Adventures of A

Christmas in Limbe, New Years in Maroua

2012-01-17T01:50:00.000-08:00

This Christmas break, my brother and his wife came to visit me, and we all went to the Grand North. We saw lots of things, tried lots of new foods, and generally had an adventure. Here is basically our itinerary. Since my camera isn’t working well, I don’t have any photos to go along with the description. Anna has lots of photos of the trip though, so I will try and put some photos to go along with all this text later.
December 24th
On Christmas eve my brother Kevin and his wife Anna came to visit Cameroon. I hired a taxi to drive from my city (Buea) to Douala where the airport is to pick them up. It is about an hour away.
Ethan and Boris were staying at my house after climbing the mountain, and when we got back they had bought some grilled fish and soya for my family to try.
December 25th
Christmas morning we opened presents (thanks for the replacement ipod guys!) and then headed off to the beach. After enjoying a traditional sunny Christmas in the sand, we went to the wildlife sanctuary where we saw lots of monkeys. That night we spent with other volunteers in Buea.
December 26th
In order to get the first bus to Yaounde, we left my house at 5 AM, to get the 6 AM bus. It left about as on time as things get in Cameroon, around 6:45. That night we got on the overnight train that goes to Ngaoundere.
December 27th
Since we were now in the North, Kevin and Anna needed to experience riding motos! We started with a leisurely hour long moto ride to see some waterfalls and lakes. Lake Tisan is a crater lake, and the Vina Waterfalls were pretty, with a picturesque shipping crate in the background.
December 28th
We started the morning off by climbing Mount Ngaoundere. It was a pretty hike, and it was cool to see the city spread out, and fading off into the dust clouds in the distance. We interrupted both a funeral and a group of teenagers meeting at the top, so we didn’t spend too long before heading back down.
In the afternoon we travelled to Lagdo, which is a small village on the edge of a giant lake (Lake Lagdo) that is rumored to have hippos.
December 29th
We woke up early to look for hippos. We climbed over a ton of rocks, and had broken conversations with fishermen and other random people who kept telling us to look in different places. Eventually, someone told us that we had to go to the dam to see hippos, so we wandered into town to find some motos.
Kids mobbed us to try and shake our hands. Anna brought out her camera to ask if we could take a photo, and they all lined up neatly and orderly in about 2 seconds, while older kids who were too cool to try and shake our hands rushed over to be in the photo.
We grabbed 2 motos to take us to the dam. They stopped as soon as we were in sight, and rushed off soon after we had paid. We realized why, when some gendarmes came over to tell us that we couldn’t be there. Instead, we had to go and talk to the man who runs the dam. After he explained to us that the dam was a government facility and we couldn’t see it, he offered to give us a tour. He walked us around the entire place and pointed out where the hippos usually were (we were a few hours too late, or 8 hours too early). He often pointed out towards the dam and said “you can’t take pictures here” and then would turn and say “but you can take a picture of this” and then wait expectantly until Anna took a photo.
Back in Lagdo, we went to the hotel to get our things and try and figure out how to get to a major town. I asked the person who was running the hotel, and was overheard by another guest who offered us a ride to Garoua (about 2 hours away) as long as we were ok with stopping for a drink on the way.
He later said that he was a friend of another Peace Corps volunteer in Ngaoundere. He also asked us a lot of questions about agriculture in the US, which unfortunately I wasn’t able to help with much.
Driving into Garoua you cross a bridge, where our new friend (I never learned his name, I asked twice but never got an answer) pointed out the hippos below. He pulled over momentarily and a man came running up to ask if we wanted to touch the hippo. We declined, and were driven to the bus company that would take us to Mokolo. After we got there, we were told that the last bus had just left, so our friend argued with them for a minute in Fulfulde. We were told to hurry and buy tickets while they called the bus and told them to wait. We used motos to catch up to the bus.
We got to Mokolo a little after dark, where we met up with Emily and Zach, 2 volunteers who live there.
December 30th
