Weekend on the white, sandy beach of Kribi.

Nothing says relaxation like the sunset on the beach. During my two weeks in Yaounde, I took a short break with some friends and headed to the beach of Kribi. We were "four chicks in a pick up", haha, goodtimes. What a nice change from the huslte and bustle of the capital city, where the streets are crowded with yellow taxis slowly, cruising by all the people that line up shoulder to shoulder at the end of the workday, shouting out their destinations with more and more desperation on their faces as the time passes, hoping some taxi will finally take them home. Traffic nightmare. What a city! At the beach, no shouting: "la blanche, la blanche, ma cherie, ma pousse", the touristy, fishing town was a nice change and we could hear the sound of the waves as we fell asleep. We visited the fish market and even went out for pizza (with cheese, lots of cheese... mmmm...). I went jogging along the beach each morning, enjoying some seafood, sunshine, and interesting conversations of our Cameroonian experiences.

Craziest thing was the drive... a perfectly paved, flat road (that is unheard of in the north west region!), but people were driving so fast and so crazy, it was really scary. People would pass blindly, completely blindly, on a turn or behind a big truck. (I found out later that that road is all called death road.) Another crazy thing, you see... I'll never get over transportation in Cameroon. You won't believe how many people and how many things they will cram into one tiny car or bus, or all the things (or animals) piled up high on top! Anyway, on that road, I saw a passenger sitting on the hood at 100 miles per hour... and then, when I thought that was bad, we slowly crept up behind a yellow taxi and a saw, hanging out of the trunk, a person's leg, someone was crammed in the trunk of the car among the luggage, with the door pressing down on his head!!!! Helllllooooo! This is crazy. Can you see the black leg and hand hanging out in the photo??? Just when you think you've seen it all, whew!

Scenes from Cameroon

Overlooking Bambili, during our hike to the bat cave!

How do they carry so much on their heads? A skill, I just can't master.

Cameroonian Traffic Jam

Buddies

Drying maize

In the market

Always babies on my back.

Serious business folks, serious business.

Dance of the Elephants

Just some of the North West Region's VSO Volunteers, at our Forum Meeting, that's Bamenda behind us!

Waterfalls, Bambili

Please, someone tell me I'm not really seeing this?

If only there were toilets in Cameroon??? Sigh.

Stuck in the mud, again!

Mosque in Kumbo

Rain in Bamenda's Market

The colours of Africa...

Njama njama anyone?

My neighbours... family meeting, 6AM

It's a rainbow...

BBBBBBBEANS

Teeny tiny Cameroonian feet

Rice Fields

A typical day in the life of Sherry in Cameroon...

5:00 AM: I awake, to the sound of my neighbour’s radio, blasting it’s usually tune from across the street. Every day... the same tune. I rummage around for my ear plugs, shove them back in my ears and drift in and out of sleep for the next hour or so... fighting the comfort of my bed and the sounds of roosters and pigs and life and activity outside.

6:00 AM: I get up, finally. I chug some water and go for jog, dodging mud puddles and rocks, and greeting all the neighbours with a “goodmorning”. People shout: “Whiteman, you go for make sports?” And, sometimes, the children try to run along, giggling, behind me.

I get back home and attend my very own private yoga class (my yoga dvd) in my very own private yoga studio (my spare room, with a straw mat and towel on the floor, very luxurious yoga stretching and meditation). Then, as if I haven’t woken myself up enough... I enjoy a refreshing, freezing cold shower and prepare for the day. I usually pack some fruits and porridge for breakfast and munch on my home-made chapathis with fake nutella on top, Cameroonian styles.

I say “see ya later’ to all my neighbours, who are already outside and have been chopping wood and washing dishes and working for two hours already... and walk down to Mile II Junction and bargain with the usual moto guys. I hop on a motorbike for the bumpy ride through the bustling morning traffic to work... zooming past all those yellow taxis stuck in a pile up!

8:30 AM: I’ve arrived at work, NWADO – the North West Association of Development Organizations, and throughout the day, I will chit chat with my colleagues, review proposals, debate gender issues, plan activities, meet with member organizations, talk with VSO volunteers, edit documents, review our strategic plan, or facilitate workshops or meetings, you know... work stuff. I’ll just leave it like that.

