also, I was wearing a normal shirt, shorts and a semi-African fabric looking headband. This is Africa. Of course, I have no intention of contacting him.
~ I went to African Dance class on Saturday night. Yes, me. It was fun, though I looked ridiculous and have never been so sore in my entire life. I could barely walk around for the past 2 days. Pathetic, I know.
~ My host brothers and I are going to see the premier of High School Musical 3 in Cameroon on the 29th. I'm psyched.
~ This past week, the government literally bulldozed many of the vendors' setups in the Marche Centrale. The pope starts his visit in Cameroon today, so they used this as an excuse to make the city look more presentable. While the market is overwhelming for me, it is the way so many people make a living, albeit semi-illegally since they aren't supposed to be there. But now they have no place to sell what is left of the goods they could salvage from the wreckage. The city is transformed and it makes no sense to me. These people were just trying to scrape by and now they have no way to feed themselves. The government here is absurd and corrupt and is choosing presentation in the name of development over helping the people and providing employment. Ridiculous.
Alright, I think that's about it for now. We're off to Bamenda Thursday through Sunday to visit a village chief, shop for handicrafts in the markets, talk about polygamy and celebrate my 21st birthday! I'm ready for a little break! Hope all is well in your corner of the world - I love getting updates, so thanks to those who have sent them. And also I got more mail - thanks Becca for the card, Mom for the pictures, and Fred and Kathy for the fantastic card and letter!
love from Cameroon,
kait
~ As I said in the title of this post, everything tastes better out of a glass bottle. Here in Cameroon, drinks at restaurants and bars are in glass bottles which you give back once done and they send them to the filling places for refills. Our group collectively has decided that every drink tastes better when in a glass bottle - no idea why. It feels more authentic, old-school, sophisticated maybe. It's going to be a huge shock once we get back and Fanta comes in a can.
~ I continue to be really lucky with my host family. This past Friday, I cooked hamburgers and french fries for them for dinner. It was so fun - my little brothers helped me the whole time and though a potato peeler was the best thing ever, even though I've discovered knives are easier. The meal was a hit and Jason asked me to make him one to take to school on Saturday to make all his friends jealous, so then of course Bambi wanted one for breakfast, too! We then proceeded to have hamburgers every day this weekend as well as steak on Sunday, so I'm getting over a red meat overdose that was very needed.
~ I was at the internet cafe calling my friend Ariel on Sunday and a guy in dreadlocks kept walking past my booth trying to make eye contact. Finally, he opened the door and passed me a note. Here is what it said, verbatim: "Hallo Lady, You are beautiful! I like the Afro costume you're wearing. You also have an impression of a lady I met while in Canadian. Sorry for any embarassment of inconvenience, I will like to know you if you don't mind. I am a musical artist." NO JOKE. Followed by his number. Also, I was wearing a normal shirt, shorts and a semi-African fabric looking headband. This is Africa. Of course, I have no intention of contacting him.
~ I went to African Dance class on Saturday night. Yes, me. It was fun, though I looked ridiculous and have never been so sore in my entire life. I could barely walk around for the past 2 days. Pathetic, I know.
~ My host brothers and I are going to see the premier of High School Musical 3 in Cameroon on the 29th. I'm psyched.
~ This past week, the government literally bulldozed many of the vendors' setups in the Marche Centrale. The pope starts his visit in Cameroon today, so they used this as an excuse to make the city look more presentable. While the market is overwhelming for me, it is the way so many people make a living, albeit semi-illegally since they aren't supposed to be there. But now they have no place to sell what is left of the goods they could salvage from the wreckage. The city is transformed and it makes no sense to me. These people were just trying to scrape by and now they have no way to feed themselves. The government here is absurd and corrupt and is choosing presentation in the name of development over helping the people and providing employment. Ridiculous.
Alright, I think that's about it for now. We're off to Bamenda Thursday through Sunday to visit a village chief, shop for handicrafts in the markets, talk about polygamy and celebrate my 21st birthday! I'm ready for a little break! Hope all is well in your corner of the world - I love getting updates, so thanks to those who have sent them. And also I got more mail - thanks Becca for the card, Mom for the pictures, and Fred and Kathy for the fantastic card and letter!
love from Cameroon,
kait
08 March 2009
Hodgepodge
Sorry it’s taken a while for an update, but nothing much exciting has been happening in Yaoundé since our return from Limbé and Buea. However, I have scrounged up a few assorted anecdotes over the past few weeks that I hope you enjoy!
