The ideas expressed below are not endorsed by or representative of the U.S. Peace Corps.

Also, I'm aware that "obviousment" is technically not an officially accepted French word.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

"Can You Believe that There's No Online Check-In for the Yaounde Airport?"


The social dynamic in the Peace Corps can be kind of funny sometimes. Actually, let’s be real. It’s always kind of funny. I think of some of my Volunteer friends as my Cameroonian family and they definitely function as an important support system. I’ve known them for less than nine months, and they’re the ones I call when Cameroon is just too much at a given moment. They were the ones holding my hand as I braved my first Cameroonian hospital experience, and the ones who feel comfortable completely oversharing their bathroom woes with me (a recent text informed me that one of my friends is currently “fighting the poos”). Thanks, guys. But as great and essential as my Peace Corps family is, they’re still no replacement for my real family, as I was reminded last week when my brother visited.

I didn’t quite know what to expect from his visit. Until that point, my only interactions with my life in America had been over the internet, phone, and in very sporadic letters/care packages (yes, there is something you could do about that…) But in all seriousness, Jake and I hadn’t spent any significant time together in recent history, and we haven’t lived together for years. It was uncharted territory.
             I headed to the Yaoundé airport in the middle of the night to meet him and the two of us barreled through the city back to our hotel. Arriving in a new place at night can always be a little surreal, and I remember from my arrival in September that this holds especially true for Yaoundé. During both airport arrivals the vehicle I was travelling in almost hit a pack of dogs. I hope that’s enough to give you the beginnings of a picture.
            Jake would be able to give you a better idea of his emotional state upon first arriving, but I was just glad to see him and that he arrived safely. Better yet, he seemed mostly unfazed by the craziness surrounding him and was prepared to tackle any plans that I had made. Lucky for him, my postmate Cynthia had forbidden me from herding him onto a bus the next morning (after arriving after midnight), so we slept in and spent a chill day in Yaoundé. He got an introduction to Peace Corps transit house culture and even attended a “gonging-out” ceremony for Volunteers that were about to close their service and head back to America.
            We couldn’t avoid the Cameroon public transport system forever and boarded a bus the next morning headed for Bamenda. It’s a beautiful ride, passing through what Jake described as “jungle” and (although I usually sleep though it) I would claim to be more of a savannah. The recent attacks by Boko Haram have caused the Cameroonian gendarmes and police to tighten their security, and our bus was stopped three times for identification card inspection. I hope this eases some of your anxieties about the security here, but it was definitely a hassle for those of us here. By the time we were stopped for the third time, I thought the Cameroonians on the bus were about to start a riot.
            Our time in Bamenda passed quickly and pleasantly. My neighbors were beyond excited about his arrival and wanted to feed him as much as possible. Many people (throughout his visit) were quick to point out our physical similarities, which was something I wasn’t expecting. Other Bamenda activities included a trip to the market (the one time he seemed visibly overwhelmed), having matching pagne clothing made, lawn games at the Bamenda office, and dinner with my postmates. It was a great way to spend a weekend. Before I knew it, it was time to leave Bamenda and head towards the coast. 
            We made it to Tombel without any problems and Jake enjoyed his first ever motorcycle ride (three people on a motorcycle with two giant suitcases-quite an introduction). My friends Anna and Ben wasted no time making us feel at home and even made us dinner out of a mix from Ben’s recent trip to Nepal. Before this trip my only experience with Tombel ended in a trip to the local hospital, but I still have nothing but positive feelings towards the town. It’s sticky, mosquito infested, and a good hour out of the way, but Anna’s hospitality and general positive energy more than make up for it. After a brief morning hike, we were off to Kribi, via the economic capital of Douala. I should mention that Peace Corps Volunteers are strongly discouraged (forbidden?) from spending any significant time in Douala. I’ve heard a variety of statistics concerning Douala and they all center on the general unpleasantness of the city. Apparently it’s on the Top 10 List of worst cities in the world to live? Cameroonians love it, though.
            Our time in Douala was more than manageable, although we were delayed a bit due to some sort of disagreement over reimbursements and number of passengers on the bus. Pretty typical. But it became clear that the two-day ride down to Kribi was more than worth it immediately upon arrival. The drive into town is right alongside the beach, and we could see many Cameroonians out enjoying the afternoon. Our hotel was tucked off a side street and sat directly on the water. Anyone who has had a quiet beach vacation can probably imagine how wonderful our time there was, but it seemed especially relaxing compared to the craziness that Cameroon throws at me on a regular basis. We ate lots of shrimp, took a motorcycle out to the Kribi waterfalls, and got caught up on our reading. I can’t think of a better way to finish out Jake’s tour of Cameroon.
            And several dozen bug bites later, Jake was onto the next phase of his travels: Europe. He was a trooper throughout Cameroon and definitely kept his cool better than I ever could have expected. In same (embarrassing) situations, I found myself more frustrated by life here than he seemed to. But I guess that’s a by-product of the amount of time that I’ve lived here and the short nature of his visit. Either way, I’m so glad that he was able to have a small glimpse of my time here and gain some perspective on the craziness that life in Cameroon involves. 