12:30 PM: I’m hungry. So, I’ll usually slip out across the street to “Central Restaurant”, where I’m greeted with “Sister, sister, long time.” (Even though I’m there all the time!) It’s where one can find the best food in Bamenda, (even vegetarian-friendly options) and I’ll have an omelette or salad or beans and rice or njama njama or maybe ndole for lunch... with nice, fresh fruit juice too, usually pineapple or papaya and if mango’s are in season, that’s my favourite.

4:30 PM: By now, I’m heading out of the office and perhaps I’ll wander down the big hill into town to do a few errands in the shops or head to the hectic food market and buy some nice fresh veggies and green chillies and garlic to cook something scrumptious for dinner. The vendors say: “Sister, sister, nice carrots today”. I’ll put them all in my back pack and hop on another motorbike to get home. Many people will request that I “Dash” them my helmet or “whiteman, you buy, you buy!”, but I just keep mov’n. It’s usually a tough bargain to get the right price on a motorbike home, but I stand my ground... convincing them that “I no be stranger for town, I pay 250 francs every day.” I walk home from the junction, on the opposite side of the street from the bars, that are now filling up with men having their after-work beers. Later on, perhaps I’ll go for a walk, observe a football game taking place, visit my neighbours and watch Spanish soap operas, play peek-a-boo with the local children, or even visit the call box. If it’s Friday, then, I’ll head to the International Hotel for beers and talk over the week’s events (or lack there of... hehe), with my VSO volunteer colleagues (there’s almost 30 of us in the North West Region now!).

6:00PM: I’m cooking dinner and thoroughly clean-up the kitchen, in an attempt to reduce the interest of mice and cockroaches... ewwwww. I sit down with a glass of wine and eat my usually Indian-veggie cuisine, while watching a movie or reading a book. Sometimes, (a lot lately) under candle light, cause the electricity is OUT.

9:00 PM: I read in bed and contemplate the day’s adventures, put those ear plugs back in and to the sound of the thump thump of my neighbours’ music, crying babies, a mice stampede overhead, and shouting on the street, I eventually drift off to sleep, ready to do it all over again the next day.

5:00 AM: ...

Patience Express... to the extreme!

Muddy adventures... ready to push?

So, last weekend, a bunch of us vso volunteers headed up to the village of Kumbo. Unfortunately, the rain and mud, kinda put a downer on the whole “travel” experience. I think the photos tell the story.

The way there wasn’t soooo bad. We were packed into a mini-bus as per usual, nice and squishy, no one really all that comfortable. We slowly made our way through the bumps and the mud and due to another collapsed bridge, we had to take a detour, through some rough and muddy territory. Got out to push the bus through the mud a few times, but eventually made it to Kumbo. Whew.

The return trip however, was slightly different, you see... that detour got rained on for three whole days and became mud soup, so all buses had to go to the bridge. Let me first say that the bus itself should not have been on the road. We had to change tires, and I was on the sliding door seat and the door did not stay shut... I had to keep slamming it shut every ten minutes! I thought I was going to fall out of a moving bus (into the mud!). Nothing in that bus looked healthy I really thought it would just crumble to pieces at any moment. But anyway, amazingly, it got us to the bridge, where we had to unload, cross over on foot, and climb into another bus.

Except, there was no other bus! Only cars! They said: we’ll just put seven people in each car. (Apparently children, like real ten-year-old children, do not count as people!!!!) After waiting a couple hours to get organized, we were shown to our car. And so, can you believe, five vso volunteers, two Cameroonian women with their three children and all their worldly possessions (yes, that’s right folks, these people were moving and had a bed, kitchen, luggage, everything they owned with them), and then the driver of course, all fit into a two-door little Toyota for the two-hour drive to Bamenda???? Yup, you see, two of my vso colleagues in the back with the two ladies and their three children, another two in the passenger seat in the front... but wait a minute, where will I sit? With the driver? Yup! Unless I wanted to be strapped to the back or the roof with all the luggage and bed frame and dishes, I sat with the driver... who was driving a stick shift!!!! On the plus side, I think I was the most comfortable passenger!

Don’t think I’ll be travelling again anytime soon.

Before

After

Our luxury-mobile to Bamenda

A mouse ate my Mickey Mouse playing cards!!!