On the 30th we went to Rhumsiki, a village known for its strange rock formations. After a 1.5 hour moto ride down a dirt road, we went on a hike through the surreal scenery. We crossed a tiny dried up stream, which marks the border to Nigeria. There are 8 families who live in the valley, 4 Cameroonian families, and 4 Nigerian families who guard the border.
We then visited the Crab Sorcerer, who told Anna that she would have 2 kids, a boy then a girl, and that she and Kevin would have a tranquil life. In response to my question of “what will I do after I leave Africa?” he told me that I would return to Europe, stay with a friend, study a bit, then get a good job and lead a tranquil life.
We then returned to Mokolo where I argued with the moto drivers over price, because 2 of them didn’t speak French, and they guy who translated either misunderstood or they decided while they were waiting that they wanted a different price.
December 31st
A group of us from Mokolo all travelled together to Maroua. We explored the city a bit before going to the New Year’s Party. It was cool to see all the volunteers in the Grand North.
The first day of 2012
We started the new year off right with Spaghetti Omelette Sandwiches. We then wandered around Maroua some more, exploring the market and other areas.
January 2nd
Kevin, Anna, me, Rose, and her brother all went to Waza National Park. It was a few hour drive to get there, but the drive itself was very interesting. The width of Cameroon in the Extreme North region is very narrow, so you saw many moto drivers who were smuggling goods between Nigeria and Chad. The most scary was the moto drivers who would carry up to 20 large containers of gasoline on their motorcycles.
In Waza we saw a lot of giraffes, some antelopes of various types, a bird that looked like it came out of a disturbing nightmare, and a bird that was a spectacular bright blue.
January 3rd
Our plan for the third was to go to Pouss, but it wasn’t very time sensitive so we didn’t set an alarm. For the first time we slept in until 10, so by the time we got to the bus station the last bus had already gone. However, we were told we could take a bus to Maga (the neighboring village) and take a moto from there. So, we did.
I got our moto drivers to take us all the way to the Chad border, but there was a large river and by the time we made it there it was starting to get late. They asked if we wanted to go see the traditional houses that Pouss is known for, but since it was getting later we decided just to go back to the market. The moto drivers pretended they didn’t understand and took us to the houses anyways. We argued with them for a bit there before they did what we told them to.
We walked around the market a bit, tried some random foods, and enjoyed some warm Fanta. We then decided we should try and go back even though we hadn’t been there long. When we found the busses that were going back to Maroua, they said they we already full, but we could pay twice as much and they would kick someone else off. While Anna and I were debating with our consciences, the bus left, so I asked another woman who was left behind what she would do. She said she would take a moto to Maga and hope there was a bus in Maga, so that is what we did. When we got to Maga, the bus was almost ready to leave so we rushed and bought some tickets and we were off. After a long bumpy bus ride with only a few stops to pray and to close the door when it rattled open, we were back in Maroua.
January 4th
We took the 3 AM bus that left at 4 AM to go all the way from Maroua to Ngaoundere. We arrived in Ngaoundere in the early afternoon. We went to the Lamido’s palace and wandered around a bit.
January 5th
In the morning we chased down the mobile cart of the famous omellete guy and experienced his omelletes. We then wandered through the market to buy some scarves and had to run away on motos to get away from the persistent woman who was propositioning my brother.
We ate dinner with some other volunteers before getting on the overnight train back to Yaounde.
January 6th
After falling asleep in the scrubland of the North, we woke up to the jungle of the grand south. We transferred to a bus in Yaounde, and headed off to Buea.
We enjoyed a meal of traditional Cameroonian food before going back to my house and falling asleep in beds that didn’t move.
January 7th
We went to Limbe in the morning, so that I could go to the bank, and so that we all could enjoy fresh seafood. We then went back to Buea and Kevin and Anna were tolerant spectators while I debated leases with my new landlady. A quick run through the market for food, and it was time to go to Douala and the airport.
So, in 2 weeks, we went to 6 regions and 10 cities. It was a lot more fun than this probably makes it sound, but at least it is an idea. Thanks for coming Kevin and Anna, and I contribute our amazing transportation luck to you two (because I certainly don’t have it on my own).

