Cradle to Grave

It’s kind of incredible how eager Cameroonians are to share their major life events. In the six months that I’ve lived in Mendakwen, I’ve attended them all-a marriage, funeral, birth/naming ceremony, and even school graduation. So far I haven’t been invited to a single Bar Mitzvah, but I’m not holding my breath on that one. The past two weeks have a little overwhelming, as I was found myself at a funeral, naming, and primary school graduation in quick succession.

            As much as possible, I generally avoid trying to directly compare aspects of life in Cameroon to those in America. The cultures function as such completely different systems that it tends to be a pointless enterprise, as well as a frustrating one. But the life events that I’ve been included are such universal experiences that they lend themselves pretty easily to comparison. And in this case I don’t necessarily think that one culture comes out on top, so I’ve decided to share my thoughts on them. I’ve decided to list the events in the order that I attended them as opposed to chronologically in order to best show my reactions and keep in mind my relative experience with Cameroon at each point. Also, please forgive the bulleted lists. I tried to write this out longhand, but it became so long that no one would have gotten through it.

Marriage

·         Original date of wedding ceremony moved several times due to disagreements between the groom and the bride’s family (but was not moved to accommodate the couple’s daughter’s school schedule)

·         Bride and groom arrived at ceremony together and half an hour late

·         Groom declared that the marriage would be monogamist (he had the option of polygamy!) and the crowd cheered

·         Couple had already received a traditional marriage and this ceremony was just for the civil system

·         Wedding reception had its own Master of Ceremonies

Funeral

            This one was the most different from its American equivalent.

• ·         Entire funeral party went to the morgue to watch as the body was placed inside the coffin
• ·         “Hearse” played music that would be fitting for an ice-cream truck the entire way back to the family compound
• ·         The appropriate grieving process seemed to involve simultaneous weeping and dancing. There was a live band blasting music the entire time.
• ·         There were funeral programs passed out that contained the schedule of events as well as tributes from family members.
• ·         Members of the grieving family all wore matching fabric. If a funeral isn’t the perfect opportunity to show off the family style, what is? 
• I had to leave relatively soon after arriving at the family compound-it was all just too much for me. I can accept different ways of celebrating, but I had a hard time with the mix of emotions being expressed. I wish I had a better way of describing this event, but I think it might fall into the category of “you had to be there”.

School Graduation

My next-door neighbor, Asmahan, graduated from primary school this past week. She attended Chantal Biya’s (the president’s wife) Champion Primary School, which is a government school that receives support from the first lady herself.

·         Event began two hours after it was scheduled. I was proud of myself when I showed up a half hour late, thinking I had finally gotten the hang of this “African time” thing. If only.

·         The ceremony began (as most things do) with opening prayer.

·         The appropriate graduation gift was a terribly tacky fake flower that they were selling by the road outside from the school. Asmahan had specifically asked for one, and I didn’t want to disappoint her, so I got her the least offensive one I could find. There was visible cardboard on all of them and they looked like they had all already been through a few graduations. The boys selling them should have been paying us to take them off their hands. 

·         The program was an entire page long and offered the promise of an entire day of graduation activities. I wish I could say that I stuck around long enough to confirm or deny this. I left after four hours, but there was no end in sight.

·         There was a graduation cake that was nowhere near large enough to feed even the entire graduating class (about 40 students). I needn’t have worried, as the cake was only intended for the invited notables, teachers, and parents brave enough to go take a piece. There was definite begging on the part of the MC for parents to come take “a taste”. This was when I decided I had had enough.

·         All of the students participated in some form of dancing. There were costumes at multiple parts of the ceremony, but I didn’t see a single cap or gown.

·         It looked like all of the graduating students would receive a bucket, but I’m not sure anyone got a diploma.

·         My neighbor graduated first in her class and as the best female student overall. This isn’t any kind of cultural difference, but I’m quite proud of her!

Naming ceremony

·         I should mention that I wasn’t aware of my next-door neighbor’s (and close friend) pregnancy until she was in her eighth month. Chalk that up to the style of dress here or my general cluelessness, but the whole baby thing definitely took me surprise.

·         The baby wasn’t named until he was almost a week old. I missed most of the ceremony (it unexpectedly started much earlier than planned), but I know the name was officially given at the local mosque. The new baby is named Mohammed, just like his older brother. Luckily, they have different middle names, which I’m assuming they will go by.