Alright, that's enough, it's time to declare war with my not-so-neighbourly mice! I tell you! I've had mice in my kitchen, living in my food cupboard, and even crawling in my bed... in my bed!!! And, the other day, I discovered that my cute little deck of Mickey Mouse playing cards, had been chewed to bits by none another, than Mickey's little brothers! How could they?


I have tried traps, and sticky boards, the old bucket of water trick, but nothing is as effective as the sticky glue, now decorating the floor in the corners of my house... cause it's time for war... enough is enough. So far, I've caught five mice since I've been in Cameroon, and there's lots more to go. They live in my roof, I can hear them having conferences every night. It's like they're plotting a new and interesting way to disturb that blonde girls' sleep. They've chewed through tupperware to eat my bread! They've left droppings in my closet! They've had races like elephants on my ceiling! It's as if they wait, just until the moment when I've almost fallen asleep and then they decide it's time to wake her up and scurry and rummage and squeak, squeak, squeak.


When I found one was living amongst my food cupboard, I emptied out the entire thing and cornered it behind some cans, then with a swift movement, gragged it with some newspaper and glue... and ewww... it was with its friends, the cockroaches... I screamed. Yup, I screamed... and went outside, arm-outstreched holding the sticky newspaper and the mouse stuck to it by its tail. I yelped to my neighbour: "Hey Francis, where's your cat?"


Just the other night. One decided to visit very early, my lights were still on, I was reading comfrotably in my bed. And then, I heard a little sound and looked up. A mouse had come in my window and was resting on the top of my curtain. Then, mission impossible style, he slid down my curtain and ever so gracefully and every so fast, he scurried under my bed! Under my bed! You think I got any sleep that night? I budged at every noise. I set out some newspaper with peanuts in the middle and a circle of glue, left my door open slightly, hoping he would go into the other room. By 3:00AM, I could hear the squeak squeak... of a mouse stuck, glued... doomed. Okay, this is rather grose... I'm a cold hearted person apparently, but really, perhaps you would understand if you had mice in your bed too. I folded him up, put him in a plastic bag and took him outside and squished him, yup I squished him. Ewwwww. I know.


But no more of these mousy shinanigans. I will outsmart them. They may outnumber me by the hundreds, but I am bigger than them. They maybe faster than me, but I am cleverer. They may be able to fit through tiny, random holes, but I have duck tape! I'm going to invite all the neighbourhood cats over to my house for a feast. I will go up in that roof and tell them who's boss. I will set traps and poison and sticky glue everywhere. And, from then on, I will sleep peacefully. And my rice and my crackers and bread and my tupperware and any other delicious looking paper will be safe.


Or, I will just have to get used to them, let's face it... they are faster and smarter than me.

Common Cameroonian Speak...

“Smol Tyme. (Small time.)” – This means... see you soon / shortly.

“Goodmorning.” – Okay, we all know what this means... but here, it is said no matter whether it is morning, afternoon, or night.

“Nobody knows everything, nobody knows nothing.” – Interesting concept...

“Ashia.” – I hear this ten times a day... and even I’m saying it all the time now... it seems to have many meanings, with no direct translation to English... it could mean ‘hello’, ‘goodmorning’, ‘thank you’, ‘sorry’, ‘in solidarity with your struggle / work’.

“Whiteman!!!” – Okay, I’m cheating on this one I guess... it’s just me and all the other ‘lighter-skinned’ people around here that hear this... seems the locals like to remind us we’re not black!

“Not so?” – Meaning, isn’t it true?

“You are going.... you are back.” – I’ve noticed a habit of people, sort of stating the obvious... every day, when I leave for work, my neighbours’ remark: ‘you are going’ and I reply: ‘yes, I’m going... see you later!’ And, when I return from work, they remark: ‘you are back’ and I reply: ‘yes, I’m back’. This same conversation occurs every day.

“You are welcome.” – Cameroonians are very welcoming... whenever you meet someone new or attend an event... many people will say this to welcome you and make you feel at home.

“We are together.” – A common and important phrase... it emphasizes a certain solidarity, that we are all paying attention, that we are working and struggling together.

Is the North West Region's Civil Society Abused for Belly Politics?

