Pardon, ou est le WC, sil vous plait?

Stegner and Kushner: All American Authors

2005-08-16T12:21:00.000+01:00

Book Report:

A book of reflection, 'Crossing to Safety' by Wallace Stegner, is not usually my cup of tea. In this case, I was won over by the overwhelming attention to detail, not the boring kind, but the ones that matter, and that make a story 'real'. Not for the action-adventure fans, but great for someone looking to slow down and take a deeper look at life.

'Angels in America: Millenium Approaches and Peristroika' by Tony Kushner appeared on my bookshelf (as they often do when friends come visiting- they disappear as well). I remember about fifteen years ago when the plays made it to Broadway in succession, and caused an enormous stir. I pretty much ignored it at the time, but upon hearing that HBO had made it into a movie just recently, I decided to see what it was all about. The stir, even now, is justified. Rarely does a play bring one issue so close to even those who weren't there or previously had difficulty imagining being effected by AIDS. Believe it or not, I found a copy of the HBO movie here in Cameroon (strange coincidence) and was able to watch it shortly after reading it- excellent (special recognition to Mary Louise Parker, who nailed her part). If you're not into plays, at least rent the movie.

The End

2005-08-16T12:19:00.000+01:00

WARNING TO READER: there are several posts that will be out of order, but its been hectic these last few months. Eventually, they'll all make it. I promise.

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I'm just finishing up my movie (yes, I've put together a 30 minute video/photo montage of my experiences here in Cameroon), and as Vanessa Williams sings on the soundtrack, "Its a long way home". Indeed.

I suppose its never an easy thing to do- picking up and moving, and goodness knows I should be really good at it by now, but its still a painful, stress-inducing and anxiety-producing process. Packing, throwing away, closing up and saying goodbye while planning the next chapter brings on a wide range of emotions. I've been through them all. Unfortunately, this all has the negative side effect of preventing peaceful sleep. I'll do that on the way back.

Only a few days until I leave my house, my friends, my home for the last two years. Maybe forever. The people here like to ask me when I'm coming back. My standard response is, "in a few years, when I find the means". Rather vague, but I really can't say otherwise.

For now, a few more days of closing up, a few more evenings of eating and drinking with friends, and a few more mixed emotions. It is a long way home, but I'm on my way.

Visit to Ngonga

2005-08-14T12:17:00.000+01:00

Just a couple weeks before my departure from Edéa, I realized that with all the time I've spent with my postmate, Will, that I had only been to his village of Ngonga to help him move in -over a year ago. I decided my last small trip from Edéa would be to visit him for a few days. The day after returning from Kellé-Bitchoka for the first mass, Will called to let me know he was in town and that I should meet him to go out to his village. We met at the bar across from my office (where I spend entirely too much time) and had a beer (which was bought by a friend from the market). This was quickly followed by another beer (bought by the woman who runs the bar, and wanted to thank me for a photo I took of her and her granddaughter).

Eventually, we made it to the "bus station" where we sat for a bit longer waiting for the van to leave - we lucked out and it left before it was full, so we were rather comfortable. Upon arrival, we were met and informed that the weekly football (um, soccer) game was about to start. During the cooler part of the year, there are leagues which pit the young men of small villages against neighboring villages. This was a friendly match- not one that counted towards the regional championship. EVERYONE from both villages was there, and we were greeted by the folks from Ngonga. It was kinda like a small-town T-ball game in the US with folks selling food, watching the game, and cheering on their sons and brothers. Either of these teams could whoop any high school team in the US without trying too hard (these guys were 15-19 years old), but it was the home team that prevailed by a score of 3-1.

We skipped the partying at the local night club (a guy built an empty shed-like structure onto the front of his house and bought some really loud speakers) so that we could get up early the next morning and go hunting in the jungle. Note: animal lovers may want to skip the next paragraph or two...

At 7:00am we met Will's friend and local bush meat hunter for a tour of the jungle next to the village, sliding down hills, crossing streams and visiting his traps. Machete in hand, and camera in bag, we were ready for anything. Coming upon the first of his traps, Ben showed us how to bend over a sapling tree, attach wire, dig a small hole, and set a trap for whatever small animal happened by. The "spring" trap, once stepped on, wrapped the (usually) hind foot with the wire circle and flung him up to hang until he died of exhaustion, maggots, or the hunter's machete, whichever came first.

Soon after starting, we came on a wide stream that was a bit too deep for my not-really-waterproof boots, so Will and I sat down to rest and wait for Ben to check the couple of traps on the other side and continue. He came back with a big smile on his face, and an african porcupine in his hands. He put it in his backpack (he had already killed it and let the blood) and we continued. Not too long afterwards, Ben pointed out the movement through the trees. It turned out to be a jungle rat (about five times larger than the New York variety, but clearly in the same family) caught in another of his traps. This time I took photos of the before, during and after. That too went into the backpack. A bit more hiking and appreciating the beauty of the spoiled forest followed (even here, the woods had been thoroughly harvested about fifty years ago, but were making a good comeback). Having hiked through a similar jungle in Korup with Cathy, I was weary of the biting ants, and they found all three of us too. We stopped to pick them out of our pants, underwear and just about everywhere else as they bit us. It was then that we noticed a third trap had done its deed, this time with the reclusive and scaled pangolin. Unfortunately, it had been there for a couple of days and was already rotting (we had smelled it long before). Ben salvaged the tail (which didn't have visible maggots and which is the best-tasting part) and put that too into his backpack. We headed out of the jungle, having done quite a day's work. It was 11am. That afternoon, we slept and that evening, we had porcupine for dinner. It was delicious.

I wanted to hike to a waterfall that was nearby the following morning, but the rainy season was in full gear and it hadn't stopped raining for almost 18 hours, so we cancelled. We bought our would-be guide breakfast of beignets and bouilée (hot, sweetened starch water). It didn't stop raining for another six hours. I said my goodbyes and headed back to Edéa.

By chance, the driver was the younger brother of my friend Sylvie, so he drove nice and slow on the muddy roads. When we were about halfway there, we came across a bridge under construction. They had made a temporary route down into and then back out of the ravine the bridge was being constructed to pass over. A logging truck, full of freshly cut wood, had slid down faster than the cab was driving, causing a jacknife and blocking the road. Considering myself lucky once again (and swearing that it was the last of my taking chances in this country), I got out with the driver, evaluated the situation, and we started filling in the side of the road with large rocks and then dirt to widen the road to allow us to pass. It worked. I went to sleep soon after getting back, with muddy clothes, large numbers of bug bites and a few photos as souvenirs of my trip.

Five books- three and a half worth reading...

2005-08-03T09:31:00.000+01:00

'Underworld' by Don DeLillo
One of the largest books I inherited (and thus intimidating) was 'Underworld' by Don DeLillo. I had heard mixed reviews, but my friend Sean in Philly convinced me to read it. Although I enjoyed it, it is one of those 'good' books which could have been a 'great' book with a bit of editing. A couple too many major characters and a couple too many storylines made it more difficult than necessary to keep track of what was going on all the time. I ended up following in my head the storylines I enjoyed and more or less glossing over those I didn't. It all worked out in the end, but it could've been so much more...

'Doctor Zhivago' by Boris Pasternak
An epic classic in every sense of the word, 'Doctor Zhivago' by Boris Pasternak tells the untold tales from the struggle inside the Russian Revolution. The book is roughly divided into three parts: before the war, Zhivago in the war, and Zhivago after the war. I thought the first and third parts were excellent, but the wartime drama just didn't appeal. Overall, I can see why its considered a great work of literature, if only for the sense of pain and endurance that is conveyed -its no wonder this book is still banned in Russia.

'East of Eden' by John Steinbeck
If every book were as wonderfully written, solidly ground, and imaginatively constructed as John Steinbeck's, 'East of Eden', I don't know that I would ever own a television or go to the movies again. This is the yardstick against which other novels should be placed, since its difficult to imagine one reaching much higher. A must read. Special thanks to my good friend Frankie for shipping this large tome over here- it was worth it!

'Sacred Journey of a Peaceful Warrior' by Dan Millman
I figured a little breezy reading would be nice after a couple of classics, so I picked up the second book by Dan Millman, 'Sacred Journey of a Peaceful Warrior'. I didn't much care for the style of the first, and the second wasn't much better. Imagine Jimmy Buffet writing a 'zen' novel, and you've about got it. There was one quote that I was able to retain, '...you can't worry about crossing the street if you're still only halfway to the corner'.

'The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay' by Dan Chabon
A Pulitzer Prize winner, 'The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay' by Dan Chabon, was fantastic. At once both entertaining and informative, the book paints the picture of two young men in pre-war and wartime New York City mixing in themes such as comic books, jewish immigration and homosexuality. I heartily recommend it.

A view on development

2005-07-18T09:34:00.000+01:00

The following short essay was written by a good friend and fellow Peace Corps volunteer, Jeanah Lacey. I thought you might enjoy it.

Rectifying the White Man’s Burden
by Jeanah Lacey
RPCV Babadjou, Cameroon

Take up the White Man’s Burden
The savage wars of peace
Fill full the mouth of famine
And bid the sickness cease.

And when your goal is nearest
The end for other’s sought
Watch sloth and heathen folly
Bring all your hope to naught.

– Rudyard Kipling

Perhaps it seems offensive to begin a discussion on sustainability by invoking memories of past arrogance. However, I believe that history—particularly its darkest moments—should not be glazed over, but examined. Because when one truly weighs one’s motivations for joining the Peace Corps, somewhere in there lays Kipling’s idea that we have the capacity to assuage wars, heal the sick, and spawn change based on an antidote we call development.

The thoughts that I’m about to share with you are not all my own. They come from two years of discussions over shared beers with my fellow PCVs. Mostly we would end these conversations feeling unsatisfied because there seemed no clean answer to the issues we were encountering in our daily lives as volunteers. My aim here is not to discourage, but instead to help you avoid the undertow of helplessness that can sometimes envelope the volunteer. As one of my colleagues often says, “Development takes decades; we only have two years.”

When talking about sustainable development, I think that it is important to first view it at the macro level. One cannot determine what is sustainable without first having an understanding of development. There are scores of books about development and even more definitions. One that I like, comes from Joseph E. Stiglitz’s book, Globalization and its Discontents: “Development is the transforming of societies, improving the lives of the poor and enabling everyone access to success, health, and education.” I like this definition because it most correlates with the grass-roots approach that Peace Corps advances. Our job is to help others help themselves; this is a simple, yet daunting task. For the most part, we are posted in smaller villages so that we have the opportunity to really understand poverty – its mentality, its hang-ups, its challenges. This is the core of the Peace Corps experience and if you leave here with nothing more than that, you have succeeded because the process of acculturation catapults you – almost involuntarily—into the global community. Your worldview will never be the same.

So that is the good news. No matter what your experience, whether it is good, bad or ugly, you will get something out of the Peace Corps that no other experience can offer. But to most of us, myself included, this doesn’t seem enough. We want to leave legacies and herein lies the relevance of sustainability. During a training session my colleague and I came up with the following definition:

“Sustainable development involves activities that can be maintained long-term with available resources. Further, sustainable projects must: 1) fill a need express by the community, 2) involve the participation of host country nationals (HCNs) from the planning stage to the project’s completion, and 3) involve community leaders who are willing to contribute resources such as raw materials, labor, or money.”

Now this may sound like a simple undertaking, but it isn’t and most of the fault lies in our American drive for deliverables. Americans often make lists of daily activities and check them off as proof of our usefulness. We are an active people and because of this, it is difficult not to simply role-up-our-sleeves and do it ourselves. But when we do this, not only are we not doing our job (e.g. transferring technical skills to HCNs), but also we are causing damage to the communities we are trying to help.

At this juncture of your sojourn in Africa, you may be confused by my last point. How can building a well or paving a road hurt my community? They need that well. They need that road. And this may be true. When I first got here, the economist in me believed that the major obstacle in development was a lack of investment in public goods such as roads, education, and available health care. I still believe this, but I’ve also learned that governments, even in poor countries, are perfectly capable of building their own infrastructure. They don’t because we give them an incentive not to; we do it for them.

But let me take this phenomena one level down; let’s bring the discussion back to you and your legacy to your community. When you plan a project, providing all needed materials and money, you are teaching your community that they are inept. You are imparting to them a legacy of helplessness.

In the opening poem, Kipling ascribed failure in these “savage wars of peace” due to “sloth and heathen folly.” I’ve heard many volunteers make similar comments; I am as guilt as the rest. And it’s tempting because it is true. Africans can be lazy and their priorities seem strange to us. However, the answer to the riddle of the said “white man’s burden” lies in the last verse of Kipling’s poem. I wonder if he even grasped the significance of his own words. He states, almost sorrowfully, that in spite of all your efforts and goodwill, the savage will inevitably “bring all your hopes to naught.” What Kipling failed to see was that in the end, development cannot be successful unless their hopes become our priority. We, as development works, need to learn to lose our egotism and let community heads lead. Only then, will developing countries have a vested interest in their own development and this development will be sustainable.

South Province Meeting and the accident

2005-06-19T13:05:00.000+01:00

Not technically a part of the south province (the closest border is about 40km away), Will and I had been annexed a while back, becoming members of the "Dirty South". There are many reasons we call ourselves that, and most of the connotations that come to mind are probably true, at least in part.

Every three months or so is a provincial meeting, and my (and several others') last meeting was to be held in Ambam, next to the Gabonese and Equatorial Guinea border. I left early Friday morning from Edéa and arrived without much difficulty late that afternoon. After arriving, we sat around catching up and drinking (the south province is REALLY good at the latter). I decided that with a long night ahead, I'd stick with Gold Bond and Pamplemousse (Gold Bond is really cheap whiskey sold in small plastic bags called sachets). I wasn't involved in dinner (it was well underway by the time I got there), but the folks who were did an amazing job, and we gorged ourselves on homemade burritos eaten by candlelight. It appeared for a while as though Jen's house (our lovely hostess) was the only one in town without electricity (even her neighbors had it), but soon everyone else's was out as well.

Well, what do you do when the electricity goes out at your house and there's lots of volunteers around??? The answer: find a bar that has a generator to provide you with music and cold drinks. Several drinks later, dancing broke out, and a good time was had by all. During this time, I got to know another ex-pat who lived across from Jen named Mathias, a nice Italian guy who also spoke good french and english. He's there working with some french NGO that I still don't know the name of... Anyway, he offered to take whoever wanted to go on an excursion to see a waterfall the next morning. I was interested until I heard that it was about two hours each way from Ambam. I politely declined, while several of the women showed interest. Somehow, we all made it back to Jen's house, found a place on the floor, and more or less fell asleep.

The next morning, Nicki's alarm went off early, waking most of us up. This was the call to go see the waterfall for those interested- except it was raining outside. Everyone who was interested decided it best not to go in the rain, so we more or less went back to sleep. A couple of hours later, the rain had stopped (it wasn't a heavy rain) and Mathias showed up at the front door with his pickup truck half full of Cameroonian friends of his looking for interested parties for a newer, closer excursion to hike up a small mountain. I thought it sounded like fun (potentially more fun than the drinking and butchering of pigs and ducks that would be roasted for dinner), so I climbed in.

The trip out turned out to be much further than advertised, including about 45 minutes on a dirt road of questionable quality. We arrived safely, however, found the local chief to ask permission, engaged the obligatory guide, and started up the mountain. It was quite a steep climb with many surfaces of almost sheer rock, but we all made up. For some reason (perhaps because I had neglected to shower that morning), the bugs (mut-muts) were quite heavy around my head, which was more than a little annoying. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful view, being the only rock to exceed the treeline for miles around. Nothing but rainforest. On the way back down, we even picked a couple of wild pineapples (much smaller and sweeter than their commercial cousins) for a snack. We made it back to the truck (a four-door pickup), thanked our guides, and headed back to Ambam. Everything was great for a while, and we were going back just as we had come. After a while though, a dark and ominous cloud began to come closer and closer, so we sped up to try and make it to the paved road before it came down hard. We didn't make it.

We stopped the truck to let in a couple of guys who were hanging out in the back inside and the dog who had been with us the whole time. Then, with the raining pouring down, we continued on, rather carefully, I thought. We came to a decline in the road, and for reasons I can't completely understand, we lost control, slid on the now muddy road, and the truck began to turn over. I think it turned over at least twice, but I'm also fairly sure I blacked out temporarily, so I don't really know. The next thing I know, I'm looking out the window on my left (I was sitting just behind the driver) and realize I'm upside-down and the window is broken. I see Mathias outside already brushing himself off and try to call him over to open the door. I guess he didn't hear me, and a terrible sense of claustrophobia was overcoming me, so I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed the heel of my shoe and carried my foot out the window, which was luckily followed by my leg, then my head, shoulders and the rest of my body. The rain was still falling.

Once I was out, I turned around to help others out, but a woman I didn't notice before told me to go sit down. I figured I should take her advice, so I made my way to the side of the road. It was then that I started to take inventory of my situation. I was clearly bleeding, but not profusely) in several places, and I was having trouble breathing, with a sharp pain on my left side. After everyone else was out, it was clear that I and one of the women with us were the only ones obviously injured.

As luck would have it (good, in this case), there were two cars that had come down the road since our accident, one of them being a taxi. I carefully picked myself up and walked down to the taxi which (after a stop to let some mommies in the back seat out) arrived at a medical clinic not far away. I walked in, sat down and started discussing what happened and where it hurt. After a couple of minutes, they decided that they couldn't help me, and sent me on my way to the provincial hospital in Ebolowa. I was very lucky again, and the taxi was still there since one of the nurses was going to take it home and he was waiting. I convinced the nurse that I needed to leave immediately, and got back in the taxi, still bleeding. We arrived (still with the other woman) at the hospital emergency area. I walked in, the nurses looked at me strangely and asked me to sit down in the front room. I was told I needed to buy a carnet before they would look at me (a small notebook where they write all the nurses' and doctors' notes). Again, luckily I had a bunch of money with me (having already paid for our taxi) and got it out of my pocket.

The nurse then started writing down all my essentials, blood type, height, weight (which we guessed since she didn't want my muddy shoes on her scale, and I couldn't take off my own shoes) in the notebook. At that point, the doctor sat down and we did our little interview about what happened and where it hurt. He wrote a laundry list of things to buy at the hospital's pharmacy when I told him that I was not going to receive any injections or serious medicine before consulting Peace Corps doctors. After a little insistence, we called in a girl with a cell phone outside (at her call box) who came with her 2000 phone directory. We looked up the US Embassy number, and called (I didn't have my phone with me since I left it a Jen's house and hadn't memorized any of the numbers). I reached the marine on duty and told him the situation and that he should call the Peace Corps medical officer on duty. The woman who came in with me then took the list, went to the pharmacy and bought what I needed, which included gauze pads and iodine solution (yes, in Africa you have to buy your own gauze at the hospital).

After tending to the convict writhing on the floor supervised by two gendarmes with shotguns (apparently he ticked off some other prisoners and they beat him to within an inch of his life- he was in bad shape), the nurses finally came with their rusty bowl and started picking out pieces of glass, cleaning up and bandaging my surface wounds.

Just as that was finishing, Mathias came in. I don't know how he got from the truck to the hospital, but he was there with a Cameroonian friend who had his own car. Mathias was great and made sure I got something to eat and even went to buy a shirt and sweatshirt for me, since I was still wet from the rain and the shirt had already been half cut off of me. He had spoken to Peace Corps and Jen back in Ambam and I thought I might stay in Ebolowa that night since no one was coming to get me and folks were coming up from the meeting to make sure I was alright.

After an hour or so, we learned that there was a mixup in communication and that no one was coming up from Ambam. So, wanting to get to Yaoundé anyway, I took a taxi to the bus station where I got a bus to Yaoundé. Seeing I was in lots of pain, the folks kindly gave me "shotgun", which is by far the best seat in the bus.

Eventually, after a few more hours, I made it back to Peace Corps headquarters in Yaoundé, where the doctor was waiting for me. Since there was no one else around (including volunteers), she decided that it would be best if I stayed at her place for the weekend. I can't tell you how greatful I am to her for taking me in, feeding me and healing my wounds over the next couple of days.

Monday morning, we finally made it to the hospital for x-rays (there's only attending doctors on duty on the weekends, so tests and other things generally have to wait unless its a serious emergency). After a number of painful manipulations, its was discovered that I had two broken ribs, which nicely explained my pain, trouble breathing and all the rest...

There's nothing you can do for broken ribs but take pain medicine and wait it out. So, that's what I've been doing...

Arrival of Seema

2005-06-19T12:59:00.000+01:00

Several close friends of mine threatened to come visit me here in Cameroon at one time or another over my two-year visit. In the end, outside of my parents and brother (who will be arriving soon), only one did, Seema. This was not just the planets aligning just right, but the result of considerable effort on her part (with lots of coercing on mine). Since she's just finishing her medical residency, Seema wanted to work in a local hospital, and the Hôpital District d'Edéa was only too happy to agree.

I went Tuesday night to meet Seema at the airport. She was coming off a several week camping safari around southern africa, so she arrived via Nairobi on Kenya Airways. Her flight arrived on time, and after getting her bags, she came out to find me. It was really wonderful to see her, and the whole way back to Edéa, we did our best to catch up on the important stuff.

Wednesday morning, we headed over to the hospital, where we met the Medicin Chef (chief of staff) who was overjoyed to meet Seema. He personally took us on a tour of the entire hospital after his brief interview with Seema to find out where she was interested in helping out. I REALLY hate hospitals, so I hung out mostly in the hallways, while Seema went in to see the patients. Throughout the entire hospital, there were only two modern pieces of equipment: a blood spinner and an ultrasound machine. I'd been there before, but without the complete tour. Its not pretty, and even Seema, who's worked in hospitals in India, Bangladesh, and central america said that its as bad as she's seen anywhere. She started work on Thursday morning. Friday, I left for the weekend to go to the south province meeting while she went to pick up her sister at the airport followed by a relaxing weekend at the beach.

La Fête de Mariage

2005-06-08T09:38:00.000+01:00

A couple of weeks after the funeral of the son of one bank member and friend was the wedding of the son of another. Mama Yem has long ago taken me in, hosting my welcoming dinner not long after my arrival, and giving me a big hug everytime she comes into the bank. She also happens to have two attractive daughters of marrying age, but I think Mama's been pretty good about not pressuring me to take one of the off her hands.

So it was that I was invited to the wedding. The week before the ceremony, Mama asked me if I'd like to be a ceremonial member of the family, by asking me to wear the fabric chosen for family members for the occasion. Its actually a great tradition where men and women of the family all wear the same pattern in whatever configuration they choose (blouse, dress, shirt or bou-bou). It certainly makes it easy to identify who's who in the photos. It was a nice honor, and I took it seriously, having a nice long-sleeved shirt made by my favorite tailor.

Weddings here are usually all-day affairs. This one started at 10am, and I finally made it home at 4am the following morning. The son opted (against his mother's wishes) for a civil ceremony (at city hall) rather than a religious one. Perhaps this was because he wanted this to be his first wife of many (there's a box on the marriage certificate here that you check for polygamists). The ceremony was brief and was followed by pictures. This was followed by two small receptions: one at Mama's home, and the other at her estranged husband's home- of course there was food and drink at each. Mama's house, with its cement floor and wood plank walls was dressed up with palm fronds built into a temporary covered porch and all the furniture was outside. The loveseat for the married couple was covered in a white sheet, and their path from the "road" was covered with tiny red flowers - it was really well done.

I returned home to take a nap at about 4pm. After a bit of a rest, I left for part two of the evening which was being held in the multifunction (gym, dance, auditorium, etc.) hall of the largest high school in town with my gift in tow. I decided on giving cutlery (including some nice steak knives), since no new family can have too much of that, packaged in a nice wicker tray. According to the schedule, I was a half-hour late. According to the way things panned out, I was two hours early.

Just as things were about to get started, virtually my entire table was promoted to one of the three tables on the stage- the other two being for the bride and groom and immediate family and the groom's employer. I suppose its one of those benefits of being in the family...

The standard speeches were followed by a massive buffet dinner (including goat, snake and monkey) which was followed by even more standard speeches. Afterwards was the giving of the gifts which consisted of a long line of guests with their gift in hand who gave their gift and received a couple of hugs and words of thanks in return. Gifts were followed by dancing, more specifically the first dance of the married couple. After that, the brothers and sisters of the bride and groom were called out to dance and partners assigned to them. Once again, I was included in this, and was assigned the wife of the groom's employer as my partner. So, there I was, dancing with a women I'd never met to Cameroonian music in front of an audience of about 300 people. I'm going to have a hard time being shy after returning from this country...

I danced quite a bit until the cake finally came out around 2:30am (yes, most people were still there). I finally threw in the towel and got a ride back home at almost 4am.

The Night the Lights went out in Edéa

2005-06-05T15:45:00.000+01:00

One of the fun things about living in a developing country is the loss of electricity that can happen at any moment for any length of time. When it happens at night, you normally stay where you are for a few minutes, and it usually comes back on. Sometimes, however, it lasts a lot longer than that (especially during the dry season, since virtually all power here is hydroelectrically generated).

Recently, the power went off for a whole day and night. It was an occasion which caused changes in habits, but not frustrations. An opportunity to do things differently and do different things. I'm assuming I wouldn't be so laid back about it back in New York.

After cooking my dinner in the waning light of day and eating by candlelight, I decided to go for a walk. I took a small flashlight, just in case, and headed out. The moment I stepped out of my house, I couldn't help but notice the stars. So many of them. I could see planets, galaxies, and every constellation on view this close to the equator. My walk, in a large circle, allowed me to keep looking up and see in all directions. As has been observed innumerable times, its very humbling- reflection on a universal scale.

Fête de Travail (Labor Day)

2005-06-05T15:44:00.000+01:00

May Day is a big deal in just about every country but the US. Here, its a day off work that has the added bonus of parading through town in your new t-shirt (provided by your employer for the occasion) followed by hours of drinking and eating (also sponsored by your employer). This year, for the first time ever, our bank decided to be a part of the festivities. We figured it would be good marketing and a good way to reward the employees and members of the various boards for their hard work.

Since everything in this country starts late, the 9am parade eventually got off the ground at 10:30am. We were something like 85th in line, so we enjoyed the first part of the parade before lining up ourselves. Since Edea's not all that huge, the parade route was less than a half-mile long, with the reviewing stand almost at the end. In the reviewing stand were all the important folks, such as the Prefet, Sous-prefet, mayor, police commissioner and others. Everyone likes to try and impress these folks, so we did our best to march in three straight lines in front of them, holding our signs and proudly displaying our shirts.

As soon as it was over, we high-tailed it over to the bar across from our bank (our traditional watering hole) for a few beers and sandwiches. A fun day bringing a good team even closer together.

Funeral of a neighbor

2005-06-05T15:41:00.000+01:00

Its always a sad day when someone you have met dies. Here in Cameroon, its a weekly experience. This time, the son of a woman who's been very kind to me (and who attended all of my business seminars to help start her own business) passed. I had met him a few times (a really nice guy, my age with a wife and two small children), and he was one of the best friends of my friend Sylvie.

Every friday at the hospital morgue, there is a line of all the relatives or all the people who have died in the past week. This is what we call the 'levee du corps'. Since most people are buried on Saturday to maximize attendance, the vigil the night before starts with the procession of the body from the hospital to the house.

In this case, the hospital is up the road, and his mother's house (where all the activities took place) is almost next door to the bank, it wasn't one that could be missed. A procession with women singers from his mother's church went right past our front door. His mother requested flowers in lieu of cash, so Sylvie helped pick out an appropriate arrangement from her and I which also went from the hospital to the house.

That night, I met the rest of the bank members at our "section" under the tents that had been set up in the front yard of the house for friends and family. It was raining a little, and we all stayed through the "midnight mass" held on the front porch. After giving my condolences to the mother and father (his wife was already asleep in her makeshift bed on the floor in the living room next to the coffin, as per custom) and went home.

'Bel Canto' by Ann Patchett

2005-06-03T17:14:00.000+01:00

The first "normal" novel I've read in a while, 'Bel Canto' by Ann Patchett has limited, defined characters, a real, or surreal in that it could never "really" happen, plot and a semi-sweet ending. As the title indicates, 'Bel Canto' has a lot to do with music, or rather , what would life be like as a hostage with a great opera diva. I enjoyed it, and recommend it for your summer "non-intellectual" reading list.

In progress: 'Underworld' by Don DeLillo

'Life is Elsewhere' by Milan Kundera

2005-06-03T17:09:00.000+01:00

Probably my favorite book that I've read in the last two years is 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' by Milan Kundera. I figured I would push my luck and read, 'Life is Elsewhere'. A bit more "esoteric" than its predecessor (although the disclaimer at the front says as much), the book was well written (thanks in part to the translator) and enjoyable, although if I had known anything about European poets, it would have been a lot better.