·         The most appropriate baby gift was a bar of soap, and the various guests completely filled a bucket with the stuff. They all brought the exact same kind-a beige unscented square that is made by the palm oil company. I wish I knew what the new mother is supposed to do with it all; she definitely can’t wash her new baby and it will likely take years to go through it all just by washing clothes and dishes. One of the many mysteries of my existence here.

As confusing as these new experiences have been, I’m incredibly grateful and humbled by the ease in which my new friends have allowed me to join in on such intimate moments of their lives. They’ve been quick to show me parts of Cameroonian culture and ensure that my time here is as informative and rich as possible. I’m not always quick to remember the parts of Cameroon that I enjoy, but my friends and neighbors here always top the list. This post details the major events that I’ve attended recently, but a more comprehensive one would include the everyday greetings, the easy routines, and all of the people here who regularly go out of their way to make me feel at home.

Unlimited Texting has come to Cameroon!

Any Peace Corps service will be filled with challenges, but I think some of the toughest ones that I have faced so far have been the mental ones. It’s often much easier to focus on the difficulties that come with life here than see all of the potential opportunities that lay ahead. There are many Volunteers that finish their time in Cameroon jaded and cynical about their expectations for development here, and I don’t want to be one of them. I have noticed recently that my patience often wears thin and that I find myself frustrated at some of the inconveniences that used to amuse me. This past week was especially challenging, as I attempted to restart projects that I had neglected during my preparations for Jake’s visit. Progress moves slowly here and in my experience so far, constant vigilance is required to keep projects moving.

            So in an attempt to counter some of the negativity I’ve been feeling, I’ve decided to write this post about some of the things that make my service great. Some of them are unique to my post, some to Peace Corps Cameroon, and some can be applied to Peace Corps service in general.

• ·      I have nearly complete freedom to choose my work projects, work partners, and set my own schedule. My only limitations are the availability of committed work partners and geography.
• ·      Part of setting my own schedule means that I almost never have to get up earlier than I want to. So I’m never tired. I’m still getting over this novelty.
• ·      The fun of shopping at the market still hasn’t worn off. I have a few “market mamas” that I’ve gotten to know, and I try to be loyal to them whenever possible. It’s way more satisfying to buy vegetables from a woman that I know than a generic supermarket, even if the selection overall isn’t nearly as good. And they’re usually much fresher.
• ·      I get way more joy out of American-made goods than I ever did back home. One of my market mamas gave me a Hershey’s Nugget today and it made my day. It was stale milk chocolate, and I’m not sure I would have even eaten it in America.
• ·      I live in my own apartment for the first time in my life (and probably the last for a while) and never have trouble paying rent. My landlady and I are going to “make sport” together this afternoon by walking the two kilometers down the mountain to Bamenda and then back up.
• ·      Getting clothes custom-made is totally normal and brings approval from my Cameroonian friends and neighbors.
• ·      It has never been easier to make friends. My neighbors were so curious about my presence here that they welcomed me with open arms, and continue to make me feel at home whenever I stop by.
• ·      The Peace Corps gives us the most comprehensive medical care I ever expect to receive. And although I haven’t been very impressed with the quality of care available in local facilities, we always have the PC medical office in Yaoundé to take care of us if we need it (as well as the option of medical evacuation…but let’s hope I don’t need that). I theoretically have a pair of glasses headed my way (courtesy of the US government) to replace the pair that I lost at the beach.
• ·      The climate here is warm and comfortable, but somehow lacking in mosquitoes. I really got lucky on that one. Also, the landscape is stunningly beautiful and consists of grassy mountainsides, sometimes with animals grazing.
• ·      You don’t sign a binding contract when you become a PCV, so we’re all free to leave whenever we want. For me this means that every day that I spend here is my own choice, not just a step towards fulfilling an obligation.
• ·      There are almost 200 other PCVs scattered across the country, most of whom are only a phone call away (some don’t have phone service). Talk about a support system. And the phone company we all use just introduced an unlimited texting plan for $1/month. Game-changer.

I’m sure that I could think of more benefits to life as a PCV if I tried, but I’m happy with this list for now. In the meantime, enjoy all that June brings your way. That’s my strategy these days. 

"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. 

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.