With permission from my colleague and friend, Julius Lambi, I have posted an article he wrote about some recent events in the North West Region for this blog entry. I felt he put the issues best and really brings to light some of the local politics, challenges to civil society, development, and democracy in Cameroon. Julius spent four months here with us, as part of his field research for his PhD Thesis, on how the NWR's civil society provides bottom-up pressure to the government of Cameroon. He is now back in Vienna, furiously writing his Thesis. Good Luck Julius... we miss you here and look forward to seeing your final results!

In April this year, the coordinator of the Cameroon Teachers Trade Union (CATTU) mobilized people in the North West Region (NWR) to march down Commercial Avenue in Bamenda. The march was meant to thank the President for granting a higher teachers training college to the NWR and also to lobby for a University. The march sparked off heated debates in Bamenda and beyond. Critics pointed out that education was a right of Cameroonians; a responsibility of government – not a discretionary favour. To them, the march was a ploy of belly politics on the part of Mr. Nkwenti Simon, the CATTU coordinator.

In July, the coordinator of CATTU organized yet another `march of thanks´ to the Head of State. This time, the reason was to express gratitude to President Biya for appointing a son of the NWR as Prime Minister. By thanking the President for this appointment, the organizers of the march intended the Prime Minister to see that `his´ people were behind him. If the first march was controversial, the second one was even more so. Again, critics accused Mr. Nkwenti of politicking. They argued that the Prime Minister had a duty to serve the nation at large in justice and fairness, without regional bias. According to critics, Mr. Nkwenti’s true intention was to mobilize regional support for President Biya, with the hope of being rewarded with an appointment in high government.

The debates about the marches are still alive in Bamenda. One can hear them in taxis, between friends in bars, and among NGO workers. People wonder: was it really the civil society that marched on Commercial Avenue? Or was it just the ruling CPDM party out of its well known uniform? Was the march a cooperative action of many CSOs? Or did the organizer in collaboration with politicians, simply abuse the name of the NWR's civil society for selfish political ambitions? How could one really know the truth?

An NGO worker in Bamenda notes: “to know truth, we should focus on facts and not the logic of argumentation. Arguments can always be twisted, but facts speak only the plain truth”. By examining the facts of the two marches, the plain truth behind them comes to light.

[In this photo: Civil Society march or election campaign?]

In the first march, eleven NGOs and two cultural dance groups were present with their sign boards. NWADO, a network NGO that represents twenty-eight registered member organizations was among these NGOs. The presence of NWADO and these different NGOs is evidence that the march was accepted among these civil society organizations. Moreover, none of these organizations was paid for participating. A majority of the participants were youths. President Paul Biya’s picture was used in the march, but the picture carried no campaign slogan. The only sign of devious political manoeuvring on the part of the organizers were placards that read: "More Power to You Mr. President". An NGO activist who took part in planning the march confessed that he was embarrassed when he saw such messages that had not been agreed upon.

In contrast to the first march, only two NGOs participated in the second march. This time, as many as seventeen social dance groups were present. Some individuals from those NGOs that took part in the first march were present in the second. However, the sign boards of their organisations were missing. They did not want their organisations to be identified with the march. NWADO, the most dynamic civil society network in the region was conspicuously absent.

For this second march, buses were hired to ferry the dance groups to Commercial Avenue and back to their respective bases. This time, participation though voluntary, was financially compensated. Each association or dance group that participated in the march was paid a token of 2,500 FCFA. Furthermore, over forty motorbike riders who were mobilized for the march received 500 FCFA each.

[A plethora of social dance groups proclaimed to be the NWR's Civil Society.]

It was easy to notice that the majority of participants in the second march were women, most of them in their middle or late ages. The youths that dominated the first march were missing. Those who processed at the forefront carried Mr. Paul Biya’s 2004 presidential campaign posters. The posters bore his widely known campaign slogan: “the Cameroon of Greater Ambitions”. Therefore, although the organisers portrayed the second march as apolitical, it was actually a campaign, well ahead of the official start of the 2011 presidential campaigns. The organisers of the march had used village dance groups as an impostor for the NWR's civil society. This allowed them to disguise their political objectives behind the so-called apolitical march.

The second march was called a civil society march, but where were the NGOs? How could village dance groups be said to be the NWR's civil society? Why was a majority of the participants elderly women from the villages? Where were the youths with critical thinking? Why would anyone pay people to participate in a march of thanks? All these questions lead to one answer: the NWR's civil society had been abused for selfish political objectives. And regrettably, the principal perpetrator of this abuse was a household figure within the NWR's civil society, Mr. Simon Nkwenti of CATTU.

