The Countdown Begins! 7 Months to Go!

The weeks go by fast while the days can drag on forever; that is what they said. Two years will pass in the blink of an eye; that is what they said. I have 7 months left in Cameroon and I am not sure what to think or how to feel. My postmate will leave in July then I will find out my date of departure in August. Everyone is talking about what to do after Peace Corps. I have started to look for jobs (If anyone hears of a job at a non-profit agricultural based organization or a fair, let me know!). It all seems surreal. 7 months feels like a long time to wait to see my family and friends. But it also feels like a short amount of time to really enjoy being with my friends in Cameroon. As you can see, I am not sure how I feel right now so to avoid a depressing and scattered brain post, I will give you an update on the always occurring adventures in Cameroon.

The 2016 Ngaoundéré Soy Project has started and we have 11 new participants! It is always a stressful time when advertising for the soy project, setting a deadline for applications, and trying to get enough participants but not too many so as to not overwhelm the project leaders. As usual, we had a few applications by the deadline but then a week later, 15 people signed up. Deadlines are usually seen as “reminders” in Cameroon instead of end dates. We were happy when 11 (6 male, 5 female) showed up to the first class on business and paid their participation fees. We even had to translate the soy informational packet into English because there are some English speaking people from the Northwest Cameroon area. Well when I say translate, I mean change to Cameroon English. For example when describing how to make soy milk it is appropriate to say “it doesn’t drunken”. It was interesting to explain to my work partner that in the United States that we do not call everything that is spicy: “pepper” (pronounced as pep-pay in Cameroon). He said that we do not speak good English in the U.S. and I had to bite my tongue. The best thing about English is that it can be spoken in so many different ways. I have friends in Oklahoma that I cannot understand.

Soy Project business class

 

 I have begun to pass over more of the tasks to the project leaders. They are ready to really take over the management this year so that when I leave, they will be the sole organizers for the soy project. I will probably not be replaced by another volunteer but other agricultural volunteers will be posted in nearby villages so they can be contacted if the project leaders need help. My Peace Corps supervisor came to visit and observe the class. This visit made my work partners happy and gave them motivation to keep helping their community.

With my work going well along with the volleyball club at the primary school, I am finding time to enjoy my last months in Cameroon. I went on a short trip to visit the Northwest and West Cameroon. If you look up Bemenda and Bafoussam on the map it will give you a good idea of where I traveled. As you go south of the Adamawa region, the humidity rises but then go west and you will see the mountains along with chilly nights. North of Bemenda there is a place called Mbingo where it looks like you stepped into Switzerland. As we drove along, these specks started to hit the windshield. At first I thought it was snow but then realized it was thousands of termites flying through the air. Crazy! The Northwest has some similarities to the Adamawa: the same packed buses with luggage piled on top (one bus had two coffins attached to the roof although who knows if they were full or empty) and roads with so many pot holes that you cannot go more than 30 miles per hour. The differences are the tall mountains, lush green forests, and people speak Cameroon English in the Northwest (French is still spoken in the West). We went hiking one day to see one of the many waterfalls but it rains every day so we got caught in a thunderstorm. We spent the next couple hours walking through streams up to our knees and traversing down muddy avalanches. Least to say we were soaked when we got back but still with smiles on our faces. Plus one of the friend’s I hiked with had a house nearby that had a shower with hot water and a washing machine for our clothes.

Getting caught in a thunderstorm and trying to hike down past rivers of muddy water

In Mbingo, there is a hospital organized by Baptist missionaries. I stayed with a Peace Corps volunteer who lived nearby but got to visit this hospital which is well-known for being tucked away in the hillside with mowed lawns and a great view of the mountains. Because the hospital is private and organized by Americans, the medical care is the best in Cameroon, but it is expensive and many people have to pay a lot to travel across the country to receive help. A friend gave a tour of the hospital and it still has the reminders that it is Cameroon: flies in the surgery room, people sleeping on mats along the walkways, Cameroonian and ex-pat doctors disagreeing on what to prescribe, asking a question to a Cameroonian nurse who won’t look you in the eye as she tries to not answer your question because she knows you will not like the answer. But even with these reminders, it is still the best place for medical care in this country. I passed through the ICU and saw a woman lying on a cot staring at me with a look I wasn’t sure I understood. She looked to be in pain but knew I could not do anything to help. The American nurse I was with was explaining how the ICU was organized and as she went by the woman, she put her hand on her arm and wished her well in French. I saw a faint glimmer of a smile on the woman’s face and I knew that this hospital was still the best place for her to receive care.

Mbingo Hospital (with waterfalls behind it)

I am an agricultural volunteer but I was reminded that day in the hospital that medical care is still so important for Cameroon. Cameroonians go to city colleges to learn how to be doctors but they still do not receive enough education to be good doctors. Ex-pats, especially missionaries are sent to Cameroon to give medical aid but some of these doctors are only here for a few short months. I learned recently that doctors can remove goiters but what if that large lump is cancer or some other disease? The only way to know is to take a tissue sample and have a pathologist look at it under a microscope. There are not many pathologists or good microscopes in Cameroon. Doctors can only help so much but if a procedure is complicated in the U.S., it is really complicated in Cameroon. I was really impressed by the work being done at the hospital in Mbingo, but it reminded me that there is only so much we can do to help. The rest has to be done by the Cameroonians. The colleges need to be better in Cameroon and if a Cameroonian goes to another country for education, they need to come back to their villages and help their community. The big question is: If Americans and Europeans didn’t go to countries in Africa, building hospitals, schools, and water wells….would countries like Cameroon eventually help it self and invent ways to improve livelihood? Because that is what other countries like the U.S. did. I guess we will never know. At least by living here, myself and other volunteers are asking the same question: how does development work and how can we really help?