3 Day Weekend

2011-11-09T01:10:00.000-08:00

Sunday was the Feast of the Ram. Because there is a large Muslim population in Cameroon, this means Monday was a national holiday. For my three day weekend, I went to the West. Jenny was medically separated about a month ago, and she had come to visit for a few weeks. However, Sunday was her flight back home, so I went to Nkongsamba to say goodbye. This was my first visit to Nkongsamba, and I was impressed by both the city and the scenery, though it did give me a reminder that I need to practice my French.
“C’est quell direction a Bare?”
“I no talk English fine”
“…”

Sunday morning I went to the Chutes d’Ekom Nkam with another volunteer. This waterfall is just outside of Nkongsamba, and is where Tarzan was filmed. I don’t know which Tarzan, but my tour book told me that! We took a taxi to the head of the trail, and then hired a motorcycle taxi to take us down to the waterfalls (about 10 km away). The forest was breathtaking. Because they are attempting to market the waterfall as a touristic attraction, the rainforest has not been cut down for farmland. There weren’t even villages along the trail, only a well maintained dirt road, and the forest.

At the toll house there was a large sign that posted prices, and a man waited for us to pay before he would let our driver pass. We paid him 4500 CFA for two people and a camera, and continued on to the waterfall. There is a small park by the waterfall and a guide met us there. He proceeded to tell us that there isn’t a gatekeeper at the tollhouse on Sundays, and that we gave our money to bandits. We were able to give him a description of the men however, and I had accidentally gotten a picture of the motorcycle driver with them. He said he knew who it was, and allowed us to go to the waterfall. The Chutes d’Ekom Nkam are huge! They are really quite stunning, although quite possibly the most touristy place I have seen in Cameroon, not that there was anyone else there. I recommend anyone in the area to go and see them.
On Monday I went kayaking on the Noun River with some other volunteers. There were some very nice rapids, and we saw wild monkeys! I didn’t get any pictures because I didn’t want to chance losing my camera in the water, sorry!

Election Announcement Day

2011-10-21T12:33:00.001-07:00

I have been travelling a lot lately, for various reasons, but it just happened that I would be in Bamenda for the day the election results were announced. For your information back home, Bamenda is the seat of the opposition leader. I arrived last night around 8 PM. Everyone on my bus was handed a piece of paper issued by the Bamenda City Council that called for peace.
This morning I woke up around 8 AM. Muriel and I (both made temporary residents of the Bamenda office because of standfast) went out in search of breakfast. We walked to the usual spaghetti-omelet shack, but they were closed. The second place we went to had an open door, but turned us away (at 9:30 AM) with the excuse that they were tired and wanted to rest. Upon questioning at a third place, we were told that people were afraid because of the election results. I asked that woman why she was still around if it might become dangerous and she just shrugged, saying “what can I do?”

I would estimate half the stores in Bamenda were closed, although there were a few taxis running. I was able to get to my village without mishap, and sat down with a friend to watch the results be announced. 2 hours later, I left his house. In Cameroon, “election results being announced” means a man from the supreme court sits in front of cameras reading the statistics for each polling district. I watched the Minister of Transportation sleep. I watched the men (and women) of the supreme court sit around looking bored, but stylish, in robes and wigs that imitated Great Britain from a few hundred years ago. I heard Garoua’s statistics announced as having 900,000 votes for Biya while less than 200,000 people voted at all in Bamenda. (Bamenda is larger than Garoua).

My second stop in village was the school. It was 1:00 on a Friday, but there were only a few students in an abandoned classroom. They appeared to be practicing for choir, but one student told me they were praying for peace.
After that I went to visit a friend who lived nearby. She praised my bravery multiple times, saying that soon she would “go to the village” for safety. After I told her she was already in village, she said “well, since you are here, we will stay here”.
My final stop was to visit my neighbor and landlady (and to stop by to say hi to my replacement volunteer). She wasn’t home so I gave her a call. She was out at a nearby bar, drinking while waiting for results to come in. I joined her and sat and discussed for a few hours before coming back into Bamenda. (At this point, they are still reading statistics that no one really cares about anymore).
Bamenda at 6:30 was dark and quiet, with only a few taxis and motorcycle taxis to break the silence. I saw a large group of policemen milling about aimlessly.
My impression? Other than the defaced billboards of President Biya, no one will protest over the election. I have been repeatedly told over the past few months that even if they don’t like the president, people will not fight, because at least they have food.
We will see. It is currently 8:30 at night, and the final results have not been announced. They started reading numbers at 11:00 AM.

What I Do

2011-10-07T01:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning I got a call from my program director. He asked me to write a blurb describing what I do in country so that it can be sent out to the incoming volunteers. I figured that it could be interesting to you also, while you are waiting for all the posts that I haven't done yet. Sorry!

What do I do in Cameroon? Just like most ICT-Education volunteers, I started by teaching at secondary school. I taught 12 different classes for 12 hours a week with students varying in age from 11 to 20. Mostly I taught basic skills like Word and Excel. After I finished classes for the day I would often open the computer lab to students with free time. During free time I had students who would ask to learn a broad variety of topics, so I was able to cater more to individual skill levels.
My computer lab had 15 computers in various states of disrepair. My principal was supportive in my efforts to maintain the lab, but there often wasn’t money in the budget. Salvaging parts from other computers was usually the preferred method of repairs.

A few days a week I held classes for the teachers at my school. Most of the teachers wrote their tests out by hand and calculated grades with their cell phones, so there was definitely a need to learn. The principal mandated all teachers to attend, but still the attendance varied wildly. Some days I would have two teachers, some days ten – which was still far less than the 70 teachers who worked at the school.
Through my connections with the school and friends in village, I became acquainted with CATTU, a teachers’ union. They wanted a website, but did not know how to start or maintain one. I developed a simple website for them and then ran training classes for their staff on HTML.

After I completed my work I could always find time for a drink with friends in village, or for a quick cooking lesson from my neighbor (when I say quick, I mean for the 3 hours that it seems to take for even the simplest dishes). The taxi drivers who went to my village were always enthusiastic about teaching me the local dialect, and teachers at my school would teach me pidgin in between classes despite the signs banning the use of pidgin on school grounds. I lived close enough to the regional capital that I went into the city once a week to visit other PCVs and go shopping for luxuries like lettuce.