If the abuse was not clear in the first march, the facts of the second march make it glaring. Facts speak the plain truth. In their various small corners, NGOs in the NWR have quietly condemned the second march. However, as the NWR's civil society, they have failed to put up a public statement to denounce Mr. NKwenti Simon as a manipulator. Their disapproval of the manipulation was only in the form of non-participation in the second march. Although they grumble about the political masquerade of this march, the NGOs have chosen to criticise in silence. But to stay silent in the face of deceit and abuse is cowardice.

To stay silent is to give consent. For change to happen, disapproval needs to be spoken, despite all odds. To say nothing and to do nothing is to endorse the status quo. If true civil society activists and organisations fail to uphold their courage and proclaim truth, then people-centred development in Cameroon is doomed. Positive change has never come to a people through silence. Never.

~Julius Lambi, Researcher, University of Vienna

Bumpy roads, collapsed bridges, and other ring road tales...

So, I was set to leave for the big city of Douala on the morning of Saturday August 8th. As per usual, I jogged over to the bus station to buy my ticket... but... ugh oh... right away I could tell there was something strange going on. The gates were half closed... people were everywhere... I mean, it’s usually chaotic there, but it was even more chaotic than usual... people were missing luggage... angry and confused faces were storming around... so, I tried to listen in to the people speaking pidgin... and noticed the ticket wickets weren’t even open!

Turns out... a bridge, on the only major road in and out of Bamenda collapsed with all the rains we’ve had, so unless I planned to swim across the river... I wasn’t going anywhere. For a few days, no buses could leave Bamenda. Eventually, they started going, but you had to taxi to the bridge, trek through the woods about 3km, cross the river, and hopefully get on a bus on the other side. It all sounded a little sketchy to me, so I just stayed home. Spent some time with neighbours and watched a lot of movies. I even contemplated going back to work out of boredom (but didn’t!) until finally... a temporary solution was found and my friends from Yaounde were able to drive here for our second week plan. Yeah!!!

Julie, Tom, their baby Mia, and Nina arrived on the Friday, thus, beginning our adventures through the North-West Region. I think I was sooooo excited to have visitors... that entire day, I cleaned my house and cooked sooooo much food!!! You see, life in Bamenda can be a little dull. One must be creative and I think I’ve at least become a better cook with all this time on my hands.

After a day in Bamenda, we hit the road... on our way to Mount Oku, at 3,000 metres, it’s the second highest mountain in the region. However, we reached the road to Oku and found it to be rather bumpy and muddy... and since we did have a baby with us, decided it better to turn back for the day. So, we returned to the beautiful town of Belo and stayed with our fellow VSOer, Amelita. Belo, thanks to the Belo Rural Development Program and its volunteers, is home to the first “public walk” in Cameroon. It's a pleasant trail, touring the village, with various sights, farms, and waterfalls to admire. It even has sign posts to point you in the right direction! So, we enjoyed that, and just relaxing, staring out over the cliffs and mountains, covered in green. The only disruption was the odd gunshot throughout the evening, as there were some celebrations going on close by.

No matter where you are in Africa... there is always someone a few feet away... taking a pee break on the road in the middle of the forest... more tricky than you might think... there’s always someone around the corner, behind the bush, or walking down the road. The people live off the land... they walk far distances to work on their farms... they are everywhere... so you know you are never alone. It’s actually quite amazing; we never fretted... if a vehicle full of white people, such as ourselves, were to suddenly be caught in the mud, there would be fifteen people ready to push us out in seconds! Luckily we didn’t get stuck.

The best parts of travelling are all those random things you don’t plan for, particularly in Africa, one must be open and flexible... and you never know what amazing adventures might cross your path. Thanks to our great connections, we discovered a short-cut road that was incredibly beautiful overlooking the valley and took us up and up and up... all the way to the village of Babungo... and through the beautiful Ndawara tea estate. We visited some friends and were graciously offered some Indian snacks, a tour of the factory, and a visit to the tea farm... ostriches and peacocks included. Seeing all the giant, machinery and how the tea is collected and processed and packaged was rather interesting. So much hard work, one major operation! It is a different life in those hills. There are hundreds of workers... picking tea leaves each day, three leaves and a bud produces the greatest taste! The views over the valley, the fresh, cool air, and the calm lifestyle of the estate’s village provided a refreshing atmosphere.