Northwest Cameroon landscape

Other than those tough, complicated questions; the simpler question is what do you do when it is raining and your roof leaks in the bedroom? Seeing as my landlord said he fixed the roof and my mattress is still soaked, how about putting the mattress on the floor in the living room (the bedframe is too big to move), attaching the mosquito net to the ceiling and spending the next 7 months sleeping in there.  As long as I tuck my mosquito net in better so the ants don’t find my bed again. The best part about sleeping in the living room is that that room has a wooden ceiling. Unlike my bedroom which just has the tin roof so when it rains really hard I can’t hear myself think and I dream about being on a boat caught in a storm at sea. Oh the wild life.

 

Sleeping space for the next 7 months

Fun fact about Cameroon: if you go on a trip (even a day trip), everyone expects you to bring a present back for them. And they will ask! At first I tried to integrate into my community by bringing small gifts for people. After over a year here I have decided that they need to learn about the American way of not bringing gifts unless it’s a long, far away trip. People were not happy about my answer of “no” to their demands but after I explained the reason, they nodded their heads although I’m sure they like their way better. After this most recent trip, I decided I was gone long enough to bring back a small present. Even though Cameroonians expect gifts, they do not expect big ones. Just a small sack of passion fruits from the Northwest was enough to make my neighbors happy (we do not have passion fruit in the Adamawa). And for all those wonderful friends in the U.S. that have been sending me letters and packages, expect some small gifts when I get back!

Eating the Northwest Cameroon traditional dish of Njamma-jamma, made out of leaves. Same as the Adamawa's couscous, you eat it with your hands. This dish doesn't have a lot of nutrients but it can easily feed a whole family and fills you up quick. It also adds some extra weight around the hips for many Peace Corps volunteers since it is cheap food that conquers hunger.

As of now, no need to send any more packages unless they are gifts for my Cameroonian friends. It takes about a month (or more!) for packages to arrive and I don’t want any arriving after I leave in November! So don’t worry about me. Although my IPod just stopped working on this trip I am still hopeful that the holes in my clothes/sneakers/socks do not get bigger (2 years washing by hand and Cameroon dirt destroys clothes), my computer doesn’t get any more cracks in it, my couscous fat around my hips goes away, I keep on being healthy (no malaria- knock on wood), and I enjoy every minute on this soil.

I can hear the children practicing chanting verses from the Quran. They wave at me as I record them and I wonder if they know that I will watch these videos when I am missing them in the U.S.

Monkey Island

A little early for a blog post, but I just had to share my adventure to Monkey Island! It was amazing! Thanks to my two friends who are married and Peace Corps volunteers, I got to tag along with them and a visiting relative to a place in the southwest of Cameroon where rescued chimpanzees are kept safe. Hunting and eating monkeys is a big problem in Cameroon. My postmate has even witnessed children hunting monkeys near our village.

It took a few hours traveling on a dusty dirt road to arrive at this sanctuary. Our driver goes there a lot, taking people such as Peace Corps volunteers to this remote place by the water. Monkey Island is just a name we gave this place but it is not known throughout Cameroon. The only way people visit is by finding out through word of mouth. The people who run it like it better that way. The money we pay to see the chimpanzees enables them to provide for these animals and the low-advertising allows them to take care of the monkeys the way they want to, which I think is very well.

View of the camp

 

The younger ones (up to 3 years old) are kept at the camp and sleep in an old cabin. We played with these ones first. Banana was the most entertaining and loved to cause trouble. He reminded me of a young child, always full of energy and never tiring even though he certainly wore us out. He would even bite a little, like a puppy, although never breaking skin. He reminded me why chimpanzees are dangerous and how I would not want to encounter a bigger and older one. But we had fun with the little ones. One of them loved untying and tying our shoes. She even figured out how to unzip the zipper on my boot. And lastly, my favorite, the youngest: Chance. Less than a year old, his mother had been killed by pygmies (Cameroonians that are hunter/gathers in the jungle) and they had kept Chance so that they could eat him when he got older. Someone found out about Chance and called our driver. He immediately went to pick him up and probably had to pay a lot of money to buy Chance from the pygmies. Chance has become very attached to the main guy at the camp. He played with us but only would let our driver and this other guy hold him. At the end I was finally able to share an apple with him by biting a piece off, feeding it to him and then taking a bite for myself. Five minutes of heaven right there.

Me and Banana

 

 

Sharing an apple with Chance

 

The older monkeys are kept on two islands next to the camp. We took a boat out to see them, anchoring a short distance away. We threw fruit to them as they clambered out to see us. I could tell that they enjoyed their life: they were safe, untouched, and free to enjoy their piece of land with no fences. But I could also tell they were dangerous. I doubt anyone goes on those islands. There were up to 8 on each island, the teenagers were a bit rambunctious but the oldest were quite calm. One of them even had a baby on her back. It was brilliant to see them up close and I knew the money we paid was being put to good use. Mostly all these monkeys (most are chimpanzees but not sure on the rest) are rescued orphans and this island is probably the safest place for them in Cameroon.

 

So I guess this is one wild adventure where I actually got to see and touch the wildlife!