- A few days after returning from Limbé, I received the results of some hospital tests I had done to figure out what was wrong with my stomach (which as a refresher hadn’t been well since the weekend of the wedding but wasn’t unbearable). Turns out I have a fungus in my stomach caused by some type of food I ate. I’m blaming it on the disgusting intestine I mentioned in the wedding post, because that just can’t be good for anyone. So now I’m on an anti-fungal medicine twice a day for two weeks to kill this sucker. I feel fine, don’t worry! One of my friends, Harry, keeps saying he envisions a whole mushroom inside my stomach. That definitely sounds nicer!
- Speaking of illness, ever since returning from our mini vacation, it seems as though everyone is suffering from some form or another of what we call ARD (African Rejection Disease). We’ve all been a little off on the track of good health the past few weeks, with Ben and Morgan suffering the worst, but I hope we’ll all be a functioning soccer team again soon!
- I’ve spent a lot of the past two weekends with my host family, who are still as fantastic as ever! Last weekend, I spent much time eating papayas and watching Mama Solange as she crafted a jupe portefeulle, or wrap skirt, and matching top and my dress for Women’s Day (March 8). There’s something magical about having clothes tailor-made for yourself, especially by your Cameroonian mother. And I know that I will never feel more beautiful than I do when wearing brilliant Cameroonian fabric fitted to me. It’s a feeling.
- The post office here is an experience and a half. Last week I received a glorious birthday package from Grammy and Gramp (thank you so much, getting mail here is even better than getting mail at college!), and after surviving the maze of the bright yellow and turquoise painted building, finally retrieved a box which I then had to open so the customs officer could examine everything (aka disappearance of surprise from box) and paid the equivalent of 12 USD to take it home with me. But every franc was worth it!
- I started my internship at an Anglophone primary school down the street from my house called Mario. I have been going twice a week and sitting in with Class 3 (8 year olds), who are learning a lot of phonics (shout-out to Mrs. Irvine, the phonics teacher!), but then hanging out with mostly Class 5 the last hour (10 year olds) who have a lot of questions about the US. Also a rumor spread among the kids that I go to school with Barack Obama and they keep asking me if I can get him to come visit them. The best part of this internship is that I end up walking home with kids holding both my hands at 1:30 when school lets out.
- Flip flops are called babushes, which reminds me of the Polish word babushka which is, I think, a cloth women wrap around their heads. Random, I know, but I found it amusing.
- Most nights I either shower or brush my teeth with a cute little gecko clinging to my bathroom wall.
- I’ve made friends with two ladies, Elise and Hortense, who I pass on my walk to the taxi stop each school day. I always stop to chat with them, which definitely helps my French. They tell me I’m becoming more African. Haha.
- This weekend, I drove by a place, I think it was a bar, called Fan Club Obama. Cameroonians love Barack more than Americans, I’m pretty sure.
- On Saturday, I had the best fish I’ve EVER tasted, and I eat a lot of fish here. There is no way I will ever be able to eat fish again without comparing it to this one at La Maison Blanche. Also, at the restaurant, I’m pretty sure the bartender asked my host dad in his village language if he could have my number. Awesome.
- There is probably nothing more soothing than Mama Solange singing. Enough said.
- Today is Women’s Day in Cameroon and actually around the world but it’s really celebrated here. Each year there is a specific fabric for this day and this year we could choose between green, pink and blue. The Dickinson girls (I’m including you, Em!) all had dresses made in an array of colors and we looked spectacular. We went to the center of town this morning to watch the women march, wishing them Bonne Fete! Then we joined Mr. Teku and the boys for lunch out to celebrate being here for 2 months! Hard to believe – time is FLYING!
- This week we start our new class schedule. Thank the Lord above, our French classes have ended! I loved my professor, Joe Wabo, but 8 weeks of intensive French was a little too intense! Now, with our mornings free, we have switched our once-afternoon academic classes to mornings and left more time for internships. And I have another internship to start this week with UNESCO, so we’ll see how that goes!
- Also, I have begun receiving letters in the mail (thanks Annelyse, Carrie and Tiff!). As soon as I find envelopes, you’ll get responses, no promises on when it’ll arrive though! That being said, mail is fantastic and I’d love more! Emails work, too!
That’s all for now! Hope all is well in your corner of the world and you are stomach fungus free! To all my abroad friends, I love getting your updates, and to everyone at home thanks for reading and for sending emails and Facebook messages and such! Also, in the event anyone would ever want to call me (via Skype or with an international calling card), I have a cell phone here! The number is 237 77 21 29 69. Keep in mind I am now, thanks to Daylights Savings, 5 hours ahead of the East Coast. Alright, off to finish an Environmental Management essay (gasp, I actually do have some work here!). Feel free to suggest topics for future blogs or post any questions you have you might want me to answer in the next one! Happy Women’s Day to all the lovely ladies in my life!
