Something happened today that I had
been expecting for a few months now: my gas ran out. A little explanation might
be necessary here; Cameroonian houses don’t have any sort of built-in cooking
gas pipe system. Instead, people that choose to cook with a stove (as opposed
to a fire outside) buy refillable gas bottles that can be replaced as
necessary. The nice thing about this is that it allows for total flexibility
when it comes to house design-the kitchen can be anywhere! But the unfortunate
part is that these bottles must be physically exchanged when empty, and
(surprise, surprise) gas isn’t always available. There were a few weeks back in
training when there was no gas available in the entire town. Well, that’s what
they told us at least. This meant was that I found myself cooking eggs over an
open fire before 7AM on more than one occasion. Rest assured, that wasn’t a
sight that any of you wanted to witness.
But now
that I’m settled at post, I pretty much had my cooking situation on lockdown. I
don’t have a “country kitchen” (outdoor house with a fire pit), nor do I want
one. I’ve been quite happy with my stove/gas bottle setup and somehow had
managed to go the past eight months without having to replace my bottle. It was
kind like a miniature Hanukkah miracle for the last two months or so.
Of course, the bottle replacement
system isn’t as straightforward as it could be. First you have to buy a gas bottle,
which comes filled with butane gas. But even this first step isn’t as simple as
it should be. There are two gas companies, and once you commit to a bottle,
you’re stuck with that company. Never mind the fact that you return the bottle
and take new one when you go in for a refill. Loyalty is the only option here.
Knowing
this ridiculous aspect of Cameroonian life, I decided to go with the more
readily available and cheaper option, CamGaz. It seemed like a pretty safe bet
at the time. And today, when my gas finally sputtered out, I wasn’t too
concerned about what lay ahead. I’m lucky in that I can replace my gas in my
town-some other Volunteers have to take their gas bottles on multiple hour moto
rides in order to replace them. I called up my favorite taxi driver, Godlove
(his real name), and asked him to come pick my empty bottle and I and take us
to the store. Other than the daily rainstorm, everything went great until we arrived
and were told that my bottle wasn’t eligible to be refilled and thus couldn’t
be traded in for a new one. I would have to buy a new bottle, which costs the
equivalent of $60. To put in in comparison, a simple refill costs only $15. But
after nearly a year in this country, I’ve learned not to simply accept whatever
a shopkeeper tells me. Godlove and I pressed further and the issue was more
clearly explained to us. Apparently the government of Cameroon had decided that
as of the end of June, the only bottles that can be refilled are those that are
manufactured by the company that refills them. When I looked closer at my
bottle, I saw that it had been produced by Shell Gas, not CamGaz, and was thus
essentially obsolete, as Shell doesn’t sell bottled gas here. Apparently there
was some sort of safety concern at play here, although the official memo the
shopkeeper handed me didn’t go into detail. I had simply gotten unlucky when
the gas station attendant had selected a bottle to use back in November, and today
I was going to have to pay for it.
Grumbling,
I borrowed money from Godlove and gave it to the shopkeeper. But just to verify
the plausibility of the situation, I decided to call my friend Aisha for her
opinion before I committed to such a seemingly unnecessary purchase. I
explained the situation to her and she found the claim entirely possible,
although just as frustrating as I did. But before we hung up, she told me that
she had an extra gas bottle lying around that was still eligible for
replacement. I could just come and take that to exchange for a new bottle. What
a lifesaver. So Godlove and I took my bottle back up the hill and picked up her
empty spare. We were able to trade it in without incident and I saved a bunch
of money.
In the
midst of my frustration I was trying to think about what an analogous situation
would be in the US, and then realized that it just doesn’t exist. Products are
recalled all the time, but the company always takes the fall and often loses
quite a bit of money. In Cameroon, consumers are expected to take the loss for
the mistakes of others, often at great personal expense. This case was pretty
minor, but it’s easy to imagine how paying for the mistakes of others could get
expensive rather quickly.
This story could have easily been
one of frustration over the unfairness and inefficiency of an aspect of
Cameroonian life, but it isn’t. Instead it’s one that ends in my gratitude for
the generosity of a friend. In Cameroon, community often picks up where the
system falls short. People depend on the relationships they cultivate over any
official system, and I’m honored to see a physical sign of my inclusion. Peace
Corps told us over and over during training: integration is key. I saw yet
again today how true this is.
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