 

P.S. Our train got derailed on our way to Yaoundé. Thank goodness it was just the two luggage cars that went off the track but that meant a few hours wait for the train to get going again. Naturally when it derailed, most people got off and stood staring at the problem with their hands on their hips. Oh Cameroon. But we were lucky, some intelligent person decided to detach the engine car from the luggage cars, move it and move the rest of the train and then reattach them. Of course as we pulled away, we left all the luggage cars. Not sure how people would get their luggage back but it is normal to lose luggage in Cameroon and for trains to derail. Thankfully we had our luggage in our car! This is the wild life.

The Wildlife

This month brought two similar events; my birthday and the birth of a new baby. As far as turning 28, I can now say that I am not in my post-college years, I am not in my 30s, but somewhere in the middle. “Somewhere” being that ability to have some experience, some education, and still creating adventure. In the US, we might have legal ages such as 18 and 21 but it is becoming normal to be married at 40 or 20 and have that awesome job by 25 or you can find it at 60. Everyone has their own path. In Cameroon, people do not know my age. If they did, they would wonder why I am not married and why I don’t have any children. Sometimes I just say my husband is back in the U.S. so I can avoid the conversation. Most of the children guessed my age to be 30-40 on my birthday. Mmm…do I look that old? At least by seeming older, I receive a little more respect here.

Birthday fun

My neighbors just welcomed a tiny little girl into the world the day before my birthday. It is custom that Muslims wait a week before giving the baby a name. Of course when I asked last Saturday for her name, I got a mix of Oumaheidi, Oumahaley, so it’s something like that. This baby is the mother’s 8^th child and 6^th girl. Also she has given birth to all of her children in her house even though there is a health center in my village. Most women here choose to give birth at home instead of choosing the safer route of going to a hospital. Well it’s supposed to be safer at the hospital. I have heard stories of doctors using forceps to get the baby out and sitting on the mother’s stomach while she is pushing. According to most men here, the stronger the wife, the less noise she makes while giving birth and they always tell me that it could not be that painful. And how would they know!? Her oldest daughter is 15 (and should be married soon) so I’m guessing the mother has a baby every chance she gets. Birth control is hardly used here. But good news is that the mother and baby are safe and healthy. Another child to add to what I like to call my “Cameroon family”. As much as I disagree with some of their decisions, they are the friends I go to for help, company, and whom I have grown to love in this small, dusty community.

Mamma with her new baby and daughter, Guyia

Recently another volunteer and I have taken up traditional archery here. We visited a small archery practice the other day where a group of men (mostly older) get together a few times a week to shoot their arrows at targets a good 80 meters away. They use the traditional bows and arrows made out of wood with no feathers on the bows. People use to and still today hunt animals with bows. It is a bit different from what we are used to in the U.S. No high tech bow that is easy to pull back and they don’t take their time aiming. Just a small pause to get sight of the target, then they pull and release the arrow in one stroke, even flinging themselves a little forward to give the arrow momentum. We bought arrows and a couple bows from them. I even got a small quiver made of cow hide for my arrows. I felt like a regular Robin Hood. Yet my technique was lacking. It took me a while to learn how to shoot the arrow with this tight-stringed bow. But the men are very welcoming and love to teach us. It reminds me of the groups in the U.S. that reenact battles and the picture of a uniformed soldier showing his teenage son how to load a Civil War rifle.

Archery practice

 

Kind of like Robin Hood?

My father gave me this idea of writing down some “Wildlife” descriptions. Since most of the actual wildlife in Cameroon is in the North, where we are currently not permitted to go with the Boko Haram activity, I actually don’t get to see a lot of the animals that you might connect with Africa. Mostly it’s been a few monkeys and then the domestic sheep, horses, goats, chickens, ducks, dogs, birds, and cats. So I will give you some of the “Wildlife” situations and experiences that always make me feel like: yes I am totally in Africa.

First example is transportation (it is difficult to take pictures here without people staring so I borrowed some of these pictures, but all the pictures are examples of what I have seen here):

While there is one train that goes from the capital of Yaoundé to the Adamawa city of Ngaoundéré, mostly everywhere else people use buses, taxis, and motorcycle taxis to travel. The train can be alright if you pay more and sleep in the small bed for the entire night ride which goes from 7pm to technically 9am. Although most of the time the train breaks down in the middle of the night and you can arrive sometimes as late as 2pm; always over 12 hours on a train. If you take the cheaper choice of 1^st or 2^nd class, you will have to sit in a less-comfortable airplane like seat and where they do not turn off the lights or music. To add more distress, there are always guys selling anything from tissues and candy to bibles and books, walking up and down the aisle shouting throughout the night. Compared to buses and cars, the train is still the most comfortable means of travel here. And thankfully I live in the Adamawa so I take the train more often than buses.

Train in Ngaoundere

Motorcycle taxis are everywhere here. I pay 200 CFA (less than 50 cents) to get from my village to the city. During dry season, the roads are dusty but not too bad to drive on. Rainy season however can create rivers in the middle of the dirt roads and many times have we tumbled because the motorcycle wheels slip on the mud. But the most interesting fact about these moto-taxis is that you can fit everything on them. This includes mattresses (that is how I transported my mattress to my house in the darkness of night; tightly holding the folded bed between me and the driver, my abs having a great workout as I tried not to fall off the back), large piles of sticks, a goat or two, large pieces of plywood or metal balanced precariously but stretching a few feet into the air, chairs (my postmate sat on his chairs which were on the moto-taxi to transport them to his house), and of course there can be up to 5 people crammed on the motorcycle, maybe more sometimes. It is always funny to see a little kid sitting in front of the driver, his hands resting on the handles. Reminds me of riding in front of my dad on a draft horse, but I think I was the safer kid.