After a year of teaching at secondary school, I received an opportunity to move posts. I went from a small village in the Northwest region to a large city in the Southwest region. I now work with the Delegation of Basic Education (a division of the government) instead of at a secondary school. Instead of teaching kids, now I teach adults. Currently my students are the staff members of the Delegation, but I am organizing seminars that will take me all over the Southwest region. The seminars will focus on teaching teachers and inspectors basic computer skills as well as computer maintenance and how to use the internet.

Coming into country I was a bit intimidated at the thought of teaching, as I had minimal experience in the field. However, the pre-service training that you attend gives you practice and tips and you soon find yourself wrangling kids like the experts. There is nothing quite as frustrating as teaching a class of 80 students with 15 computers, but when they walk 3 miles on a Saturday just so they can use the computer to practice typing, or bring you a present of live grasshoppers, or get so into the topic you are teaching that they stand up and demand homework, you know it is worth it.

Welcome to Cameroon.

Allison Lacker
PCV 2010-2012

An average not-so-average morning

2011-04-25T06:53:00.000-07:00

This week at my school we are invigilating (proctoring) the exams for the fifth sequence. School is divided into 3 terms, and each term has 2 sequences (Almost done!). At my school we harmonize tests. This means every subject test will be happening at the same time. For example, today the entire school took Biology, Physics, Computer, and Food/Nutrition tests. Every teacher will proctor a class's tests, so one teacher would give the biology, physics, computer, and F/N tests. I checked the timetable last week and I wasn't scheduled to invigilate at all. The Vice Principal did this for me last sequence also since I have a ton of tests to grade. Anyways, I woke up this morning and went in to school early for a few reasons. One, I needed to hand in my test questions and work in the lab fixing computers. Two, my friend gave me the keys to the main office since she was traveling and I had to hand them off to the other secretary. So I walk my 20 minutes to school, get there a few minutes before 8, and promptly start working. As always, the students start begging to come in. I was hesitant at first since they were supposed to be taking tests, but most of the needed teachers weren't there yet, so I decided to let them in for a bit. Around 9:00, a teacher comes in and asks if I am ready to start invigilating yet. Since I wasn't on the timetable Friday, I am a bit confused, but I kick out all the students and start looking around for a timetable so I know which class I am in. All but one have been taken down and I can see where someone else's name was removed and mine put in (Sometime between good friday and easter sunday. As a side note I was the only one there Good Friday, because I was working on the computers). I was written in for Form 2B, so I waited around with the teacher for Form 2A for the 2C teacher to come. I am trying to give exams on the computers this term, so I didn't have a written test. Form 2 doesn't have a food/nutrition teacher, so that just left Physics and Biology. The 2C teacher had the biology questions, and by 9:30 she still hadn't arrived. So we went ahead and just gave the 30 minute physics test. I accidentally walked into the 2C classroom first (the layout of classrooms is a bit strange) and all the students stood up and cheered that I would be their teacher. My assumption is this means I let them get away with cheating more often than the others. They were very disappointed when I left. After the test I went to get the 1A class to take to the lab. For various reasons I haven't had them at all this sequence, so I was trying to give them some lab time. We wrote letters to American students, which they all loved. I was much more impressed with their work than my other form 1 students. Unfortunately, The power went out right as most were finishing, and most had not saved yet. So, after the power went out, I closed the lab down and went to talk to the teachers for a few minutes before leaving. One of my conversations was interrupted by a chorus of honking. A huge cavalcade of motorcycles and cars made their way down the hill into the school valley, while the school administration ran around getting all the teachers in a row. It turns out that the DO (I don't remember what it stands for - Divisional Officer?) was driving by and decided to visit. The DO and his entourage made a reception line while all the teachers shuffled past -in order of hierarchy of course, although for some reason they put me directly after all the administration. Luckily they were just stopping by and it wasn't a formal occasion, or I would have been stuck there much longer. As it was, I left almost immediately after them so I could go to town. I walked about 30 minutes before the school bus (a large van) passed me, and the bus driver told me to hop in. On one hand, I was appreciative, because it is a free ride to Bamenda. On the other, it means I exit the vehicle with a large group of students. In today's case it was entertaining however, because a large group of form 3 girls surrounded me. When people heckled me in the market ("hey baby", or even just "hello") they would heckle them back ("don't you talk like that to our madam!" "Our madam doesn't want to talk to you!") Their possessiveness was cute. I grabbed another taxi to bring me to the Peace Corps office to check email and type up some things -arriving here about 1:00.