'Bonfire of the Vanities' by Tom Wolfe

2005-06-03T17:06:00.000+01:00

I've started to read Tom Wolfe's 'Bonfire of the Vanities' many times (I've had a hardcover copy for years), but couldn't complete the task- or even get more than 50 pages into it. After finding a tattered copy here, I decided that now is the time to make it happen, and I did. I can see now why it was perhaps the biggest novel of the 1980's. It screams all of the 80's themes of greed, hidden agendas, racism and social justice. Reading it some 20 years later, it was a bit dated (especially the descriptions of New York City), but still interesting. It may have been THE book in its time, but in my opinion, its time has passed.

'The Killer Angels' by Michael Shaara

2005-06-03T17:05:00.000+01:00

Maybe its my impending return to the south, or I just have a taste for all things American now, but I really enjoyed Michael Shaara's, 'The Killer Angels'. The book, a factual, almost hourly account of the two sides of the battle of Gettysburg is by far the most readable book centered on combat I have every come across. I learned a lot, felt like I understood their thoughts and concerns, and came out with mixed feelings about the outcome, leading directly to the end of the Civil War. Even if you're only mildly curious about what actually happened, I would recommend it. For people like me who had history-fanatic parents and who were dragged (half-willingly) to battle sites all over the east coast (including Gettysburg), it fills a gap, and makes you appreciate those hours in the car and the used bullet you bought at the gift shop.

'What should I do with my life?' by Po Bronson

2005-06-03T17:01:00.000+01:00

One of my best friends in this world, Frankie, has been through as much wondering about what to do in this world as anyone. When she sends me a book called 'What should I do with my life?' by Po Bronson, regardless of how cheesy the title might seem, I'm going to read it. It also coincided nicely with my own struggles of what direction to take upon my return to "the greatest country on earth" (as volunteers here call the US after about a year of service). The book is a lot more targeted than it claims to be- I would recommend it for those with at least several years out of college, but with a good 15 years or more before retirement. Since I happened to fall in that category, I found it helpful. More so because it asked the right questions than because it provided the right answers. Numerous times I felt compelled to put the book down and write out thoughts as they came to me. It was, in effect, exactly what I needed to force me to make decisions about what I should do, if not with my entire life, at least next.

Parents' Visit

2005-05-12T13:52:00.000+01:00

My Cameroonian foster parents from Bandjoun decided they wanted to make one more visit to Edéa to see how I was doing. So, the morning after the Rallye, they arrived, baby Katie in tow, after taking the overnight bus from Baffoussam (left at 1am and changed buses in Douala) at 9am. After having been up a good portion of the night and the house not in its best shape, I was a little less than thrilled at the timing, but wanted to "receive" them as best I could.

I had given money to my friend Sylvie several days before to buy and prepare a meal for us. She arrived several hours after they did, and began to make ndolé and fish in spicy tomato sauce. One thing Cameroonians like to do is to prepare massive amounts of food, just in case extra guests arrive or someone is particularly hungry. Since neither of those things happened, we ended up with a LOT of leftovers. The food was quite tasty though (Mama gave Sylvie a hard time for making the sauce too spicy, since she knows I don't like my food too hot), and after cleaning up, we retired to rest for a bit.

Over the next two days, we played games, listened to music, ate (again and again), visited the office and the market, and even made a tour to the aluminum factory and power plant (they were sufficiently impressed). Edéa is MUCH more industrial and cosmopolitan than Bandjoun, so it was a bit like the country mouse going to visit the city mouse.

Sylvie was a tremendous help, since she stuck around for almost all of their visit, helping with the cooking and cleaning (culturally, it would look very bad for me, as an adult male, to be cooking for my parents), and with the conversation. I was happy she could be there. At last, Tuesday morning came, and they returned to Bandjoun with a large 22-liter container of fresh palm oil (made by George, my counterpart) as a gift from the visit.

Rallye Club des Palmes 2005

2005-05-12T13:51:00.000+01:00

Almost the antithesis of Guitarfest (tm) is the Ralley Club des Palmes, which takes place every April in Edéa. Its one of the most sponsored events in the country in which regular people (read: expats and rich folks with cars) can participate. I described the whole concept last year, which was the first time I participated. This time, I was resolved to do better than our 25th+ finish.

This year, one of the teachers in whose class I teach english was chairing the event (the downside of winning the whole thing the year before), so I asked if he could find a place for me. He mentioned a Cameroonian guy and his girlfriend were looking for others to fill up their car, and requested that I find a female to accompany us. I called up a friend of a friend who was staying in Kribi for a few weeks (and whom I had met on a brief trip down the week before). Jessica didn't really understand the whole concept, as its a bit difficult to describe, but was willing nonetheless. Unfortunately, this group fell through since the car broke down, but we were able to find another team to take us on- a Frenchman in Edéa on business.

We arrived the morning of the rally and figured out who we would be riding with- Pierre Yves. It turns out that two Cameroonian women were also going to join us, for a total of five. Being the other male in the group, I was given the job of navigator (the joke about women and directions seems to be universal). Throughout the day, we drove, and answered inane quizzes and showed a bit of mental and physical prowess. We did particularly well at the sand castle building, obstacle course driving in a 4x4, canoe race and swim-tug race (a kid had to stand on an innertube-based platform while we swam dragging them along). By 6pm (after starting just before 9am), we put the finishing touches on the last quiz (this one was about African country flags, among other things) and retired before dinner. I felt good about our truly international team effort, but was happy to rest for an hour or so before food and the awards ceremony.

The awards started at 30th place and worked up to first. Everyone was a bit on edge, hoping not to be one of the first teams to be called forward. When 10th place was called, and we had still not been called, we all looked at each other with a bit of disbelief. How could a young group just thrown together do so well against teams who have done this year after year for many years??? Finally, our team was called as the fifth place finisher! We were ecstatic!! We all went up as a team to claim our trophy (the top five got trophies) and other prizes! The MC for the evening made a comment that a team with two americans shouldn't have done so well, which I thought was hilarious, as did most everyone else. I personnally returned home with a gift basket of Cameroonian foods (coffee, tea, jams, etc), while Pierre-Yves took the trophy and Jessica (my friend) took a flashlight and some palm oil for the family she was staying with in Kribi. Mostly though, we returned with the knowledge that we had done well. We finished the evening with dancing - together.

COS Conference

2005-05-12T13:48:00.000+01:00

Almost seven hours later, we arrived in Yaoundé to begin a week of talking about our experiences of the last two years, and preparing to return to the "Greatest Country on Earth", as its become known among most volunteers. We arrived at the Hotel Jouvence 2000, the exact hotel where we arrived two years before on a bus on a rainy night coming from the Yaoundé airport. The same people (minus some who had to go home for various reasons) all together again for one last time before going our separate ways. In some ways it was poetic, in others, just sad.

Since a good number of us were exhausted, we headed up to the room, showered off the dust and sweat from the road and rested for an hour or so before leaving for the Director's house for the big farewell dinner. Joe and I decided a while back we'd be roommates for the week, since we were good friends in training, lived almost across the street from each other, in fact, but haven't really seen much of each other in the last two years. It seemed like a good opportunity to catch up.

Dinner at the Director's was a good time, but it sorta made the rest of the week a bit anti-climatic, since everyone was there all dressed up and all together. With the exception of the sessions during the following days, it was the last time we were all together (the 'Last Supper', so to speak). Both the US Ambassador to Cameroon and the Assistant Secretary for Primary Education were there to lend a bit of importance to the evening.

The director read out our "Aspiration Statements", what we had written during the application process well over two years ago about what we expected and wanted to achieve during our time here. It was quite interesting to see whose were right on target and whose were proven to be a bit delusional. Regardless, we all made it to the end.

A rather abrupt end was brought to the evening by a deputy director who stood up and said that we all looked tired, but that protocol dictated we could not leave until the Ambassador left. A little shocked, the Ambassador stood up and took the not so subtle cue that he should leave (we were all embarrassed, but nothing really shocks us anymore). Moments after he left, we started piling in Peace Corps cars for the ride back to the hotel.

The sessions were a mix of the helpful, the administrative, and the downright boring. Overall, it was well done though, except for the food. Previous groups had ended their service at the Hilton hotel eating omlettes and bacon every morning. We were served bread and jam (with real butter though, which was the only "highlight").

After the sessions each day, we separated into the "cliques" that had been formed in training and throughout the past couple of years. As a result, some went to restaurants and bars afterwards and others went to the case de passage at Peace Corps headquarters to do laundry. I generally chose the former route, using the opportunity to celebrate with friends and eat good food (and drink entirely too much beer- a frequent occurence when two or more volunteers get together- which reminds me that I haven't told the joke about Peace Corps volunteers: The story is that volunteers in central/south america return as revolutionaries, the ones in Asia return married, and the one in Africa return as alcoholics- I don't think I've gone that far, but I'd be happy to challenge someone in a six-pack of any american beer when I get back).

The last night of the conference, before we were supposed to return the next day, about ten of us went to a night club in Yaoundé. The one that was chosen is the newest and best- perhaps the best in the country- and right up there with any club in the US outside of New York and LA. We didn't have to pay to get in, but quickly found out that the drinks were 10.000 fcfa each ($20), which is a week's salary for most folks. We were told that for 40.000 fcfa ($80), we could get a whole bottle of whiskey and bottles of soda for mixers- this was the "BIG DEAL". We didn't want to leave, so all of us pitched in for the bottle. It was at this point that I discovered I like J&B whiskey.

Since it was a Wednesday night, there weren't a whole lot of other folks there (a few heavy hitters and foreign nationals and their "girlfriends") so we took a good chunk of the dance floor and took turns going to the DJ to request music. Somewhere just before dawn, we returned to the hotel for a couple hours of sleep.

Guitarfest 2005

2005-04-21T11:59:00.000+01:00

Several years ago, an annual Peace Corps Cameroon tradition was begun, in the spirit of what everyone thinks Peace Corps is- a bunch of tree-loving hippees sitting around playing guitars and singing Bob Dylan songs. We call it 'Guitarfest'.

This year, it was held chez Susan, in a village outside of Kumba. Since I was scheduled to perform, I arrived a day early so that I could recover from the long voyage (six hours crammed on a bus). I was also hoping for a little rehearsal time with my accompanist (the incomparable guitarist and all-around entertainer, Peter). Almost as soon as I arrived and took a much-needed shower (sweat and dusty, dirt roads don't mix that well), we headed off for drinks and food- once again to Classy Burger, the "american" restaurant in Kumba.

As it turned out, about thirty volunteers showed up for dinner (overwhelming the forewarned kitchen, thus taking three hours to receive our food). They ran out of beer, and that's when the well-prepared came out with their bottles of cheap whisky and gin. I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that the neighborhood was quite aware we were in town.

Playing the diva, I turned in early and went light on the drinking to ensure my voice would be ready for the next night's performance. I returned to Cathy's with a number of other volunteers where we watched 'Mean Girls' on a new volunteer's portable DVD player (a device that will forever change Peace Corps life in Africa). It was a surprisingly good movie, on par with 'Clueless' and almost up there with 'Cruel Intentions'.
After a massive team breakfast of eggs and bread, we pretty much "hung out" until late afternoon when we loaded up and went over to Susan's place. Susan lives in a tiny village just outside Kumba on the main (read: only) intersection in town inside a walled yard that we call a "concession". There's only one other family who lives inside the concession with her, and since they were engaged to prepare food for the masses, they were not only prepared, but were accepting of the invasion that descended upon them.
Imagine for a moment that you live in this village. You've probably seen a few white people in your life (outside of movies and TV) in and around Kumba. Then, two years ago, a white woman comes to live with you in one of the nicest houses in town (not the biggest, but it has internal plumbing). She becomes part of the community, teaching at the school and playing with the kids, and the novelty sorta wears off. Then, several months before her departure, about 40 other white folks (more than you've ever seen in one place, even on TV -except for the battle scenes in 'Braveheart') arrive in a series of taxis to take over your bars, drink all your beer (they paid for them, but the delivery truck only comes once every two weeks, so you're dry for another week), and cause quite a ruckus until 5am (when you're just about to get up again).

Needless to say, we caused quite a stir. To the village's credit, they handled it quite well, and the village chief came over early on to lend his support (he bought us a case of beer). Thus began the evening.

I did get a bit of rehearsing in with Peter where we nixed a couple of songs (one wasn't well arranged for accoustic guitar and one was a bit difficult to learn on such short notice), but went ahead with the rest.

After a bite to eat and a drink or two, darkness fell. A few guys got a bonfire going and everyone arranged themselves around it. The performances started (I neglected to mention a dazzling daytime performance of Matt juggling three machetes, something that had to be done in the light and sober) and the five or so performers began to rotate, doing one or two songs before stepping aside for someone else. In all, I did about five songs (including 'Love Me Tender', which wasn't planned). The crowd, already greased up, was supportive and approving of all the performers, and everyone had a great time. The singing lasted until the performers didn't have anything formal left and the event broke down into a sing-a-long until after midnight. In all, it lasted over four hours before some decided to go to sleep, others to hang out and talk while the rest went to the bar across the street to continue drinking and do a little dancing.

Regardless of the choice, no one got much or any sleep before the call to leave was sounded at 6:30am. We all had a to get into town and take a bus to Yaoundé so that we could make it to dinner at the country director's house on time that evening. We once again created a spectacle at the bus agency, but eventually we were on our way.

Book Report: 'Wicked' and 'One Hundred years of Solitude'

2005-04-21T11:55:00.000+01:00

I've heard that 'Wicked' by Gregory Maguire has been made into a Broadway musical in the past couple of years. A close friend, and fellow Broadway nut, sent me the novel to read so I wouldn't completely miss out. I'm happy she did, since its original - the flip side of 'The Wizard of Oz', highly entertaining, and surprisingly "adult". I suppose I assumed an alternate take on what was the children's story of a generation (several, in fact), would also be childlike. Who'd have thought that the Wicked Witch of the East would have a long-term live-in boyfriend who was a rebel leader against the totalitarian regime of the Wizard?

Will, my postmate, has been begging me to read, 'One Hundred Years of Solitude' by Gabriel Garcia Marquez for a long time now. It had been built up as the greatest novel by a Nobel prize-winning author. I wasn't so sure, since I really disliked 'Love in the Time of Cholera', an earlier novel of his. But, I read it, or should I say, trudged through it. I don't know if its me or what the problem is, but while I can see the "intellectual appeal" of the book (it provides commentary on topics ranging from family relationships to Catholicism and third-world development), as a form of entertainment, insight or even philosophy, it falls short on all counts in my mind. It took me several weeks to read, and I had trouble reading more than 20 pages in one sitting- my definition of a book better read by someone else.

In process: 'What should I do with my life?' by Po Bronson

Rollin' along- part III

2005-03-26T14:56:00.000+01:00

RETURN OF THE BUSINESS SEMINARS
Due to popular demand (the bank's board president pretty much demanded it), I decided to do an abbreviated series of four seminars during the month of March. Taking the four most popular from the first go-round, I began with an attendance of 35 for "How to start a business", and did my least favorite, but most important subject of "Accounting Basics" this week. This time around, we're going a little deeper, and are following a real-life example to help folks see the lessons "in practice".

To advertise the seminars, I designed a sign to put over the road that leads to the market. Since there's no local newspaper, that's how you get the word out about something. It was put up a couple of days before the first seminar, but unfortunately was torn down by a large truck passing a few days later. Luckily, I at least took a couple of pictures of it beforehand.

TRIP TO THE VILLAGE OF KELLY-BITCHOKA
Living in the rather large city of Edéa, I don't get a whole lot of opportunity to get out to the small villages. The treasurer of our bank has been begging me for quite a while to come out and see her village, which is a couple of hours away by slow train from Edéa. Finally our schedules allowed a trip out, and I was warned to bring drinking water and lots of bug repellent.

I met Jacqueline (the treasurer) at the train station early Saturday morning, and after many delays, arrived at the station where her brother met us with a pickup to continue on to the family house. Of course, we had to stop and have lunch with the local catholic priest (Jacqi has a brother who will be ordained in July and a sister who is, well, a sister). We finally arrived after an hour of poor muddy roads (we had to get out and push the truck out of the mud three times). As you might imagine, there's not a whole lot to do in a small village. After touring around and drinking a beer, there was lots of sitting and occasional talking while the rest of the family caught up in the local language. One of the highlights was hanging out with one of the small boys down by the creek where they get drinking water and bathe. Its quite pretty down there. I was also shown the palm oil press and the small family palm oil plantation near the house.

Grandma gave me a couple of bottles of peanuts to take back home, and we ate a whole lot of river fish while there. As we were leaving, I gave the boy who took me down to the creek my baseball hat, which we adjusted and he wore with a big smile on his face. On the road back to Edéa (we drove back rather than wait for the train), we stopped a number of times. Once a village elder stopped the truck to give us (and me) some bananas and papayas. Another time, we stopped to have a cup of palm wine with the aging local deaf-mute traditional dancer (he feels the vibrations). It was a lot more fun coming back than the weekend had been, but overall, a great experience.

OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD
It wasn't exactly the yellow brick road, but I headed out last week to meet the General Manager of CAMCCUL, the bank network with which I am affiliated. My good friend Cathy, whose bank is also in the same network, had set up the meeting for Saturday morning with Mr. Niba, the equivalent of the CEO, at the bank headquarters in Bamenda. As much as I like Bamenda (the weather is at least 15 degrees cooler at all times, and they speak english), its about a 10 hour trip each way from Edéa. So, I decided to make a real trip out of it and accomplish a few other things on the way. Immediately after my seminar on Wednesday afternoon, I headed out for Yaoundé two hours away. I arrived to find my friend Jen in the process of leaving the country after getting tired of being harrassed and deciding that teaching math to high schoolers was not her favorite thing in the world. The next day, I got up to meet with the director and the acting director of the business program to discuss the upcoming training, among other subjects.

I left in the early afternoon, following a nice farewell lunch with Jen, and arrived later than I had hoped for at my family's house in Bandjoun. I had called them on the way to let them know of my delay, so I arrived to find dinner almost on the table. Of course, momma had prepared one of my favorite of her dishes, spaghetti with fried fish. yum. I arrived at the house in the dark to find a lot of excited kids. They were so happy to see me, and I, them. I had brought them a dozen coconuts from Edéa, which they can't get up there, so they were pretty happy with that as well. Because of my late arrival, even the smallest kids stayed up way past their bedtime. Soon after, I went to sleep in my old room.

The next morning, I took a freezing-cold bucket bath, and went to the market (I had lucked out and it was market day) to see my old friend, the window and mirror seller, Jean-Guy. I hadn't called to let him know I was coming, since I didn't know if I'd have time to stop by. He was thrilled to see me, and we talked for a bit, before I had to take off for Baffoussam. On the way out of town, momma handed me a large market bag filled with oranges and pineapples. She said that I couldn't leave town empty-handed. Smiling, I got in a taxi, and headed off to meet my friends for lunch. When I arrived at the restaurant, there were six volunteers from all over having a beer and waiting for the food. I slipped in my order and proceeded to catch up on all the volunteer gossip- of which there is always quite a bit. Following lunch, we all went our separate ways. I promised to meet them for a St. Patty's Day party if I possibly could...

The bus to Bamenda was a good time since they were almost all anglophone and they knew Peace Corps. They even complimented me on my pidgin, which I don't get to speak that often. I got to the Mondial hotel, which has a good discount for Peace Corps and headed to the shower. Shortly afterwords, Cathy showed up after coming directly from Kumba. We headed out to see her friend, Geraldine and then to dinner. Geraldine wasn't around (and her mobile phone had been stolen), so we left word with the neighbors and had a chicken dinner while watching the brand-new MTV-Africa on a big-screen TV with sattellite hook-up. One of the shows we caught was 'Punk'd', which I had heard about but never seen. Ashton is a terrible actor! And not only that, the skits are completely ripped off from Alan Funt (may he rest in peace)!

The meeting with the General Manager started early the next morning (following beans and boiled potatoes for breakfast) at the headquarters building. The GM showed up pretty much on time, and we started out with introductions. Three hours later, we had finally made it through the agenda, and the GM asked us out to a tasty lunch.

After lunch, we left the GM and made it over to the handicrafts cooperative (started by Peace Corps volunteers some forty years ago). I bought a traditional hat and a nice carved stool while Cathy bought a number of small gift items. We then headed back to Baffoussam where we met up with a couple of volunteers and had a few drinks before heading off to sleep, preparing for the long return to Edéa.

IF YOU'RE HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT...
Teaching continues to be a welcome break coming twice a week. I recently taught my younger kids how to do comparisons in english (as in, my father is older than my mother). Alexandre, a young kid with imagination to spare, read out the comparison that he had composed, "A dinosaur is taller than a coconut tree". I couldn't help but smile.

My older kids are in the process of learning "Do-Re-Mi". I'm hoping to do some kind of end-of-year concert with the four or five songs that I've been able to teach them. And yes, "If you're happy and you know it" is one of them. They particularly like the verse that ends "shout out loud!".

AND FINALLY...
Spring has sprung, even here in Cameroon, just three degrees off the equator. How do we know? Well, mangoes have arrived in the market, mating monkeys are easier to find and kill for food (there's been a marked increase available for sale), and the music man has come to town. Almost like the annual showing of 'The Sound of Music', the music man peddles his specially equipped three-wheeled bicycle (I suppose that would make it a tricycle, wouldn't it?) around town selling religious music on cassette, CD and Video CD (brilliantly, he always arrives just before Easter). This bicycle is equipped with a display case on each side, attached somehow to the frame, with a single megaphone-shaped loud-speaker at the top, announcing his arrival with African gospel music. Needless to say, his arrival is greatly anticipated, and he does quite a lot of business. After a week or so, he peddles on to the next town. The cycling music man of Cameroon is indeed a sign that ingenuity lives in people around the world.

Rollin' along- part II

2005-03-26T14:54:00.000+01:00

BIRTHDAY PARTY
The 19th of February was my 29th (again?!?) birthday. In Cameroon, no one throws a party for your birthday. If you want to celebrate, its up to you. So, I decided to have a party at my house for the occassion. I spent all of two days cooking and preparing for the fête, and was helped the afternoon before by Sylvie, who came to cook the Cameroonian part of the meal. I decided to make some good 'ole american food, including chili, tuna casserole and cake with chocolate icing. About 12 friends and folks from the bank came and ate. We had such a great time that we got up and danced for a while after it was all over. People brought food and wine, and I ended up with lots of leftovers (I gave a bunch to Alain to take home to his family). I'm sure there are many more parties to come.

VISIT FROM A SMALL FRIEND
It was Saturday morning, and I decided to go out with my machété and trim the hedges a bit. I left the porch door ajar and went about my business. About an hour later, I came back in the same way I left. I was a bit startled to see a bright green snake slithering off to the corner away from me. As it turns out, the snake (although young) was a deadly green mamba snake, one of the most poisonous in the world. Of course, I wasn't thinking about that. I just wanted him out of my house. Luckily, he was only in the screened porch, and not in the house proper, so I sealed off the house and went inside, hoping that he'd find his way out.

A bit later, the guys who cut my lawn about once a month or so came by and did their job. When they came looking for payment, I mentioned that I had a snake in the porch. They became quite alarmed and one of them took the rake he was carrying and expertly tapped the snake on the head with the blunt end. About six taps later, he had crushed the snake's skull, and removed the body to the bushes.

GENERAL ASSEMBLY MEETING
March 5th was the biggest day of our bank's annual calendar- the general assembly meeting of all members. It happens every year after the annual audits and budgets are complete. The members are brought together to approve the budget, propose changes to operating procedures and vote on various board members. And, like any other gathering in this country, its an excuse to eat and drink together. The president wanted to give everyone a piece of the agenda, so I was given the task of not only making my own statement (comments about the past year, business seminars and a first goodbye and thank you), but also the task of presenting the 2005 budget. I had overseen the assembly of the budget, so I put together a budget rationalization sheet and presented all of the numbers and explanations. There were over 70 people there, and George told me that it was only the second time in the bank's history that they had been able to assemble a quorum for the meeting. The meeting was videotaped and photographed (I'll be bringing back a copy to watch over and over like wedding festivities- I can't wait to see the tears in people's eyes as they listen to hours of speeches in french). Afterwards, I went to the VIP reception (the regular members were served chicken, bread and beer) where we had a massive display of food and drink. The grilled fish had to have been at least 20lbs and had eyes as big as 50 cent pieces.

INTERNATIONAL WOMENS DAY
Once a year on the 8th of March, women around the world take the day off and parade and hold seminars promoting women. In Cameroon, its a HUGE deal, which takes weeks of preparation. Women all buy the same fabric for the parade, which all the important folks in town attend (along with a marching band which doesn't really march). Afterwords, everyone eats and drinks until they can't stand up anymore. Given that the bank's women's committee has been very successful in the past year, with a membership of greater than 40 women, they wanted to take part in the festivities.

I ended up as the official photographer for the group, and took numerous individual and group poses. I also took photos of them marching in the parade and them eating afterwards. My payment was a tasty meal and drinks at the end of the day.

Rollin' along- part I

2005-03-21T09:06:00.000+01:00

PALM OIL PROJECT BEGINS
I made it out to George's village, where the work had already begun on the palm oil tree nursery. A bunch of us crammed into a car along with 1200 carefully packed seedlings and headed out on Friday for the 45 minute ride out. It was a lot shorter than I expected, and the dirt roads were in pretty good condition (certainly in comparison to the roads up to Korup park).

As we rolled into the village, there were several men already at work filling the polypots with dirt, which would later be seeded. We climbed out of the car and set up a few chairs under the coconut trees that were helping to shade the nursery-in-progress. I had a seat while the work continued around me. George ran off to his father's home to change into his work clothes, and soon began hauling water back and forth from the stream not too far away that would be used to water the seedlings. The others were finishing filling dirt and placing the pots in neat rows to make watering and other maintenance easier. In the meantime, one of the young guys climbed up one of the coconut trees and kicked down a bunch for us to eat and drink (coconut juice from a green coconut is pretty tasty).

Soon, there were bamboo posts in the ground around the pots, and fencing around the posts (more for small animals than for theives). Finally, we started putting seeds in the pots and watering them. The project had become real. Now, we just wait until the little buggers grow up a little...

SED IN-SERVICE TRAINING
Somehow, (believe me, I was not advocating it) it was decided that the annual in-service training for all first-year business volunteers would be held right here, in good 'ole Edéa. Admittedly, we do have the nicest hotel this side of Yaoundé, and it turned out great... I suppose in my head I was comparing the sometimes raucous behavior of our group last year with the much smaller and considerably more demure newer group.

We spent the week talking about how the second year volunteers could be more effective and happier at the same time. About five second-year volunteers came in to lead sessions in addition to myself. My solo session was on approving and recovering loans and how to change loan policy to make it all easier. Every three hours or so though, we broke to eat. I can't remember the last time I've eaten such consistenly good food for an entire week. The shrimp in butter sauce and the duck were both outstanding.

On the Thursday night, we all went out for a large dinner in town (the only night they even left the hotel!) to have grilled chicken and shrimp at Chez Louise. There were about 25 of us, and even though the table wasn't quite big enough, everyone found enough to eat and drink. Its so good to be with friends...

BEGINNING OF THE END
During the in-service training, my Close of Service packet was delivered to me. This is the first in a series of events that mark the end of service for Peace Corps volunteers. Needless to say, it was a happy occasion to open the envelope and to find a booklet entitled "You're on your way home". Yes, indeed!

Our 'close of service' conference is coming up in a week, with three days of editing resumes, doing mock interviews and trying to figure out what we want to be when we grow up. The 35+ of us who will be there are looking at it more as a giant party - the last time we will ever all be together. It promises to be a week to remember.

BOOK REPORT: Grisham, Moore, Hemmingway, and Leonard

2005-03-21T09:00:00.000+01:00

'The Partner' by John Grisham
When you need an interesting, reliable fast read, John's your man. 'The Partner' by John Grisham is unfortunately, also utterly forgettable.

'Downsize This' by Michael Moore
I've seen a couple of the movies (including Farenheit 911, which came out since I've been here-thanks to a volunteer going home for the holidays), but 'Downsize This' was the first of Michael Moore's books that I've read. Its a little dated at this point (having been written in the mid-nineties), but its still interesting, and at times appauling and shocking. In case you didn't pick it up from the films, Moore is quite the blue-collar socialist. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course... The book lays out his

'For Whom the Bell Tolls' by Ernest Hemmingway
The classic novel, 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' by Ernest Hemmingway was sent to me by my friend Rob (thanks Rob!) since I clearly had some time to do some reading. For me, at least, the book was a 'real time' story of an american spanish teacher who decides to save Spain from the fascists by blowing up a bridge in the mountains. The 'translations' from spanish are a little annoying at first, as is the slow pace of introductions, but like all great books, it draws you in. Pretty soon, you can imagine being there with Robert and his band of rebels. Its a great book- one that means something after you put it down.