Motorcycle in Cameroon

The same “we can fit that” attitude is with the taxis and buses. It is not unusual to see beds and luggage sticking out of a car trunk with the door strapped a quarter of the way down by large pieces of black rubber. I saw a guy sitting on a bunch of mattresses that were strapped to the top of a car as it went down the road; part of me wanted to try it. And if they can fit luggage, they can fit people. The record for me is when my postmate and I got into a two-door taxi with 4 of us in the front and 5 people in the back with two children. It was a long, cramped ride. Buses are the same. You are lucky if you can take a Touristique bus which resembles the large tourist buses but a lot older and beat up. In those, you have your own seat, even if you are a little squished. Otherwise you might be stuffed into a large van like vehicle that reminds me of how my basketball team and I traveled to games except we didn’t have to fit 5 people in a seat for 4. And if its dry season, no one wants to open windows because of all the dust. Sometimes we see these buses go by and swear we see them tip to one side as they turn a corner because there is so much stuff packed on top. You can even see a few goats tied to the top of a bus usually. And why does Cameroon have this outrageously dangerous and uncomfortable way of travel? Because the only way to keep prices cheap and still make money is to have as many paying passengers as possible. For me, I will stick with the train and moto-taxis as much as possible.

Typical "van" bus

 

Packed taxi (roads are not always this nice in Cameroon)

So while the wild animals are not seen as much in my area, there is still the ability to live the wild life through Cameroon transportation…if you can handle it.

                Read about some other wildlife experiences in my next blog post.

I’m sure some of you have read on my Facebook page that my cat, Annie died a few weeks ago. Instead of writing the sad story here, I have made a special page for her on this blog. So if you feel like shedding some tears and feeling your heart melt a little, just read “Annie” page.

On a happier note, we gave the money that you all kindly donated to Sister Carine for the orphans. They were all so happy and excited to receive the funds and we will keep you updated on how it goes getting them better mattresses and such.

Sister Carine and Doctor Max with the orphans

Life and work in Cameroon have been passing by with every bit of dust that gets into my eye when I forget to put down my helmet visor on the moto-taxi. We are looking for participants for the 2016 Soy Project and handing out flyers everywhere in the area. Those participants will be chosen hopefully by the end of February. Thanks to everyone at home for words of comfort and support after Annie passed away. I even got some birthday packages to brighten my day. I watched the movie Gremlins the other night and around midnight I woke up depressed and with a migraine. After trying to get back to sleep, I heard a rustle and thump in my living room. All I could think was that there were gremlins in my house. Then my neighbor’s cat, Crosby jumped into my bed, scaring the crap out of me. I hadn’t closed the cat door in my window. But somehow Crosby has figured out when I most lonely and in need of a friend. It is amazing that even in a country where people treat animals with such disdain, a cat can be there when she is most needed. And the next morning, I let the children come color in my house because the next best therapy for sadness other than cat snuggles, is hearing children laugh.

Mid-Service Meeting, Visiting Host Family, & Blog Challenge

Happy New Year to everyone and best wishes for the start of 2016! I just got back from my Mid-Service meeting in Yaoundé where I was pricked and prodded when getting blood drawn, visiting the dentist, receiving shots, and finally getting medically cleared. Now I have the “ok” to dive into the last 8 months of my Peace Corps service. My stagemates and I also gave presentations on the work we have been doing for the past 15 months. I have to say that I am so proud to be a member of this stellar stage. Everyone is doing awesome work in their villages and even if they had a few bumps in the beginning, they have stayed positive throughout all the trials of Peace Corps. We left MST with new ideas and renewed motivation.

My host family except for the newest baby (Julia in front does not like pictures haha)

During my trip, I made a quick visit (literally spent 6 hours on a bus for a 3 hour visit in one day) to my host family in Ebolowa. I had not seen them since my training in September-November 2014. I was nervous about visiting since it could be very wonderful or maybe slightly awkward. I had kept in touch with my host family through text messages and phone calls but who knows how I would feel walking back into that house where I had spent my first months in Cameroon. I remember being so very homesick when I arrived in Cameroon and since I could not speak hardly any French, I was unable to communicate these emotions to my host family. Even with the tears and sleepless nights, my host family was kind and understanding which resulted in not only me staying in Cameroon, but successfully becoming a Peace Corps volunteer after training. I knew I owed a lot of this success to my host family.

Me and my host mom, Marie Paule

When I arrived in Ebolowa, everything felt different. I now knew French, understood the culture, and how to catch a moto-taxi. I had to laugh when the moto-taxi guy dropped me off at my host family’s house and his jaw dropped as my host mom came running up to me with a huge smile on her face. It was like turning the page in a favorite book, everything was familiar; the house, the dirt under my feet, the couches, and the smell of humidity mixed with dust that rose from the chair as I sat down. Life had changed a little for my host mom.  She was still with the same boyfriend and had since given birth to a baby girl named Flora. I got to hold Flora for a while and couldn’t help but think about how I used to dislike holding babies in the U.S., but now it felt natural. As I gazed around the room, I noticed that the furniture had been moved, but more importantly there was a water filter and a new small gas stovetop. I realized that by taking care of new Peace Corps volunteers during training, my host family had unknowingly learned about ways to help them live a better life. Had I really helped them even when I couldn’t speak their language or understand their culture? Just by being in Cameroon, Americans can make a difference by being themselves. Cameroon has helped me too. Sure I still try to live the “American comfort” as often as possible, but I am stronger mentally and physically. I guess the ability to speak a little French and Fulfulde helps too. And I won’t even begin to list what I have learned about agriculture and business. Visiting my host family showed me that it’s a two way street here in Cameroon between Americans and Cameroonians even if we don’t realize it.