Walking

2011-03-22T07:42:00.000-07:00

In Cameroon, kids walk everywhere. Poor people walk everywhere. Old mamis walk miles with trees on their heads. However, when I walk to the city (about 4 miles) I get comments from everyone who sees me. It is not -just- because I am white. If you are of an age that you can make money, this means that you can take a taxi, and everyone (at least in my village) does. Taxi rides are ridiculously cheap (~30 cents to town, less than 40 cents anywhere in the city).

I have been told that many of the teachers felt sorry for the volunteer before me because he almost always walked to town. They thought he couldn't afford the taxi ride, and some even were tempted to offer him money.

some comments I have gotten recently that I thought were interesting:

"You can not walk, because then you will get red, and everyone in America will blame it on Africa and hate us"

"Madam! You are pedesting!"

"Madam, you are so strong, you could walk forever" (right before I went to my house and they continued another few miles)

"I thought Americans were lazy and drove everywhere, but every American I have met walks all the time" -to which I explained that many Americans were lazy, but not all

The concept of saying sorry

2011-03-05T06:59:00.000-08:00

In Cameroon, the idea of saying "sorry" is so ubiquitous that in pidgin, the same word is used for "sorry" and "hello". I rarely go anywhere without hearing a flurry of "ashia". "Ashia for work" "Ashia for sport" "Ashia, how you dey?". Earlier this week I brought one of my form 1 classes to the computer lab. I have them the last period of the day, so half of them are wound up, and half are tired, but none of them want to listen. After 15 minutes of rushing around making them close games and trying to get them to open word, I gave up and told them to go back to the classroom. They know that if they don't behave in the lab, I revoke lab privileges, but that doesn't seem to stop them. After I herded them all out, they started begging. "Madam, sorry, madam, forgive forgive" They seem to have little understanding of consequences, and want to go back to the lab as soon as they apologize. I tell them that if they behave, they will go back next week. They stood outside the computer lab for 10 minutes after school singing a song they invented on the spot. The lyrics are "Madam we are sorry -oh". They also wrote on the computer lab door (in chalk) a 3 sentence dissertation on them being sorry. Since we have been through this before, I know they will still misbehave. I know part of it is simply their age, but some of it is the culture as well.

A teacher at my school recently asked for time off, ostensibly to go to a brother's funeral in Nigeria. The principal said he could only approve 3 days leave, so the request was sent higher up, and she was granted a 3 week leave. The secretary at my school agreed to give the students notes for these 3 weeks. 6 weeks later, she has not returned. After the first 3 weeks, the secretary was told not to give any more classes, because she would be responsible if anything happened during the hour. There were rumors going around school that the teacher was actually vacationing in America. This was confirmed when she met with another (retired) teacher who now lives in D.C. and communicates with friends in Cameroon on a regular basis. I asked what would happen to the teacher when (if) she returned. I was told that as long as she goes to the principal and says she is very sorry, she would be forgiven (without being fired and with no dock to the pay)

Dancing with Jujus

2011-02-10T04:02:00.000-08:00

I never seem to have my camera with me when I see something awesome. In my defense however, I did not think that a funeral was the place to bring a camera. (This is not my picture but the closest thing I saw in a quick google search)

Last Tuesday I went to the funeral of my pricipal's brother. After a few hours in church, then an hour or two spent eating and drinking, the jujus came out. Jujus are traditional festive dancers that usually come out at large death celebrations. They have giant masks on top of their heads, and they cover their faces. They carry what looks like horsetails, but with handles that are highly decorated. They will throw this at people in the crowd, and if you get hit you are supposed to come and dance with the juju (and give him money). I was standing with a bunch of teachers from my school when a juju threw one. It hit both me and the person next to me. At the time I didn't know what I was supposed to do, so I pretended that it hit my neighbor more than me. He went and danced and gave the juju money. I moved further back so that I wouldn't be hit again. A few minutes later however, the same juju threw a very skillful shot that avoided both people in front of me and hit solely me. Since there was no way to avoid it this time I went out and danced with him for a minute before running back to the edges. It was hard to go out in front of such a large crowd and dance, but it was an awesome experience to see and participate in.

Mission: get a cat

2011-01-29T02:33:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-15T06:24:00.000-08:00

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.

Koki

2010-08-07T00:15:00.001-07:00

So, last week my host mom decided to teach me the art of cooking koki, a dish that her village is known for. As soon as all the kids saw I was cooking, they demanded my camera so they could take pictures of me. (Yes, I know my outfit doesn't match at all, I wasn't planning on being photographed) They said it was so my family in America could see what I was doing, so here goes:

The first step is to grind up a ton of cow peas. Usually, you would use a grinder, but the electricity was out, so we did it the old fashioned way (on the grinding rock). About half way through, you grind some pimente (hot peppers). The cow peas are a pale tan, but as soon as my host mom added the peppers, you got an outstandingly brilliant red-orange color. I tried to get a photo, but she was too fast to get a good one it before it was all smashed together.