We settled at another VSO friend’s place in Babungo... where we spent the next couple days relaxing under the sun, taking long walks up the hills, admiring the greenery... and visiting our neighbours. We also visited Mount Oku, covered in mist and deep forest, the town of Oku, and Kumbo, and Ndop. By the time we made it back to Babungo... we didn’t want to be in the vehicle anymore... although it’s interesting and beautiful to explore the countryside... it’s a long time in the car over those bumps and mud. It was however, notably different from city life, being in the village allows you to really enjoy the calm and quiet and friendly neighbours.

And then, after a special holiday, with a final evening at my place in Bamenda and a quick stop at the food market for that fresh, north-west cauliflower, broccoli, zucchini, and green peas... my travel companions were on the road again... back to Yaounde... and my little house felt suddenly quite quiet and empty.

RAIN

Welcome to the rainy season in Cameroon! Your laundry will not be dry until October. Such rain! At the start of the rainy season (back in April), there would be the odd, intense monsoon that would sweep through the region in minutes, and dry up so quickly with the sun, you wouldn’t even have realized. People would usually just stop, take shelter wherever they were, and then carry on afterwards. But these days, it can pour buckets all day. It’s adding to the lush, green gardens, beautiful waterfalls, cool and fresh air, and even cleaning up the streets... but seriously, don’t go outside, unless you plan on swimming or slip n’ sliding in the mud! Mud... lots of it!

Love is in the air... weddings 1, 2, ... and 3?

A few weeks ago, my colleague got married... twice... and the third is still to come. First, there was the “Traditional” Wedding, then the Court Wedding... and one day... there will also be a Church Wedding. Getting married in Cameroon is quite the affair!!!

On the day of the Traditional Wedding, I was told to meet my colleagues at 3:30PM, so... I decided to show up at 4:15PM... and I was the first to arrive! I waited until 5:00PM when a few people started showing up and we made our way to the bride’s family home. There, I must say... it was a strange and unique experience. We sat in rows... inside and outside... really not saying much... while the groom and his various representatives met with the bride’s family in closed quarters. I really wish I could have seen what was going on in there. Basically, they were negotiating the bride’s price. Poor him, he was rather stressed, as it appeared as though they were not agreeable for quite some time... he even had to ask to borrow some cash as he felt he was running low! He would come in and out, a bit stressed... and I never really knew exactly what was going on. Top Secret. This went on for hours. Until finally at 9:00PM, we were actually offered drinks. I found the whole ceremony strange because, unlike most African celebrations, there was no music, dancing, drumming, or even speeches... and they really like speeches... no talking... we just waited. At one point, they came out and the groom gave a chicken to the bride’s family. And the bride was poored some palm wine and she had to drink from it and search the room for her groom and offer him a drink... then, he drank from the glass (well, it was actually a cow’s horn) and then I think they were married! The food came at 9:30PM... and after a long day, I scooted out early... at 10:00PM, while others were still arriving (for the food!)... just sitting and looking at the happy, yet rather tired couple, who had been busily preparing for the day.

Onto the Court Wedding... that day... I was more prepared... I even came with reading material. I was told it would begin at 9:00AM... and although my father would say “better to be early than late”... in the Cameroonian context perhaps we can make an exception? I decided to arrive at 10:30AM instead. I got through half my magazine, by the time the ceremonies began at 11:30AM! And, just when you think, they’ll be married... again... they had to wait for fifteen other couples to say their vows before them... after the Mayor gave a good, long speech about the meaning of marriage... in pidgin, of course. They were the last couple to wedd, but the best! Interesting... before saying their vows... they were asked questions like: “will you have separate or joint property?”, “will this marriage be monogamous or polygamous?”, the women were encouraged to bear many children... and then they would repeat their vows, raise their hands, and put on their rings. Afterwards... we went back to their house for food and speeches and celebrations... again. Can’t wait for the church wedding!

Congrats Eric and Gwen!

Just a few recent events... fun, fun, fun...