Me and Flora (probably the first time she has done a selfie haha)

On another note, I recently signed up for a “Blog Challenge” where they give us a topic to write about each week. Not sure if I will be able to keep up with it all the time, but here goes for the first topic: “Why”

 

One of my stagemates used an awesome technique called the “5 Whys” to answer the question of why we are in Peace Corps Cameroon. I decided to copy his brilliant idea, so here goes:

1-      Why did I join Peace Corps?

                I felt that I did not deserve my comfortable life in the U.S. and needed to give some of my time to a purpose that was mainly helping others. I also thought that I needed to learn and experience more about different cultures in the world.

2-      Why did I feel like I need to give my time and learn more?

                I have a great life at home with wonderful family/friends and a freedom to strive for my goals and contribute to positive change. As much as I appreciate being an American, I did not understand why Americans were Americans or why other cultures were different. Also there were problems I couldn’t understand in my community and I had done all I can with what I had learned through my education and experiences. I was feeling like a part of my mind was missing and I might find more ideas and knowledge by living in another culture.

3-      Why is there more knowledge in living immersed in other cultures?

                By living in another culture, I can acknowledge the differences and similarities between the past and present of my home and Cameroon.

4-      Why is it important to acknowledge the differences and similarities between cultures?

It helps me understand how different cultures are formed; especially how the attitudes and ideas of the population are learned along with the start of traditions, language, and gender roles. I can then appreciate what makes us Americans and how much we can be thankful for.

5-      Why do I want to understand how cultures are formed?

                Hopefully this understanding will help me make a more positive effect on my community at home and cultures around the world.

I have already achieved most of my goals that I had when I started Peace Corps: To be taught about another culture, to teach about American ideas/dreams/agriculture/business, and to go home with an understanding of what makes us who we are and how to best work with everyone to make this world a better place.

And on a lighter note, I guess it’s nice to appreciate good American food, well-made margaritas, soft beds, working toilets, hot running water, the ability to wear shorts, petting animals without getting stared at, and just generally rolling in the grass without the threat of biting ants or large spiders.

Joy & Success at the End of 2015

 

The past few weeks have been filled with feelings of Christmas and the end of another year. Even though I am far from home and family, recent events here have given me the holiday joy needed to see me through onto 2016.

Carl carving the turkey for Thanksgiving! Yes they have turkeys in Cameroon!

Thanksgiving was a blast but a lot of work. The new agriculture and health volunteers arrived so we gave them a fun packed welcome with visiting Lake Tison for a swim (where some people got stung by bees –oops) and giving the tour of Ngaoundéré. My stagemate, Samantha who works in West Cameroon came to visit. It was fun being the tour guide for a few days. We even visited the Lamido’s Palace in Ngaoundéré. It’s more like a big building, mosque, and a few large traditional huts where the Lamido meets with people to solve problems. One story is that if a man disagrees with the Lamido, he arrives at his hut, the Lamido takes the man’s sword and if the sword will not cut through the man’s neck, then he is right and can leave. If not, well you know what happens. It was interesting to hear about the history of Cameroon and the Adamawa region. There are three main Lamidos in Cameroon. One in the West, one in the North, and then in Ngaoundéré. The one in the North who lives in a village called Rey Bouba is the most powerful, even the most important in Africa. A group of people made up of representatives of each tribe choose each Lamido. The Boom people founded Ngaoundéré but now the Fulbe people are the main tribe in the city.

Pillars in the Lamido's main hut

 

Lamido's Palace- hut on the right

From the moment I arrived in November 2014, the Soy Project has been my focus even when I had no idea what I was doing. After a few bumps in the beginning, we figured out who were the motivated leaders in the group and found participants that were willing to put the time into learning about soy. We started with 13 farmers who attended sessions on how to grow soy, transform it, and sell it as a product. The real test was when we gave them the 10 kg of soy seeds to plant in their fields. 11 participants successfully grew soy on their ¼ hectare fields! My work partner and I visited them to help with problems, and then it was up to them to harvest the soy so they could each give back the 10kg of seeds for next year’s group. We had a final meeting/party to give out certificates to the 11 participants and congratulate them on a job well done! Not everybody showed up, but hey, it's Cameroon, it's still a success! Everyone was happy with the results of the project and looking forward to finding more participants for 2016! My work partners told me that even after I leave next November, they want to keep the project going and maybe teach about growing another crop. My year here in Cameroon finally feels productive.

2015 Soy Project

The soy cooperative is still always filled with tensions between members, but some of them did successfully grow soy this year so we have to be grateful for some hard work. Now onto 2016, new participants in the Soy Project, more work with the cooperative, and maybe some new adventures.

2015 Soy Cooperative

For “fun work”, a volleyball club was started at the Primary School in Beka-Hosséré. Another volunteer that recently finished his Peace Corps service gave me his volleyball and net. The Directrice at the school was ecstatic to start a volleyball club and unlike most teachers here, she worked quickly to sign up students for the club and they put posts in the ground in front of the school to hang the net. We would meet every Wednesday after school and I would bring the net & volleyball. You can ask my friends at home, I’ve worked with teenagers before, but primary school students...let’s just say Cameroon has now gotten me to work with 12 year olds and hold babies when I refused to hold a baby most of life in the U.S. Also my French is intermediate and mostly related to agriculture. I had a lot to learn when it came to explaining volleyball to students who only knew how to play soccer. Yet their enthusiasm to play resulted in some fun times. It took at least 3 or 4 Wednesdays until they were able to get a short volley going. My hometown’s volleyball coach gave my mom a bunch of volleyballs so my mom sent one already and is working on sending the others. Thank you so much! The more volleyballs, the more the students can practice bumping in small groups. It is Christmas break now so no volleyball club for a while but I am hopeful that next semester the students will be ready to step up their game. At least they are no longer kicking the ball.