'Tishomingo Blues' by Elmore Leonard
A daredevil diver, the Detroit mob, and a few Mississippi hicks all converge across the river from Memphis for a little relaxation, a little southern fun (in the form of Civil War reenactments) and lots of surreal action. Its a bit on the fantastic side, but the author of 'Get Shorty', among others has created an interesting and sometimes funny look into what gets people up in the morning.

Tuesday, February 1, 2005

2005-02-03T08:29:00.000+01:00

Its been nice to return to a bit of a routine that non-travelling allows. Since returning, I've taught my kids, given my seminars and worked with folks in and out of the bank.

I'm extremely happy to report that a project that my counterpart George and I put together has been financed! We put together a funding request for a community palm oil tree nursery and plantation for his village back in June and July. It was submitted through the Peace Corps Partnership Program (which essentially posts your project on the internet for anyone interested to read about and if they desire, finance) and was financed completely. The money arrived this week! George is, needless to say, ecstatic, and we've already set the wheels of progress in motion. As this project continues, it will require more and more of my time, and it'll be a lasting legacy that, in fact, I did help some folks while I was here. I went out last Friday to check the progress that's already been made, and the nursery is complete! We should have little leaves pushing their way through in a couple of weeks. In about five months, they'll be big enough to outplant them into the fields. Its really exciting!

The last few seminars were a resounding success. My friend, Gabriel came to give the lecture on inventory management. Since he runs one ofthe larger stores in town, people were quite attentive. Following that was what most people thought was my best seminar, human resource management. Luckily for me, the Peace Corps country director had decided to come for a site visit that day to see for himself the seminars I was putting on. About forty people, as usual, showed up, and we had a great lecture and discussion, with the director himself adding anecdotes a couple of times. Afterwords, the bank hosted a dinner in the director's honor, in an attempt to persuade him to replace me after I leave in August. They seem increasingly convinced that the growth of the bank depends on it.

During dinner and at breakfast the next morning, the director and I had a series of great discussions. He said that essentially it was up to me whether I was replaced or not, depending on my recommendation at the COS conference in late May/early June. I haven't decided conclusively, but I'm leaning in that direction. We also discussed a bit of the history and future of Peace Corps in general. I suggested that Peace Corps begin thinking of itself as an effective deliverer of grassroots-level development throughout the world, as opposed to a PR machine for the US government and travel and tourism company for new graduates. I had put together a brief memo to that effect, and he asked me to expand on it before discussing further and possibly distributing around Washington. I'm looking forward to working on this project in the next month or so.

Just last Wednesday was the last of my ten seminars, on the subject of marketing. I gave the session and then handed out evaluation sheets for the seminar series. After that, I had decided to share my happiness at the success of the seminars, so we brought in a few cases of drinks, and sandwiches to celebrate. Overall, it was probably the best experience I've had here, and I promised folks that I'd do it again starting in March. The results of the evaluations were overal very positive, with me receiving a 4.2 out of 5 rating as a speaker (between "Trés bien" and "Excellent"), and most people saying they would either take it again or recommend others to do so. In fact a couple of people berated me for not advertising it better so that more people could take advantage of the seminars. The second time it'll be a lot easier, since most of the preparation is already done!

In school, we worked with a number of letters sent a while back by the school in Charlotte, NC that I had been put in touch with by Peace Corps to set up a connection with students here. My students finally got to the point where they understand and can write enough to put together a basic letter ("My favourite colour is blue" -yes, I'm required to use British spelling). So, we read some of the letters and wrote back. My older kids got into a large discussion about american music, since many of the letters mentioned different singers and groups, so I decided to hold a one day "School of Rock" (I've seen the movie, even though it came out since I've been here, thanks to a volunteer's brother who sent it over- LOVE IT!). I brought in my CD collection and used the school's portable CD stereo to go through many of the genres of american music along with discussing the dates of origin and some of the better-known examples. For example, in the "Rock 'n' Roll" category, Guns 'n' Roses was held up as a prime example; in "Rhythm and Blues", Mary J. Blige; in "Acoustic Rock", Indigo Girls; in "Big Band/Swing", the Duke Ellington Orchestra; and in "Jazz", the venerable Miles Davis. In all, I went through fourteen genres of music, and the kids really enjoyed it- as did I. The students at the Providence Day school should be receiving their letters in a month or so...

Building on the success of the business seminars, several attendees have approached me to help them with their businesses. One woman is starting a small office services business (photocopies, typing and other computer-related services), another woman is starting a used mobile phone and mobile repair shop, and a third has just begun her hair salon. At least two people have become members of the bank, and the board of directors has become truly invigorated, launching new products and looking for new employees... we're rollin'!

BOOK REPORT- Austen, Buffet, Eggers and Twain

2005-02-03T08:28:00.001+01:00

At long last, after much interruption and difficulty, I finished reading, 'Pride and Prejudice' by Jane Austen. I had picked it up after hearing that two movies in the US were being released based on the book, so I figured maybe it had some modern significance from which I could benefit. It was similar to the other recent "classic" I completed, 'The Sound and the Fury' in that I can see how multiple readings would increase the enjoyment of the book, but I still enjoyed it the first time through. I'm not sure I would say its on of the best books of the English language, as the back cover of my copy claimed, but it was quite interesting and certainly gave an insight into early 19th century English life. I could almost imagine I was there, and at times wished I were. As they say, "Life was so much simpler when..." In the end, it was not a life-changing experience, but interesting and enjoyable nonetheless. And as for books of that period, certainly one of the best I've read.

While I was in Buea around Christmas, I didn't have 'Pride and Prejudice' with me, and since we were heading for a day at the beach, I needed a beach book. And what better beach book than, 'Where is Joe Merchant?' by the king of beaches and summers, Jimmy Buffet. Nan, the volunteer hosting us for Christmas, had recently finished it and recommended it as a fun read. If you've only got one eye and half a mind to read a book (just keeping a look out for anything else interesting going on, or your own life is a bit too distracting to get lost in a book), I would recommend this one. That's really all it takes since devoting both eyes and the whole brain will leave you disappointed. Its one part adventure-romance and another part mystical-cartoon. If it ever gets made into a movie, the movie will be better, but it still won't be worth the ten dollars to see it.

One of the few books I read in the years preceding my Peace Corps service was, 'A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius', that I thoroughly enjoyed. It took a few years for Dave Eggers to finish another one, but 'You Shall Know Our Velocity' was worth it. Its the unique writing style that I enjoy most that includes the usage of photos, drawings, asides, internal dialogues and other changes which makes the story more interesting and somehow more "real". Its certainly written from a "Generation X" perspective, but describes a trip two friends take as they try to make it around the world in one week while finding needy people and giving them stacks of money. It sounds like an unusual pretext for a book, which makes it all the more valuable. Read it.

Of all of the books I've read, most were lent or passed on to me by other volunteers. 'North and South' by John Jakes is one that I brought with me, after having purchased it in an "antique" shop in Richmond, Virginia. Many of you probably saw the mini-series in the 80's based on the book, and while I don't remember it, I'm sure it was terrific. This epic novel (having read a few of them now, I've decided the qualification for this name is 800 pages and a minimum of fifteen main characters) is written with all the drama, action, and romance necessary for a successful television mini-series. I hope I can find it on DVD when I return. The book follows two families, one from Pennsylvania and the other from South Carolina, as they experience life leading up to the fall of Fort Sumpter in Charleston Harbor. If you're a fan of historical novels, this one is fantastic. Now if I can just find the next volume...'Love and War'.

Its been many years since I have read anything by that great American author, Mark Twain. I think I was forced to read 'Huck Finn' in senior english in high school. When 'Letters from the Earth' showed up on my bookshelf, I was determined to read it. 'Letters' is a collection of thoughts and short stories written by Mr. Clemens around the turn of the 20th century. Several of the stories were apparently not published until well after his death due to their controversial nature. Even today, his thoughts on religion would burn the ears of any devout conservative of any religion. He takes away much of the credit for all things good from God and equally removes much of the blame for sin (especially 'Original Sin') from Satan. His analysis of the old testament (up to and including Noah), is cynical, refreshing, and/or even enlightning. Unfortunately, much of the rest of the stories don't hold up. They are notated by the editor as being unfinished in some cases and are mostly just curiosities for the hard-core Twain scholar. One of the more hilarious non-biblical discussions is a deconstruction of James Fenimore Cooper's 'Last of the Mohicans'. If you've ever had trouble getting through that or any book of its era, you'll truly appreciate Twain's short essay on the matter. Overall, it was uneven (I blame this on the editor) but the readable parts were highly enjoyable.

in progress: 'The Partner' by John Grisham

HIKING THE JUNGLE- KORUP NATIONAL PARK

2005-02-03T08:28:00.000+01:00

For some reason I was in the mood for physical punishment, so I kept my end of the bargain and got on a bus back up to Kumba to Cathy's house. The next morning, we got up early, did a final check of our bags, and headed out to the store for a little shopping. We had decided to concentrate on tunafish, cous-cous (really easy to prepare) and oatmeal. Following our success, we headed out to the car park to get a vehicle up to the village of Mundemba, the entrance point for Korup.

Entering the car park, one realizes exactly what happens to all those Toyota Corollas when they "die" - they're reincarnated as taxis here in Cameroon. We purchased our tickets, which were quite expensive- comparatively speaking- and waited for our car. Almost two hours later we were ready to go (after a little bit of hassling about our bags which they wanted to charge for since they were convinced we were tourists and could get a little extra money). There were eight of us, including the driver in a standard five-seater Corolla. The worst part was that it took over three hours on a non-paved dusty and extremely bumpy road. When we arrived, I was already tired, but it was about 2:30pm and Mundemba is a small village. We talked to the guy running the park office and he told us that he could find a guide and porter in an hour, if we wanted. We decided that camping inside the park would be more fun than a run-down hotel, and it might give us the opportunity to see more or take a slower pace if we did, so an hour later we were on our way.

Cathy and I and our guide and porter piled in a Land Rover with all of our stuff for the next three days and were driven to the entrance of the park, on the edge of a palm oil plantation. The park could only be reached by crossing a wide river by swinging bridge. It appeared to be well built, with strong, thick cables supporting it, so we ventured across. That isn't to say that one bad step wouldn't have sent you plunging into the rapids below, but slowly we made it- asking our guide and porter to go ahead so they wouldn't cause too many vibrations while we were crossing. I took one nice picture looking down at my feet standing on the planks of the bridge with the river rushing underneath. The adventure had indeed begun.

An hour of hiking through the forest led us to our camp for the night. There were all kinds of bird and animal calls throughout, and our porter (who had gone ahead) told us there were monkeys near the camp, but had left before we arrived. The park was developed by the World Wildlife Fund about 15 years ago. It was the WWF and their money who built the bridges, trails and campsites, and I have to say they knew what they were doing. It was all well done. Sadly, the WWF left the park about four years ago (presumably because there aren't enough animals left to save) and they handed over management to the government which has failed to maintain the facilities. The first campsite though was still fairly nice and was situated not far from one of the many mountain streams. So, throwing caution to the wind (many streams here carry harmful bacteria), we took our sweaty, dusty, dirty selves to the stream and took a bath. It was truly one of the most refreshing things I've ever done. It was also quite beautiful with the large trees hanging over the stream, large rocks creating ripples, and a small pool large enough for bathing. Afterwards, we fixed dinner of tuna sandwiches and went to sleep- or at least tried to. The cabins were furnished with bunk beds without mattresses on which I put my sleeping bag. Its at that point you realize the necessity of a sleeping mat, or an extra twenty pounds- neither of which I had.

We woke up the next morning to a knocking on our door. I sat up and saw the porter outside. He was pointing up to a large tree next to the camp saying there were monkeys up there- where he had seen them the day before. We crawled out of our beds as quietly as possible (me still in my boxer shorts) and looked up to see what appeared to be Colobus monkeys playing around, going from branch to branch. They were too far away to show up in photos, but it was pretty cool and a good way to start off our day in the African jungle. After a breakfast of oatmeal with raisins (tasty), we packed up our stuff and headed off to see the waterfall. It was an hour down, over streams and through the woods.

Being our first day in full daylight, we took time to take in the new trees and mushrooms that were along our path. We also discovered the most painful animal of the jungle first-hand: fire ants. I can tell you with much conviction, that, short of being mauled by a panther, fire ants have to be the most scream-inducing creatures of the jungle. The first time, we were naive, maybe a little arrogant given the obvious size differential. And maybe we disturbed their work or just maybe they have an inferiority complex. Regardless, we walked through them, and they fought back. Among their many powers, is a speed and tenacity that defies comprehension. For the rest of our time in the jungle, we became very aware of these monsters, and when we couldn't go around, we ran through them with great speed and long strides.

We made it to the waterfall, which was beautiful, took lots of pictures, rested for a little while and then returned back to camp. We rested a bit, ate some lunch and hiked onto the next camp where we would sleep that night. It was a fairly uneventful, but pretty hike. One of the highlights though was a tree that has evolved so that its exterior is spiked, sort of like a gigantic rose stem, which protects it against animals like forest elephants who like to push trees over, especially smaller ones. Go tree!

At the park office, we had run into a father and son hiking group from Sweden. They were extremely nice, and coming into the second camp, we discovered that we would be sharing the camp with them that evening. We all took turns taking baths in the stream, washing clothes and filling up water bottles (and purifying them, of course). We had a relaxing evening talking about American politics and Swedish technology.

We were off again the next morning, all headed in different directions. Cathy and I tried to express to our guide the desire to see everything of note in the park (a map of highlights existed, but sadly we didn't have a copy, but we had seen it). He assured us that would happen. We did have a nice day of hiking and saw some of the interesting aspects, including "The Big Boulder", which was exactly that (about forty feet tall, and clearly separate from the ground) and a hunter's cave which was used up until about twenty years ago. There were no cave drawings, sadly, but it was kinda cool and Indiana Jones-ish with thick vines coming down the sides of the giant granite rock. There were no snakes, but plenty of bats and large spiders to make up for it. We also went chasing monkees a couple of times, and were rewarded with a large group traveling high up in the treetops, probably red colobus. They were too far away to show up in photos (at least with my camera), but it was neat to see them and hear the rustling of leaves as they moved around. One last highlight was an overlook that was cleared by volcanic rock and up high enough that we could see the treetops for miles around. It was really hot, so we didn't stay out too long, but we could see the top of what we had been hiking under. At one point during the day, we ran across a village woman wondering through the forest. Inside the forest, there are about four small villages, and since the park borders Nigeria, there are also the occasional illegal immigrant comes down the trail. This woman was looking for her mother and two small children who were "lost" somewhere. Needless to say, she was a bit distraught, and our guide attempted to calm her down. After she moved on, he told us that people get lost all the time, which I believe. After a while it all startes to look the same.

The last camp was poorly maintained which was made worse by the presence of hundreds of bees, which, as we quickly discovered, are quite attracted to sweat. Having spent all day hiking in the rainforest, we had plenty of that (on numerous occasions, I had to wring out the canvas hat I was wearing since the sweat had saturated it). We escaped with another swim in a nearby stream, and stayed inside the cabin much of the rest of the day. Our porter did come across an attractive orange (probably poisonous) snake on another of the cabins. Of course, I promptly grabbed my camera and took lots of pictures. He's pretty cool looking, and I hope to figure out what it was, exactly.

Our last day, we threw everything into our sacks and headed out. We had a rendez-vous with the driver at 11am which we had to meet. On the way, we ran across a couple families of tourists out for day hikes (why they would come all the way out there for just a couple hour hike was beyond me). Some of them already looked tired though, so its probably best they weren't in it for longer. About a half kilometer from the bridge to exit out of the park we came across a sign proclaiming the spot as the furthest Prince Charles had ventured into the park during his visit in the early 90s. I suppose if he came to visit the park, its nice that he actually went in it, but I wouldn't say he's hardcore...

We found a car relatively quickly (we returned to the park office with the Swedes) and decided that we'd pay the extra couple bucks to have a more comfortable ride back (we bought a seat). It was worth it, and after much inhaled dust, we arrived in Kumba. After showers and clothing changes, the four of us had a great dinner of cheeseburgers, fried chicken and beer at the "American" restaurant in town and returned early to sleep. We felt good, as we had survived three days in the jungle...

CHRISTMAS

2005-02-03T08:26:00.000+01:00

The next couple of days was taken up with recovery, sleep, tending to wounds and cleaning of clothes. Throughout it all, my throat had hurt and returning, it had been increasingly difficult to swallow, so I called the doctors in Yaoundé who told me that I had strep throat. I began taking amoxicillin right away, which after about three days made it mostly disappear.

Two days after our small team had returned, on Christmas Eve, the other team of five made their way back to Nan's house. As tired as they clearly were, oddly I think they weren't as beat as we were upon returning. Scott and I chalked it up to smaller, easier days of hiking and less elevation change each day. Maybe they were just in better condition... We had done all the shopping for our Christmas dinner before their arrival, and were busy preparing it. We had decided to spend the day at the beach, and have a nice big dinner when we returned in the evening.

The beach was a truly enjoyable experience, and though we had illegally brung a picnic (it was a private, access-controlled beach), we weren't hassled too badly about it. We played frisbee in and out of the water, read books (see book report) and related our mountain stories. A black-sand beach is somehow more exotic, and it almost made me forget that it was Christmas and for the second year in a row, I was in Africa without my family.

Christmas dinner back at Nan's was easy to prepare, but quite tasty. We had done basic preparations, but were eating "Ameri-treats" sent by Fran and Ted (the married couple who ended their service early in August) in the form of instant potatoes, gravy, stuffing and cranberry sauce. We also outsourced the preparation of the chicken to the grill man across the street. He had the grill, and we paid him to cook our chicken for us, which turned out really well. We sang a few Christmas songs, drank boxed wine and had a white elephant gift exchange. I ended up with a carved wood bottle opener, and since I had the first number, I was happy. It was a mellow evening, and I was able to talk to virtually my entire family, who were gathered in South Carolina for the holiday. I'll be home this year, I promise!

CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN

2005-02-03T08:23:00.000+01:00

I kept thinking that the Christmas holidays would provide one of my last opportunities to "check-off" the major tourist-type attractions of Cameroon that I have not already had the opportunity to experience. When I was in Yaoundé at the beginning of December, I ran into one of the newer business volunteers, Scott, with whom I have become friends. He mentioned that he was going with a larger group to hike up Mt. Cameroon. I had sorta been on the fence about hiking up the mountain since I've never really been that kind of person and the last one I tried (Mt. Manengouba last Christmas) kicked my butt. Scott convinced me that it'd be fun, and since it was so close, I'd later regret not doing it. So, I adjusted my pre-Christmas plans and got out my camping pack and sleeping bag.

I first headed up to Kumba where I met Cathy for a discussion about our bank situation. There are only two other volunteers working in the same bank network as myself, and we wanted to discuss how to work with them to request and utilize Peace Corps volunteers in a meaningful way to the bank and the volunteer. We had a great cheeseburger dinner, but I increasingly felt sick throughout the evening. The following day we were supposed to head out to a lake near Kumba, but I just couldn't make it. I ended up staying in bed all day with a 101F fever and swollen tonsils. I didn't figure out until after I returned from the mountain hike (which I almost cancelled as a result of my being ill) that I had strep throat (among possibly other things).

I did head down to Buea Sunday afternoon before the scheduled climbing on Monday morning. I decided that I had come that far, and I felt well enough to give it a shot. That afternoon we did all our last minute shopping, including all the food that we needed to carry up for the next three days. Menu planning with packaged goods available here in Cameroon is quite a challenge, but we did it, and we didn't starve- although we got kinda tired of the bologna roll and canned tuna on smashed bread.

There were two "teams" heading up the mountain- one for the three-day "highlight" tour and the other for the five-day "leisure" tour. I opted for the three-day tour since two fewer nights sleeping (or not sleeping) in a tent was quite appealing. There are folks who go up and down in one day, and in fact there is a race every February up and down the mountain (supposedly one of the most difficult athletic events in the world) where the winner finishes in four hours-something. The mountain is 4095 meters (13,000+ feet) high, with the starting point below at only 1000 meters (3000+ feet). Essentially, its two vertical miles plus all the horizontal ones. Far. And high.

We got up early the next morning and headed out for the office of the folks who control the hikers up and down the mountain and supposedly maintain the trails and campsites. Our three-person, three-day team consisting of Scott, Annie and myself stayed at another volunteer's house the night before to minimize the confusion in the morning. It worked- we arrived a half-hour before the other team of five did. We grabbed breakfast in the form of a spaghetti omelette, and returned to meet our guide and porter for the next three days. They seemed like nice enough guys, so we took the obligatory group photos and headed off in a taxi to the beginning of the trail. Since we were going express, we went to the most direct route, while our friends started on the backside of the mountain. The route we went up for the next day and a half until the summit is called the "Guinness Route", since they sponsor the yearly race run along this route and since the local advertising says, "Guinness brings out the power in you", I suppose its appropriate.

For most of the first day it was pretty easy going. The paths were clear and relatively wide, the incline not too-steep. We were still pretty tired by lunch break. At that point, as they say down south, we didn't know from tired. I felt more and more lucky in my traveling partners. Scott and Annie were of similar fitness as myself and we more or less went at the same speed and needed breaks at the same time. Our porters were much faster than us, so they just went ahead and waited for us at various break points. Our guide, for some reason, liked to walk behind everyone, making him a little less effective that way (that sounds like a management book, 'You Can't Lead from Behind!'). During the first day, we crossed paths with three folks who had started very early that morning and were now on their way back down. They all had these hiking canes which I guess helps with leg and foot fatigue, and obviously weren't carrying the kind of food and gear that we were. Still, its difficult to imagine.

In the late afternoon, we reached the hut where we slept for the night. It was constructed years ago, but was still in decent shape. We immediately got out our sleeping bags and laid there for a while trying to recover a bit before making dinner. Our guide came to tell us that there was a cave nearby and asked if we wanted to see it. Scott volunteered to check it out to see if it was worth further investigation. At some point, another hiker came in, an American college student studying for a semester in Cameroon. She was alone, and since the other rooms of the hut were already taken by French guys, we offered part of our platformed hut to her. Scott came back saying that the cave was close, but that a flashlight was necessary to go in, which he hadn't brought. Since it was starting to get dark, all three of us headed back with flashlights and jackets (we were high enough that it was already quite cold). Scott and I decided to go down into the cave (it was necessary to climb down into the entrance) while Annie served as our lookout, since we didn't want to be in there after dark. As soon as we got down, we found a small creek running through the middle. All the sides were quite sharp, and it got dark about ten feet into the cave. We explored only about 30 feet in as the structure changed and we didn't want to get in somewhere that might take us a while to get out of. We took a few photos and then climbed back out completing our little diversion.

That night we had canned hot dogs cooked over the fire and a can of semi-warm baked beans. It wasn't all bad. We weren't really interested in talking religion with the other campers (it seemed to be the subject for the night), so we headed to sleep.

The next morning, we were woken by our guide who wanted to get an early start. It became apparent a little later why he felt that way. Beginning the day at around 2500 meters, we had to climb to the summit and back down the backside to about the same 2500 meter elevation. We started on our way at a little before 8am. The trail quickly became steep. At one point, I turned to Scott and said, "I don't think I would climb a ladder any steeper than this". It was a two hands, two feet kind of climb. Between the steepness, our lingering fatigue from the day before and the elevation, we ended up taking breaks quite frequently- about twice as many as were scheduled. Not too long into the hike, we were shown the "magic tree" and told that we'd take a nice break there. After an hour of hiking and two unscheduled breaks, we reached the tree. We decided that it was magic because it kept getting further and further away.

Eventually we reached the top. The porters had left us at the lunch hut and were sitting there waiting for us at the top. I arrived a little before the other two, and took a few pictures of the view, which wasn't all that impressive given the cloud cover. Still, we could see a good bit of what we had climbed up the past day and a half. It felt good to be on top... It was also cold, so when everyone was there, we broke out the bottle of cheap champagne that we had carried up just for this purpose. We shared it with our guide and porters who enjoyed it more than we did -it was pretty terrible. After finishing the bottle, we took some group celebratory photos and headed down.

It felt good going in the other direction. All the muscles used to go up the mountain breathed a sigh of relief while the ones one the other side let out a rebel yell. The first bit was easy, it was fine volcanic gravel (did I mention the mountain is an active volcano, last erupting just three years ago?) It was a bit like going downhill in snow, and was much easier to run down that to walk. After that was the extremely painful irregular shaped volcanic rock, hard and pointy throughout. We hated this part. In the middle of it, we came across the other team of our friends. However, our guide told us we were so far behind where we should be for the day, that we didn't have but about two minutes to stop and talk.

As we were entering the "cones" area, it became evident why they had been pushing us all day. With about an hour left of light, the camp was no where in sight. Still, the cones were the highlight of the trip, and our guide wanted to make sure that we saw them. There were two right together where the lava came out in 2001, and in fact were still steaming. It was really impressive as it was my first visit to an active volcano cone, and unlike Hawaii (or what I've heard of it, anyway), we walked along the rim and could've quite easily fallen in. In fact, one time I did loose my footing on the large gravel surface and almost did. As the sun was setting over the black lava that surrounded us, it was quite a beautiful sight. I tried to capture it on film, but it just didn't come out quite as impressively. If it hasn't already, it'd be a great place to film a movie about some other black, barren planet.

After the sightseeing was finished, we moved into rapid hiking mode to try and get as far as possible before complete darkness. We succeeded only in making it to the grasslands area. Because of the darkness and large clumps of grasses, our guide lost the path (although we were always heading in the right direction) and it became a fight to not fall from poor footing and twisted ankles- a fight we all lost on multiple occasions (including our guide). We stopped trusting our guide (a bad thing to do on the mountain) since he kept telling us the camp was just ahead, were tired (it had already been eleven hours since we left camp that morning), and not a little bit cranky. Finally, just when we had almost decided to sleep there in the grasses (thank GOD there were no snakes), we saw a flashlight off in the distance. A couple of guides with the other groups had come back to look for us. At long last, we made it to the camp where our porters had set up our tent and were busy cooking their dinner, only an hour, but seemingly an eternity after dark had fallen.

It was a rough night following a rough day (how anyone could call that thing a three-person tent is astonishing). When we had taken care of our more immediate wounds, Scott took charge and went to fill our water bottles at the stream. When he returned, Scott somehow convinced me to help him make dinner over at the fire- an exciting meal of cous-cous and the rest of our bologna roll. When we had finished and were carrying our meal over to the tent to eat with Annie, Scott stood up from the fire and took the shelter above and around the fire with him. The whole thing came crashing down. I couldn't help but laugh, as I had escaped with the food and Scott was trying to put it back together. We ate quickly, leaving the dirty dishes outside and not caring about night animals- fatigue had overtaken us.

The next morning, however, we got up and headed on our way. I had fallen so much the previous day and twisted my ankle that I taped it up before leaving camp. The porters saw this and insisted on taking my bag for the day. I wasn't sure it was necessary, but was happy to be free to fall without the extra weight. As a result, I kept a rapid pace, usually with the porters for the rest of the way out. Being our last day, we did our best to eat the food and drink the water so that we hadn't carried it all that time for no reason. Several hours after the grasslands and into the rainforest (where there used to be chimps), Annie came to our resting spot clearly too tired to carry on. Her shoes had litterally fallen apart on the hike - disintegrated is probably a better word, and every step was pure pain. I then took her backpack for the rest of the day, and we slowed down to minimize the torture she was going through. At long last, we arrived at the end of the trail, walked through a small village (where all the kids cried out, "White man!" - their powers of observation are amazing), and took a taxi back to the office where we started three days before. In the fight of man against nature, nature had clearly won this round, but we were happy about it.

Catching Up -happenings in December

2005-02-03T08:21:00.000+01:00

Monday, January 3, 2005

Its been a crazy last few weeks, which has caused me to run far behind in my blog writing. I apologize, but can only see it getting worse as time approaches for me to leave Cameroon. That's right, only seven and a half months stand between me and the United States of America. But don't get me wrong, while I am very anxious to return to my family and friends and begin the "rest of my life", I have much to do here in Cameroon before that time comes. And it will take every bit of the last months to get it accomplished. In an effort to provide and update on all fronts, I think its probably best to go topic by topic through the last month since my last real update.

