Mission: get a cat

During my absence over winter break, my house became the residence of a family of mice. Partly to combat this issue, and partly because I wanted to, I decided to get a cat. Cats are not rare here. Sometimes they wander, sometimes they stay inside a house. I see them most often in small shops, where I assume their purpose is to catch mice because people seem to ignore them. There is a belief here that dogs are dirty, but cats are perceived at least neutrally. Taking all of this into consideration, I didn't think that it would be very complicated to get one of my own.

First, I asked my landlady if she knew where to get one. She just got a new puppy, but it was a from a friend of a friend, and she didn't seem to have any kitten connections. Next, I asked a few Peace Corps Volunteers in the area. Kelly gave me the discouraging response that it took her months to find a cat when she was looking in her village, but Brittney was able to give me the next clue. She had been admiring a kitten in a shop and the owner offered to sell one of the other kittens in the litter. With plans to show me where this shop was in a few days, I left with an optimistic attitude. This visit got delayed twice, first due to a meeting running late (very Cameroonian) and then because Brittney got sick (also, very Cameroonian). Finally Brittney was able to show me where this shop was. When we showed up, the man she previously spoke with was not there, but his little sister was. We asked her about the kittens and she says “they aren't here anymore”. At first this gave me the impression that they were all given away or sold, but further belligerence on my part revealed that “the kittens are in the bush” (meaning, they were running around wild). The girl tells me that they come back to eat at night, so I should return in a few hours. Since it is quite a bit out of my way, I told her I would try and come back, and Brittney and I went to check another place she had seen a kitten. The man at this second shop says he can get me a kitten, if I want to come back on Sunday (current date: Tuesday). This is a distinct possibility, but I decide that I want to try to return to place #1 in a few hours to try and get more immediate satisfaction.

Since I didn't want to spend 400CFA and 40 minutes going back home, just to have to come back out again, I decided to waste a few hours in the Peace Corps office on the Internet. I tried to download programs for my lab at school but they ended up getting corrupted, so those few hours were unproductive. At 5PM I showed back up at the little shack to the extreme amusement of the proprietors. They said that the cats had not returned yet, so I asked if they mind if I wait. The man (who is there at this point) seemed very hesitant, and confided that there is only one left “and it is a black one.” I am not positive if black cats are a superstition here as well, but his attitude conveyed that idea. I reassured him that I am fine with a black cat, so he shrugs and says I can wait if I want to. About an hour later the mother cat showed up, but there was no black kitten in tow. The man, whose name I found out to be Innocent, explains that this is a very headstrong kitten. About a half hour after that, Innocent tried to get me to leave by saying he can catch the kitten if I plan a time to come back. I got his phone number, then waited for about 10 more minutes before agreeing to return Thursday after work.

Thursday at 3 I called Innocent's number to confirm that I could pick up the cat, but a girl answered the phone and for some reason we had trouble communicating. (I don't think I could pronounce “Innocent” well enough, or she was just messing with me, I am not sure). I hesitated on making the trip, but decided that since we had arranged for me to get the cat at 4, I would go. When I showed up the girl manning the store make a quick phone call that I caught the end of “that whiteman is back again”, and once again I settled down to wait. About 10 minutes later Innocent shows up, covered in burrs and dirt, saying that he tried to catch the cat, but it ran into a bunch of rocks and he couldn't get to it. I ask if I should wait and he says yes, it will come out eventually. A few other people try and help out, taking turns chasing the poor kitten around, but they are all outsmarted. I spent an amusing 20 minutes watching an old lady wait outside a door of a locked shed. Every time the cat tried to come out, she would move to catch it and it would run back inside. At one point there were 6 people standing outside this shed trying to catch my kitten for me. Eventually either the owner comes by, or someone went to get him, and the door is unlocked. People swarm into the shed to corner the cat, but he escapes out a hole in the back. Innocent is still encouraging at this point, saying the cat is very intelligent, but they will get it. At this point I have been waiting for about an hour and a half, and have had over 15 people help try and catch this one kitten. They offer to let me buy the mother cat, but I say I want a kitten (“small pussy” in pidgin). The old lady comes to sit by me and wait for a bit. Eventually she stands up and walks off, I assume to go do something else, but she returns with a bag in her hand. Innocent reaches in a pulls out a small kitten and asks if this one will do instead. When I give her money for the cat, she assures me that she has many more in the house if I know anyone who wants one. I don't know why it took her so long to offer me one, since I specified that I didn't have any preference beyond it being a kitten. I think that this one will be a much better house cat than the rambunctious black kitten though. As soon as I picked her up she started purring, and she will happily climb all over me whenever I sit down.

Cricket Season

This blog post is about a month late. I have a new one that I will put up soon (I think) that chronicles my winter break, but this one is long overdue and I thought they should be chronological.

The end of rainy season and the beginning of dry season signals the annual plague of locusts. For a few weeks grasshoppers (crickets? locusts? I don't remember which are different) were everywhere. If I turned my lights on at night, they would find their way inside. If I didn't turn my lights on, they would still end up inside.

A quick run through of cricket hunting, start to finish.

The casual cricket hunter can simply pluck a few off any visible surface. If you are a child it is acceptable to run around trying to catch them from the air a la lightning bugs (but edible). If you are trying to catch them en masse you can either spray a bunch of pesticide in the air or set up a cricket trap like there is in my compound. When I first visited my house (almost 7 months ago now!) I noticed a strange platform of bamboo that looked semi permanent. I was told that it was for catching crickets, but I wasn't quite sure how that would be accomplished. This structure stood, unused except as the occasional overflow laundry line, for months. One day a lightbulb appeared on a pole, as well as several large oil drums with sheets of metal angled in them. It is a simple set up, but surprisingly effective. On nights when the moon is not full, they turn off all the household lights (which you do after dark in cricket season anyways because of the various bugs that are attracted to them). The crickets swarm around the lightbulb, and will randomly hit the sheets of metal. When they fly into the metal they get stunned, and slide down into the giant oil drums. Since the metal is at an angle, most get trapped inside.

During this same interval, all the students who live in my compound run around trying to catch their own stash of flying snacks. I tried to help them but every time I showed them one I caught they would tell me it was the wrong type. They did pick several off me that landed on my clothes (or hair). I wasn't always able to tell the difference between types, but I think it is all stages of development. They have names for every different type. In general, they call them “munguine" (sp?) which is the dialect word for cricket. When they look white and almost translucent they are called “whiteman”.

In the morning they boil the crickets, then set them out on sheets to dry. They are then salted and either deep fried or dry fried in a skillet. I think some people eat them raw, but I wasn't adventurous enough for that. To eat them, you pluck off their wings and legs then swallow. I am told that their legs have tiny barbs on them that can catch your throat, but I often saw people munching unconcerned.

I wouldn't go so far as to say they are considered a delicacy here, but they are definitely an enjoyable snack to Cameroonians. Asking other Americans, I have heard very different opinions. Personally, I find them edible but not particularly enjoyable.

Giving my final exams, one little form one student brought me a present. In America, it would stereotypically have been an apple. I got a bag of live grasshoppers.