Volleyball Club

Talk about feeling like Christmas with all these wonderful packages from home! I feel truly loved. My Muslim neighbors have been participating in the Christmas spirit even if they don’t realize it. My friends and family have sent new coloring books (one with Rudolph in it, that was fun to explain), card games (they love Go Fish!), and they are still relishing in making bead necklaces with the beads and yarn sent from home. My Grandmother put together a little sewing kit for my neighbors. The oldest of the children had asked to borrow my kit, but I was reluctant to part with it since my clothes tend to rip a lot on motorcycles and such here. She was so surprised and happy to receive the kit of sewing needles, thread, a little pincushion chicken, and a thimble which I had to explain how to use. I have already seen her and her sister sitting outside their house, mending a dress or one of the boy’s shirts while the others play Go Fish at their feet. We tried puzzles too, but I have found that most of the children here have the knowledge of US children a few years younger than them. Sometimes it is because they start school too late or the teachers just do not teach creativity or critical thinking. Thanks to all the gifts from home, my house can be a place where creativity and imagination can happen. My Grandmother also sent me a hanging quilt of a snowman and Santa. Now it feels like the holidays with my Santa hat on, evergreen candles burning, Christmas music playing, and eating honey-roasted peanuts as my neighbors and I do puzzles.

Neighbors using the sewing kit outside their house

 

Neighbors using the sewing kit (my Grandma's quilt hanging on the wall)

Another moment of feeling like Santa Clause was when my work partner and I visited the farmer who has the 30 children. I wrote about him in a previous blog post (check it out if you want to read more about his family and the Biogas setup). His daughter was in the first soy project and now is a member of the cooperative. He is a brilliant farmer and has a Biogas setup, but he also has two or more wives and too many children to provide for. Last time I was there at least 3 children had malaria and he did not have enough money to send them all to school. After I posted my blog post about them, a friend from home offered to mail a package of supplies for them since I am technically not supposed to raise money as a Peace Corps volunteer. A package filled with 3 mosquito nets, coloring books and crayons arrived a few months later. After a dusty hour ride out to the farmer’s house, we delivered the presents to the family in their small room as the flies and wasps buzzed around us. The brilliant smiles and shining eyes that gleamed all around me made me feel like this was my Christmas morning back at home. I was glad to hear that some of the children had been going to school and some were actually at school when we were giving the presents. Although it was sad to hear that he has lost a few children. Those mosquito nets should help combat the malaria and give the children a better chance at living a long life. Thank you so much to my friend for sending this package and bringing joy to this family! I may have delivered the gifts, but they know that you were the one who sent them!

Farmer and his family enjoying the gifts

Biogas set up outside his house- the manure and water mix go where the boy is sitting

 

Thanksgiving was a very big party with new volunteers and a real turkey. We had fun, but I was thankful when my postmate had the idea to go to the nearby ranch where we didn’t have to cook and could relax by the lake. His mom and a few other volunteers are joining us so it will be a quiet Christmas for me with board games and Christmas movies (and a hot shower, the best part I think). After that it will be New Year’s and then I am off to Yaoundé for my Mid-Service conference and hopefully to see the new Star Wars movie.

It has been a good year and I am looking forward to another successful one with a good ending to it back at home in November. One sad note, I did lose one of my chickens the other day. She was sick with I think egg yolk peritonitis and about to go so I gave her to my neighbors for dinner. Even though I am a farm girl, it is a different reality when my neighbors are asking “can we eat her yet?” when the chicken is keeling over. We lost the other chicken this morning to the same sickness so I am chicken-less now. We lose chickens sometimes in the U.S. but for some reason it feels worse here. Animals are not seen as pets. I went for a walk the other day and saw a calf tied out in the field next to me. I hadn't seen any people for a mile so I took out my camera and took a picture of the calf with the beautiful landscape behind her. I started talking to her like I would if I was in the U.S. Then when I started to walk away, I heard two men come out of the bushes behind me. They were staring at me and asked what I was doing. They probably thought I was trying to scope out how to steal the calf and thinking, gosh, why do Americans talk to animals like they are best friends? yea I know, Cameroon, I'm weird. You should meet my friend and her chickens in New York.

View from the top of my morning run (Mt. Ngaoundéré in the distance)

I have moments when I really love this place: visiting farmers’ fields of healthy soy, giving certificates at the end of a project, hearing students cheer after a successful volley, seeing the smiles of children when they see crayons, the countless times of watching my neighbors color or play games in my house, my morning run with a neighbor’s dog while we can still see our breath in the crisp morning air with fog lying across the hills, and then sitting with Annie on our porch watching the falling sunset wondering what the next day will bring.

PS. If you are looking for a good place to donate this year, check out the "Fundraiser for 15 Children in Cameroon" page on my blog

Autumn in Cameroon with Fetes & the End of Rainy Season

The last “second year” Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) of the Adamawa region has just left. Other than Rachel who will end her service soon after being a PCV for 5 years, there should be nobody else leaving until Carl’s stage in June 2016. Rachel and I are the only agribusiness volunteers in our region until the new health/agribusiness volunteers arrive at the end of November. It is a weird feeling to see the veteran volunteers closing their service and saying goodbye to their villages, knowing that I will be doing that a year from now. Plus the newbies will be here soon and then my stage will be the veterans. Pretty crazy. I cannot say time flies here, but I am sure I will miss it when I leave. As the changes are happening, I am pulling out of my mid-service drag and jumping back into work again. There were a few weeks where I didn’t have as much work since the soy was growing great for most participants and we were just waiting to harvest. But there were some events that stirred up some excitement. I already did a post on the LuminAid distribution, but we also had the Fete de Mouton, an Artisan Exposition, Halloween, and a random carnival in Ngaoundéré.