Meet some of my neighbours: Sarah (Australia), Liliane (Argentina), Suni (Cameroon), Rosio (Chile), and Yvette (Chile). We spend lots of time together in the quiet Bamenda evenings, as they live just across the street. You can usually find us munching on snacks, playing Frisbee, or watching a Spanish soap opera on television. One day we all got dressed up in our fancy, traditional African wear and headed to a musical concert at their church. It was a colourful evening, full of loud and intense music, dancing, and drumming... an indescribable atmosphere of joy and faith, demonstrated by the congregation.

That’s me and Bamenda’s Canadian crew: Eric, Marcy and Karly; on Canada Day. We gathered all the VSO volunteers and friends, to celebrate the day with bean burgers and salads. We even made them all wear red and white and maple leaf tattoos too! Us, Bamenda-residing Canadians.... I even found an African dress with red maple leafs to mark the occasion. They said I was really becoming Cameroonian, especially because I carried over a big pot of potato salad on my head!

These are some of my colleagues from the NWADO crew: Desiree, Lovelyn, Gwen, Julius, and Eric. I had them all over to my place for lunch one Sunday afternoon. Plenty of food and laughs, and even more wine! Cheers!

And this one’s my birthday... I turned 2! We actually had a VSO workshop that day, so at lunch we had a nice big, vegetarian meal. This is a bunch of the VSOers and my Cameroonian sisters that made the cake! It was delicious... who knew you could find a cake like that in Bamenda?!

Random Sightings in Bamenda...

~ A mini yellow taxi with a ski rack on its roof
~ A yellow taxi driving along, dripping blood... because it’s got four skinned cows hang’n out the trunk
~ Two clowns walking down the main street, big red shoes, red nose, curly rainbow hair, and all!!!
~ A fluorescent pink FORD truck
~ Goats strapped to the roof of a bus
~ Procession of funeral cars, with flashing lights and sirens... and a sign that says: ‘the final destination’
~ Street Vendor selling greasy, fried pig skin in bread.... ewwwwww!
~ A police officer stopping traffic at the ‘crazy intersection’ to allow approximately 40 women with large buckets of potatoes on their heads, to cross the road... potato cross walk?
~ No traffic jam
~ White person... with a motorcycle helmet...

The 'shits' on the train... and other Far North adventures...

Let me tell you about travel in Cameroon... absolute insanity! My trip to the Far North was beautiful and interesting at best; hot, smelly, and shitty (literally) at worst. My destination was Maroua, in the extreme north of Cameroon... I’m talk’n the other end of the country, bordering Chad, Nigeria, and the Sahara Desert. So, the journey there, not so bad... bumpy, hot bus rides, with only one pee break in eight hours... to be expected... a very tiring train ride for twelve hours overnight, where it’s impossible to sleep, but at least I had my baguette and the excitement of a foreign land to keep me company. Funny... my colleagues described the train ride like a gentle rocking of a cradle, where one can easily fall asleep soundly. I didn’t see it that way, more like an erratic roller coaster ride, where I was hanging on all night, sleeplessly, so not to bang my head and fall off my bunk as the train chugged along!!

