Dancing with Jujus

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

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.

Koki

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

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

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!

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.