Christmas in Limbe, New Years in Maroua

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

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

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

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

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

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

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)