The Fantasia celebration for Fete de Mouton

 

Fete de Mouton (or Eid-al-Adha the feast of sacrifice) is a Muslim holiday to celebrate a story where a father was going to sacrifice his son but later God replaced the son with a sheep. Each Muslim family in my village kills and eats a sheep. Reminded me of our Thanksgiving except with some mass praying. Even the poorest of households must buy a sheep including my neighbors who cannot even afford to send all their children to school. Before the Fete, it is normal to see herds of sheep at the markets and random spots in the city. When we walked by them we tended to say “Sorry dude” or “Enjoy life while it lasts”. On the day of the Fete, the Muslims in my village held a mass prayer in front of the Primary School. We showed up a little late, but there were still people coming in on motorcycles and in cars. Goes to show that Cameroonians are late for everything, even prayer time. The men and boys prayed up front in one group and a smaller group of women prayed behind them. It was really neat to watch since usually they pray in the mosques and you can’t see the calming sight of a large group of people all kneeling on mats while lowering their heads and standing to pray in unison. After the prayer, we started eating. Just like when you have many Thanksgiving meals to attend and you try to plan them out so you can be at everyone’s house, we tried to do that. Except it is Cameroon and no one really knows when they are going to eat. Carl and I first went to our community host’s house where he proceeded to kill a sheep in front of us. We ate there quickly (pretty easy since for some reason they had us eat by ourselves- it is really the gesture of eating at their house that is important). Then we went to Carl’s landlord’s house who is an amazing silver jeweler by the way. We tried to eat enough to be nice but not too much so we would make it through the day. Next we went into the city to eat at our Lebanese friend’s place. He had invited some German girls who teach in our region, some Frenchmen, and a few more Lebanese. It was an interesting group. There was tons of food and then our friend carved the sheep: picture perfect Thanksgiving. I was about to burst when I got home and then my neighbors came over with a plate of cooked sheep meat. Food coma for sure.

My neighbors dressed in their finest for Fete de Mouton

Last year the Fantasia (celebration at the Lamido’s Mosque) was the day after the Fete, but of course being Cameroon, no one really knew when it was going to be until the day before. Life is so interesting with no schedule. The Fantasia is a big celebration at the Lamido’s Grand Mosque in Ngaoundéré. Horses and their riders are dressed in Cameroon’s finest traditional clothing and they take turns in groups galloping up to the Mosque at full speed and stopping just before the mass of important Chiefs and government officials. Being the only “Nassaras” at the event, they at first seated us with all the important people. No matter how much we explain that we are not rich, colonialism has made the white man permanent kings in this place. Always the first to receive money requests and always given “the backstage pass”. Even with the unwanted royal treatment, we really enjoyed Fantasia and seeing a display of Cameroon tradition. The Fete ended with the Lamido riding in on his beautiful horse all dressed in traditional garb where we couldn’t even see his face and of course with someone holding a large umbrella over him. Made me totally think of Aladdin and how I wish I could have a horse in this country.

The Lamido at Fantasia

 

Riders racing towards the Mosque for Fantasia

The other event was an Artisan Exposition that only occurs every 2 years and organized by the organization I work with for the Soy Project. Artisans compete for the prize of going to the national competition in the capital city of Yaoundé. We attended the exposition of the artisans from the Adamawa Region. It was encouraging to see so many hardworking Cameroonians displaying their amazing work. Even a few of our friends were there including the silversmith from my village, another friend that works with leather from our market, and one of my Soy Project participants who works with metal to make swords. These were the best of the best. The Exposition could easily have been compared to a Craft Fair in the U.S. except for maybe the loud music and speaker that sounded like the typical “auction voice”. There were artisans that painted, made traditional bowls, bow and arrows, clothing, and huts. I was amazed to see an older woman drop spindling! Yes, my spinning/knitting friends back at home, it was real! Sheep do not live very long here (as my neighbor said: why keep them if you are not going to eat them) and their wool is not very good so I thought that my spinning knowledge was of no use here. But then I see this woman drop spindling cotton! So cool! She didn’t speak a word of French and lives in a village far away so Rachel helped me ask her questions and then she sold me her drop spindle. She said it was easy for her to make another one back at home. Her drop spindle is made out of a wooden stick with a rock attached to the bottom. My friend said we could find cotton in the market and I am going to see about getting this drop spindle replicated. Even if no one is interested to learn and this doesn’t turn into a project, I am just so happy to see that it exists here! I also saw a man weaving with a kind-of loom made of sticks where he used his feet to change the heald frames as he weaved the rock (pick) with the yarn attached to it under and over. If you are a weaver, you might get that description. Rachel and I attended the opening ceremony with the governor and other important delegates. Another day of us getting put into the important seats and getting free food. I swear I would love this treatment at a Josh Groban concert! Overall it was a brilliant showing of artisans. I almost bought a bow and arrow. Our friend that works with leather won first prize in the Exposition. Now I just have to see if he will make me a Zena Warrior Princess outfit and I will be all set for the Renaissance Faire back at home.

