Village Girl goes to the Big City!

I've gotten pretty comfortable living in my little house in village.  I've settled into a routine, growing used to the scarcity of water and the constant battle with dust.  I have made some incredibly lovely friends in Sanguéré-Paul and I truly enjoy my time there.  Thus, I didn't necessarily feel like I needed a break from post and was not anxiously awaiting PST-Reconnect (our in-service training at the three month mark) as many of the other volunteers have been.  I was not particularly looking forward to the trip down south, where the people would not be as calm, I would not feel as safe and secure, and I would not be able to live in the comfort of my own home.

With all that being said, I arrived in Yaoundé Friday morning, and have been having one heck of a fancy-pants weekend here, and loving every minute of it!  

After the five hour bus ride to Ngaoundéré on Wednesday, we met up with the rest of the Grand North volunteers who live in different villages in the Adamawa region.  They gave us a tour of Ngaoundéré, taking us to a restaurant with delicious salads and homemade hummus, followed by a bar with beachy atmosphere.  We hiked Mount Ngaoundéré, went to the market (there were guinea pigs!!!), and found a dairy bar where the ice cream machine was broken, but the lady made a mean chocolate yogurt (bien glacé... it almost counts as froyo!)

Eleven of us boarded the train on Thursday evening, and kicked things off right with mimosas.  We had intended it to be classy and sophisticated, but I think that dream was shot when we realized we had no cups or glasses, and resorted to mixing liquids in empty water bottles, holding the bottles out the window to prevent spilling all over our beds and luggage. 

We arrived in Yaoundé just in time for lunch.  After sharing a pizza with my friend Pax, we went to Espresso House for delicious chocolate milkshakes (and coffee, but coffee -- ick!).  By the time we arrived back at the case (the Peace Corps transit house, pronounced "cause", which I should mention is brand new, currently still under construction, and has several sparkly chandeliers and a bathtub!!), it was nearly time for Hilton Happy Hour.  A few of us headed out to the Hilton Hotel, took the elevator to the 11th floor (whoa guys, whoa.  I forgot buildings this tall even existed!), and ordered ourselves some deliciously strong margaritas and long island ice teas.

This morning I went for a run at the Parcours Vita, which is basically a public sports complex where you can find hundreds of people faring sport: running the 2km fitness trail around a lake, taking various exercise classes, playing basketball, tennis, or soccer, and sweating their guts out in the painfully thick humidity.  I instantly found a running buddy and once we were good and tired from many miles of running-walking-and-talking, we went out for refreshing smoothies. 

Finally, we topped it all off with a pool party at the U.S. Embassy!  Six luxurious hours of swimming, sunbathing, and delicious food.  Spending the afternoon on American soil -- where the grass is green, people speak English, and no one will judge you if you're showing your kneecaps -- was unbelievable relaxing.  We had to keep each other in check, reminding each other that diarrhea is not considered an appropriate meal-time conversation topic outside of the PCV world, and no, it's probably not polite to wash your skirt in the pool.  Be on our best behavior so that we can be invited back!  The embassy workers seemed to be entertained by hearing our stories from post -- our struggles with food, water, and integration -- but mostly they seemed to get the biggest kick out of our excitement about little things such as toilets that flush, automatic paper-towel dispensers, and those little cone-shaped paper cups next to the water filter.  And Kraft Singles!

Tomorrow we will be leaving for Bamenda, where we'll meet with everyone from our original stage (training group), our program managers, and our counterparts.  Though I'm excited to see everyone together in one place again, I am mostly just still reveling in all the fancypants things that I nearly forgot existed outside of my sweet little village life. 

La fête de la jeunesse

Every year on February 11th, students all over Cameroon hit the streets in their cleanest school uniform and nicely washed shoes to participate in the Youth Day parades.

Too small to have it's own parade, Sanguéré-Paul sent its students to parade in Garoua.  Here, students of all ages from schools in and around the city had their cleanest school uniforms and showed off their best marching skills.  

The parade began with the nursery schools, followed by primary schools and high schools.  At the tail end of the two hour parade, we got to see other learning activities that there are in Garoua: engineering, nursing, the Red Cross, and various technical schools.

 

Sanguéré-Paul Primary School

Some people take marching very seriously.

There's not really much more I can say about it, but I definitely learned a lot about the various kinds of activities people can engage in here in Cameroon.  After all of the formal educational groups, members of various sports clubs marched through the streets.  Not just soccer and basketball, but also taekwondo, judo, cycling, ping pong, and my personal favorite: the rollerblading club.  Who would've thought rollerblading would be a big hit in Cameroon?!