I am not very good at grinding, my host mom kept correcting my technique, as shown here.

You line the wine boxes with oil (to prevent sticking) and then fill it up part of the way with the Koki mixture. After that, you add it to a large pot with water in the bottom (this simulates an oven).

After we put the Koki on the fire, we had to peel unripe bananas. They then cook these to form a side dish of sorts. There is a special technique for peeling the bananas so that the peel comes off easily. This is harder than it seems when the bananas are unripe.

Finished with everything

Site Visit

2010-08-06T23:52:00.000-07:00

Ok, it has been a few weeks since I actually went on site visit, but model school has kept me too busy to wait for photos to upload. However, model school is now finished! Now I just have to grade the exams of 50 students and calculate final grades.
My site, as I mentioned in a previous post, is Mbatu. It is 4km from Bamenda, the capital of the Northwest region, so I will basically have all the amenities that Cameroon has to offer. Also, I definitely do not have a hut in a desert. More like a mansion in a rain forest.

My house:

It is on the top of a hill, so it looks very imposing. There is good security with all those walls and gates though! The owner of the house lives in Germany, so they rent it out. So far, I am only the second person to have lived in it. The first was the Peace Corps volunteer that I am replacing.

It is actually a duplex, though no one lives in the other half. Either way, I have plenty of room, and definitely not what I was expecting.

The view from my front porch:

My school is about 1 mile up the road, an easy walk, but there is also a van that drives up and down the road picking up teachers.

I was not able to see my computer lab, because my Principal was on vacation, but I was told there are about 20 working computers. There are two other computer teachers, and they are hoping to get an additional one before school starts. However, I am told it is very hard to get teachers, so it isn't very likely.

Less than 2 weeks before I leave for post! It is bittersweet. It is exciting to finally get out on my own, and regain a measure of privacy, but I will not see many of my fellow stagiares for 3 more months. I think most people are more than ready to get out on their own though. Best of luck to all of us!

Blogging by Gaslamp

2010-07-17T13:57:00.000-07:00

I went on site visit, it was fantastic, I don't even know how to start writing about it, so I am not yet.

Other random events from Africa:

Dish Washing:
I wash dishes with my family almost every day. It was more, but now I am using my mornings for last minute lesson planning, so I haven't been quite as useful. A few days ago I helped scrub all the big pots, and I wanted to share how it is done.

First, you get your pot wet. Then, you scrape the soap block (liquid soap is an unknown concept here) with the steel wool. Once you have your steel wool nice and soapy you pick up a bunch of sand with the steel wool and start scrubbing down the pot. This removes most of the black char marks. We want the pots shining like new, so the next step is to rinse off the sand, and get the steel wool soapy again. Then you scrub the pot down again. Then you switch to the finer grain steel wool and sand combination, which gets it still shinier. Then you use just the finer grain steel wool with soap. FINALLY you use a normal sponge and soap.

Oh, and we drew water from the well a few times to replace what we used.

Cows at School:
There are always beautiful/interesting photo ops whenever I don't have my camera with me.

There is a herd of cattle that is grazed (as far as I can tell) wherever there is grass. Property lines don't seem to matter much, though I was told that the cowherd probably has an arrangement with the people. So, every day a herd of cattle is walked down the main street in search of pasture. One of these pastures is the school where we teach and take french classes. So the other day when I was staring out the window (or wall?) I got to watch a bunch of bulls pick their way among school buildings, a man following them, and a group of cattle egrets following everything. The bulls and the cattle egrets are white, and the sun
reflected off of everything made it look surprisingly clean.

On one hand it seems like an efficient use of space.
On the other, we have to walk around cow poop when going to class.

Teaching Cards:
I have been teaching the kids in my family different card games for a few days (1 per night, we will see how long I can keep it up). They call me shuffling cards "White man magic" and I think they play cards with me just to see it. I am trying to teach the kids how to, which is difficult in any country, and they keep getting discouraged because they think they can't do it. (As a side note, no one sits indian style here, when I did they were amazed that I could bend that way and asked if I did yoga)

Some differences: Diamonds are Biscuit, Clubs are Groundnuts (what they call peanuts), Hearts are Macabo Rouge, and Spades are Macabo Noir. Just this is a good example of Cameroon's bilingualism.

I taught them poker (without betting) because they asked on the first night. I don't
understand how it is interesting sans chips, but they like it.

The second night I taught them Spoons. When I asked them to get me spoons to play a card game I had to repeat myself a few times because they thought I was messing up my French again.

Tonight I taught them Bullshit (though I called it "tu ment"). They actually are very quick at picking up games, which I appreciate, because it is hard to teach games in a foreign language.