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Green beans by the Fistful

It’s easy to look at Cameroon and think that development is a completely unattainable goal. The roads (where they exist) are terrible, I’ve never found a place with consistent running water, and we just learned that Cameroon is one of the three countries (for the moment) where polio is endemic. It can be a frustrating place to live and an even more frustrating place to attempt development work. But life in Cameroon continues to surprise me. A few days after Earth Day, a ban on non-biodegradable plastic bags went into effect (and let’s be real, there are no biodegradable bags here). What does this mean? Until the ban became active, plastic bags (or “plastiques”) were everywhere. All stores, bakeries, and market mamas gave them out like candy. Shopkeepers would look at me suspiciously when I refused their offer of a plastique for an item that clearly didn’t require one. Bananas, biscuits, bags of pasta, it didn’t matter. Plastiques for everything. Market mamas would put individual items in one small bag and then give me another larger one to put all my items in together. It was a tad excessive.
            Another relevant note is that Cameroonians are (in my experience) completely unfamiliar with the concept of waste. By this I mean that very little is wasted, but the small amount of trash that is produced is mismanaged. The main landmark in my neighborhood during stage was a giant trash heap that marked the entrance to our quarter. Trash burning is commonplace and I’ve learned to hold my breath when driving past a smoking pile of litter when travelling. Some of the larger cities have trash collection services but these services merely transport the trash for more effective (and less obtrusive) incineration on the edge of the city. And it’s very common to walk past any moving body of water and see the banks littered with bottles, plastiques, and whatever other kinds of trash the nearby residents produced. Interestingly, Cameroonians see plastiques as the main component of their waste problems. It’s true that they are plentiful and visible, but I would argue that the direct dumping of waste in nearby bodies of water (that some residents bathe in) is a more dangerous problem. But that’s just me.
            Anyway, I began seeing signs announcing the impending ban in early April and I didn’t quite know what to expect. How could it possibly be enforced? And since when do Cameroonians abide by rules concerning trash? I’ve seen giant piles of garbage immediately surrounding signs stating “no dumping, penalty of 5000 francs ($10). To be honest, my expectations for the plastic bag ban were quite low.
            The changes since the advent of the ban have been rapid and widespread. I went to the bakery and was handed my bread wrapped up in paper. Some of my purchases are handed directly to me without any offer of a wrapper. This doesn’t result in any problems for many items, but there are exceptions. One of my market mamas took the ban to a new level when she picked up a fistful of green beans and dropped them directly into my reusable market bag. That seemed a little strange. Some of the women at the market are holding onto their remaining clear wrappers and only doling them out upon request (and while hiding behind their stall). Fanny packs haven’t been this popular since the 90’s in America.
            While the impact of this ban remains to be seen, I’m proud of Cameroon for making this commitment towards the environment and for the number of vendors who have adjusted their practices accordingly. There are many aspects of development that seem overwhelming and hopeless but it’s important to remember that change is a gradual process and is best broken down into small and manageable steps. So happy belated Earth Day to all of you and let’s hope that this ban sticks (although a loosening of the policy when it comes to green beans would be appreciated).
            In other news, I travelled to Yaoundé last week for my first HIV committee meeting. Travel can be exhausting in this country, but the ride down was smooth and passed without major incident. Although I would like to make a note of the conversation I overheard between two of the other volunteers that I travelled down with right after we entered the bus:
PCV 1: You know what’s great?
PCV 2: No, what?
PCV 1: Buses in America.
           Truer words were never spoken. We took the VIP bus on the way down, which meant that we each had our own seat and the bus left on a specific schedule. But my return trip wasn’t quite as easy. The VIP bus only runs between Yaoundé and Bamenda, and I decided to stop over at a friend’s post for a night on my way back. This meant that we instead had to take an ordinary bus and just hope for the best. The trip started off well enough: we got to the agency and bought tickets right before the bus left. And to our surprise, we even found ourselves on a full sized bus (as opposed to the standard 18 person vans crammed with 24 people or so). Unfortunately, the bus broke down about a little over two hours into our journey and didn’t make any progress for the next hour and a half. We were still stuck in the Center region, home of the mout-mouts (worse than mosquitoes) and the blazing sun. Not a good place to be stranded without any parts to repair the bus. We heard rumors of looking for water to put in the bus, but I honestly have no idea what the problem was.
It should be stated here that Cameroonians tend to be assertive people. There’s no argument that doesn’t welcome the opinion of all people within a ten-foot proximity, and most are quick to share their feelings on the matter. But a funny thing happened when the bus broke down (and didn’t seem to be making any progress towards repair): no one seemed rattled at all. My two Peace Corps friends and I were the most impatient and frustrated ones on the bus, which literally never happens. The only explanation that I can give is that bus malfunctions are just so commonplace that they’re almost expected. Why get upset over something that is such a normal part of life?
But this situation was unacceptable for my friends and I and after two hours we decided that we had waited long enough. My friend Cloud decided that the only acceptable option would be to take a private car (read, hitchhike) the rest of the way. I was doubtful that any car would stop and pick us up, but I was quickly surprised. Less than five minutes after we exited the bus and stood out on the road, a nice car passed and agreed to take us along with them to Bafoussam, our original destination. We quickly vetted them for potential dangers and decided that they looked harmless enough. And we were right. They were pastors and one of them was a notable from Cloud’s village. They were more than welcoming and took us exactly where we wanted to go, even though it was a little bit out of their way. They didn’t ask for our phone numbers (an uncommon occurrence) and refused to accept any money. Honestly, we were probably safer in their car that we were on a marginally functioning bus. As I said earlier, life in Cameroon continues to surprise me.

TL,DR: Cameroon is working on phasing plastic bags out of daily life. The effectiveness has taken me by surprise and as an Agribusiness volunteer (we have new titles now!) I see it as a step in the right direction.