Woman drop spindling cotton the Exposition

 

Man weaving at the Exposition

No one celebrates Halloween here, but that didn’t stop us PCVs from enjoying it a bit. We didn’t get dressed up, but we carved pumpkins, made pumpkin pie and bread, and watched Rocky Horror Picture Show. I gave my neighbors some pie and cookies while they looked intently at my Jack-O-Lantern. I tried to explain how we celebrate Halloween in the U.S. They were a bit taken back when I said we celebrate sorcery and that the pumpkin was magical. Most Cameroonians believe in sorcery and see it as a reason why bad things happen. One of my fellow PCVs told me a story of how she and the children found a white line drawn across the path in front of them. It looked like toothpaste. The children would not allow her to step over it and said it was sorcery. So they walked around it. The next day it was gone and no one said a word. As much as we laugh about how we could just smear out the line of toothpaste or step over it, let’s not forget some weird American superstitions. And jeez if my neighbors only knew how many Americans carve pumpkins and let them rot in front of their house every year without always eating the actual pumpkin filling. There goes a family’s meal.

Showing my neighbor's children the Jack-O-Lantern

We also attended a small carnival in Ngaoundéré. It was organized by a local group connected to the government. There were white tents set up where people could rent a space to sell their items but unfortunately the price was too high and most of the tents were empty. Other than that there were two tents selling alcohol and two carnival rides: the Swings and a small roller coaster (similar to the Dragon ride at the Washington County Fair). We paid 200 CFA to enter (less than 50 cents) and then 500 CFA ($1) to ride the swings. I was actually impressed that the ride looked a bit better than some of the ones I have seen at U.S. fairs. And we eat cotton candy. It was green and I think there is a reason that there isn’t green cotton candy at my hometown fair. It tasted really weird. But that was my “Fair” experience in Cameroon. It was a fun night although I couldn’t help shedding a couple tears when seeing the brightly lit rides and tops of tents but no Washington County Fair.

The Swings ride at the Carnival- reminded me of children watching the rides from atop parents shoulders at the Washington County Fair- except this is in Cameroon

 

So those are the events of life here in Cameroon. Work is starting up again with visiting Soy Project participant’s fields before harvesting. We just visited one the other day and we were so impressed by her field of soy. She caught some people trying to steal her soy plants. They told her that they thought that this was their field but she knew they were lying. The soy is just so awesome, everyone wants it! After all the participants are done harvesting, we will have a party to give out certificates.



One of the Soy Project participants and field of soy (and corn) ready to be harvested

The rain is hardly here but has not stopped completely yet. My garden is shrinking to just some tomatoes and kale. The chickens are doing well and I found their nest of eggs! I don’t hear that bump in the night sound anymore after Annie caught and eat a rat the same size as her. I am hopeful my mid-service depression is over and with work starting again, I will get to January and the countdown to returning home. Thanks to my parents for putting up with my mood swings. Also thanks to some amazing friends back at home. Thanks to you, all of my neighbor’s children are attending school. Dada just started her first year of school at 6 years old. She really loves it! And I am trying to start a volleyball club at the Primary School. We set up the net and I am hopeful that my backyard volleyball experience will be enough to teach these students a sport where they cannot kick the ball. Sending hugs to everyone back at home as the holidays draw near. And just so you know, I will be totally jealous when everyone start posting about seeing the new Star Wars movie. Gosh I miss the American life! But in less than a year I will be home, probably missing eating grilled fish with my hands and watching Star Wars in French with the children who think Ewoks (little bear characters) are sometimes speaking Fulfulde.

LuminAid Gives Light to Beka-Hosséré

Light has come to Beka-Hosséré! Thanks to LuminAid, over 30 solar lights were given to families in my village who do not have electricity! The idea started when my mom bought me a solar light to bring to Cameroon and another friend sent me a similar one when I arrived at my village. I gave one of the solar lights to my neighbors since they were always asking to use my flashlights or candles. That small gift made their evenings so much brighter. Not only did the light help them cook and do homework, but also they could see each other’s faces better as they sat in a circle on the matted floor eating their meal of cous cous. It became clear to me that more solar lights were needed in Beka-Hosséré.

Beka-Hosséré is located near Ngaoundéré, the capital of the Adamawa region of Cameroon. Since it is so close to a city, electricity is available to those in the village who can afford it. Unfortunately most people cannot afford to have electricity and also send all their children to school. Just like in America, we choose what we spend our money on. Most of the families are Muslim with 1-3 wives and many children. I want families to choose to pay for education before lights in the house. Whether a child goes to school or not can have a direct impact on the happiness of their life and also on the improvement of their community. If a girl does not go to school, they will probably never learn French, most likely be married by 16 years old, and like most Muslim wives, they will hardly ever leave their compound around their house. They will spend their life cooking, cleaning, and having children. But if a child goes to school, they will learn French, maybe English, and maybe, just maybe they will dream and make goals. Cameroon needs citizens who receive an education and then go back to help make their communities a safer and healthier place.

Using the solar light to cook in her dark mud hut

 

My neighbor, Zakiatoo helped me give out the solar lights and explain how to use them in Fulfulde, the local language

Solar lights not only give light, they give ideas. Just like when we look up to the stars and wish for our dreams to come true: those solar lights are stars in the homes of my neighbors. As a father helps his young daughter with her homework in the pale shine of their solar light, she is not only learning, she is making goals and realizing that she can still value her culture along with broaden her horizons.

Haoua's father helping her with her homework

Nothing says thank you more than a usually serious Cameroonian woman jumping up and down saying “Useko!”: thank you in the local language of Fulfulde. Thank you LuminAid for making it possible for my village to see through the darkness; you gave some new stars to wish upon in Beka-Hosséré.