Let me tell you about the return trip first... cause well... that was the most shitty. We left Maroua at 5AM... okay, let me correct that, we left my hotel at 5AM... waited at the bus station until the bus felt like leaving at 7AM. It was a hot and rather uncomfortable bus ride seeing as I had started to feel pretty queezy after eating all that strange northern food all week. But, we arrived in Ngaoundere at 3:30PM I think. Had to wait around in heat and long line-ups to get our already reserved tickets (don’t ask me why we reserve train tickets, seeing as it appears to be more inconvenient, involving more paperwork and long line-ups, but at least you can get one of those beds to pretend to sleep on). The train was delayed (of course), so we didn’t leave Ngaoundere until about 8PM. My colleague and I were quite pleased we were finally moving, but quite dismayed that we had to share our room with two mothers and their two crying children all night... and they didn’t want the window open too much, cause air would be too cold (please keep in mind, it’s 30degrees outside)... it was just a silly thing to want to breath... oh, and the light had to remain on, as they’re afraid of the dark and would prefer to see the cockroaches crawling on them! So, anyway... this makes for an incredibly long journey... and they forgot to bring OUR dinner!!!... and on top of that, I now... literally, have the shits on the train... and have to use an awful toilet on a moving, bumpy train, every half-hour or so... bet you didn’t want to know that? So, this painful, sleepless train ride continues until 5AM, when we reach the train station Nanga Eboko... and the train stops... for a very long time. This is because, as is common (apparently) on the railroad in Cameroon... there was a derailment. So, the train could not go anywhere... and we lie in waiting, in hunger, and heat, and shits... for seven hours, when we decide... this train ain’t leav’n today, lets see if VSO can help us poor soles... please!!! So, we call VSO... and thankfully, after a little debate and a search for buses to Yaounde (that did not exist)... VSO says they will come pick us up. Whew... so we wait outside the train for another five and a half hours. At hour eleven, 4PM... the railway people actually started handing out water, bread, and sardines... and I hear comments like: “What is this, Darfur?”. Yikes! People are dehydrated, exhausted, and getting rather irritated by this point... and I really have no idea if and when that train ever moved again. Hundreds of people were just stuck there, in the middle of nowhere... and oh my, feeling pretty bad... finally out of nowhere... the VSO vehicle... barely recognizable under its coat of mud from bumper to roof... emerges to our rescue. YEAH! We then drive to Yaounde... on the muddiest, twistiest, bumpy road I’ve ever seen (or vomited on) (which also happens to be Cameroon’s N1 Major highway!!!)... for three and a half hours! And, you may think the journey is now over... after 40-some hours of travel and no sleep, we’re finally there... in the capital city of Yaounde... problem is... mix-up... the hotel is full and the second hotel is full... but finally, we find one... that even has food... so finally, I can use a real toilet, take a hot shower, and eat a decent meal... and sleep in a quiet, air-conditioned room... heavenly!!! ...until the next day, when I board the bus to Bamenda for another hot and bumpy journey of eight hours! You can’t imagine how nice it was to get home:)

Okay, so enough about the travel... actually being in the Far North (travel aside) was a very interesting and enlightening experience. From Ngaoundere to Maroua... we drove for miles upon miles, on an actual paved, flat road I might add... and all I could see were small, round homes, built of mud and straw roofs. We drove over bridges and rivers, but saw not a drop of water the entire time... there was nothing but sand. The people must walk for miles to get water from the deep wells... but what will they do if they ever dry up? It is so hot and so dry... there is very little to eat... I felt like the people were just surviving. An incredible place.

It is mostly Muslim in the Far North, creating a calm and pleasant atmosphere. People travel by bicycles, lounge under Neem trees that line the main streets to stay out of the intense heat (apparently it can get as high as 45degrees!), and they even sleep outside to be cooler at night. You can hear the call to Mosque, and see the men praying just about anywhere throughout the day. After our VSO Forum, my colleague and I decided to visit the towns of Mokolo and Rhumsiki, which is right in the Mandara Mountains, on the border with Nigeria. After the bus to Mokolo (for only an hour thank goodness), we road motorcycles all the way to Rhumsiki... up and down the winding dirt road... admiring the dry, hilly landscape, surprisingly green with large rock formations just jutting out of the mountains, and cattle herders and farmers tending their fields with the assistance of donkeys. Very interesting and peaceful on the motorbikes!

In Rhumsiki we took a tour of the valley and hiked all the way to Nigeria and back, meeting interesting villagers and children on the way, admiring the landscape, the ancient houses... even had a look at some of the local art work. We stayed at the ‘Campement de Rhumsiki’ and had our meals on the balcony overlooking the empty swimming pool and the whole valley... sunset n’ all... very nice. We tried to go to a few different restaurants, but always ended up back at the campement for spaghetti or fish because, seems no other restaurants had any actual food to cook... really... no food available! Plenty of juicy mangos though... it was prime mango season! On our motorbike ride back to Maroua... we kept being met by groups of teenage boys holding rather large sticks and covered in oil, blocking the roads. Why, you might ask? They were preparing for their initiation into ‘manhood’. They were asking for $$$ to support them in the celebrations that would take place in their honour in a few days. There was probably about fifty boys (about to become men) that stopped us on the way back... all getting ready for the Village Chief to celebrate and initiate them. {Just so it's clear, this means they were all going to be circumcised (by the Chief) during the event!} So, all in all... an interesting place, completely different lifestyle... it was hard to believe we were still in Cameroon. I’m happy to be back in the North-West though... it is now home... rainy season, cold showers, mud, and all!