Love from the ‘Roon,
kmi
- A few days after returning from Limbé, I received the results of some hospital tests I had done to figure out what was wrong with my stomach (which as a refresher hadn’t been well since the weekend of the wedding but wasn’t unbearable). Turns out I have a fungus in my stomach caused by some type of food I ate. I’m blaming it on the disgusting intestine I mentioned in the wedding post, because that just can’t be good for anyone. So now I’m on an anti-fungal medicine twice a day for two weeks to kill this sucker. I feel fine, don’t worry! One of my friends, Harry, keeps saying he envisions a whole mushroom inside my stomach. That definitely sounds nicer!
- Speaking of illness, ever since returning from our mini vacation, it seems as though everyone is suffering from some form or another of what we call ARD (African Rejection Disease). We’ve all been a little off on the track of good health the past few weeks, with Ben and Morgan suffering the worst, but I hope we’ll all be a functioning soccer team again soon!
- I’ve spent a lot of the past two weekends with my host family, who are still as fantastic as ever! Last weekend, I spent much time eating papayas and watching Mama Solange as she crafted a jupe portefeulle, or wrap skirt, and matching top and my dress for Women’s Day (March 8). There’s something magical about having clothes tailor-made for yourself, especially by your Cameroonian mother. And I know that I will never feel more beautiful than I do when wearing brilliant Cameroonian fabric fitted to me. It’s a feeling.
- The post office here is an experience and a half. Last week I received a glorious birthday package from Grammy and Gramp (thank you so much, getting mail here is even better than getting mail at college!), and after surviving the maze of the bright yellow and turquoise painted building, finally retrieved a box which I then had to open so the customs officer could examine everything (aka disappearance of surprise from box) and paid the equivalent of 12 USD to take it home with me. But every franc was worth it!
- I started my internship at an Anglophone primary school down the street from my house called Mario. I have been going twice a week and sitting in with Class 3 (8 year olds), who are learning a lot of phonics (shout-out to Mrs. Irvine, the phonics teacher!), but then hanging out with mostly Class 5 the last hour (10 year olds) who have a lot of questions about the US. Also a rumor spread among the kids that I go to school with Barack Obama and they keep asking me if I can get him to come visit them. The best part of this internship is that I end up walking home with kids holding both my hands at 1:30 when school lets out.
- Flip flops are called babushes, which reminds me of the Polish word babushka which is, I think, a cloth women wrap around their heads. Random, I know, but I found it amusing.
- Most nights I either shower or brush my teeth with a cute little gecko clinging to my bathroom wall.
- I’ve made friends with two ladies, Elise and Hortense, who I pass on my walk to the taxi stop each school day. I always stop to chat with them, which definitely helps my French. They tell me I’m becoming more African. Haha.
- This weekend, I drove by a place, I think it was a bar, called Fan Club Obama. Cameroonians love Barack more than Americans, I’m pretty sure.
- On Saturday, I had the best fish I’ve EVER tasted, and I eat a lot of fish here. There is no way I will ever be able to eat fish again without comparing it to this one at La Maison Blanche. Also, at the restaurant, I’m pretty sure the bartender asked my host dad in his village language if he could have my number. Awesome.
- There is probably nothing more soothing than Mama Solange singing. Enough said.
- Today is Women’s Day in Cameroon and actually around the world but it’s really celebrated here. Each year there is a specific fabric for this day and this year we could choose between green, pink and blue. The Dickinson girls (I’m including you, Em!) all had dresses made in an array of colors and we looked spectacular. We went to the center of town this morning to watch the women march, wishing them Bonne Fete! Then we joined Mr. Teku and the boys for lunch out to celebrate being here for 2 months! Hard to believe – time is FLYING!
- This week we start our new class schedule. Thank the Lord above, our French classes have ended! I loved my professor, Joe Wabo, but 8 weeks of intensive French was a little too intense! Now, with our mornings free, we have switched our once-afternoon academic classes to mornings and left more time for internships. And I have another internship to start this week with UNESCO, so we’ll see how that goes!
- Also, I have begun receiving letters in the mail (thanks Annelyse, Carrie and Tiff!). As soon as I find envelopes, you’ll get responses, no promises on when it’ll arrive though! That being said, mail is fantastic and I’d love more! Emails work, too!
That’s all for now! Hope all is well in your corner of the world and you are stomach fungus free! To all my abroad friends, I love getting your updates, and to everyone at home thanks for reading and for sending emails and Facebook messages and such! Also, in the event anyone would ever want to call me (via Skype or with an international calling card), I have a cell phone here! The number is 237 77 21 29 69. Keep in mind I am now, thanks to Daylights Savings, 5 hours ahead of the East Coast. Alright, off to finish an Environmental Management essay (gasp, I actually do have some work here!). Feel free to suggest topics for future blogs or post any questions you have you might want me to answer in the next one! Happy Women’s Day to all the lovely ladies in my life!
Love from the ‘Roon,
kmi
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