THE BANK
After months and months of frustration caused by the ineptitude of the Board of Directors (they like to come by one at a time just to "check-in", but can't seem to get together at the same time to have a meeting), we finally had a Board Meeting the second week of December. I'm sure they were overwhelmed since George and I had built up quite an agenda for them. The president did come by the day before the meeting to preview the items though, which allowed the meeting to go much faster. After beginning at 10am, we finished around 3pm with no break for lunch. The only reason we finished when we did though was because I was running a seminar that afternoon and the president wanted the whole board to attend.

During the meeting, we were able to accomplish a couple of big items that had been on the burner for months including the approval to hire another employee to help us out (we're growing, and we want to extend hours to Saturday, which isn't possible with only one employee), the approval of special loans for Christmas (which were quite a success and brought in several new members), and the approval of a marketing plan and an action plan for 2005. These were necessary to put together a budget reflecting all the priorities of the bank for the new year.

George and I continue to offer consulting services to small businesses in town. The nursery school we worked with back in August and September has completely turned around and had a large Christmas party with an inspector from the Ministry of Education attending. Its a success story. We've also started working with a member of the bank who just opened a beauty salon just up the street. She just opened a month ago, and she's having more problems than she knows how to deal with. Its a complicated situation, but I'm confident we can put her on the right track. I've also been working with a couple of other women from my business seminars who are trying to get loans to start their own businesses. I hope I'm here to see them open up and become successful.

BUSINESS SEMINARS
The business seminars are turning out to be the most rewarding and successful thing that I have done here in terms of sharing some of my knowledge and working with people to improve their situation in life. Its been amazing to me the lack of basic knowledge that exists (such as how to calculate interest on a savings account). I'm sure I would be similarly amazed in the US. Of course, that's why I'm here, right? I was able to secure Peace Corps Small Project Assistance funding for the seminars which is what enabled me to keep the price low (about 40 cents per week) while giving handouts and having guest speakers.

Attendance has hovered around 40 people each week, with most of the same people returning each week, but some new faces coming in each time, despite the fact I have stopped marketing the seminars. People are attentive and ask questions when they don't understand. And luckily, my french seems to be good enough as to not cause problems (it helps that most everything I'm saying is written down on the handouts). I've also continued to have guest speakers, including the return of the bank auditor from Douala, Inspector Bata, who did a great job once again.

I took two weeks off for the holidays, and I restart this week with a seminar scheduled for every Wednesday in January before ending the series of ten. I will likely restart the seminars in March, giving me time to evaluate and take care of some other projects during the month of February.

SCHOOL
My students have been doing quite well, and even my older kids seem to have calmed down a bit and are more willing to learn (they were rebelling for a while). English is a tough language to teach, but I figure if I teach it like I was taught french, then hopefully they can get somewhere. Before the holiday break, we talked about Christmas and used the Santa doll that a friend sent from the US to review parts of the body.

The last day of school before the break, there was a retirement party for the physical education teacher who had been there for over 20 years. As part of the festivities, my two classes (the older kids) played a small soccer tournament with three teams and three games. The kids asked if I would play with them, so I rushed home and put on some shorts and shoes and went over to the field. We tied the first game and lost the second. Its been a long time since I've played soccer, but I had a great time running around with my kids.

PEACE CORPS
It seems as though fate is against the business program here in Cameroon. After our semi-effectual founder left last June (he was mentally gone long before then), we have had a series of administrative delays and two final candidates choosing other positions at the last minute (with no backup candidate!) highlighting the inefficient human resource processes of our beloved federal government. It seems they make you jump through so many hoops that many people (and probably the best qualified) just get tired and give up before they reach the end. So, here we are once again with a candidate who has chosen to go elsewhere and have "reopened the search process" which means we couldn't possibly have anyone here before July. Since I leave in August, that means the burden has to fall elsewhere or it falls through the cracks. So far, I and my fellow volunteers have written the program's year-end report, redesigned both the three month pre-service training and the one week in-service training (which will be held here in Edéa the second week of February) and created recommendations to update the project's five-year plan (we can't actually update it without a program director) among many other things. The simple fact is that if the volunteers didn't do it, it wouldn't get done, or at most would get done in name only.

As chairman of the business program steering committee, I've been trying to move the program forward despite these issues. At the training in February, the newer volunteers will be choosing my replacement as I work towards the completion of my service. After that, I can only hope for the best.

Just a quick word on the money situation. It seems that our federal government has delivered to the Peace Corps what public policy folks call an unfunded mandate. In other words, do more with the same amount of money. At least in our case, this is becoming impossible and the seams are beginning to show. Its not clear how it will all resolve itself, but the increasing lack of administrative support, inconsistent payments to volunteers and even reduction in medical support has already caused some volunteers to decide to pack up and go home early. Just wish us luck, and if you feel inclined, call your congressman.

On the bright side, the Peace Corps Africa pagne (fabric) arrived! I bought a couple of "complets" (6 yards each) and decided to have shirts made for George and myself. The tailor finished with them, and George was very happy and I expect he will wear it on a regular basis.

Merry Christmas!

2004-12-24T14:37:00.000+01:00

I don't have time to write all the details of the last few weeks at the moment (I'll have some more time after the New Year), but I did want to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from Cameroon!

I'm currently in Buea in the Anglophone region of the country with some other volunteers. We just finished climbing Mt. Cameroon, the highest peak in all of Central and West Africa at 4095 meters and a 3100 meter vertical climb. It took us three days for a total of 27 hours of climbing. Details to follow.

The highlight of the week had to have been, however, a call that I received from Kristina, who is now back safely in the US. She sounded great and called to let me know that she was getting better and is leaving the hospital for outpatient care after next week! It keeps getting better! A Christmas miracle for all!

All my best for a happy and healthy 2005. -pete

She's Home!!!

2004-12-16T10:22:00.000+01:00

Just a quick, excited update to let you know that Kristina is, by the time you read this, resting carefully in a hospital near her home in the United States!!! Thank you again for all of your thoughts and prayers. She is now talking, moving around, and even eating soft foods! Its all going in the right direction, and I'm hoping that we'll be able to go skiing together next winter when I'm back home in the US as well!

'Memoirs of a Geisha' by Arthur Golden

2004-12-07T09:37:00.000+01:00

I had always thought of 'Memoirs of a Geisha' by Arthur Golden as a "chick" book. I'm not really sure where that came from, but maybe it was because I have only known women to admit that they've read it. Anyway, I decided to put that aside, and while it does center around the life of a woman and the women around her, I would not classify it as a "chick" book. It was well written, well researched, full of interesting details and the inner thoughts of a pre- through post- World War II geisha living in Kyoto. I came away with an understanding of why Japanese women dressed as they did, with the white makeup and all, how it felt to be living in war-torn Japan, and some background on the non-confrontational nature of older Japanese. Its that rare great story where much can be learned, and a different culture appreciated at the same time.

Food, glorious food!

2004-12-07T09:35:00.000+01:00

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Happy Thanksgiving! I realize I'm a few days behind, but I'm just now recovering from our in-country holiday celebration. It started on Wednesday and didn't end until Monday morning... Yes, it was one of those.

Wednesday afternoon, Shannon arrived in Edéa from Ebolowa. She was planning on coming to Thanksgiving at my house anyway, but I asked her to come a day early to be a guest speaker for the third of my seminar series, "Sources of Financing". She arrived just two hours before the beginning, but we were able to pull it off quite successfully. We even ran over a few minutes and didn't quite finish all we had to do. Shannon brought a nice fresh air to the seminars and reinvigorated all of us.

After the seminar, Shannon and I bought some items for a salad and headed back to my house to eat. The night before I had decided to make a quiche from scratch (the only way to do things around here) for the first time. I had a few logistical problems, but it turned out great. I only at a little of it on Tuesday, so I reheated it. By the time dinner was over, five other people arrived and finished everything off. They also finished the case of beer I had bought that afternoon. The party had indeed begun.

We decided that due to peoples' varying schedules, we would do all the shopping, cooking and eating all in one day. So, we woke up and split up into teams to accomplish our goals. I was assigned to the 'market' team (given my relationships with the market mammas), while the 'white man store' and 'beer' teams went in separate directions. The first stop for the market team was to pick up the special vegetables I had ordered that local folks don't normally eat- spinach, broccoli and cauliflower (all of them virtually impossible to get a hold of in the villages of my friends, so it was a real treat). After dropping that off at the house, we continued on to the "real" market armed with large market bags, hats, suntan lotion and lots of energy. We knew we'd need it.

Its not everyday that four white folks show up in the Edéa market. And while they've become used to me, its still quite an occasion. We made friends quickly by spending lots of money to feed the 15 hungry volunteers who were going to eat that night. A friend of mine even gave us a sack full of grapefruit as a gift for our holiday. When we had finished much of our buying, two of the group went back to the chicken lady and carried home five live chickens (at $4 apiece) and a dozen eggs. Imagine if you can, two Americans riding on the back of motorcycles trying to juggle five live chickens and a dozen eggs. Quite funny. Cheryl and I stayed with the market bags we had already accumulated and went in search of a few last ingredients. By the time we got back, cooking and cleaning was in full swing, with headless chickens running around my backyard. I, however, had to teach, so I took a shower, changed and went to school.

I taught my younger kids all about Thanksgiving and its history- the version we learned in school about the Pilgrims and Native Americans being best friends. It just seems easier to teach it that way. I used it as an opportunity to teach basic vocabulary words like, "cornucopia" and "religious exile", not to mention, "primitive agrarian techniques". No, not really- words like "boat" and "corn" and "turkey" were quite enough.

I returned to my house to find the chaos continuing, but the chickens were now in supermarket friendly pieces, plucked and everything. A few of the women had taken over the kitchen while a couple of the men were out in the living room cutting and peeling vegetables. I decided that my task was going to be grillmaster. With some help from other male grillmasters, I was able to get my brand-new grill going (more like a hibatchi, but it worked just fine).

In the middle of cooking, Shannon decided to take a shower. Gene had already broken the shower head that morning and replaced it (with Gene, we don't ask questions -like about how he broke it). Sometime in the middle, she lost water pressure and discovered that water was leaking from the pipe going into the water heater and spraying all over the hallway. I was called in, and between about four of us, we figured out how to turn off the water from outside the house. The cleanup began, but not before flooding the guest bedroom and hallway. Luckily it didn't get into my bedroom.

By nine o'clock, we had mostly cleaned up the water, and dinner was ready. Just before it was put on the table, my family called from South Carolina. I was passed around the house, and spoke to my parents, brother, cousins, uncles and aunts who were all gathered for the big day. I was sad I couldn't be with them, but next year I'll be there!

In addition to chicken (we didn't go for turkey since its always a "yard bird" here and therefore very tough), we ate green beans, sautéed spinach, mashed potatoes, stuffing, biscuits, gravy, salad, and broccoli and cauliflower with cheese sauce. For dessert, we had carrot cake and papaya pie (which was kinda like pumpkin pie, and tasty). Both Sylvie and Alain came over for the feast and they were a bit overwhelmed by the number of americans, but really enjoyed the food. We spent the rest of the night drinking and catching up.

The next morning, we headed out to the beach at Kribi. Since it was my house, I hung back to wait for the plummer to fix the busted pipe. By four o'clock, the plummer hadn't arrived, so I left with Susan who waited with me, to enjoy the beach. We arrived to find the others making dinner (good timing!) Before eating, I checked into my room just steps from the water and took a shower (since I had held off due to the lack of working shower at my house), after which I felt like a new man.

That night and all of the following day were occupied with swimming and eating. We did have a meeting which was the supposed reason for our being together where we sat around and talked about the things we liked or didn't like about Peace Corps and updates on each of our projects. The beach was perfect, and the water was a little cool for a hot day. For dinner, we were invited to a friend of the Peace Corps' house. He's a really nice Nigerian guy who's been friends with generations of volunteers, and now everyone within four hours of the beach knows him. He also happens to be a great cook, so we stuffed ourselves on shrimp and chicken. Afterwards, we rolled ourselves over to the festival that was going on in town (as I said, its festival season here!), where we stayed until about 3am.

Needless to say, we didn't get out of bed until around noon, when we rolled right into the ocean. After a lunch of shrimp cocktail and chicken sandwiches, we all returned home. It was sad to see everyone leave, but we had a great time!

Monday, December 6, 2004

This past week, the auditor from CAMCCUL regional office in Douala came down and talked about the basics of accounting- principally the importance of keeping receipts and writing things down. He arrived just two hours before the seminar, and since I hadn't been able to contact him by cell phone, I didn't know that he had prepared the accounting session, and not the loan reimbursement theme that we had originally talked about. There was lots of last-minute scrambling, but luckily Mr. Bata is a really good speaker. That was a good thing, since we had a record 43 people in attendance! People really responded to his method of presenting, and I really believe folks learned something! To celebrate, I took George and his daughters out for a drink (since they are 6 and 3, they split a Fanta).
Thursday night, my friend Tina came through on her way back home. She was helping another volunteer change posts since the one she started out with wasn't working out. That afternoon, Will had called to let me know he was coming in for the night from Yaoundé. I told him to pick up something for dinner. A man of his word, he returned with a kilo of pork loin from the best butcher in country. We made a fantastic pork roast with roasted potatoes and vegetables. I had to explain to Tina that we don't eat like that all the time. She's struggling a little in her bank, but we talked about different ways of making that work for her and I know she'll work it out.

Friday morning after Tina took off, I had my hair cut. Mom, its a good thing you're not here to see it, since its the least amount of hair I've had since the day I was born. Its just too darned hot here! Friday night, Will had been forced to stay in town due to a lack of available space in the car returning to his village. The two of us enjoyed an evening at the Mpoo festival, which is Edéa's biggest party every year. We met up in town, and there was a parade of young folks with homemade torches that came down the main drag and over to the festival. We just became a part of the celebration as they were going where we were heading! It was a bit of a slow night at the festival, but I knew a number of folks there, and Will and I sat and had a beer and grilled chicken with fries and fried plantains. Tasty.

The rest of the weekend was taken up with finally submitting Alain's green card lottery application by internet, and Sylvie cooking dinner at my house on Sunday (she made ndolé with smoked fish and shrimp, and I made banana pudding for dessert). And sleeping a lot.

Hope calms injured volunteer's family

2004-12-01T09:23:00.000+01:00

By Julie DeHerrera
The Salt Lake Tribune
Salt Lake Tribune

Like millions of American families, the Udy family gathered Thursday and gave thanks.
They are thankful that their daughter, Kris Udy, is alive, although she lies in a South African hospital 9,927 miles away from her Utah home. She was severely injured in September while serving in the Peace Corps, but is slowly recovering.
"You'd think we'd be devastated, but instead it's been turned around," said her father, Ivan Udy. "We have hope and it has made me more thankful. We are at peace."
A graduate of Olympus High School, Kris Udy attended the University of Utah and graduated with a degree in social work and a minor in French in 2002. While at the U., Kris became involved in HIV/AIDS prevention.
Always close to her brother, Josh, she joined the Peace Corps in June 2003, making a two-year commitment to work in Africa - mirroring the time Josh would be in Fiji serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Concerned about his daughter's venture, Ivan Udy asked, "Why would you want to go to a Third World country?"
"Kris told me, 'Dad, you are missing the point - it's where they need my help,' '' he remembers.
The Peace Corps sent Kris Udy to Cameroon, West Africa, where many residents speak French. She was stationed in the village of Baré [pronounced bah-RAY], where she taught high school English and included HIV/AIDS prevention in her curriculum.
On Sept. 19, Kris and 13 other volunteers attended a meeting in Bangem, a village in the province of Littoral, said Henry McKoy, Peace Corps regional director for the African region.
After the meeting, the group met with the tribal chief of Bangem, then decided to find a ride to the bigger town of Melong, where they could catch buses back to their homes. Traffic is minimal on Sundays, and the group arranged a ride in a rickety truck used to haul beer.
Finding reliable transportation is up to volunteers, who are trained to check out tires and watch for other safety issues, McKoy said. Riding in the beer truck "was not a good decision," said McKoy. "It had consequences to it."
Isabelle Moses, a volunteer and friend of Kris, remembers the day was "gorgeous" following a morning rain. The road, a reddish-brown strip among the lush, green grasslands of the bush terrain, was well-packed and the weather was dry.
Twelve volunteers climbed into the bed of the truck and two sat in the cab with the driver.
Moses says the volunteers in the back had noticed the truck was accelerating, when suddenly it sped out of control and flipped over.
Volunteers and their belongings were flung out of the truck. The driver fled and has yet to be found.
Kris, 24, was thrown out and her head was slammed against a rock, leaving her unconscious and convulsing. Others suffered broken bones and cuts.
One volunteer used a satellite phone to call for help and an ambulance. A hollowed-out van with two first-aid kits arrived to take Kris to Douala, a five-hour ride.
After Kris was stabilized, doctors realized that it would be best to medevac her to Unitas Hospital in Pretoria, South Africa.
Paralysis still grips the right side of Kris' body, a symptom of her skull fracture and traumatic brain injury.
Taken off a ventilator last week, Kris has been able to communicate by slowly raising her fingers and using some sign language. Her father and stepmother, Roxanne, arrived four days after the accident, with help from aides for Sen. Orrin Hatch, R-Utah, and stayed for 16 days.
Moses, who suffered a broken elbow and collarbone, also was able to visit Kris before flying home to San Francisco. On their days off, she and Kris had enjoyed traveling and doing service projects in the region.
''It was really important for me to know she was going to be OK,'' said Isabelle. ''She is truly a friend for life.''
Kris' mother, Rose, is now with Kris, who is improving. The Peace Corps is paying for her care and rehabilitation.
"She is a fighter," Ivan Udy said. "The past 10 days have been better. She has been more responsive and awake a lot more."
The Udy family now hopes to have Kris home by Christmas. "We've done all we can do," her father said. "The doctors have done all they can do. It's now in the Lord's hands."
deherrera@sltrib.com

The festival, the festival, I want to go to the festival!

2004-11-23T09:11:00.000+01:00

Monday, November 15, 2004

The festival season has begun here in Cameroon. Until New Years, there's a major celebration somewhere just about every week. Sadly, I missed (for the second time) the end of Rammadan celebration which is famous in Foumban. Sometime in early December is the Bali Fest in the anglophone area. This week is the Mbog-Liaa festival right here in Edéa which is followed in two weeks by the Mpoo festival a few miles down the road. I went to the second night of the Mbog-Liaa festival with my friend Sylvie, who sells onions and peanuts in the market. Sometimes she sells garlic too (she has a thing for roots, I suppose).

I had "fait le marché" on Saturday morning, the Grand Marché, for the first time in weeks- having eaten some of food that had been storing up in my cupboards. I always chat with my friends who sell various items in the market, but because of her placement, I end up talking to Sylvie both on the front end and just before I return home. The weather was a little cooler than it had been due to a big rain the night before. And, I didn't have much going on (and another market friend invited me to lunch for ndolé) Anyway, we got there a little early, but made up for it by staying late.

Book Report: The Peaceful Thief

2004-11-16T10:11:00.000+01:00

My dear friend, Ditas, sent me 'The Way of the Peaceful Warrior' by Dan Millman thinking that I would get something out of it. It prominently features her alma mater, Cal-Berkeley, and is a philisophical/self-help search for the meaning of life. While Millman is a poor writer (I don't say that often, since I can usually find something to appreciate) but he has a good message. While he uses a contrived platform for delivering his sermon on vegetarianism and Buddhism, in the end (the VERY end) he discovers that happiness comes from within and its possible all the time (in other words, the search for happiness is a waste of time and energy). I do believe in the message, I just wish it had come from someone else.

Another book that showed up at my house via Will was 'The Orchid Thief' by Susan Orlean. I never saw the movie "Adaptation" which was based on this book, but I'll certainly rent it when I get back. Its almost like the movie "Best in Show" of the flower world (yes, there is a 'best in show' award for flower shows), but this story's entirely true! If you've ever been to southern Florida and driven around the Everglades, you can appreciate the setting and the kinds of folks who live there. But, if you've ever known someone (or yourself) who is obsessed with something seemingly meaningless (like collecting exotic flowers) then you'll enjoy this book. Some people really are nuts, but if they're happy, maybe we shouldn't judge so quickly.

Book Report: The Sound and the Cider

2004-11-12T13:48:00.000+01:00

'The Sound and the Fury' by William Faulkner

I never had the courage to pick up a Faulkner book before now. I guess I felt a bit intimidated. When the back cover says its one of the 20th century's greatest novels, I even feel justified. Even so, I decided to pick up 'The Sound and the Fury' just to give it a shot. During the first chapter, I was thinking to myself that a PhD in Literature (or at least English!) was necessary to wade through and even interpret what was going on in this book. It was really a humbling experience. As the chapters progressed, the light became a little brighter, the characters came a bit into focus and the storyline, such as it was, became discernible. Of course it doesn't help that two of the main characters have the same name, and that the first chapter was "written" by the mentally retarded brother. In the end, its a book that should only be read if you have the time and willingness to read it two or three times in a row. Otherwise, the unique style and prose of Faulkner is all its cracked up to be, its just that reading a puzzle makes the first few pieces have a lot less meaning. If you read it again knowing what the puzzle's supposed to look like in the end, I'm sure it would be a lot more fun.

'The Cider House Rules' by John Irving

I wasn't too encouraged about reading 'The Cider House Rules' by John Irving, when I came to be the temporary owner of it. I had seen the movie several years ago and couldn't remember anything special about it. In fact, I remember it being rather sappy. My sometimes postmate, Will, had taken it and read it and highly recommended it though, so I thought I'd give it a read (especially since someone else has asked to borrow it). While the story line on its surface is pretty predictable, the story-telling is engaging. And one thing I have to say about John Irving is that he writes the smoothest and most interesting transitions between sub-plots that I've ever encountered. His technique is a pleasure to read. What on one level is a morality tale (or immorality tale, depending on your point of view) of abortion versus adoption, its also a catalog of how many different ways its possible to love someone. I can see why this book was so enticing to Hollywood, but there are some stories that are a little too complex, a little too subtextual for the big screen, and should be left alone.

Now we're cookin' with gas!

2004-11-12T13:44:00.000+01:00

I've been a busy little bee since returning from Yaoundé, where we had a very successful and productive meeting of the SED Steering Committee. I decided just before going to Yaoundé that I was going to start giving business seminars to the residents of my fair city of Edéa. I gave myself only a few weeks to get it going, but that was on purpose, since I tend to work well (or at least better) under pressure. Before leaving, I had gotten the endorsement of the local delegate for the ministry of agriculture (who happens to be a friend) and he promised to lend me his conference room for the seminars.

Following my return, I put together some flyers and posters and started distributing them. I talked to all my friends, who all promised to come (only some did to the first one, but there's still time). Finally, yesterday was the big day. I had no idea if people were actually going to show up or not. I had decided to make them pay a small amount to cover the cost of the photocopies -equivalent to about 40 cents, or $3 for all ten of the seminars. I left the bank around 2:30pm for the seminar which was to start at 3pm. I picked up the handouts at the photocopier (my friend owns a converted shipping container that holds the copier he bought with a loan from our bank) and was the first one in the room. Cameroonians are well known for never being on time, but I was hoping that since they knew it was a White Man doing it, that they could at least try to arrive 'à l'heure'. As three o'clock came, there were about ten people in the room. It wasn't what I was hoping for, but I figured ten people is a lot more than the zero people I would reach sitting in my office that afternoon. I decided to wait a few more minutes until the Delegate arrived -since it was his conference room, he wanted to officially open the seminars, and he ended up staying for the whole thing! He gave a nice introduction, and by the time I started at about 3:20, there were over 30 people in the room! It turned out that there were 35 people who attended, with about half of them paying up front for all ten of the seminars. I was pretty happy at that point, so I continued with my two hour lecture. I finished around 5pm, and took questions. The questions were all great, relevant, and showed that they understood what I was talking about and paid attention (I was doing the whole thing in french, mind you, so I expected some people to fall asleep or just get up and leave). When it was over, I was pretty exhausted, but several people came to tell me that they were really happy I was doing these seminars and were looking forward to the other ones. George, my counterpart, who handled taking attendance and collecting money, said that folks were really pleased and that I should expect to have 50 people or more next week! I can't wait!

Teaching continues to go well, and my youngest kids now know how to tell time in English! My older kids are getting the hang of the present-continuous verb tense (ex. I am writing). I read the younger ones the book, 'Goodnight Moon' which they enjoyed (thanks again to Darien Book Aid!).

The mother of the president of the bank (actually the current and former, since they're brothers) died a couple of weeks ago. She was 84, which is an astonishing age here in Cameroon. I was invited to the funeral ceremonies which took place last Friday and Saturday. Since neither George nor I wanted to spend the night in the village (where there would likely be no available beds), we went early Saturday morning with a small contingent from the bank. I was advised to bring a gift for the occasion, so I bought a case of boxed wine (really sweet red wine from Spain that people LOVE and prefer to drink chilled). After a series of shared taxis (my left leg fell asleep quite completely and I almost fell down getting out of the car), we arrived at the house. I was tucked away off the road, but we followed the music. Before the cermonies began, I was asked if I wanted to see the body. I hadn't known the woman (although I did type up and design the program for her funeral), but I did know that the only acceptable answer was 'yes'. So, we went into the house, which was shrouded in white and purple fabric and had been cleared except for the elevated coffin and chairs around its perimeter. The coffin was made almost entirely of glass, which was a little surprising to me. I had been to funerals here that had a little glass window that you could shut right where the face was, but this one was all glass, except for the wood edges holding the glass bits in place. She was wearing what appeared to be a wedding dress, and had quite a bit of makeup on, making her look almost plastic. She looked like a grandmother.

When things finally got going, I was ushered to the front row for the best view of the Catholic funeral mass that was performed in Bassa (so I understood virtually nothing). After that, we waited around until the music started up again. One of the local musicians is from that village, so I'd seen her before and her style has grown on me. She's litterally a little old lady with an electric guitar who sits and sings traditional songs and sometimes vamps and says whatever's on her mind. She's quite funny, actually. She also sang in Bassa, so her lyrics were translated to me by the president of the women's committee, who has adopted me and told me that I can't leave her next year. After a bit of uplifting music, there were the testimonials, which were much like they are in the US. It was all various family members talking about Grandma's life and what she meant to them. It was touching. Around 2pm, we finally ate (it seems that's the main reason some people had come). I was again ushered to the VIP area (leaving George, Mama and the others behind). The food was great, and I hadn't eaten that much meat in some time. I sometimes forget how much meat I used to eat in the US. When everyone had their fill, we got a ride back with the Delegate (yes, he's also from that village- life here is rather incestuous at times).

Just a couple of parting words about the US election... Contrary to popular belief that all Peace Corps volunteers are socialist tree-huggers (or at least Democrats), there are some republicans among us. I, however, am not one of them. I was only able to follow the run-up to the election on the BBC (and Will and I scored a Herald-Tribune with the transcript to the first debate), so I wasn't completely informed. However, I was more than a little disappointed by the outcome, both for President and Congress. I hope that Bush is able to cut the cowboy crap enough to make it acceptable for someone else in the world to be associated with us. We may be the biggest and the best, but the world is a lot less unequal every day. At some point, even bullies need friends.

'Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs' by Chuck Klosterman

2004-10-23T13:38:00.000+01:00

Will, my sometimes postmate, was sent 'Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs' from the US, read it, and thought I might enjoy it. I wanted a humorous book, so I went with it. The author, Chuck Klosterman, is a master of observations on pop culture. And since he's about exactly my age (we graduated from college the same year), his observations were highly amusing to me. That said, I don't think anyone born outside of the years 1970-1977 will either find it funny or even understand what he's trying to say. Whole chapters are devoted to such 'Gen X' topics as 'The Real World', 'Guns and Roses' and 'Star Wars' vs. 'Reality Bites'. Although I am exactly the target audience for this book, and I appreciated much of it (even laughed out loud a number of times), I thought it was a bit uneven. It would have been a better book if it had been tightly edited and cut shorter. I realize that there's not much market for a 150 page book, but it felt like 100 pages of filler wasn't worth much either.

In process: Faulkner's 'The Sound and the Fury'.

New starts, new motivations

2004-10-23T13:02:00.000+01:00

After the accident, and seeing good friends have their Peace Corps experiences cut short, I returned back to Edéa with a renewed sense of purpose. I have decided that, much as in life itself, there is no need to waste even one day. As such, I have poured myself back into the bank and teaching. I have developed a series of seminars which I hope to start giving in November, have worked with several people wanting help starting their businesses, and have worked with George on even more ways to help the bank be financially sound and grow. Frankly, you never know when things might change, whether you want them to or not.