I was a little disappointed that there were no giant floats with people throwing candy, but aside from that, it was an interesting day! 

Off to Bamenda!

Sorry for slacking off recently!!  I haven't forgotten you, internet world!  I don't have any fancypants posts for y'all, but I wanted to let you know that I'm heading off to PST-Reconnect in Bamenda for the next few weeks.  All of the volunteers from my stage and our counterparts will be meeting up for some additional training and to share information about each our own villages. 


I'll try to post something soon!



Later gators!

Au marché

Boobies, Booties, and the Mayor.

This horn sounded remarkably like bagpipes.

Last Wednesday I attended what was the absolute weirdest government-related event I’ve ever been too.  (Yes, it was more bizarre than that time we got tipsy on Canadian tax dollars at the high commission in Nairobi… but I guess that was not so weird, just a good time.)

I received the invitation the day before, as I was walking to the carrefour to buy peanut butter.  Some man I had never met stood up from his seat on the side of the road, shouting for my attention.  “Madame! Madame!  I have something for you!”  I glanced over the invitation, which was asking me to attend a “cocktail ceremony” in celebration of the installation of the new mayor of my subdivision (though he’s really the same old mayor, just re-elected).  Thrilled about the prospect of margaritas and mojitos, I thought to myself, “heck yes!  Of course I’ll skip French class for a morning cocktail!"

When I arrived at the ceremony, hundreds of guests were already in place, and I was led to my seat next to health volunteer Hannah Purkey, who lives 5km away in Djalingo.  We then spent a solid two hours people-watching before the ceremony began, and boy oh boy, was there a lot to watch! 

  

Throw ALL THE MONEY!

Starting very early on, men surrounded the seated crowd yelling in various languages until people gave them money.  These men didn’t seem angry, but were shouting in a very aggressive manner.  They were nicely dressed and appeared relatively well off, yet still people were passing out the bills.  Confused as to whether we should contribute or not, we asked the lady next to us what they were collecting money for, to which she responded “just for fun!” but told us that we shouldn’t feel obligated to give anything.

Then the musical numbers started.  These same men who were begging for money happened to be the entertainment as well.  They stood in front of the crowd and began singing.  Then, about a minute into the first song they began working the crowd again, encircling certain individuals, who would then literally throw money in the air or stick bills to the performers’ sweaty foreheads.  This went on for each performer.  Each singer would wander into the crowd, and audience members would shell out cash as if it were nothing.  

We’re not talking nickels and dimes, we’re talking the equivalent of hundreds of dollars being thrown into the air or stuck to people’s foreheads.  The most I counted for one single performer was 90,000 CFA, or $180.  90,000 CFA!  Do you know how many beans and beignets that could buy?!

Apparently this is a method of showing appreciation for the talent, though I find this debatable.  In a moment where the money tossing became too physically intensive, the singer returned the microphone to the MC.  But guess what?  The song kept going!  He had been lip-syncing the whole time!  I watched more closely from this point on, and realized that nearly every performer would lip-sync, and somehow this act would still be rewarded with bundles of forehead money!

Two traditional dancers.

Not all the acts were lip-syncing though.  There were a few traditional dance groups from various ethnic groups in the region.  These dancers could shake their bumbums in ways that fill my American booty with envy.  Some of them shook their booties right up into (and onto) the crowd, yielding the same monetary results as the lip-syncers.

In the middle of one of the traditional dance routines, Hannah and I had been chatting about something trivial, glancing away from the scene for a barely a moment.  When we looked back up, we were being stared right back at by five pairs of Cameroonian boobies (but not the type of Cameroonian boobies that have nursed 7 babies).  The women had apparently all dropped their strapless pagne dresses, and were now shakin’ their stuff right in front of the new-old mayor.

This guy certainly had a good time.
(Cropped out the topless ladies.  Sorry!)

Money was still being flung around and being stuck to foreheads, and they mayor remained calm in the front row as if having topless women dance around him was just like any other day.  (Later I learned that this topless “traditional” dance is actually not so common.  My sixteen-year-old neighbor had left the ceremony during this act because he felt it was a waste of his time.)