They told me today that none of my American games use the jokers, and I am wasting the cards, so I will have to remember a game that uses them. I plan on teaching them blackjack tomorrow, and maybe Kent if I can remember the rules on the next day. Other games in the lineup are: gin rummy, solitaire, hearts, spades

Please suggest more! (preferably ones without rules that are very complicated or involve hitting)

On another side note, I just looked over my blog, and I don't feel like I have said anything of my experiences here. I may have only been here 6 weeks but so much has happened. I hope I don't forget the novelty of everything and forget to tell interesting stories!

Post!

2010-06-26T07:35:00.000-07:00

I recieved my post! I will be going to Mbatu and teaching in a GBHS. Mbatu is in the Nord-Ouest, so it is an anglophone region, though I still need to improve my french before I reach the required level. Also, a GBHS is a Government Bilingual High School, and we have been told that IT teachers are often needed in both halves of Bilingual schools, so I may help out in French dispite being in an English speaking region. I am highly relieved that I will be able to teach in English at least part of the time. I feel like I will be much more effective in English than in my cobbled together French. (Though this does mean I might get to learn Pidgen).

We recently retested French levels, and I did improve, so I am not hopeless! According to the rubric I can now "generally be understood by sympathetic interlocutors used to dealing with non-natives"

I am told Mbatu is basically a suburb of Bamenda, which is the capital of the Nord-Ouest region, so I will have access to most of the luxeries Cameroon has to offer. (I will have electricity and running water!) It will be better than my flickering electricity and well water at the moment, though dealing without running water isn't actually that inconvenient. Electricity is much appreciated though. The fluctuating electricity at my house already destroyed my cell phone charger, so I have to go to market soon and get a replacement.

I am also told that mail is reliable in Bamenda, so as soon as I actually move there I will open a mailbox. Climate-wise it sounds perfect. The elevation is higher due to the mountains, so it can get as cool as 60 degrees. I might even need to purchase a second jacket!

Internet there is also comparatively reliable (from what I am told), so after site visit I will purchase internet.

Site visit is next week, I can't wait to see where I will be living for 2 years! I have been asking all the volunteers here questions, but there are a ton of specific questions they can't answer. (For example, what my computer school lab is like). I am taking over for a previous volunteer so things should be generally set up already. Hopefully I won't compare badly.

Food

2010-06-26T07:26:00.000-07:00

Before coming to Cameroon I got a lot of questions regarding what Cameroonian food is like. The answer: starchy, but not bad.

Here are some typical foods:

Breakfast Foods
-Omelette (eggs with Pimente, tomato, onion, and some sort of green vegetable, sometimes they add spaghetti too)
-Avocado Salad (Avocados, Tomatoes, Onion, Mayo)
-Bread
-Baked Plums (a fruit they call a prune (plum) though it is not the same as our plums)

-Tizan (A tea that Cameroon used to export)
-Matinal (Hot Chocolate)
-Sweetened Condensed Milk (heated it is better than I was expecting)
-NesCafe

Lunch/Dinner Foods
-fish
-rice
-spaghetti
-baton de manioc
-manioc
-irish potatoes
-plantains (fried or boiled)
-other meat (so far my family hasn't given me bush meat that I know of, generally beef or goat, though fish is much more common)
-cabbage with other stuff in it
-various sauces on the stuff, often made with peanuts
-grilled corn
-beans
-Kokee (made up spelling) Which is a concoction made of cow peas. It is pretty good, I think my host mom is teaching me how to make it this Sunday.

I told my family I liked fruit so they give me fruit with every dinner too, usually pineapple because Bafia is known for them (They are very sweet, almost no citrus-y taste to them here) but I have also had mangos, oranges, bananas, grapefruit, and an apple once (though they are expensive here)

They also make popcorn, they add sugar so it tastes a bit like kettle corn.

Pictures of Homestay

2010-06-19T07:50:00.000-07:00

As soon as my family found out I had a camera they went crazy with it. They love photos over here.

It takes too long to upload for me to show all, but hopefully these will give you an idea:

Homestay Family

Some quick highlights of my life

2010-06-14T08:52:00.000-07:00

My entire host family of 9 people standing up and clapping the first time I drew water from the well.
My host brother doing a double take in the middle of a conversation about the Peace Corps and saying "President Kennedy is dead?" in an astonished voice. A few minutes later he retracted his comment saying "of course he is, he would be really old otherwise"
Having discussions about the state of Africa and about different banking solutions with the same brother. He is much better informed of such things than I am. It often makes me feel useless, though I felt helpful when my 10 year old brother stopped typing his homework to ask me how to change font color. They are both very bilingual though make an effort to speak French so that I will learn.
My host brother making fun of the way I hold my pencil. I know my hand looks funny and cramped, and yes, my teachers did teach me better than that, and no, I am not going to change.
Crouching next to my host mom as she critiques my french assignments. She adds accents to everything I write. My littlest sister ran in in the middle of one of these, hugged me, and promptly fell asleep on top of me, I had to move her as soon as my legs fell asleep. (As a side note; I now get to be the oldest instead of the youngest; my host father told me I am his oldest child)
Being introduced in a village meeting as the "daughter of the balangu" because I am white and the chief has a lot of albino children. My new Balangu name is Ceso Alissa, though I am making up the spelling. Allison roughly translates to Alissa and Ceso is "like sisters".
Discussing Nietzche with a village chief/Presbytarian priest

Bienvenue Cameroon!

2010-06-06T00:45:00.000-07:00

Two days in Cameroon! So far, everything has been fantastic. I have a ton of pictures on my camera, but I haven't had a chance to upload any yet. The internet is very slow, and I have to adjust to using this french keyboard. I am still in Yaounde, though Tuesday we go to Bafia where our three months of training are held. I am excited to meet my host family, though a bit nervous about living with people who I can only speak to in my (very limited) french. Undoubtably it will help me learn much faster though.

Dispite it being rainy season, I haven't seen any rain yet, though the sky has remained cloudy. The weather is also surprisingly mild.

Stage starts in earnest soon, and I've been told that it will keep me very busy, so don't expect many updates (though I imagine you all were much more realistic about update schedules than I was). There is just so much happening that it is hard to write any sort of concise post.

My training group is 43 people, all education and business volunteers. They are expanding the Cameroon program so some of us will be opening new posts. I should find out where my destination is in 4 weeks. Wait and see!

Last Night In Cincinnati

2010-06-01T23:10:00.000-07:00

I am continuing my (unhealthy) trend of staying up late before a trip. Mainly just triple checking to make sure I have everything, a little bit last minute goodbyes. I stacked up everything I am bringing, and it doesn't seem like much, though in this picture it does.

I know everyone in PC has been saying not to worry too much about packing, but as it is the only thing I have control over at the moment everything will be perfect.

Somewhat surprisingly, I can carry everything pictured there, though I look a bit like a pack mule when doing so.

To my siblings, who tried to make me feel better by saying I wouldn't go over weight limit: the two green bags are pushing it. I guess that is what happens when you shove everything as small as you can get it (and then add books).

Tomorrow: Philadelphia
Friday: Cameroon!

PS: My cell phone is turned off, so if you want to reach me, try my email address or the comments below.

Before I Leave

2010-05-15T14:15:00.001-07:00

I haven't even left the country yet, so I really have no excuse for not blogging, sorry! For those of you who don't know yet, I am going to Cameroon. Cameroon is also called "Africa in Miniature" for its cultural and environmental diversity.

My staging (2 day orientation in the States) starts on June 2. My leave date was moved forward, but this way I should be able to complete training before school starts in the fall. While there (2 years, 3 months if nothing goes wrong), I will be teaching computer literacy. The schools may or may not have computers, so I will have to be creative!

I have been frantically trying to get myself ready, by doing a variety of things from very important (getting a visa) to not so important (getting a haircut). The second was actually partially a result of the first. After getting pictures for the visa application, I looked at my passport from 6 years ago, and realized I look exactly the same! So I decided to cut off my hair. It should be much easier to deal with in Africa though.

Much of my time is spent trying to relearn French, from my minimal experience in High School. Peace Corps supplied a bunch of audio clips that I have been listening to that are recorded with Cameroonian French speakers. Every time I complete a lesson, Pearl Jam's Evenflow plays since "Pearl Jam" is alphabetically following "Peace Corps Cameroon" in my iTunes. The first time this happened I thought "what a strange choice for exit music" but now it almost feels like the achievement music that plays in video games after an objective is completed.

I hope everyone keeps in touch, even/especially to remind me of everyday life in the United States!

The Waiting Game

2010-03-18T09:04:00.000-07:00

Whenever I tell people I will start a blog I get the inevitable "Oh, I (or someone I know) tried that once but I stopped after awhile." I have no doubt that would be the case with me, as there are always things to do that seem more important than telling people about what you are doing. However, as joining Peace Corps is a big adventure, and people are constantly asking me where I am/what I am doing/etc, I figured a blog was the ideal place to talk about it. So here goes:

Currently, I am living in the exotic location of Cincinnati, Ohio! I haven't gone anywhere yet, sorry guys, things should be more interesting when I do.

I am still in the application phase, though I have gone through most of it, and only the final step remains: waiting for an invitation. My nomination is for Sub-Saharan Africa with a departure date between July and September. If you want, you can check out all the places that Peace Corps sends people in Africa.