Susan texted me last week to ask if she could come by for the weekend while she was en route to Yaoundé for a meeting. "Of course", I said, "I'd love to see you!" Susan was not severely injured in the accident, and I think that everyone involved still needs a little bit of togetherness. Its tough to return back home to be alone so soon after such an incident. With that in mind, Susan arrived, and we began eating. Since we both like to cook, we ate quite well in the several days she was here, including tacos with fresh guacamole and salsa, chicken salad, and breakfast burritos (not to mention chocolate chip cookies). My mother, upon her visit here, said that in my blog I spend a lot of time talking about food. As she was leaving, she said, "Now, I understand why."

I'm back in Yaoundé again for the SED steering committee. Since we're effectively without a program director still (five months and counting), the committee has lots of work to do over the next four or five days. When I arrived, I found many friends here for lots of different reasons, and even though I ended up sleeping on the couch for lack of beds, I felt good. Earlier in the evening a group of us headed over to the weekly US Embassy social gathering to have a steak sandwich, fries, cold beer and a movie. The movie turned out to be 'Spiderman 2', which was awesome! Loved it!

Naked Cats - more books

2004-10-14T09:48:00.000+01:00

'Cat's Eye' - Margaret Atwood

Margaret Atwood, the author of 'A Handmaid's Tale', threw me for a loop. I looked at the cover, a rather sureal monk hovering over a bridge holding a large blue sphere. I had a recommendation from a friend (actually its her copy), and I wanted to read something a little on the fantastic side. Well, I can tell you that 'Cat's Eye' the book was interesting and even good, but it wasn't what I was expecting. It was a memoir of an artist (one of the paintings described within is on the cover) looking back on her life, and therefore her influences. Its certainly a story about women, probably written for women, but I liked in nonetheless. If you're a woman, it'll probably hit home, hittin? all the themes?of friendship, alienation, puberty, relationships gone wrong, and all the rest. What I liked is that she wasn't bitter about anything, it was just her life, and without it she wouldn't be who she is in the end.

'Naked Prey' - John Sandford

A summer beach book in the best way, 'Naked Prey' lives up to its billing. Its fast, interesting, scary, and really hard to put down -to the point at which I slept little during the two nights it took me to finish the book. John Sandford has written a whole series of 'Prey' books, and this is the first I've had a chance to read. I'll tell you that the next time I'm in Wal-Mart looking for a bestseller to read on the plane or at the swimming pool, I'll pick up another. It reads like a movie in your mind, and there's not much chance that you'll guess the twists and turns in this murder mystery until it happens.

Updates and Elections

2004-10-14T09:40:00.000+01:00

Friday, October 8, 2004

Quick update on the situation of those involved in the accident... Ryan has made a miraculous recovery, and he stopped by my house for a minute on his way back to his post. It was really wonderful to see him up and well again. Everyone else has, in fact, been released from the hospital except for Kristina. Kristina is continuing to improve little by little and can apparently ask questions (non-verbally) and understand responses when she is "awake". Everyone is very encouraged. Thank you to all who have written and/or kept her in your thoughts and prayers.

As I've returned to Edéa and tried to continue somewhat normally, interesting things continue to happen...

Alain, my friend from the post office, who wants to go to the US, came by my house for a while the other day. He was very excited since he had just received his Cameroonian passport good for five years. This is the first step in his plan to leave here. He wants my help since he's convinced that I can get him a visa to come to the US (I can't). He's spent a lot of money on his passport (about twice his monthly salary= about $110) and I do want to help him, so we're going to the US Embassy together in a couple of weeks to find out how this might be possible. I think he's much better off going to Canada, but he doesn't know anyone there. What he really wants to do is live with me...

This is also election time in Cameroon. In the run-up to the elections, things have been very quiet in Edéa. There are 16 candidates running for president (to my surprise, there were nine candidates listed on my absentee ballot for the US). Supposedly only about four of these are "national" candidates, in this country the size of California. I won't get into any political statements here (considering my readership, that could send me home), but suffice it to say that the reigning president, who has been in place for the last 21 years, is running against a fractured field. There appears to be at least one candidate for every major religion and every major tribal group? The results w?ll be known a week after the elections, which have been called for Monday.

As in most countries, election day here is a national holiday. Not only do people not work, they're not allowed to go anywhere either. To counter election fraud, they shut down the roads so that people can't be shuttled from one city to the next to vote multiple times.

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

The election was yesterday, and at least in Edea, things were calm. I had talked to enough people to find out that apathy was widespread as the results, it was generally felt, were predetermined. In fact, according to a BBC broadcast last night, there were fewer than 4 million votes cast in a country of about 17 million. Again, its important to state that I'm not giving any opinions, just the facts as I know them.

Will and I spent a quiet weekend at my house, and cooked a mini-Thanksgiving dinner with roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and chocolate pudding (thanks Mom!) for dessert. Sadly, there was no big screen TV with american football.

Oh yeah, some good books I read before the accident...

2004-10-07T09:49:00.000+01:00

If you’re looking for some off-the-wall stories, ‘Villa Incognito’ by Tom Robbins should fit the bill. Its an odd mix of fantasy, fable and commentary on the modern world. It’s a quick read and will put a smile on your face. Entertaining, but not filling.

Somewhat lengthy and certainly more detailed is Yann Martel’s, ‘Life of Pi’. I had heard a number of positive reviews of this award-winning book, so I went in with high expectations. What I came out with was the movie ‘Cast Away’ on a rowboat. Some unusual circumstances, a story of survival and exhaustive detail on how, what and when food and water entered and left the boy named Pi. A bit much for me, frankly. Not to say there aren’t interesting, reflective passages, but the book oversells itself by, at one point early in the book, saying, “I have a story for you that will make you believe in God”. For me, it was more a story of one boy’s determination to live. Overall, read it if you’re looking for a story of survival or are searching for a reason not to cross the ocean by boat – otherwise its over-hyped.

Thanks to my parents who left behind ‘The Rule of Four’ by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason, I was able to read what I’m hearing was one of the most popular books of the summer. Apparently written before, but much in the same vain as ‘The DaVinci Code’, ‘The Rule of Four’ tracks four modern-day Indiana Jones-types who are trying to graduate from Princeton, but seem to find time to decipher one of the more obscure and heavily encoded books in the world. Like the ‘Code’, this was a fast, enjoyable and even somewhat invigorating book. The character development was taken seriously, and the relationships between them were almost real. This was particularly true for the protagonist and his girlfriend, which I was able to relate to a bit too well. In the end, its not a new classic of literature, but a must for lovers of adventure and discovery.

I’ve been hearing about and thinking about reading and almost, but not quite, buying ‘A Walk in the Woods’ by Bill Bryson for a long time now. It finally showed up in the case in Yaoundé and I brought it home. It was worth the wait, since it was really funny, insightful and one of the better books I’ve read in a long time. I literally laughed out loud during some sections and was able to completely relate to Bill and his trials and tribulations. Its less a book about hiking and camping than it is about the search for beauty and appreciation in a world that goes too fast. As my grandmother used to say, “Along the way, take time to smell the flowers” - and read this book.

Keep the prayers coming...they're working...

2004-10-05T09:37:00.000+01:00

Whatever you're saying, whoever you're praying to, keep in up! In an effort not to agitate the "highest levels of Peace Corps Washington", who have also become dedicated readers of this blog, I won't go into the details. I have been hearing from Kristina's parents and they are saying that she is not only hearing and understanding what is being said, but that she is actually able to respond through non-verbal communication. It seems every day that she improves a little bit. She's not entirely out of the woods yet, but keep up the positive vibes and I'm sure she'll get there.

Almost all the other volunteers who were sent down have been discharged from the hospital. Its likely that only two of them will be returning to Cameroon to complete their service, but its expected that all will make full recoveries. Mending broken bones takes time...

Of the volunteers who stayed in Cameroon, almost all have returned to post. One had complications and infections and had to be sent to the US. Its unclear whether she'll return or not. There are obviously some lingering psychological effects of an accident of this sort that will likely not ever completely go away.

I have returned to post and have attempted to resume life as normal. In fact, I have returned with a renewed vigor and determination to achieve some larger goals before my service is finished. Teaching has continued to be a joy, and last Friday I received a large box of books from the non-profit, Darien Book Aid in Darien, CT. I've already used a couple of them, and they're going to go a long way towards helping my kids learn english! Thank you!!!

A story of pain and heroism

2004-09-25T11:57:00.000+01:00

This week has been one of the most horrible in my life.

On Sunday afternoon, I had just finished my tasty ham and cheese sandwich (spoils from my Friday trip to Douala). I was reading a magazine when I received a call from the Country Director for Peace Corps Cameroon, Robert Strauss. He said, "Peter, there's been an accident involving a number of volunteers and they're on their way to a hospital in Douala. I might ask you to go there to be with them and help out."

"Sure, Robert, I will be happy to help out in anyway I can", I replied. He said he would call back in an hour, so I hung up without any details or without knowing who was involved. In an effort not to panic with fear, I decided it would be best just to get ready to walk out the door in an hour, so I took a shower and packed a bag with everything I might need for a couple of days. I then tried calling some of my good friends who live around the area of the accident to see if they were involved or if they had any details. First, I called Andy since he's usually on top of things like this, especially since he lives in the area. No answer. Then I called my good friend Kristina (who went with my parents and I up north for a week). No answer. At this point, I'm starting to get nervous. I then called Isabelle, another good friend who lives right in that area as well. She answered. She was at her house and in-between hysterical sobs and moments of togetherness, I gathered that quite a few people were involved and that she was most worried about Kristina. I told her to get to a hospital (in passing she mentioned that she probably had a broken shoulder) and that Peace Corps was on top of it. I also told her I would meet her at the hospital in Douala.

About fifteen minutes later, Robert called back and asked me to go ahead to the hospital. I picked up the bag that I had packed and walked out the door. I got to the area where the buses come for Douala and there were no buses. Luckily, there was a private car charging the same price going up almost immediately. I waited for a few minutes while the car filled (a total of seven people, including driver in a Toyota Corolla). He dropped me a little further outside town than normal, but there was a nice group of motos waiting and one took me out to the hospital.

Douala General Hospital is actually quite an impressive structure for Cameroon. Its set back in its own campus behind gated security walls. Its not anywhere close to anything, but it has probably five hundred beds. As it was Sunday evening, there weren't a whole lot of people around, but I eventually made it to the emergency room. When I arrived, I found no one. I looked around and there were a couple of nurses and doctors, but no patients. I asked one doctor where the americans were, and he said they hadn't arrived, but that they had received a call letting them know they were on the way.

An hour later, I was joined by Dr. Gwan who had arrived from Yaounde. I had been trying to keep as calm as possible, knowing there was nothing I could do to change or help the situation. Dr. Gwan went about preparing the hospital staff with new details on condition and numbers. At that point, we understood that there were 13 on their way. And all I knew was that some of my best friends here had been injured.

I went up with the Dr.'s driver to wait by the front gate since she had gotten a call that three people were making their way inside and couldn't find the Emergency room (it is REALLY hard to find, and far from the front gate- not the best architectual planning). I passed Matt on the way in and since he didn't looked to banged up, I just pointed him in the right direction and kept looking for the others. I never did find the others, since they went around a different direction. Eventually, the cars started coming in though. One more Peace Corps car with the other doctor, an ambulance and a Mercedes of a doctor in Nkongsamba.

As the ambulance entered, I ran back to the emergency room area and watched in horror as the doors were opened and a number of my friends were there in various positions, two appearing to be seriously injured: Kristina and Nancy. Cathy was with Kristina, talking to her, rubbing her, and she was obviously having wild seizure-type activity. The doctors had to almost peel Cathy out so they could remove Kristina from the back of the ambulance. Cathy was clearly in a state of shock, having spent the past couple of hours doing the same thing. Once Kristina was taken out, it was clear there was a severe injury to her head. There was blood everywhere. In fact, they brought her into the corridor of the hospital to take her off the stretcher and put her on a hospital gurney. A hand-sized pool of blood fell on the floor, and every time for the rest of the night I went outside, I had to step over it. I went to go hold Cathy, another of my best friends, who had injured her shoulder. The others slowly made their way into the emergency room.

I worked to take care of the rest of the volunteers as they were being processed, wounds dressed, x-rays taken and initial shock wore off. I also worked to get them food, since they hadn't eaten since the morning. All told, three people were put into intensive care, another three had serious breaks and eight people had minor breaks and various scratches and abrasions. I ran around to all the different rooms, and after midnight was allowed to see the three in intensive care: Nancy, Ryan and Kristina. I wasn't actually allowed inside, but I looked at them through the windows from the visitor area (kinda like the windows into the rooms for newborns in the US).

I finished up delivering food, medicine and generally looking after people after midnight, at which point things slowed down. The drivers had already gone back to the trucks to sleep, and I just didn't think I could, given all that was going on. I eventually tried to go to sleep, both in the truck and in the waiting room, but both were uncomfortable and I couldn't get my eyes to close. Around 4am, I got up and went to visit Kristina and the others, just looking through the windows. Sending positive thoughts. Praying.

The next day, I started going around to folks about 6:30am, and of course everyone else was awake as well. I brought around food, water and toiletries (the hospital doesn't even provide soap for the baths or sinks, much less toilet paper!) At that time, I started piecing together the whole story of how this all happen.

All fourteen of them were at a fifteenth volunteer's house for a weekend "meeting". Basically all of the volunteers in the general area were there, but the village they met in was two hours up a mud road from the nearest main road and larger village. They were all leaving at the same time, so the paid the driver of an empty pickup beer delivery truck to take them all to the main road where they could get real buses to take them the rest of the way home.

At least once on the way down, the road was in such bad condition that they got stuck and had to get out and push the vehicle a bit. About an hour and a half down the road, with 12 standing in the back of the pickup and two inside the cab with the driver, the driver lost control of the truck, fishtailed and flipped the truck over into the ditch on the side of the road. In the process, everyone in the back went flying out, and the two inside were jostled around quite a bit. Apparently it flipped over entirely and ended up on its side on top of Greg's foot. Two of the lesser injured hearing his cries, with super-human strength lifted the truck up. Others immediately realized that Kristina was the worst injured and was in fact unconscious, went to stem the bleeding. She had been thrown out and landed head first onto a rock, crushing the top right side of her skull, and sending part of the skull into the brain matter tearing it.

The driver, although bleeding, fled the scene in a private vehicle that passed by in the direction they had just came. In his defense, if he was caught by others from the larger village, its very likely that "jungle justice" would have taken over and he would have been killed for causing a horrible thing like this (he may still be in danger).

The next car coming down towards Melong, the larger city in the direction they were going, stopped and the driver came over to help. He was so hysterical and trying to order people around that they actually sent him away. My friend Cathy is EMT-trained and was able to take control of the situation in a calm manner, which likely saved Kristina in the end. The next few cars were a bit calmer, and shuttled everyone down to Melong and to Nkongsamba where a basic hospital is located.

On the scene of the accident, Lisa used the satellite phone she was lucky to be carrying to call Peace Corps. They began to scramble to get whatever was needed out to the volunteers. In Melong, they waited over an hour for Peace Corps to tell them definitively if they were going to be able to find a helicopter for Kristina and a few of the others who were bleeding (four received cuts to the head and were bleeding from them). They were eventually told that none could be found (apparently they had even called the President of Cameroon's office looking to use his, to no avail). And so, they proceeded along with the ambulance (which is essentially an empty minivan here, with NO equipment inside except a couple of boards for picking people up and a first aid kit) they had found coming from Nkongsamba.

On the road from Melong to Douala, the closest city with a decent hospital, there are likely 100 speed bumps. Not only was this incredibly painful for them, but also slowed their trip significantly. Along the way, the ambulance even got a flat tire and stopped in a different town to buy a replacement. It seemingly just got worse and worse. Meanwhile there are five people in the back of this ambulance, one unconscious, one with multiple broken ribs and three others with assorted broken bones or caring for those severely injured. Some eight hours after the accident, they finally arrived at the hospital.

XXXXXX

The following day, I did lots of visiting, bringing food and the backpacks they were able to collect from the scene to them so the ones who were able could change into clean clothes after taking a shower. In the afternoon, the Peace Corps Country Director arrived with a counselor, went to see everyone, packed up the eight least injured and returned to Yaounde where they could all be a little more comfortable around Peace Corps headquarters. Many of them were lodged by US Embassy staff who had heard about the accident and wanted to help out.

I stayed back with Dr. Gwan, and we worked to medivac two of the seriously injured guys, Greg (with the crushed foot) and Ryan (assorted broken bones and severe internal bleeding in the hip area). Greg was put into a leg wrap around a half cast and was in severe pain. Ryan seemed much more in control, but certainly wasn't walking anywhere. They each got their own ambulances, and the Peace Corps SUV followed. The roads in Douala are horrific as is the traffic. I rode in the ambulance with Greg to help try to keep his mind off the pain- he felt every bump in the road, of which there were many. We got about halfway to the airport and ran into traffic that was not going anywhere due to some accident ahead. It was only a two lane road, so we did a U-turn and went the really long way to the airport on even worse roads. It was truly torture for them.

When we arrived at the airport, we drove right onto the tarmac to the waiting Air Ambulance jet. It was basically a converted six or eight seat corporate jet. The crew of two pilots, two nurses and a doctor were there and took over as soon as we arrived. They did a checkup of the two guys, gave them some morphine and we loaded them onto the plane. Just seeing this crew and their equipment and the way they talked to and handled the guys, I felt so much relief.

After the plane took off, we finally ate a real meal and checked into a hotel on Monday night. It was quite a relief to sit down and eat a good meal. When I got to the hotel, I couldn't sleep for a couple of hours since I was still pretty wound up, and I noticed all that time on my feet had caused them to swell. I guess I am getting old...

Tuesday was the the day to prepare for the departure of the two most seriously injured, Kristina and Nancy. Because of their injuries, the doctors were afraid of swelling and the effect of altitude on them, so they were held back a day. During the night, Dr. Paul, the head Peace Corps doctor for West Africa, arrived and woke Dr. Gwan and the driver to go out to the hospital to visit the four remaining women. In the morning, I got up early (I slept maybe four hours) and went shopping for food and flowers. Since fresh flowers are hard to find and sometimes not welcome in the ICU, I went to the 'Chinese store' and got some plastic-y silk flowers for the four women who remained in the hospital in Douala. They really appreciated them and the food. I spent a lot of time with each of them, including several hours holding Kristina's hand and talking to her. She remained in a coma, but was kicking around and having other seizure-type movements.

The plane took longer to arrive than expected, but eventually took off around 2:30am. This was after two hours of prep time with the medical team from the plane who had come to the hospital to look over the charts and ensure that the two women were transported correctly. Kristina was obviously a particular worry since she needed to be respirated by hand during the transport, and Nancy had accumulated some unwanted fluid in her chest which had to be drained. It was not easy, but I rode in the ambulance with Kristina, and we did it all again. They arrived safely early Wednesday morning.

Wednesday was a bit easier, and we didn't even get to the hospital until almost noon. Isabelle and Erin were the last two, both with arm, elbow and shoulder injuries. They went out on the midnight flight to Johannesburg thru Nairobi. Isabelle had been dating and American ex-pat in Douala for a while who came by to bring food and even bought me a drink while they were getting their things together. Everyone was happy to get out of the hospital, so we ended up hanging out at the hotel until it was time to leave for the flight. Dr. Laura, one of our doctors, escorted them and they enjoyed the business class flight down. One of the advantages of getting in a car wreck, I suppose.

Thursday around noon, after doing some shopping and visiting a friend in Douala, I had my own driver who took me to Edea to get a change of clothes and then onwards to Yaounde. The eight who had left on Monday were all still there, and we were all happy to be together. Since then, I've been hanging out, decompressing and going through some counseling sessions. We even had a pool party at the new ambassador's house (which was pretty sweet). Slowly things are returning to normal.

We're all still really worried about Kristina. Her parents are now down with her, but her condition has not really changed since before she left Douala. She's still in a coma and we're all hoping and praying for the best. If you have a moment, please pray for her as well. If you want to see a picture of her, the link of photos from my parents' visit has one or two of her. She looks like she could be my sister. In some weird way, I guess she is.

Photos from Mom & Dad's visit

2004-09-17T23:11:00.000+01:00

I finally had an opportunity to upload photos from Mom & Dad's visit in July. Enjoy them, we had a great time!

Jeanah and Will and back to normal...

2004-09-17T13:49:00.000+01:00

Jeanah had returned to the US about two months ago after her uncle and Godfather, whom she was very close to, had died rather suddenly. I had not seen her since her return. Since we'd become friends through the SED Steering Committee and other activities, I decided that my close proximity called for a visit.

The visit, however meant that I was not going to make it back to Edéa for another week, since staying up in that part of the country until Saturday necessitated that I attend a large party called 'Cowfest' (more on that later). I called my former postmate, Will, who was staying at my house, to ask him to stop by the bank (since we still don't have a phone) and let them know I wasn't going to be there for a week. With that done, my week was free to visit friends and villages I might not otherwise have a chance to see.

I should back up and tell the brief story of Will's move. I just realized I hadn't written about it, and it was quite interesting...

Will decided several months ago (coinciding with a theft at his house in Edéa) that he would prefer to live out in a small village where he could truly become part of the community he was helping. In Edéa, as an agro-forestry volunteer, he had to either meet with farmers as they came into town, or take cars out to villages in the early morning and return that evening. I have to agree that he wasn't as happy or effective as he could have been. Between his sponsoring organization, and NGO called Cameroun Ecology, and Peace Corps, they decided to move him out to a village called Ngonga. George Yebit, the Peace Corps program director for the agro program, arrived one day several weeks ago with a truck to move Will and all his things out to Ngonga. Will had moved the previous week from his house into mine, and was temporarily living with me. Will said they could use some help, so I offered to go along, curious about what a "real" village post in the jungle looked like.

We loaded up the covered pickup with all of Will's stuff, and Will and I climbed in back with it all, since the front seat was all taken up with the driver, George, and Will's counterpart (who had to show us the way). We started out on the main road, turned off onto a paved side road and about twenty minutes later hit dirt, actually, mud. Since its now rainy season, there are no more dirt roads. There was quite a bit of bumping around in the back of that truck, but we were holding it together. Once, we came upon a bridge, the driver looked at it, and even though it was V-shaped (as in, about to collapse), backed up and went over it quickly. Another time, a bit later, we stopped. I thought we had arrived, but when Will and I got out of the truck, we discovered we had stopped due to a fallen tree entirely covering the road. We weren't sure we'd be able to remove it, but we got out the machetes we had and started hacking and pulling away. Between the five of us, only twenty minutes later we had cut a path on the right side of the road large enough for the truck to pass. It was one of those times I truly felt like a stereotypical Peace Corps volunteer in West Africa. Three hours after we had begun (and two and a half after hitting the mud), we made it to the village, which was more like a grouping of about ten houses on both sides of the mud road.

We stopped at the store (emphasis on "THE") and found someone who knew where the empty houses were. The first was across the street. We went in, looked around, and decided it looked like it was abandoned twenty years ago, did not have a drop roof and of course didn't have electricity or plumbing. There was also the remnants of a family graveyard in the frontyard. Not a good start. While the driver was eating some boiled porcupine with tomato sauce (not as bad as it sounds), and I was recovering from the ride and preparing for the unloading and return trip, Will and George went to look at the other available house up the street. It was apparently better, but not in move-in condition either. So, we unlocked the mayor's house (the mayor of Edéa is from this village and has built a large brick house amidst the much smaller houses) and carried all of his things into it, even as the rain was beginning to pour. Before the rain got worse, George signaled the departure. I turned to Will, who I've become good friends with, and said, "Good luck". With that, we took off back from whence we came.

Alright, back to Jeanah...
Katie and I decided to spend most of the day in Baffoussam since there's not a whole lot to do in Babadjou. She did internet, while I found Anna and had a drink. Afterwards, we all met up with some of the brand new volunteers for more drinks, but this time in front of the TV in a quiet bar above the main road to watch the Olympics. This was the first I'd seen of the olympics, and I was really getting into the women's weightlifting and one-man sailing events, not to mention team handball. As dark was approaching, Katie let me know that we should head on out since Jeanah had promised to cook dinner for us.

When we arrived in Babadjou, it was pitch black, and in villages, there are no street lights. Although Katie knew where she was going, the afternoon rain had left the steep stone/mud steps leading downwards to Jeanah's house almost deadly. I felt like a two year old just learning how to walk, taking each step so carefully. Jeanah had prepared a nice pasta meal for us, which was nicely complimented by boxed wine (bottled wine is SO bourgeois). No one wanted to try the stairs again after our wonderful evening together, so I "volunteered" (was volunteered?) to take the sleeping bag on the floor.

The next day, since I had no specific plans, I decided to hang out with Jeanah, visit her bank, do some errands in Baffoussam, and stay there again that night (Katie had offered to cook this time). After some meet and greet at the bank, we went into Baffoussam and met the Alain and Pat, the new volunteers, for a tasty lunch (one of the best meals I'd had in that town). After finishing the errands, including some quality internet time for both of us, we returned to the Olympic Bar, as it had since become, for more exciting events, already in progress.

We stopped on the way back for some grilled goat on a stick (brochettes de chevre) to compliment our dinner, as requested. We arrived and dinner was far from complete (Katie claimed her day was jammed full of people parading through her home to see how her previous week had been). So, we worked to finish dinner, ate and Jeanah and I returned to her house to sleep. Sometime in there, I had arranged to stay the next night in Kumbo, with another new volunteer I had become quick friends with, Scott.
I started out early, since the trip to Kumbo was projected to take about four hours. It took about five, but who's counting. It was relatively painless, and Kumbo, despite not having any paved roads and a hilly terrain (not a good combination in rainy season), was a wonderful town. Scott's almost postmate Anne was also visiting, so we all went to the market together and decided to have beef stew for dinner. We did some other shopping along the way as well (Scott was still buying items for his new home, including a guest mattress). We had a great time, and dinner turned out fantastically. Afterwards, Scott set up his laptop and we watched "Bowling for Columbine", that he had brought with hime, and I had never seen before. Moore can really be annoying, but he gets his point across...

The next night, I was supposed to stay with Jen, who lived on the road between Kumbo and Bamenda. At the last minute, she decided it wasn't a good idea since she had some other things going on, so I continued down the road and stayed with Mike, the business volunteer in Bamenda. He also works at the headquarters for my branch bank in Edéa, so we had plenty to talk about (this is the same Mike who went to the same high school as my father). As always in Bamenda, I eat really well and sleep horribly. I don't know why. Dinner of grilled fish and chicken with fried plantains and greens was fantastic, and the bed was lumpy with roosters waiting outside the window for five a.m. to roll around.

The next day I met up with my friend Cathy and others for a nice cheeseburger lunch meeting to discuss the problems of our bank network with one of the guys from HQ. Following that (and preceeding it) was lots of shopping! We went to the clothing market in Bamenda where I found a gorgeous traditional outfit that I bought for a great price, and two McDonalds uniform shirts (one to wear and one for the host) for "Cowfest", which was the next day.

"Cowfest" is a concept developed by my friend Greg, a devout carnivore, based on a dream he had. In this dream, a Cameroonian cow was not hacked up at random by a butcher's unknowing hand, but was carefully cut wit care, revealing ribeyes, New York strips, and filet mignons. A dream where meat was grilled over a smokey fire, not boiled into oblivion. He decided to make the dream a reality, and invited us to share in its manifestations.

About forty volunteers showed up that Saturday afternoon, from all over the country. It was like Woodstock, but with beef instead of music. It was indeed beautiful, if not the smallest bit primal. I arrived early to help prepare items like potato salad and mashed potatoes, and ate and drank for a good eight hours straight, ingesting about two pounds of meat alone. I didn't really care what my innards were going to do in revolt, it was yummy. Oh, and it was also great to see friends I hadn't seen in a while and catch up on Peace Corps gossip.

The return home was long, but I made it there before dark the next day, which is all I really cared about. I slept a lot.

A few days later, my former postmate Will, and his girlfriend Brookes came up from a brief trip to Kribi. They were supposed to meet me up near Bamenda for Cowfest, but were unable to due to a problem with his good friend who is now based in Kribi. Apparently, he became friends with the wrong crowd, who discovered that he had a portable computer in his house. Of course, they showed up at his house late one night with machetes and knives in hand demanding his computer. He was somehow able to escape out the back door and scream to his neighbors who came running. The guys with the knives dropped everything and ran. Nonetheless, he was quite shaken and felt it was only a matter of time before they came back for him and the computer. He no longer lives in Kribi...