When it was all over, we headed to Mont-des-Oliviers for the “cocktail” portion of the event.  While all the other invitees had motos to get there, Hannah and I made most of the trek by foot, hitchhiking the remainder of the distance with her neighbor.  By the time we arrived, there was hardly any food left, and definitely no cocktails.  It didn’t matter much though, because my community host, Madame Tizi, and her husband were there.  Who needs food when you’ve got good company?  We spent the afternoon laughing and chitchatting – in French, English, and Fulfulde – until we were the last people remaining. 

To use wording my father would scoff at, it was definitely the most unique government event I have ever attended.  That being said, it was definitely interesting, and opened my eyes to a little bit more of Cameroonian culture. 

But I’m still waiting for that margarita!

Madame Tizi, moi, and Monsieur Tizi after the ceremony.

My foray into foyers!

A few weeks ago, my counterpart, Djida, excitedly came to my house to show me an invitation that had been received by the Lawan (the village chief).  The invitation was from an environmental organization called Environnement, Recherche, et Developpement (ERD).

Top view of our foyer amelioré in Sanguéré-Ngal.

This organization is beginning a counter-climate-change project called “Grandir Avec Son Arbre” (Grow with your tree), and they chose five villages in my subdivision to be the implementers.  Eight members from each of the five villages would unite to form an environmental committee.  ERD would work with each committee to create a tree nursery at the primary school of each school (thus giving children a chance to learn as well), and to create a small vegetable garden for income generation.  ERD would also host a workshop in each village (open to anyone who is interested) to teach about foyers ameliorés, or, improved cook-stoves, that minimize wood consumption.

Well, perfect!  One of the main environmental related issues I’ve heard from people in Sanguéré-Paul is that people are cutting trees faster than they can grow, without planting new ones.  Everybody knows that it’s probably not the best thing to be doing, but nobody sees an alternative.  The vast majority of villagers cook over a wood fire each night.  If not a wood fire, they use charcoal (thus, another wood product).  Many people even cut trees in Sanguéré-Paul to sell in Garoua or other nearby villages.  ERD is proposing activities directly in line with this issue of deforestation.

I emailed the organization’s office in Yaoundé and called their Garoua line the next day.  Within thirty minutes of my call, Samuel, ERD’s Garoua representative was on his way to meet me in Sanguéré-Paul.  Within four days, Jean-Michel, the director from Yaoundé, happened to be up North for business and also came out to meet me.

Though I knew next to nothing about ameliorated cook-stoves, we agreed that this could potentially be an awesome collaboration.  It was decided that I would follow the project in each of the five villages, attending the meetings and workshops, and then help to follow up, ensuring that the committees are actually meeting and effectively delivering their newly learned skills to others.  

While we have decided to wait until the rainy season for the tree nurseries (due to the fact that there is barely enough water left in the wells for regular daily life), we were able to get started right away with the improved cookstoves.  Last weekend, we travelled to each of the five villages over the course of three days to give a theoretical workshop, or rather a “this is what you’ll all be doing next weekend” workshop.  Friday: Sanguéré-Ngal and Sanguéré-Lanavet.  Saturday: Ndiam-Baba and Sanguéré-Paul.  Sunday: Bockle.  Each workshop had between thirty and forty women (and some men too!), except for Sanguéré-Paul, where nobody showed because of a church assembly (frustrating, yes, but this gave me a chance to hang at the bar and bond with my new environmental buddies!).

This Saturday, we turned theory into practice, and got really darn muddy along the way.  Conquering all five villages in one day, we constructed four beautiful foyers ameliorés (this time, Sanguéré-Lanavet didn’t show up).  While I stood on the sidelines and simply watched for the first demonstration, Samuel made sure I was working hard for the rest of the day! 

Pitoa's agroforestry volunteer Clare MacMillen joined us for the Sanguéré Paul demonstration.

Smoothing out the surface.

The goal is to have each woman who was in attendance construct a cookstove at her own home by March 1^st, at which point we’ll travel around to each house, inviting ourselves to a delicious wood-minimizing home-cooked meal!

Women at work!

The women definitely seemed enthusiastic, and weren't the least bit hesitant to get involved during the demonstration.  One woman even approached me at the market today and told me she’s planning to build hers soon!  I told her (and everyone else at Sanguéré-Paul’s workshop) that whenever she is ready, come find me at my house and I’ll be ready to get my hands dirty an instant! 

Our prettiest cookstove was in Bockle, where the our soil was more on the clay side.  Once dry, the wood will be removed.  The two holes on the side will be used for ventilation, and the bigger hole is where the small (and few!) pieces of wood will be placed to fuel the fire.