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.