Alain, my "buddy" from the post office, has been around recently as well. One day a couple of weeks ago, he came by asking to have a chat. I'm not real keen on our chats, since they normally end in him asking for something. This time, he came to inform me that he had applied for his Cameroonian visa. I had told him a long time ago that if he really wanted to live in the US (every Cameroonian's dream), he had to have a passport before he could even apply for a visa. He's convinced that I'm going to get him a visa and that he's going to come live with me. I didn't think he was going to follow up on the first step, but it looks as though he has. We'll see...

Last week, I also received a call from Alain letting me know that his brother had died of tuberculosis (read: AIDS). This was the third sibling (two brothers and one sister) who had died of the same thing within the last ten months, all of them between 25 and 35 years old. He was upset, but seeing as this was the same brother who threatened his life and beat him only three months before, I think it was a little easier than the last one. Its still quite sad though, and I gave him a little money to help the family out.

The big excitement in town last week was the collapse of market bridge. The market is laid out in one big circle around a primary school and the mouth of a creek. During the evening (luckily), there was a mudslide which caused the retaining wall connected to the bridge, and thus the bridge, to collapse. Unfortunately, there were two women on the bridge at the time, although is seems they were not killed. The whole city was using this as evidence that the government did nothing. Of course, within days, the government put up a sign saying they were in progress of repairing it. Since the elections are supposed to be next month, there's a chance for a quick fix...

Book Report: 'Prozac Nation' by Elizabeth Wurtzel; 'Noble House' by James Clavell

2004-09-06T10:03:00.000+01:00

I never really understood how it feels to be completely, clinically and almost mortally depressed. 'Prozac Nation' written from personal agony by Elizabeth Wurtzel is an almost painful self-examination of what goes through your head when you're thinking about ending it all. While its well written, it does become a bit tedious, if for no other reason than she's so consistently depressed and goes from doctor ?o doctor, has?fights with her mother and ends up in bed with the wrong guys. Its almost sadly predictable self-destruction. If you've ever been there (or thought you have), read it to reassure yourself there are people worse off than you. If you've never been curious about what it must be like to slit your wrists just to see if you have the guts, then you're probably better off skipping it.

'Noble House' by James Clavell took me entirely too long to read, but its not the book's fault. Well, I suppose its 1370 pages could've slowed me down a bit. I borrowed it from my friend Shannon when I went visiting, figuring I should read it since I enjoyed the previous and connected story of 'Tai-Pan'. This story happens some three generations later, with the same family and its struggle to stay atop Hong Kong in the 1960s. There are so many well developed characters, plots and subplots that I think at one point I was confusing people in the book for people in my own life. It was that engrossing.

On the down side, and there's really only one, the close of the book made it seem like Mr. Clavell received an urgent call from his publisher demanding to see the draft immediately. As a result, he created an all too abrupt ending conveniently tying up ends that probably should have been left dangling. I won't ruin it by saying how, but if you do read it, consider stopping 100 pages before the end to save yourself the urge to throw the book at the wall for cheating itself out of being completely and thoroughly excellent.

Doile in Bandjoun: Remembering my Aunt

2004-09-06T10:02:00.000+01:00

The next weekend was the long-awaited funerailles, or doile, for my homestay family aunt in Bandjoun. She had died about six months ago and buried her but there was not enough money to receive extended family. As a result, the custom here is to plan for a day of rememberance when the family can afford a big party. Well, this was indeed a big party. It was half solemn remembrance and half celebration of life, which seemed like a pretty good balance to me.

The night before, I stayed with Anna in next-door Baffoussam after stopping by Yaoundé to see a couple of folks in the office and do a little email. I also saw Fran and Ted one last time before they got on the plane, and helped two new volunteers up to their posts, which are beyond Baffoussam. Katie, my homestay sister (volunteer in Babadjou) was also there, so we had a chance to catch up before the doile.

The next morning, we headed over together (Katie and I) to the family's compound where the preparations were underway. There were four women cooking on three fires and kids doing prep work (and playing). The preparations continued throughout the day and night until the next morning, they (I helped a little, where there was 'manly' work to do) had prepared enough food to feed a hundred people two times during the day on Sunday (that's a LOT of food). The only electrical device that was used during the entire process was a borrowed blender used to chop hot peppers.

Our compound is next to grandpa's house, which is a bit more run down, but Grandpa still seems happy. He usually spends a good part of his day up the street at the bar sharing gossip and talking about the good 'ole days. He speaks a very small amount of french, relying on others to translate for me from grammala (the language of Bandjoun). He has a big open space outside his house that is just perfect for the doile dances. I'll do my best to explain how it works.

The older men, who have been through this many times before, congregate around two tall drums (one skinnier than the other to make a different sound) in the center of the space. One or two people are choosen to beat the drums and most of the others take one or two shakers (hand rattles usually in wicker with dried beans inside). One or more of them decide which traditional song they are going to sing, the drummer begins ?he beat and the?dancing and singing begins. Each song lasts about fifteen minutes. After the older men have started, other men join on the inner circle and/or form a circle around them and march/dance in a line counterclockwise around the main group of musicians. Around that circle is another circle of men and boys. The third and outer circle is made up of women and girls (there can be other circles added of all male or all female if there are too many people in the circle, all moving counter-clockwise). Many of the women who were relatives or otherwise close to the deceased carry items representing or reminding them of him or her. In the case of my aunt, there were people carrying articles of her clothing, photographs, pots from her kitchen and ears of corn to show that she took care of her family. Many of the women and some of the men (including Papa) were openly crying, many with tears streaming down their faces, during these dances. Each "session" was comprised of between two and four songs. There were three sessions that day, with about an hour break in between each to eat and drink.

The first break was held in Grandpa's house for the men (women were outside Grandma's kitchen). Katie and I (even though she's female) were escorted inside Grampa's house and given a plate of food and a beer. After eating, the second dancing session started. This time, I decided that I should dance some and joined the outer-most men's circle. Since I had been assured I was a member of the family, no one said or did anything that led me to think that I wasn't supposed to be in the circle. After one turn, I really did feel like I was supposed to be there.

The next eating break was held at our house. Benches and chairs were set up outside, in addition to those that are normally inside. People flooded in, and the food was doled out on large trays. About half the food that took a day and a half to prepare was gone in one hour, with the help of about 100 people. The other half disappeared after the third food break, which was also held at our house, and lasted for the rest of the afternoon.

Since Katie and I are members of the family hosting, the custom is that we are helping to serve the meal, not to eat it. As a result, we were not allowed to sit down with the other guests. Momma felt that we should be eating though, so she gathered a large platter of food and a few beers and set us up inside the bedroom. It was kinda funny, but she didn't want anyone to see us eating.

That night, after everyone had left, the younger members of the extended family and neighborhood had moved the shakers and drums to an aunt's house (next to Grandpa's) for the celebration part?of the doile. ?his was a similar counterclockwise dance around the main musicians, but it was much more upbeat, and the dancing was happy and faster. There was also no separation between the men and women, and many children participated. I got a bit dizzy going so fast in circles, so I had to sit down after a time, but everyone enjoyed it, and it was a nice release after the sadness of the day.

Finally, late morning on Monday we were 'allowed' to leave the family. That was not before Papa had time to go to the market and send back "provisions" for Katie and I. We both left with a large sack of potatoes, watermelon and papayas (I think he looked for the heaviest items he could find). Feeling the love, we left, making our way to Baffoussam and then on to Babadjou. I had told Jeanah, Katie's postmate, that I would come visit her while I was around that part of the country, so I had to make good on my promise.

Swearing-In of new volunteers

2004-09-06T09:59:00.000+01:00

In the weeks after my parents left, there was lots of travel. I'm not sure that I really got a chance just to lay down and sleep until this past weekend. I continue to have a great time though. It did take a toll on my reading though (see book report), which isn't so awful.

I went to Mbalmayo for the swearing-in ceremony of the new volunteers the first week of August. I had been there twice for training, and I wanted to be there to show support (and to hang out and get to know them better). I ended up going to Yaoundé a little early to get some other business taken care of (including working on some embassy funding for projects here in Edéa such as a chicken farm and a palm oil plantation). A group of us took a bus down early the morning of the ceremony just in time to have an early morning drink with the "hard-core" crew of new volunteers. One guy, a Quaker no less, was on his third large beer (.6 liters each) by the time we arrived (9:30am). It reminded me of college graduation, and frankly wasn't so far removed from that for many of them.

The ceremony went smoothly with speeches in english, french, and the local laguage of Mbalmayo (all by new volunteers). Afterwards, there was a reception with lots of food, which was a nice bonus for coming down. I took the opportunity to get all the business volunteers together for a presentation to our eldest volunteers, Fran and Ted, who were ending their service early because of family reasons. Fran and Ted had stepped in at the last minute to serve as technical trainers for the entire 9 week training program in Mbalmayo, abandoning their post and house in Baffoussam. Several other volunteers and I got tog?ther to write a?proclamation expressing our gratitude for going above and beyond the call of duty and our sadness at their early departure. They were very emotional as I read it in front of everyone, and then we took our last picture together as a big group. After that, most of the "older" volunteers returned to Yaoundé after some more post cermony drinking. I stuck around the "case de passage", our home in Yaoundé long enough to help a number of the new volunteers do some last minute shopping before getting a ride on one of the chartered buses which took them to their new homes.

Mom & Dad- Part IV: The End of the Road

2004-09-06T09:54:00.000+01:00

In Bamenda we stayed at the Hotel Ayaba, the only hotel outside of Douala and Yaounde with an elevator. With all of the african food we had been eating, my parents thought it time to have a cheeseburger and fries at Dreamland. It was dreamy. Dad was kinda funny since he was still trying to speak french to people even though we had crossed over into the english speaking part of the country. He still got what he wanted, which I guess is the most important thing. The really weird part of the night happened just after we arrived. I noticed a white person out on the balcony, so I went over to the door to figure out if I knew him or not. It turned out to be the business volunteer based in Bamenda eating with a Cameroonian friend of his. He invited us to sit with him and we started talking. As it turned out, Mike (who is about 55) not only went to the same high school as my Dad in Cleveland, but also grew up on the same street (albeit a long one)! It was a really strange coincidence which launched into a protracted "where are they now" and "do you remember" discussion. It was a great night for my Dad, and truly an "Its a small world" moment.

I really wanted to visit my friend Susan, who's a business volunteer in a village called Bali, just outside of Bamenda. As luck would have it, she was down in Bamenda for her mid-service medical evaluation, so we didn't see her. I still decided that we should go to her village, since she had told me many times about the artisan village there supported by the Presbyterian church (actually, its become so profitable, that its the artists who support the church). Its one of the few places in this country where you can go see craftsmen at work chruning out amazing pieces with mostly simple, almost primative tools. For example, most of the wood carving happens with a wood mallet and chisel.

After that, we headed up to another village not too far away where another friend, Greg, is posted. Sadly, he was in the US on vacation and couldn't show us around either. We did check out the chefferie there, which had been written about in some famous English book called the "Bafut Beagles". Anyway, it was pretty neat, but they wouldn't let us into any of the "secret" rooms.

We made it back into Bamenda in time for a late lunch, which just so happened to be attached to Bamenda Handicrafts! Mom was happy, and between lunch and shopping, we all spent about three hours and several hundred dollars. I was particularly pleased with a large carved wood drum that I got for myself which was so large, I had to ship it separately to my house in Edea (it cost $10 for the wrapping and transport). I absolutely love it, but I haven't yet figured out how to get it back to the States.

After a bit more shopping, my friend, Mindy, called to ask where I was. She was en route back to her post north of Bamenda, so I asked her to join us for dinner. Sister Rose is one of those restaurants that don't look like much, but the food is damn good. Between five of us, we ate an entire grilled chicken, an 18 inch long grilled fish, cooked greens (called njamma-njamma) and fried plantains. We were bursting, but very happy. Sleeping that night was not a problem for anyone.

Early the next morning, we shoved off for the long drive back to Edéa. We arrived very tired and went straight to sleep. The next day, we drove down to Kribi for the day to relax a little (Kasimir was particularly happy to lay out on the beach with a cold drink). We had a wonderful lunch and then dinner on the beach (shrimp, of course) and drove back to my house in time for bed. The next day, we began the unpacking and repacking ritual, trying to figure out how to get everything that everyone had purchased (including some things that I had accumulated over the last year) back to the US without paying supplementary baggage fees. It wasn't easy, I can tell you.

That night, we were invited to the home of one of the bank's former board members, Emile. His house was chosen to host the bank's reception for my parents since its the nicest and most conveniently located (he's a gendarmme, sort of a paramilitary police unit). There were about twenty people who showed up including almost all of the women's committee and the board of directors. The women had cooked all day and we all ate and drank for several hours. Speaches and presentations were also done, with me providing translation services. The board gave my parents some really nice carved wood items, and my parents brought a camera for the bank and some American fl?g lapel pins,?which they really loved. They also brought some things that I had bought for the bank's computer.

After finishing packing the next day, we headed out to Douala airport. I talked my way through customs (without paying, thank you very much) and all the way up to passport control. I left them there and returned home to sleep. The whole trip had been a success and I was really happy that my parents had an opportunity to come here and experience life here in West Africa.

Mom & Dad - Part III

2004-09-06T09:41:00.000+01:00

We got off the train and went directly to the Yaounde Hilton. No passing go, no collecting $200. The Hilton is one of about three truly modern, relaxing and western hotels in the entire country (the other two being in Douala). O?ce we checked i?, there was a sigh of relief at seeing the rooms, and then a race to the bathrooms. Everyone took multiple showers, and between the cleanings and following naps, we finally rejoined a few hours later for a nice lunch, poolside. Even though we had only completed the first part of the trip, my parents made it clear that this was the type of treatment they preferred.

Sleep and eating occupied the rest of the day and the guy who was to be our driver for the rest of the trip, Kasimir (who also went with me to get my parents from the airport on their arrival), arrived around noon for the drive up to Baffoussam. We loaded all our junk (I mean suitcases) into the car, along with my friend Kelly (who wanted a ride to her post which was en route) and took off. We dropped Kelly off at her house in Bafia, and my parents got a first look at how many volunteers live- down a muddy road, often without electricity or running water and with little furniture. Dad took pictures and we continued on to the Talhotel in Baffoussam.

One of the things I have learned here, is to not plan much in advance, since everything can change very quickly. As a result, I had only made one hotel reservation (which I had to change), for the Hilton. It was a little unnerving for my parents, I think, to plan on staying in hotels that had no idea we were coming. It all worked out fine though. Once in Baffoussam, we had dinner and decided to visit nearby Foumban the next day followed by dinner at the homestay family in Bandjoun.

Foumban is a little over an hour from Baffoussam and is the home of one of the oldest kingdoms in Africa. The kingdom dates back to the 13th century and has in recent history, established a museum in the palace to chronicle its uniqueness and to show off the pieces of art and culture accumulated over time. The first order of business, of course, was shopping. There's a rather unique artists' village where they sell items from all over West Africa, but also produce a great deal of bronzework, embroidery, pottery and carved wood items. There are over thirty merchants and artisans, so we were there a LONG time. Every so often, we'd send someone back to the car with handfuls of bags of purchases. I picked up some nice bronze figurine candlesticks, a mask or two and a cool ceramic vase (which apparently broke a bit on its return). Once the money had essentially run out, we continued on to the market, had a bit to eat (well, at least Kasimir and I ate), and went on the palace museum tour. The museum is pretty impressive and has traditional items, secret society costumes, weapons, enemy skulls (often made into lovely drinking vessels) and instruments. One king even developed his own calendar and alphabet which was on display. ?0A
Dinner ?hat night with the Fotso Jean family was fantastic. We were a little late, but that allowed the rest of the family to assemble before we arrived. My homestay mother, Agatha, was jumping up and down. My mom had a big smile on her face and the kids attacked me when we entered the compound. There were over thirty people there to greet us and welcome my parents to Cameroon and to the home where I lived for three months, a year before. There was lots of food and music and after dinner, dancing and photo-taking. One of the gifts we brought the family was a basic camera and film, which I taught Papa how to use, and was very happy to have. We also brought lots of things for the many kids, including Shrek fruity snacks and school supplies. Everyone had a super time and we called Kasimir to pick us up and left before it got too late.

Although we had said our goodbyes the night before, Mom and Dad wanted to go see Papa working in the market (and it just happened to be Grand Market day), and I wanted to say 'hi' to the window/glass/mirror guy that I had helped during training. Jean-Guy wasn't in his store, so I called his phone. He responded saying he was working to install windows in the chefferie (which was on our schedule for the day), so I told him I'd call when we got there. We walked over to Papa and took 'action' photos of him cutting up the pig of the day.

We got back in the car, after trapesing through the muddy market of Bandjoun, and headed over to the Chefferie (the traditional chief's compound). There was a French family who had beaten us there that morning, so the tour guide was busy and asked us to wait around for a few minutes. Meanwhile, I called my friend, Jean-Guy. He told me he was just behind the big house and he'd be out in a minute to find me. He found us and took us on a tour of the backside deck of the new chef's house (this is the same chef I went to the installation for in March with 10,000 other people) where he was installing windows on the newly constructed house. The chef's chief of protocol happened to be there with us, and Jean-Guy asked if we'd like to meet the chef. We said that it would be a great honor and that in fact, my father (a city manager in NC) was a chef in his "village" in the US. My dad gave him his business card and a few minutes later we were brought to the front of the house where the chef came out and gave us an "audience". Since my father's french is a bit shakey, I introduced us and told him we were happy to be there. He became very curious about my father's position and I translated both ways. Then, he decided we had passed some sort of test and began speaking pretty good english. He's one of the new breed of traditional chefs who was very successful and was reluctantly?pulled out of h?s life to lead his people. He has a PhD from a French university in chemical engineering and was high up in a local, french-owned rubber production firm. He asked to be able to contact my father and that they work together to help solve some of the problems facing his people. As we were finishing, Dad asked to take a photo with him, which is a rare event. He agreed, just as long as my dad stood on the step below him! I was amazed and my parents thought it was pretty cool. After that, the tour of the museum and grounds just didn't seem all that fantastic anymore, but we did it anyway.

On the way up to Bamenda where we would be based for the next couple of days, we stopped to see my "homestay sister", Katie. She was in the training group after me, and lived with the same family in the same room. As a result, the family is convinced that the best thing that could happen is that the two of us get married. We're just friends...

Katie lives in Babadjou and as an agro-forestry volunteer, she has a nice big yard with fruit trees and a garden plot with all sorts of vegetables. She truly has a green thumb. We enjoyed the brief visit, took a couple of pictures, and were on our way.

Mom & Dad Part II

2004-09-06T09:34:00.000+01:00

At Peace Corps HQ, we picked up my friend Kristina, who would be our "fourth" on our trip to the north. I had told her some time before that my parents and I were making a trip up. She really wanted to go, and being a teacher, the summer was the best time for her to do that. Seeing as a fourth person was necessary to not have a stranger in our sleeping cabin on the train, and we were getting two hotel rooms any way (not to mention the buffer she could provide with her social worker background in case things got testy), so it seemed as though it would be a great idea to have her along.

Once we arrived at the train station, we saw our travelling mates, Debbie and her family who were also visiting. The train was scheduled to leave at 6.30, and we arrived around five. They were just begi?ning to let peo?le onto the train, and there was a mad rush of people going out to reserve their seats. We weren't sure how it worked, so we rushed out as well to find our small room of four couchettes waiting for us -no reason to hurry. We arranged all of our bags into the small room, and settled in.

Debbie had helped us greatly in getting the tickets, and her and her family ended up next door. We sat around in the room for a minute and then decided to go outside and walk around. The time for leaving came and went, marked only by an announcement that the train would be delayed. No kidding. Eventually, it got late and we were tired, so we went back to our little cabin, turned out the light, and went to sleep. We all assumed that at some point during the night we would begin moving and we would wake up en route. Well, when morning came, I woke up, looked out the window and saw the exact same sight that had been there the night before. At 7:30, we began moving and 37 hours after getting on the train, we arrived, exhausted, in Maroua (we transferred to an 8 hour long bus ride at midnight in Ngoundere).

We split up from Debbie and her family, whom we had gotten to know and like pretty well, and found our way by motorcycles to the hotel. Believe me, the sight of my father and mother on the back of a small Japanese moto with their luggage in front of the driver is quite a sight.

After sleeping a bit, we began our grand tour of the Extreme North. Of course, shopping was the first order of business, and a trip to the artisanat temporarily cured those yearnings. After a nice, relaxing dinner at the hotel (which was very cool, run by a German guy and each room was its own round hut complete with straw roof), we found a driver for the rest of our stay.

We left first thing in the morning, stopped by the bakery for breakfast and the bank for cash, and were on our way up to Waza National Park. It was a several hour drive, and we had decided to stay overnight in the lodge there so that we could do both an afternoon drive and an early morning drive, but not on the same day. It worked out nicely, and at the entrance to the Waza game reserve, we got a guide and proceeded on our way. Jean-Paul, our driver, in his Toyota Land Cruiser, was not as aggressive as I was hoping for, but between him and the guide, we managed to see quite a few animals on both the afternoon and next morning drives. These included lots of giraffes, monkeys, cool birds, jackals, warthogs, and four or five kinds of antelopes. We also saw elephant skull bones and dung and a lion paw print. We looked hard for those two, but the roads were already quite muddy and mostly impassable. We missed prime season by about three weeks. The lodge was pretty neat, again stayin? in our own hut?, and was built on a large hill overlooking the plains of the park.

When we had finished Waza part two, we headed back towards Maroua. I had read in my Lonely Planet about a little village that was sorta on the way that sounded neat: Oujilla. Just the drive up was beautiful, up and over rocky hilltops which were all tiered for farming, mostly millet. Once we arrived at the Chefferie, one of the chef's 60 or so sons came out to meet us and to be our guide. It was quite unlike any chefferie I'd been to before, and I was swearing at myself for allowing the battery on my digital camera to go dead (I have hundreds of giraffe pictures, but only two of this chefferie). There were over twenty wives living inside the chefferie, each having four cylindrical, straw-capped huts, all in close proximity. Two were for storage of grain throughout the dry season, one was her own "kitchen", and the fourth was the bedroom for her and her small children. There were common rooms for the chefdom's tribunal, holding pens for animals, and sacrificial altars. It was truly quite a sight. We then continued on to Maroua to finish up the day. That night, we had a nice dinner outside the hotel. Fifteen minutes after returning to the hotel, I got a call from some volunteer friends asking us to meet them at the very same restaurant for dinner and drinks! Very strange, but Kristina and I took some motos over and had a drink with two good friends, Anna and Felice, and Anna's friend who was visiting from the US. We were all planning a trip to Rhumsiki the next day, and since my parents were already paying for the car which had extra seating in the way back, I offered to bring them along.

The last of our daytripping began early the next morning, the three women showing up a few minutes early, eager to begin our adventure. We piled into the car and had a nice ride up, with the scenery gradually becoming more and more dramatic. The weather was overcast, however, and became more and more ominous. When we arrived, we found that our recommended restaurant was not in operation because the proprietor was in the next town 'at the market'. We went to another place that was run by some cousin of Jean-Paul (still our driver). Since lunch was going to take over an hour, we took the guided tour of the village first. We choose the one who could speak english the best. He started us out to the side of the mountain that we had driven up to show us the dramatic valley below. Of course, once we were about halfway out, the rain started to pour down. I stayed with Dad who was having a little trouble with the rocky footing, while the others hurried along. Needless to say, I wasn't so happy for the next hour or so, while we sat under the thatched roofs of some tourist merchants ?ho were all too?happy to see us. We finally made it to lunch, and completed the tour with a visit to the fortune teller who tells the future using two river crabs in a ceramic pot who rearrange shards of pottery in the dark. The old man even spit on the crabs before letting them loose inside the covered pot. My Dad will be successful in whatever he chooses to do, and my mother was comforted by the fact that she will have a grandchild in the next two years (note to my brother: NOT IT!).

The next day we continued our trip by returning early in the morning to the bus station for the return trip, which happily was much less eventful.

Parental Visit, Part I

2004-08-04T21:30:00.000+01:00

July 27, 2004

I'm starting to feel isolated here... I know what you're thinking- 'It took you a whole year in West Africa to feel that way?' Well, I'll explain a bit. In Edéa, not only has the internet café collapsed under its own success and is now essentially non-functioning, but the postal system has gone bankrupt (due to corruption) and I have not received mail in about two months. I actually went into the post office a couple of weeks ago and there was no power because the power company had shut it off for lack of payment. Alain, my friend who works at the post office says he hasn't been paid in three months. No wonder I'm not getting any mail! And, to top it all off, my postmate, Will, has decided to move out about two hours away into a small village that's quite difficult to get to. It'll be great for his agriculture work, but terrible when I need someone to complain to. He'll still be essentially the closest volunteer to me, which is a bit strange considering what a big city I'm in and how close I am to the two largest cities in the country. maybe its a test...

The biggest news is that my parents came to visit!!! (I know, it doesn't really flow from the whole "isolation" theme above, but current thoughts sometimes override interesting recent events.) They left on the 19th of July after being here for a bit over two weeks. They brought more suitcases than I thought were allowable, even for an international flight. Luckily for me, they were filled with good food for me, things for my school kids and gifts to give out during our tour of Cameroon. The empty suitcases also conveniently provided a good excuse for my parents (read: Mom) to buy lots of interesting artifacts as reminders of their first trip to Africa.
I'm not suggesting that it was solely a delivery, purchase and return vacation, but shopping was a prime focus of their stay. Of course, I have to admit that I played my part in the overstuffing of their bags and our car along the way. I even got a large, beautifully hand-carved drum which stands about four feet tall!

I came directly to the airport to pick them up from the training site in Mbalmayo. I was there delivering two sessions on customer service and (don't laugh Frankie) accounting. Luckily I had help with the accounting session from a former accountant. Immediately afterwards, I bolted for the bus company, and made it all the way home before dark. I picked my parents up the next afternoon in Douala.

Gabriel's driver, Kasimir, had been chosen as our official driver for my parents' visit. When we arrived at the airport, I decided that the "Welcome to Africa" statement would best be made with me interpreting in order to prevent frustration too early on. As those of you who fly into third world countries (and New York Laguardia) know, the harrassment by customs, baggage handlers and taximen can be a bit overwhelming if you don't know what to do. Even if everyone genuinely wants to help you, twenty people trying to help you all at the same time is a little scary. So, I 'got to know' one of the security guys covering the exit from baggage claim, where you're not supposed to go. He let me in, and I waited for my parents to come through passport control.

When I saw my parents come through the doors, it was like a Hallmark moment. My mom started crying she was so happy to see me, which got me going as well. I was truly happy that they were there, that they had come to see me, and that they had braved hours and hours of travel to get there. Eventually all of the baggage made it through and we went out to see Kasimir waiting for us.

We drove down to my house in Edea, after eating a delicious meal at a french restaurant with draft beers in Douala. There was a lot of sleeping that went on the next day, with my parents finally waking up somewhere around noon or one in the afternoon. When the dead were finally back with the living, we went through all the suitcases that were hauled from the US. About half of the bags were stuffed with things for me, my bank, or gifts for people we would be spending time with over the next couple of weeks. Among the goodies were lots of protein bars (Mom thought my pictures made me look too skinny and figured I needed a little supplementation, Kool-Aid, cake mixes, peanut butter and parmesean cheese! There were also a bunch of books and school supplies for my students and the kids who live where I work.

After a lazy day around the house, unpacking and repacking for the trip up north, and Chrismas in July, we were invited over to Gabriel's for dinner. His wife made a fantastic meal of mostly Cameroonian foods, which my parents ate and for the most part, appreciated. We drank some good wine and enjoyed his hospitality. The welcome dinner was a success.

The next day was Saturday, big market day or Grand Marche. Of course, I took my parents on the grand tour, meeting all of my market selling friends. My dad took lots of pictures (as he did throughout the trip), and now all my market friends are starting to ask where their copies of the photos are! (They're in the mail!!!) We saw my vegetable momma, fruit momma, egg momma, fish momma, rice and beans dude, and beef butcher buddy. Towards the end, the throngs of people got to my Mom, and we headed out without really catching up with my beignet lady. We got right on the road to Yaounde for our trip up north!

Away for a while, but still around

2004-06-27T14:58:00.000+01:00

I guess I sorta didn't realize what a negative impact on my blogging the essential closing of the internet cafe in Edea would cause. I now only have access when I go to either Douala or Yaounde. Since I've been quite busy recently, its been a struggle just to keep up with the 'work-related' emails. sadly, its my blog that has suffered through all of this. Bad, bad blog writer...

Ok, so my parents are coming in a few days and I'm doing my best to nail everything down before they arrive. Its not easy when there's really no such thing as a reservation in this country. Luckily its not high season for anything, so I'm pretty convinced we'll be able to walk into about any hotel or any restaurant and get what we need. That's the theory anyway. The 'rents will be here for a little over two weeks. In that time, we're going on a full-blown safari, visiting friends all over, visiting the family in Banjoun, and relaxing on the beach. I figure that should cover it. All the while I have a feeling my father will be taking hundreds of photos- this being his first trip to sub-saharan africa. My next update will be after the completion of their visit, so it should be full of great stories.

As for things that have happened in the last month or so since my last update... My classes have finally ended for the year. The last day of class, I decided to make it an 'American Game Day'. So, I brought fun things for them to try (they had never seen any of them before in person). I brought with me (largely thanks to the Charlotte Providence Day School) a yo-yo, silly putty, slinky, and bubble wands. I also had matchbox cars and a water gun. Lets just say that they REALLY had fun for the last hour. One student was actually able to make the yo-yo come almost all the way back up, much to her amazement. Thanks again to the students in Charlotte for sending that stuff up. Next year before I go, I will be giving away all the toys sent to me, so then they'll really have a blast!

My older kids (equivalent of fifth grade) had to take a big state test to graduate from elementary school. They were a little nervous about it, especially since there was an english component to it. I prepped them as best I could, gave them practice exams and so on, and then the big day came. I wasn't there, but afterwards I asked them how it went. All of them said the english part was "easy" for them, and I can't tell you how proud of them I felt. A happy day.

At the bank, things seem to be moving along little by little. We've actually started looking at real estate in the center of town so we can have a more visible location. We're also planning on joining a nationwide network of money-transfers to improve our traffic and revenues. I'm optimistic, and hope we can accomplish this in the next couple of months.

I've recently begun helping a woman who started and still runs a nursery school which is almost next to the bank. She has realized that her money management skills are lacking and wants help. I'm working with her to hire a full time manager and put in some cash controls and budgeting techniques that will allow her and her employees to benefit. I'm hoping it'll trickle down to the little kids as well. Hopefully there will be lots more exciting updates in this story.

On June 5th, I and all those who arrived from Philadelphia with me, marked our first anniversary in country. It seems like so long ago, but time continues to speed up and I feel like I'll be home in no time. On the same day, the newest group of education and business volunteers arrived in country. I've been working with a great team of current volunteers to prepare for their arrival and to develop their training program for the nine weeks of their training. After almost four weeks, it seems our planning has been working out and is providing a solid training experience for them. I have already presented two sessions, and will be presenting two more before my parents arrive. I'm sure my college accounting professor would be on the floor with laughter if she knew I was teaching a session on basic accounting. I've almost got this whole assets and liabilities thing worked out...

Been reading again...

2004-06-27T14:55:00.000+01:00

Recently read books:

"Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" by JK Rowling fell into my hands purely by chance just after completing Year 4. Now, I am completely caught up, but still don't feel like a Harry addict. I am, however, anxious to see the movie of Year 3 that was recently released. Overall, there was a dark pallor which covered the year and didn't allow for any of the light, happy times seen in other years. As such, it was not my favo(u)rite (Year 4 remains the one to beat). It just doesn't provide the light, pleasurable reading I look for in Harry Potter when he's constantly on the run, looking over his shoulder and preparing for what seems like an inevitable early death. At almost 900 pages, I would only recommend it for die-hard fans and those with too much time to kill.

I figured it was time to return to 'serious' literature, so I read "Snow Falling on Cedars" by David Guterson. 'Cedars' was recommended to me years ago, shortly after it came out, by my good friend Ditas, but never took the time to read it until I found it in the Peace Corps Cameroon 'library'. Its too bad it took me so long. I know they made a movie out of this one too (I haven't seen it), and its a good thing. I like books like this one with multiple layers of meaning, stories within stories and so well written that you feel as though you can understand what multiple characters are going through. On one level a murder mystery; another level a man's search for meaning in his life; another, a morality tale of racial injustice and biggotry; and more, many more levels. Highly recommended and a must read.

"Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary" by Simon Winchester was next up. This one had been sitting on my shelf since I arrived, having been inherited from the previous volunteers in Edéa. Its intriguing title, and the fact that it was re-released and positively reviewed in 'Newsweek' (and its short length) caused me to breeze through it. Its a well-researched history of the making of the Oxford English Dictionary over the 70 years it took to complete told largely through the relationship of its most important editor and its largest contributor. With almost 500,000 entries in 21 volumes at its completion, WC Minor alone contributed somewhere around 14,000 of these. The story is fascinating and strictly adheres to facts (virtually no conjecture or fabricated conversations are included) and causes one to have a huge appreciation for the dictionary we now take for granted.

What better time in life to read, "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac, than in the middle of Peace Corps service? The ultimate tale of wandering American youth and their search for some direction in life. Somehow, I can relate, and its one of those books that I'm almost embarrassed it took me 31 years to finally read. I'm similarly embarrassed that I never really understood what the "beat generation" was before reading it. Ah to be footloose and fancy free, leaving women and children behind only to steal cars and find more women and make more children... Maybe the carefree nature of youth truly has left me with the cynicism of middle age setting in, but try as I did to relate to the characters -maybe just one- I found it difficult. Its still an 'important' book which provides an 'inside the mind' viewpoint of a lost generation of youth who returned from WWII with no jobs, no wives or children and no clue what to do next. You should probably read it at some point, if you haven't already.

Currently in progress: "Prozac Nation" by Elizabeth Wurtzel.

Photos from Bafang Funeral

2004-05-28T11:19:00.000+01:00

These photos are the best of the ones taken at the funeral I went to in Bafang, West Province with my friend Gabriel and his wife Annick.

New Look for Year 2!

2004-05-25T15:04:00.000+01:00

Next week is my one year anniversary of my arrival into Cameroon, and I've already passed the one year mark of this blog. I'd like to thank those of you who have read it, those who have written to me in support, and to the wonderful folks at blogger.com and ofoto.com for enabling the whole experience.

I've been at Peace Corps headquarters for the past few days, and have taken the opportunity to update the look and feel of the blog. You can now add comments to individual posts, and I can add photos right into the blog itself (only when I'm in Yaounde though).

I'm looking forward to Year 2! Thanks again for all your encouragement!

-pete

Books Read Recently

2004-05-19T20:51:00.000+01:00

Even with all that was going on, I still found time to read a few good books. I guess that's what happens when you don't have a television to distract you... The first, was my traveling book during vacation (since I had a feeling I would be spending quality time in airports). "Without Remorse" by Tom Clancy is a bit of a departure from the intensely technical and high-stress environments created in most of his other books. A story of a man who has lots of bad luck but fights back is a somewhat old and predictable one, and at the end I half expected him to don a mask and cape and crusade against evil (actually, he sorta does). Nonetheless, it was a good traveling book with lots of heft, short chapters and an engaging plot.

Following that were two books meant to better prepare me for the Foreign Service Exam. The first, "The Lexus and the Olive Tree" by Thomas Friedman is a modern examination of globalization, its origins and where it might be taking the world. Globalization has indeed reached the recesses of Africa and is virtually irreversible. One of the central themes is how people struggle to hold onto their individual cultures while participating in the great melting pot that the world is becoming. I have seen this firsthand here in Cameroon with the increase in numbers of Chinese, Lebanese, Greeks, and even French who have come here to live and make a living. An insightful and thoughtful discourse and recommended to those who wonder whether NAFTA or the EU will work out or whether we have a chance of holding onto that which makes us and our culture unique.

Howard Zinn's, "A People's History of the United States" is not light reading by any stretch. At almost seven hundred pages, Zinn traces the history of the underdog from the arrival of Columbus through Clinton's first term. To say that this book is "anti-establishment" is an understatement. At least in the end of the book, Zinn identifies himself as the radical socialist that is apparent throughout the book. This is not to take away from the enlightening aspect of the other side of history- that of the Native Americans, slaves, women and blue-collar workers. It may be difficult and dense for a straight-read for some, but its presented in a way that at a minimum makes you think twice about what you know about the history of our country.

After having taken the exam, lighter reading was in order. My friend Michelle, on her way to the airport for vacation, was kind enough to leave behind "The DaVinci Code" by Dan Brown. I had heard many great things about it just as I was leaving to come here, but the last thing I was going to take halfway around the world was another hardcover novel. I'm very happy that I did have the chance to read it though, as it was an action-packed thriller clearly written with "movie rights" in mind. I'm sure its in process on some Hollywood backlot as I write this. I'm not going to ruin it for those who have yet to read it, but if you've ever been curious about the connection between science, art, history and religion, its fascinating. The end was a little too sugary-sweet, but I guess you can't have everything.

"Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" by JK Rowling recounts, as you probably know, Year 4 in the magical formation of a timid, unassuming wizard. I was much more impressed by this one than Years 2 and 3, and found myself unable to put it down. One reason I liked it better was that it did not revolve around Quidditch, the descriptions of which I find boring. In the end, its more like "Scooby Doo" than "Murder, She Wrote", but it is highly entertaining and definitely worth reading. Just a note though- you should read them in order. If not, some characters and references in this one won't make sense.

And, just completed, the precursor to "The DaVinci Code", a strikingly similar novel called, "Angels and Demons" by Dan Brown. With the same main character, and a similar plot of evil-doers, coded messages and secret societies, this novel keeps you reading just to find out what happens next. Not quite as compelling as his most recent bestseller, its conspiracy plots and graphic, accurate detail, make you want to get on a plane and go to Rome. If for no other reason than to see what he's talking about in person. I suppose not many novels make you want to run to the library (does anyone run to the library anymore?) or hop on a plane, so I would give this one a thumbs-up.

2004-05-19T20:49:00.000+01:00

At last Easter weekend had come. Kristina was still visiting (we had taken a couple of days to go down to Kribi) and we had been invited to several events over the weekend. It seems that since she had been around for a few days, people thought she was my long-lost wife (not that I ever claimed to have one). So, we were invited to two baptisms and Alain's birthday party. The two baptisms, on Saturday morning, actually occured in the same church at the same time- but the celebrations were held at different times, which allowed us to eat all day both Saturday and Sunday. Churches here are much like the schools and the houses here in construction. They are usually bare cement block or wood plank walls with a poured cement floor and simple wood benches. The only decorations are either built into or nailed onto the building or are small and portable by the priest or minister. Luckily in this church there were also small rotating fans affixed to the walls that provided a little fresh air. Since I had a camera, I became one of the five official photographers for the occasion and was given special permission to move people aside and take the photos that I wanted to take -all in return for copies of the pictures. Not a bad deal, I suppose.

The first party was that of Foukou, celebrating the baptism of his son Christian. He's a relatively new friend who is an extremely nice guy. His son, his first, is adorable, and I don't know that I've ever seen a happier or prouder parent. We ate and drank until we had to go back to sleep. Sunday afternoon, was Alain's party. We didn't know what to expect, but at least Will was there as well. We met Alain at the post office where he works and proceeded to his house where he lives with his parents (he's 22 and dropped out of high school two years ago). I've now been in quite a few Cameroonian houses of varying size and construction. His house was one of the smallest and poorest constructed yet. He also doesn't trust his parents or his neighbors to the point where he locks his bedroom door every time he leaves. We sat in the well-used chairs and shared a couple of drinks (grenadine soda- YUCK!) and peanuts and then headed off to his aunt's bar for food. I was relieved that four other people plus his older brother and mother came to join us- I was beginning to think we were his only friends. We had a nice meal and then excused ourselves to attend the second baptism party. I think the only thing that could've been more different between the two events would be if I had returned to the US for a Bar Mitzvah. The fête was so huge that there was a separate DJ and food for the youngsters (of which I am no longer one). I sat upstairs with the adults and was served Moet& Chandon champagne, among other drinks and ate until I could no longer walk straight, rolled into a friend's car and went home to sleep.

Wednesday afternoon, I left for Yaoundé for the first of several consecutive trips. I enjoy going to Peace Corps headquarters for the chance to see friends I haven't seen in a while and would not otherwise see, but it like going to summer camp, complete with bunk beds. As a result, I don't sleep that well and don't enjoy standing in line to use the bathroom (there are two for 22 beds). This trip was for the two-day intensive Small Enterprise Development Program (SED) steering committee meeting. And, as elected chairman of the committee, I knew exactly how much we had to do. This was not to be a relaxing excuse to see friends (as some meetings tend to be), but a true working session. There are a number of issues confronting us at the same time and the best way to work through them is together. Our primary two tasks were to prepare for the upcoming SED training group by revamping the training program. Luckily, our two senior volunteers (Fran & Ted) had been chosen as technical trainers- much better choices than the trainers we had last year. We also had to do some preparation for the departure of the SED program director and anticipate a four month or more gap in leadership (quality advanced planning by our federal government who knew for about a year of his date of departure). We worked solidly during our time together, and I'm confident we're where we need to be at the moment. We are now fully prepared to lead the training design workshop where we mesh all of the training components together (technical, medical, language, cultural, etc) into one cohesive plan.

After the meeting, on Friday afternoon, I was faced with a difficult decision. Do I go to the annual meeting in Bamenda for CAMCCUL (our bank's network) with the bank president and a couple of my volunteer friends? Or, do I go visit my family in Bandjoun and go to the installation ceremony of the new chief of Bandjoun? A tough choice between job obligation and cultural enlightenment. End the end, I choose cultural enlightenment. I figured the president could handle the meeting and the installation of a tribal chief was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and indeed it was. From Yaoundé, I took the bus up to Baffoussam (with Cathy, who DID go to the meeting- sorry darling!). We took a car up to Babadjou and stayed the night with Katie, a new agroforestry volunteer, and the girl who stayed with my host family after me. To my surprise, Katie had decided to "adopt" one of our host sisters, Françoise, who met us at the door with a big smile. Françoise had been taken out of school and worked as a hair stylist in Bandjoun since her grades were poor and the family had essentially given up on her academically. Katie knew she was intelligent and is now spending a good deal of time trying to prove it to the family and to Françoise herself.

Early the next morning, we headed off to see the family on the way to the Chefferie (where chiefs live). They were quite happy to see us and of course had to feed us something before heading off with the three oldest kids who also wanted to partake in the festivities. We certainly weren't the first people there, but we got there just in time to get situated for the start of the ceremonies. There were in fact thousands of people there, mostly villagers, but also people from Bandjoun from around the country and numerous dignitaries, both political and tribal (tribal chiefs came from all over to be a part of the ceremony). We were standing trying to see the area where the parade would be and we were backed up by security. Then came a number of shotgun blasts from the secret society guards and then right in front of us, the new chief emerged from behind a small enclosure in front of us! He was escorted to his new throne where he presided over the rest of the festivities. His throne was under a separate hand-dyed fabric tent enclosure up several steps from the rest of the guests. The steps to the throne were jaguar pelts held down by elephant tusks. The throne itself was in the shape of a monkey with long, thin arms for the arm rests and face sticking above the head of the chief, covered in white cowrie shells and face painted black.

After the chief was seated, the parade of groups paying their respects began. Some groups were dressed in traditional outfits, some not. Some had shotguns they were using to shoot blanks, others held signs announcing their group. There was also a brass band, which seemed a little out of place. All throughout, the JuJu were wandering around the grounds scaring away the evil spririts. The JuJu are the ones who walk around with canes and their entire bodies covered in cloth. If you get too close, they wack you with their canes.

I got separated from the rest of the group and my friends who had met us there from other places around Bandjoun when I went off to get better photos. I did get much better access alone than with the group, but I was also pickpocketed at some point and was left with only a small amount of money which I had in another pocket. I was a bit angry at this (since I did not any longer have enough to get back to Edéa) and being unable to find my friends, I went on a tour of the Chefferie myself. I took a bunch more photos, but was tired, thirsty and newly broke, so I decided to call it a day and return to the family to rest and wait for the others. Apparently, I missed some of the traditional dances which were held after a food break, but it all worked out alright. I mentioned to my mom upon returning that I had lost money and when dad returned, she explained to him the situation. He could see that I was still a little upset, so he called me outside. He said that something like that shouldn't ruin a good celebration and that in the end it was nothing. He then handed me enough money to get home to Edéa and said he was very happy I came to visit. I was overwhelmed, and thanked him profusely. I couldn't imagine a kinder gesture from a man with not much to give.

That night, I stayed with my friends (and new technical trainers), Fran and Ted, in Baffoussam. The next morning, after breakfast, I went back home to Edéa, anxious for a bit of rest.

The time had arrived to return to Yaoundé (again) to take the Foreign Service Exam, which was given at the American Embassy. I figured I needed a good night's rest before the test, so I got a room at the hotel next door to Peace Corps for a whopping 11,000 per night (about $20). I had a nice dinner of grilled fish and chicken with friends who were in town for one reason or another (many were actually on their way out of the country at the end of their service) and went to sleep early. I didn't sleep all that well, but I woke up early and made my way over to the Embassy. Five hours later, I emerged have completed the exam. It was quite difficult, but if I don't pass it and decide to take it again, I would know what to study for, I think. We get the results in July sometime, and of course, my public policy teachers would be embarrassed if I fail, but I figure I've forgotten quite a bit in the ten years since grad school. The three of us from Peace Corps who ended up taking the test celebrated with a cheeseburger and ice cream at one of the only places in the country who make decent samples of both. After a nice dinner (the last for some friends leaving the country the next day), I left the following morning to return to Edéa once more. Brooke came back with me for the week while she waited for the others in her post-service trip group were being 'processed'.

Tyrone, the parting program director, asked me while I was in town for the exam, if I wanted to participate in a press conference being used to publicize the SED program on the occasion of our fourth anniversary. As president of the group, and as a volunteer near Yaoundé, he felt I would be able to add something to the event. I thought it would be fun and a good test of my current level of french fluency to give it a whirl. When I told the folks at the bank that I was going to do this, they were quite excited. I got there the night before with Brooke (we had a fun and relaxing few days cooking and hanging out and talking about all the things she was going to do on her trip and then back in the US). Early the next morning, we piled into a Peace Corps van and went back to the embassy (to exactly the same room where I had taken the foreign service exam one week before). Three other volunteers were there (two leaving and Carolyn, who came in with me), Robert (Country Director), Tyrone, Sylvie (who does media relations, among other things), and four people from various financial institutions that we work with to attest to our partnership. We got started about a half-hour late (not bad) and the room was filled with press. The TV network (there's only one) was there, several radio stations and a bunch of newspapers- great attendence. We went down the line and made opening statements. I made mine in french and talked about the importance of computerization in small banks and the need for reimboursing loans. After some questions and answers, a couple of reporters came to me looking for additional comments (as did the other reporters with other members of the panel). It was kinda fun, but I still don't know if we made it in print or on air somewhere. We had a big BBQ at Tyrone's house that night, and we watched the english news, which sadly we didn't make. By that time, I wasn't feeling well, so I left the party early and went back to Peace Corps to sleep.

The next day, Friday, was a long one. I left in the morning to return to Edéa for a board meeting at the bank at 2pm. I barely made it back in time. Gabriel, who I hadn't seen a whole lot of since the rally, had asked me to go to a funeral in Bafang that weekend. He called to let me know he wanted to leave that night. So, after the three hour meeting following the three hour bus trip, I took a nap. Gabriel finally came by around 9pm, and we drove the four hours to Bafang. With stops, including a last one at a bar where I was forced to have Guiness because it somehow settles the stomach, we got there around 2am. We stayed with his brother, who happened to be a priest and principal of the Catholic high school in Bafang. We spent Saturday (May Day) going to the Bafang parade, catching up with my friend Andy who was in the parade, and visiting various members of Gabriel's extended family. We even stopped by cooking central where they were busy preparing the night's meal on about eight fires at the same time- mass produced fried fish! Of course we were obliged to taste some of it and some palm wine which happened to be around (it was good and fresh, so it wasn't really even alcoholic yet).

In the afternoon, I went to the funeral service itself, which was held entirely in the Bafang language, so I didn't understand a word. But, since I was there with the priest (his brother assisted in the ceremony), I got a seat near the front of the makeshift church. Dinner was a large banquet, and Gabriel, Annick (his wife) and I were all treated well with good seats and good food. Sadly, the musical entertainment left much to be desired- a man and his keyboard stuck on the samba beat and the microphone virtually in his mouth.

In the morning were the festivities I really wanted to see- the traditional dances. The man they were celebrating must have been one heck of a guy because no expense was spared (I couldn't figure out if the man was actually related to Gabriel or not, since everyone is "my brother" or "my father"). There was a brass band, drummers and all the regalia that comes with the Chief being present (he led a parade of the secret society and JuJu at one point). There were lots of shotguns being shot and everyone was dressed in their traditional best. As we were leaving, we left some money with the two cursed old ladies (they're husbands had died from evil spirits) and I took a picture with them. I wasn't allowed to touch them, less their curse rub off on me. It was quite an experience, and one no tourist ever gets to see. And yes, through it all, I was the only white man there.

On the way back from Bafang, we picked up my friend Loren (and a bunch of pineapples and avocados), who was coming to stay with me for a few days while researching tractors for his village in Douala. We had a great visit and he figured out that his village probably needed a couple of oxen and not tractors to meet its needs.

A couple days after he left, Andy and Kristina arrived for the Littoral Provincial meeting that was held at my house. Even though I had seen both of them just weeks before, it was fun to hang out and catch up a bit. Following a breakfast of french toast, Saturday morning we all went to the market and bought a bunch of food to prepare throughout the day, including about five dozen shrimp. There were not enough shrimp left when we got there, so the guys went back out in the boat, caught more and brought them alive to my house and cleaned them for me (that's service!). We ended up hanging out in my house all day (it was quite hot that day) and cooking and drinking and eating. Alain came by in the afternoon- he had wanted to meet Andy- and stayed to help cook and eat. It was a fun day.

Sunday morning, Andy left early to attend some bank function and Kristina and I went down to Kribi to attend the Battanga Day festivities. My postmate Will and others met us there later in the day, but we arrived just in time for the parade. This was lucky since it turned out to be the best parade I have yet seen in Cameroon. Everyone was dressed up, having a great time and dancing. There were even a couple of floats! Battanga Day celebrates the return home of several hundred slaves who were taken by another tribe (paid by the Germans, I believe) up around Nigeria to work in the early 20th century. They were returned during WWI, and they have been celebrating that day ever since. After the festivities, we had lunch and went to the beach with the other volunteers who were there for the rest of the afternoon before returning home.

The day after Kristina left, my parents from Bandjoun arrived for a two day visit. I had thought they were coming down to see family or something in the area, but it turned out to be a trip to see me and my house- a very sweet gesture. They arrived in the morning (they took the overnight bus from Baffoussam) with baby Katie (named after the volunteer who lived with them after me) and a large basket of food for me. I had told them how expensive food is in Edéa, so they brought some of my favorite things from Bandjoun- pineapples, watermelon and potatoes. Mom and the baby were tired, so they took a nap while Dad and I went into town to see the bank and get some food for dinner. We ended up with a catfish since Dad said he had never eaten a fish before that was still alive when he bought it. Mom cooked it up and we had a great dinner.

Just after finishing, I got a call from Alain to tell me that his brother had just died. His brother was apparently a well-known thief and was serving a five-year prison sentence when he caught tuberculosis and was sent to the hospital. I had gone with Alain once to visit his brother in the hospital and he was quite emaciated but still had a large chain around his ankle attached to the metal bed. He was in the hospital about two months before he finally gave in to the disease (and probably the AIDS that underlied it). I called Will, and we went to the hospital to look for them. They had already put the body in the morgue, so we waited for another call. Finally, we met up with him and went out to his house which is very difficult to find if you don't know exactly where you're going. His mother was sitting on the floor of their living room crying and the elders of the church and neighborhood were arriving. A little while later, some prayers were said and a few songs sung. It was all in the Bassa language, so Alain had to translate for us. It was a rough night for everyone, and I returned home to take care of my parents.

Wednesday morning they left to go back to Bandjoun. I handed Dad some money for the trip (and to pay him back for his kind gift when I had visited several weeks before), and we walked down to the bus stop. I carried baby Katie the whole way down, eliciting strange looks from passersby. Back to work I went, the start of another day of a Peace Corps Volunteer...

2004-05-14T19:14:00.000+01:00

This is a great article for anyone who enjoys my blog shoud read. And, if you're really inspired, I encourage you to call or write or email ?our congressman?2Fwoman and let them know you support an increase in our budget. For example, Peace Corps Cameroon operates on only $3million per year for about 150 volunteers plus all support staff (including two doctors and a nurse).

This is the note the Country Director sent me upon receiving the link himself:

Thanks Pete:

I saw the AP take on this in the daily press clips I get from PC/HQ.
Interesting to see how all candidates are calling on Peace Corps to do
moreand more yet we can't get the money to do what we are attempting to do
right now. From my personal point of view, I would like to see us suspend
all growth world-wide for a year or two so that we could catch up and put
systems in place that could actually handle growth. It's good to have
dreams.

I imagine that we'll see a lot more pro-PC rhetoric as we get closer to
the election. It's all good for Peace Corps - but it does have the
backside problem of unfulfilled expectations. We'll see how it all turns out in
7-9 months.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thank you for your support.

2004-05-09T14:03:00.000+01:00

Thursday, May 6th, 2004

Geez I'm behind! I apologize to those who were formerly loyal weekly readers of the blog who have now become dis-enchanted with my lack of up-to-the-minute thoughts and musings.

I will attempt to update you on the last couple of months in an abbreviated, yet entertaining and culturally insightful manner (if only all my other entries held up to that standard!).

So... I returned to Edéa after a wonderful, refreshing and cold trip to Spain and Morocco. I was terribly tired and was actually looking forward to returning to my home and sleeping for a few days, which I did. Until Monday morning...

Monday was International Women's Day- which seems to be celebrated everywhere but in the "westernized world". Here in Cameroon, its a day off work, and a parade in every city. George called me early that morning to let me where to meet the "ladies of the bank". Our bank's Women's Committee petitioned to the board of directors for funding for the day, and it was accepted. They carried signs with sayings such as 'Save Regularly'- in french, of course. I became the official 'Photograph' and was allowed access into the parade route as our women came up the main road. Although it was a hot day, it was fun and we retired afterwards to a bar for drinks and food.

The following weekend was the Annual General Assembly for the cooperative. This was to be the meeting where all the important items requiring full membership approval were to be discussed and voted upon. The largest item on the agenda were the elections for the entire board of directors. It seems that since the entire board started at the same time and had the same length of service, and had even all been re-elected three years ago at the last board elections. As a result, all positions were up for election and none of the current board could run for re-elected! What came to pass was about six hours of chaos with people jumping up and down, yelling and trying to keep order. Confusion reigned, and the old president pushed through a budget which was never fully explained- and was changed that morning with much disagreement from George and myself. The elections themselves were confusing, with our auditor from Douala seemingly making up rules as he went along- some for the better, others, not. For example, he insisted we stagger the terms of the board so that this would not happen again, but he was in such a rush to finish the meeting that unqualified candidates were allowed not only to run, but to win. Not many people seemed happy with the outcomes.

All of this upset George greatly, and for the next three weeks, he was out sick. I never found out exactly what it was, but it was somewhere between intestinal worms and malaria. I'm not sure he or the doctors ever knew either. I was just really happy to see him again, since it had been me and the treasurer running the bank in the meantime - neither of us qualified or wanting to be there without George.

During this time, I continued to work with the English Club of the Lycée Classique. Jacques Bissou is its president, and he is of the type to pester and pester until he gets his way, or until you're completely annoyed and tell him to leave. He had asked me numerous times to go to the beach, Kribi, with him for a day. Before going on vacation, I told him that I could go after the General Assembly meeting. And, after it was over, I could no longer come up with a valid excuse. So, Jacques, a 25 year old senior in high school (for the fifth year in a row) and I go down to the beach for the day. He asked me to bring my camera, which I did, but turned out to be a bad idea. He wanted to learn how to swim and walk up and down the beach. I really just didn't want to be there and figured if I sucked it up for the one day then he wouldn't ask me anymore.

The english club itself was, and still is, going well. We have new members who join each week and we always have lots to talk about. I had made letters and package sent by the school I was set up with in North Carolina (Charlotte Providence Day) a center for conversation for several weeks. Finally, I asked if they would like to send letters and start a 'pen pal' correspondence with the kids back in the States. They were very enthusiastic, and although there were only fifteen members who were advanced enough to write letters in english and thirty kids in Charlotte, most wrote two letters to compensate. A week later, I collected the pre-sealed letters and sent them in a large envelope. The class in Charlotte has already received the letters and has written some of the students back by email, while others are coming by post. Brian, the teacher there, says his students are loving the interaction, and I know my kids are overwhelmed with joy at the connection.

The weekend of the 28th of March was the 2004 Rallye du Club des Palmes held at nearby Ferma Suisse. This was one of those surreal events that can only happen in a place like Africa. One of the French teachers I teach with at the Centre Scholaire, Michel, asked me if I was interested in participating in the Rally, of which he was an organizer. He mentioned that it was kinda like a treasure hunt with cars. Indeed it was, and quite a ride... I was in my friend Gabriel's car and we proceeded to hunt for clues the Cameroonian way - taking illegal shortcuts and stopping along the way for a cold beer. I was one of the designated athletes in the car, so I ended up doing the bean bag toss and throwing rocks from a moving canoe into a floating tire. Not as easy as you might think... At the end of the day was the swimming competition, and since I was the only one in my group who knew how to swim, the relay became a one-man race. I still came in third place though, so I was pleased. That night was the awards dinner where our team came third to last (out of more than 30 cars). We each walked away with a prize of a t-shirt and two bottles of palm oil. We also had a great time, which is what really counts, isn't it?

It seems like the only things that happen which are interesting happen on the weekend... I guess it was like that in the US too... Anyway, there was a regional meeting for our bank network, CAMCCUL, in Douala the following Saturday. I met George at 7am at the bus and two hours later we were in Douala (an hour longer than it should've taken). The meeting started about 11:30 (three hours after schedule) and after sitting there confused as to why I was there at all, left around 4pm, before the metting had ended to catch a bus to see Brooke. Brooke lives about two hours on the other side of Douala in a village called Muyuka. I had never been to visit her (she was the previous generation of business volunteer), and now she was about to return to the US after two years of service. She had asked me to come up for a visit long before and now wanted help with moving and wanted to give me some very valuable items (kool-aid, wooden spoons, nice pots, etc). I got there just after dark and we went out for grilled fish. Brooke warned me that her "fish mommie" used lots of piment (hot pepper), but I wasn't fully prepared for the extreme heat that was inescapable. I had to track down a kid selling tissues to wipe the sweat off my brow and drank my beer quickly. It wasn't enough. I was able to finish the fish, and found the town's ice cream guy to cool down the body. The next day, we loaded a good portion of Brooke's stuff on the top of a mini-bus and headed back to Douala. She sent her stuff onwards to Yaoundé and returned to Muyuka for the rest while I met up Kristina who was coming down for a visit during her spring break (she's a teacher).

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2004-04-30T10:01:00.000+01:00

Part V- "So THIS is Morocco!"

'So much to buy- so little time...' Such was our motto for our stay in Marrakesh. While there is lots of history, and beautiful things to see, clearly the main attraction is the opportunity to purchase beautiful and exotic items at low, low prices (assuming you have some bargaining skills, of course). I actually kept wishing my mother was there with me, because while I feel my skills have greatly improved over the years, Mom has this way of getting people to fight over giving her their wares at less than cost. Amazing.

We generally took turns in buying, but accumulated lamps, chess sets, paintings, fabric, bed coverings and all sorts of clothing. In between, we took breaks to eat and see some of the sights. Marrakesh is an huge market which draws shoppers from around the world, but the history and architecture is just as impressive. We toured many of the historical buildings and areas, but one of our favorites were the gardens of Yves Saint Laurent. Open to the public, they are perfectly designed, immaculately kept and bursting with color.

We decided one day that a trip to Morocco would not be complete without a visit to the desert. After all, that's what comes to mind when you think of the country- sand and camels. Deema had brought several guidebooks which suggested Ouarzazate and old articles I had from Condé Nast Traveler recommended the village of Ait Bennhaddou. Our lovely hosts at the Riad arranged a driver for us and we were off on our big adventure. The drive down was beautiful as we passed by and through part of the large Atlas mountain chain. The road was long and winding, which, had I not been in the front seat with my window opened, I would've been sick. Several times we came across beautiful vistas that we couldn't help ourselves but get out and take some pictures (plus one of us, who shall remain nameless was indeed car-sick). We arrived at Ait Bennhaddou by walking through another small village. The village has been used in a number of movies due to its unique and fascinating character, but people still live there. The village is made entirely of mud and straw with the bricks smoothed over so that they look like red sand castles stacked on a hill. We walked around the village and walked up to the top of the hill- it was very cool and a truly unique and transporting experience. It was unfortunately obvious that we weren't the first tourists there. Around many corners lurked artisans ready to push their wares, and two adorable young schoolgirls I asked to take pictures of demanded money upon taking them. Cuteness does get you what you want sometimes...

After, we continued to Ouarzazate, which was actually a bit dissappointing. It turned out to be really just a launching area for excursions into the desert, but not a real desert town itself. We had lunch and headed back. On the way, we stopped at the large movie studio that has been built by Hollywood and contains its own little hotel and restaurant for the stars. When we were there, they were filming several movies including "Alexander the Great" and "Sahara" (with Penelope Cruz) -sadly they didn't pick me up as an extra, and I didn't see the stars themselves. At that point we were tired and wanted to get back to Marrakesh before dark.

We had some fantastic meals, and did splurge several times for the whole experience- coming back to our rooms about to burst. One thing we had to agree on- if you go hungry, its your own fault. One of my favorite things was the orange juice guys. There's a row in the grand square of guys who just squeeze and sell juice. Its basically all the same quality and the same price. So, when you walk by, they do their best to get you to drink their juice. At only a quarter a glass (you have to drink it in front of them so you can return the glass), its fun and delicious! The last night, Deema and I decided that it was ok to eat something other than Moroccan cuisine, so we went to a very upscale Italian restaurant where the well-heeled expats were hanging out. We took a table by the pool (complete with floating candles) and I had a delicious steak that I haven't been able to get in a while... They also had fresh buffalo mozzerella- quite a mystery how they achieved that one...

Finally, it was time to part. Our bags were overflowing and our stomachs had expanded (I gained about ten pounds in the just over two week experience). We said our goodbyes to the wonderful owner and staff of the Riad- they had taken such good care of us- and took off. We had gotten plane tickets from Cassablanca, so we loaded ourselves on the train and took the scenic three hour ride. Morocco is truly a beautiful country, and I was sad to leave. I did do a good job of filling up my camera, so I'll have the memories for years to come.

We arrived in Madrid in the late evening and by pure luck was able to check in my bags for the next morning's flight back to Equatorial Guinea. This also helped Deema, who was not so lucky. We went back to the hotel where we had started, since it was near the stores I wanted to hit in the morning. We took one last late-night walk around the city (the palace and cathedral at night are gorgeous!), and went to sleep.

We woke up and started checking items off the list of things I had to get to bring back -gifts for friends and food and clothes for myself. We started out the day at Dunkin Donuts with a Boston Creme. I almost cried it was so good. We got the computer stuff I needed for the bank and my camera and a pair of Dockers (who says American corporate imperialism is bad?). At that point, we had to leave for the airport so Deema could make her flight, which was four hours before mine. We got there and Deema, who is Platinum on the airline she was flying, was pulled for security. Then she was taken into a room where they questioned her and made her unpack every item out of every bag and explain them for over a half-hour. Meanwhile, I was forced to stay outside, not knowing what was going on. It was a bit traumatic for her, and not the best way to end a vacation.

After Deema went through security, I went to complete my buying mission. I asked around and discovered that a Carrefour was only two subway stops away, so I headed there. It was quite an overwhelming experience, even after getting used to "western culture" for a while. It was essentially a huge Super Wal-Mart with three floors the size of city blocks full of things to buy- Food, electronics, clothes, housewares -everything. It was a phenomenal exercise in self-restraint not to just load up my cart- since I knew everything I bought had to be carried on-board the plane. Only essential items- so I constrained myself to only a couple pairs of pants, a pair of shoes, some chorizo, olive oil and a load of sauce mixes. It wasn't easy, but it was kinda fun.

The flight back to Malabo, Equatorial Guinea was mostly uneventful until we arrived. I had a problem which I wasn't sure how to deal with. My flight arrived around midnight and the flight to Douala was at 9am the next morning. Since I had been lucky on the way over and didn't stay overnight, I still didn't know the town and wasn't too keen on exploring it looking for a vacant hotel room at midnight. So, I talked to pretty much everyone of any power at the airport and asked them if I could just pass the night in the airport lobby- being a new airport and air-conditioned, I figured it couldn't be too bad. After much discussion, security took my passport and let me stay. I guess they figured it would act as insurance. As it turned out, there were two couples who had the same idea, so we all spent the night on the chairs of the airport waiting lounge.

At last, I arrived back home- no more problem and no more stories...

2004-04-29T16:01:00.000+01:00

I know its been a long time coming for the photos, so I'm going to interupt the vacation story with the 'best of' pictures from the trip. I took around 800 photos over the three weeks, so I'm guessing that a selection of those is probably fine. These are my favorites ...

2004-04-14T17:45:00.001+01:00

Part IV- "This Ain't So Bad"

Luckily, I suppose, there were taxis awaiting our arrival. Of course being about the only "blancs" on the boat, we were attacked after getting to the parking area. I ventured apart from the group and found an ATM where I got some dinars (I have trouble imagining life before ATMs-I'm just thankful they exist everywhere). Our taxi driver was a nice enough guy, but he very quickly figured out we had never been to Tangier. As a result, we went to see his "friends'" hotels while virtually ignoring our constant requests (which came from the somewhat unreliable Lonely Planet). At each stop, I got out, went up to check on the rooms and came back to report so we wouldn't leave our bags in the taxi alone. The first two or three were vetoed until finally it was after one in the morning and our standards had lowered significantly. We figured no evidence of rats or roaches and running water in the room was good enough for a couple hours sleep. It wasn't a Marriott, but we survived. We decided to stay another night while we explored the city a bit and plotted our course for the rest of the trip- but we moved into the Holiday Inn- a big step up.

Deema and I headed off after depositing our goods at the hotel to the markets. They were not unlike the markets of Jerusalem or Douala, but the food market was much more fascinating. All sorts of fantastic food, and the unique ability to come face to face with dinner (with the skin removed, unlike here in Cameroon) was particularly pleasant. After a while, we ended up at a huge artisan shop with just about everything you could want with a Morocccan flavor. The owner was quite entertaining and regaled us with tales (and pictures) of his friendships with Hillary Clinton, Martin Scorsese, and John Malkovitch. Quite a character. We bought a few items from him and continued on our exploration. At some point during the day, we made reservations for dinner at the fancy hotel in town (note: not ours) and we all met up to enjoy a fantastic dinner with a moroccan band and belly dancer! Of course, I was chosen to go dance with her, so Mom, the photos aren't what they look like! She was a dancer in a restaurant. Thats it!

We planned out the next day quite impressively, and went out to hire a driver/guide for the day. One of the first stops was a panoramic view of Tangier from a neighboring cliff- there were a number of Moroccans also there just contemplating their place in the world... After that was the Camel Man. In a sandy parking lot between the road and the ocean was a camel driver in the touristy sense (he obviously lived for people like us). It was quite evident that none of his money went towards dental care, however, and he was quite funny. As official photographer, I took lots of pictures while both Deema and Frankie got on camels for a ride around the parking lot. Unbeknownst to us at the time, those would be the only camels we would see our entire trip. After a narrow escape from the rain in Hercules' Cave, we had lunch of chicken schwarma back in downtown Tangier. A stop at the lighthouse with its beautiful views and a nice drive on that side of the city completed our tour. We stopped on the way back at the train station to get tickets for the night train to Marrakesh.

After my favorite dinner of the entire trip -Pizza Hut stuffed-crust pizza- we boarded the train and found our couchettes. I was either really tired, or they were surprisingly comfortable, but I slept almost the entire trip down. At 7am the next morning, we arrived in Marrakesh.

Frankie's time with us was coming to a sad close, so this was to be her last day, catching a train early the next morning and going to the Casablanca airport for a return to the US. As a result, we split up and I went with Frankie for one last day of shopping, this time in the renowned souks of Marrakesh, while Deema and Jean headed off to find a place for us to sleep for the rest of the week. Frankie and I had a blast trying our best to navigate the Marrakesh medina. They say don't try it without a guide the first time, but those who know Frankie and I know that's a challenge! We had a great time "feeling" our way around and haggling everywhere we went. I didn't intend on doing much shopping that day, but I still ended up with a bunch of stuff. My shopping goal for the trip was really only to get things for my friends here in Cameroon, since it would be almost a year and a half until I return to the US. But, there were a couple of items that were just irresistable and I'll get them back somehow!

Along the way (and it turned out on the way out) we found this mod, New York-ish lounge called Café Arabe which had aranchini. Now, I don't get overly excited about aranchini, but then again, I'm not Sicilian. Frankie immediately became best friends with the proprietor and swore that we'd be back once we found our friends again. And we were.

Frankie and I stayed at the not-so-impressive Ibis hotel next to the train station for the night (the manager and employees consistently acted as though we were theives out to rob him blind. He even followed us to breakfast to see how much we ate from his "free" buffet). We got on the early train to Cassablanca for a three hour trip so I could help her to the airport. When we arrived, we had several hours to "play with", so we went to the one notable tourist attraction in Cassablanca- the Hassan II mosque.

As the third largest mosque in the world, and less than fifteen years old, it was impressive in scale, in detail and in awe-inspiring beauty. We weren't allowed inside, as it was prayer time and thousands were streaming into the gigantic building which supposedly holds 20,000 worshippers at the same time under a retractable eighty foot roof with thirty foot tall modern chandeliers. Truly a modern engineering feat. After, we went looking for Sam's Bar, but found that only a replica existed inside the Hyatt hotel. Too bad.

Frankie set off for the airport, and I returned to Marrakesh by train, passing fields, villages of stone and mud and plenty of herders.

End of Part IV...

2004-04-14T17:45:00.000+01:00

Thursday, March 26th, 2004

Part III - 'Spanish Steps'

In Madrid, there is the greatest of chain restaurants ever, at least for someone who likes their pork. Its called (translated) "The Museum of Ham". Its a wonderment of cured pig legs, most of which is illegal in the US. That's because it tastes so good. They know it would blow those Chicago canned ham packers out of business. Damn US trade barriers!

While waiting for Tara to arrive from London, we had a fantastic lunch/dinner at Boutin's, supposedly the oldest restaurant in continuous operation in the world. The choices were essentially suckling pig or leg of lamb. It doesn't get much more old-school than that. Both were tasty, as we ate in the curved brick cave of a basement dining area.

Tara phoned when she arrived, and we went out in search of Mardi Gras- Spain style. There was a huge concert that night, but there was also cold rain, which tends to reduce the enthusiasm for an outdoor musical event. Somehow, we eventually agreed on a pizza place for dinner and returned to make plans for the next day...

We left the next morning for Cordoba (from the same station that would be bombed three weeks later), and arrived to find our hotel. The weather cleared up, and we walked over to this thousand year-old mosque which the Catholics had gotten a hold of during the crusades and turned the center section into a gaudy, but beautful cathedral. Of course they tried not to entirely ruin the perfect symmetry and geometric designs, so what they ended up with is a one-of-a kind mélange of styles and cultures, all in the same building. It was fascinating. Unfortunately, the lighting was poor for taking pictures, so they didn't come out that well.

After that, we wandered around the very cute town (and UNESCO World Heritage site) to get some all-important shopping in. We ended up at a tapas bar-type place where we ordered more food than we could finish. A nice end to the day.

Before heading to Sevilla the next day, the girls went to the spa to have "treatments". I wandered around the part of town we hadn't gotten to discovering some old roman ruins and more beautiful churches (not all that difficult to find in Spain). Sadly, we had to part with Tara (the world's financial markets couldn't do without her for another day), but we continued on to Sevilla.

Arriving in Sevilla, we found that the weather was just not going our way on this part of the trip. Cold rain was becoming the norm, and Sevilla was no different. This was, however, Deema's birthday, and as principal planner of the trip, to celebrate, we were going upscale. Way upscale.

The Hotel Alfonso XIII, a Westin hotel, was built to host world leaders for some world expo in the 1920's. Now, its just fabulous. And, Deema's endless nights as a consultant came finally paid off (even if only a little), yielding two suites complete with foot thick crown molding, marble bathrooms and window-terraces. With the rain outside, we were reluctant to leave the rooms, which was entirely unnecessary.

The next morning, we felt the need to at least see a little of the city we were scheduled to leave that day. Deema and I braved the cold rain and went to see the "Cathedral that Columbus built". By the time the cathdral opened, we were soaking wet, but inside it was indeed magnificent. There was more gold in that building than anywhere else I had ever seen (thanks to the generosity of indian tribes up and down the coast). The guidebook put the amount at well over a ton of gold in the center altar alone. Its truly hard to describe, but a site that should be seen. The intricate detailing, the shine, the size- all a bit overwhelming.

Checkout time had sadly come for the Hotel Alfonso XIII, so we gathered up our assorted backpacks and luggage and headed for the train station once again. This time to Algecieras. We arrived, and had just missed a ferry across the Strait of Gibraltar (or very close to it) to Tangier, Morocco. Finally the ferry arrived and we landed in Tangier around midnight- with no reservation and no feel for the city. The only thing we knew was from our Lonely Planet guide which warned not to stay in Tangier if possible due to its high crime rate. Great. Now what?

End of Part III...

2004-03-31T09:38:00.000+01:00

Thursday, March 26th, 2004

Part II - 'Geez its cold here'

I hadn't realized it in all the hussle and bustle of trying to get to a bed the night before, but when I awoke and went outside the next morning, it was cold! I discovered that February may not be the best time for visiting Western Europe -coming from the rainforest of West Africa, but I was there and I was going to enjoy it!

Because of my flight luck, I had three days in Madrid all to myself, and I proceded to the tourist information desk to get all the maps I needed. I then spent the next two days wandering around Madrid with my camera, wearing only a light sweater and a windbreaker to protect against late winter winds (and on one afternoon, snow). The first lunch- my first real meal in Spain, I headed to that bastion of American values (and value), McDonalds. Its pretty difficult to explain how a Big Mac can almost bring one to tears unless you've been there.

I walked all around the city, exploring virtually all of the major sites and museums. The main palace of Madrid was pretty amazing, but I couldn't get into the main cathedral which is opposite because it was closed for renovations. It seems the Crown Prince is getting married this summer and he wants to have it there. If someone could tape it for me, then I'll know what I was missing...

The museums were, on the whole, very nice but not New York or Paris or London or even DC. I guess when you're lucky enough to live and be able to travel and see much of the great western art of the world, even the acclaimed Prado falls short. They did have a few astonishing pieces though, which made the trip worthwhile. In terms of museums, I really enjoyed the modern art of the Queen's gallery, Reina Sofia. Picasso's Guernica is one of those legendary works which despite all the hype manages to inspire and awe that much more in person. I guess more and more I'm becoming a "modern" art fan, as I have ceased to appreciate a perfectly rendered still life of arranged flowers, pewter pitchers and animal heads.

As you may know, I'm an architecture freak, and Madrid provided some awe-inspiring moments. I have to say that I can't imagine a more impressive post office than the Palace of Communications. Its litterally a cathedral to the art of letter-writing.

Having been starved of western culture for the last nine months (as stark contrast to my at least once weekly cultural outings in New York), I set out to find a concert, opera or guy with a guitar to appease the thirst. I found what I needed. One night I discovered the chorus and orchestra of the City of Madrid. As luck would have it, it was an all-American program. It was just like being back in Lincoln Center. A note to New York cultural institutions: the best seat in the house cost 15 euros. The concert was wonderful, and I truly missed my friends at the NY Choral Society.

The following day, the 19th, was my 31st birthday. The positive side was that I was in a great western capital and could do anything I wanted. The downside was that I was all by myself. I decided to "seize the day" and get up early to spend the day in Toledo, the ancient city made famous by an El Greco painting, so I got on a bus and arrived an hour later. Toledo is a relatively small, hilly, walled-town with lots of cobblestone streets too small for cars (but which they seem to have found cars small enough to fit). I had a small map from the tourist office, but the small curvy streets were difficult to follow, so I got lost several times. Luckily it was small enough that if you tried not to turn for a while you ended up at a landmark. I saw all the major and most minor sites of the city, including the phenomenal Cathedral with its Spanish medieval and baroque interior.

I stopped for lunch around 1pm and found myself the first one there (Spanish folks, I came to find, do everything several hours late). I decided to treat myself to a good restaurant and enjoy the specialties of central Spain. Luckily, my hotel had a small library with a Fodor's guide in english, so I had some direction... The restaurant was a bit on the expensive side, but quite worth it. An extravagant lunch of smoked duck, roasted pigeon and baked local fish followed by marzipan cake and ice cream was truly a birthday gift to myself. I did make it back to the bus station and Madrid before dark. A Burger King double bacon cheeseburger and New York superfudge chunk from Ben & Jerry's capped off the day.

The next day, Deema, Jean and Frankie arrived together around noon and Tara got in late that night. The fun was only just beginning...

End of part II. there's more...

2004-03-24T10:19:00.000+01:00

Monday, March 22nd, 2004

Ok, I realize that its been more than a month since my last posting, so I'd like to apologize. With the vacation and then the aftermath when I returned (for example: George, the bank manager, is out sick with malaria), it hasn't been easy to find a few minutes to write down some of the fun, interesting and delicious things I did on vacation!

I, much like my father, measure the success of a vacation by the number of pictures that were taken. With the advent of digital photography, it has become that much easier to take TONS of photos. And, using Dad's photography law of averages, the more photos you take, the more likely you'll get some really good ones. So, during the almost three weeks of my vacation, I took slightly over 800 photos with my trusty Canon Powershot G1 with 1 gig compact flash card. That would clearly place this vacation in the highly successful category. I will be uploading the photos when I next visit Peace Corps headquarters in mid-April. I have sorted through them, however, on the bank's computer, and there are about fifty that I am extremely happy with. Maybe I should be creating a portfolio to become a professional photographer when this is over?

I left Edéa early morning, caught a bus which dropped me on the side of the road near the airport. A short taxi-ride later, I had passed the first level. The trip was remarkable in that there was nothing remarkable about it. We were not stopped by police, nothing happened to the car, the traffic moved smoothly, no one tried to cheat me, it was almost pleasurable...

In the airport, I met a really nice Indian-South African who was, like me, on his way to Malabo (my intermediate stop before continuing to Madrid). He works for an oil equipment company as the shipping agent. There is lots of oil activity on the small, and formerly poor, island of St. Isabel, Equatorial Guinea- of which, Malabo is the capital. We had a nice conversation, and he mentioned that there was a flight leaving to Madrid that afternoon. Apparently there are more than a few Houston, Texans on Equatorial Guinea, and the best way back to the ranch is on the twice-weekly Iberia flight to Madrid. Well, since my scheduled flight was the second of the twice weeklies, I set about planning how to convince the powers that be that I'd much rather spend three extra days in Madrid than Malabo (I know, tough decision).

Upon landing in Malabo, we walked off the plane and were hit by a wall of humidity which is similar to the feeling of going to the enclosed rainforest at the Montreal Velodome after coming in from sub-zero temperatures. It confirmed the theory that, as bad as you think it is, it can always get worse. The Malabo airport is so new that everything still works, and shines. After getting through customs and passport control, I had to wait a couple of hours for the Iberia staff to show up. Apparently if you only have two flights a week, you only have to work the two hours before the flight. When they arrived, I waited until I got to the front of the line (by this time, I had eaten lunch served in a back room behind the bar). I struggled with my limited Spanish and the woman's limited French to get across the idea that I wanted to fly standby on that flight. Since they didn't have a computer system, she didn't see how it was possible. She left to talk to the manager and came back with a definitive "no". I gathered my bags and began walking dejectedly towards the taxis to begin my three day stay in a steam chamber.

As I strapped my backpack on, the manager came over and said that there was space, and that I could indeed get on the plane! Happily, I paid the exit tax, and made my way to the waiting room with the rest of the Texans leaving for home.

Arriving in Madrid airport was like revisiting an old memory- the memory of western civilization. In nine months, its possible to forget to the point that you think your memories were implanted by some dubbed movie on satellite TV. But, as distant as it seemed, I seemed to get the hang of it and move back into 'Metropolitan Pete' mode. I got my bag (it made it) and headed towards the subway -note to New Yorkers: most cities with subways have stops at the airport so why did it take 30+ years for the Port Authority to get off their butts?. I arrived very late at night (yes, the same day I left my home in Edéa), and looked through my limited research and picked the Hotel Europa. I made it there, checked in and went to sleep.

to be continued...

2004-03-23T10:41:00.000+01:00

I realize that its been quite a while since I've written last, but a long vacation and catch up upon return has that effect. I have been prewriting my blog with lots of juicy and funny details from the trip and events since, but have yet to find a computer to let me upload it. As such, I will hold on until I can- at most that would be two weeks. At that point I'll also be uploading the photos from the trip. I'm quite happy with the way they turned out, and I hope you will be too. Thanks for your patience and continuing interest. I hope it'll be worth the wait (I'm doing my best to be extra witty).

2004-02-14T19:04:00.000+01:00

Thursday, February 12th, 2004

I'm getting ready for my big vacation! I leave in a few days, and I can't wait! I'm going first to Malabo, Equatorial Guinea where I'll spend a day or so checking out the island. Its a volcanic island just off the coast of Cameroon, and is a former Spanish colony. Its supposed to be nice, and there are apparently lots of Americans there, since they've discovered oil offshore there in the past couple of years and are beginning the exploration process. It'll be interesting to see what kind of effect that's having on such a small island.

After Malabo, I take a direct flight to Madrid where I'll meet some friends from college and a couple of others. We'll tour around southern Spain including Cordoba and Seville, before crossing the strait into Morocco. We'll then spend about a week going to cities like Casablanca and Marrakesh. I'm already getting my camera prepared for the workout its going to get. This could be on China scale here (800 pictures in three weeks).

Yesterday, in case you didn't notice or it didn't show up on your Outlook calendar, was International Youth Day. In Cameroon, this is a great excuse to take the day off work, and make all the kids parade around in military formation in their sparkling uniforms. The lineup started at around 8am, and the parade finally started around 10:30 with the kids parading basically in age order. About a third of the students were chosen from each and every school in the Edéa-metropolitan area (that's a joke), which amounted to about ten thousand students marching a route of about two miles, taking almost three hours from the time it started- and there were no Macy's-type musical numbers in front of the reviewing stand holding up the parade. Every school brought along several of their teachers/handlers to make sure the kids kept in four even and mostly straight rows. My favorite part was the youngest kids, in schools called Maternelle, or pre-school. They didn't have to walk the whole route, and got to go first. They were absolutely adorable. I was able to get a couple pictures of them, but many of the whole parade. I was only asked once by a police officer who I was and why I was taking photos, which I thought was pretty good for openly taking pictures of a public celebration like that. Once I told him I was Peace Corps, he let us go.

After the parade was over, and the police had hit a few students with a stick to clear a place for the awards ceremony, my friend Alain and I went to have a drink and a sandwich from my buddy, the soya man. Soya is what they called grilled meat, fish or chicken for sale by the piece. Good stuff. After eating lunch, we went to the cinema because it said they were playing "Spiderman" at 2pm. We got inside and they had just started playing "The Rock", a good enough movie with Nicholas Cage and Sean Connery. I was a little surprised, this being my first time in the cinema of Edéa, to find that the projector for the large screen was broken and they now show movies on a 25" TV on a high stand in front of the rows of seats. About 45 minutes into the movie, one of the kids in the audience stood up and said, "This isn't Spiderman (pronounced Speedermon), we should all demand our money back and leave!". So, about 3/4 of the audience got up and walked out, only to be told that the Spiderman disc was defective, but they could choose another movie and they'd put it on right away. So, they took off "The Rock" and put on an old Jet Li Hong Kong kung-fu movie. I suffered through this for about an hour until I couldn't stand the heat or the movie any longer.

This past weekend, I went to Douala to check out the artisan market and get a new cartridge for our printer. The artisan market is a little on the disappointing side, after years of seeing African arts at summer street fairs in New York. The selection was somewhat limited to wood figures and masks and some bronze. The vendors were predictably aggressive, and the prices were fairly high, at least I thought so. I've always thought vendors should start around 4 times the lowest price they're willing to settle for. In Douala, they started around seven to eight times, which makes bargaining ridiculous. For example, something you should probably pay around ten dollars for, they start at $80, which forces you to start around $2. They look at you like you're crazy and you do the same back to them. Its not a great basis for a relationship.

After that was over and I came away with some small items, I went to the computer store. The owner was in, the guy who sold us the computer, and I went up to say 'hi'. He then invited me to lunch, which was a great Lebanese meal (he being Lebanese). We talked a bunch and plan on getting together again when I come back to Douala.

Saturday night, I went with my postmate, Will, to a festival out at the Catholic Nunnery. There was a sort of agricultural exhibition and a big stage. The program for the evening was a singing contest between three local church choirs. It was fantastic. They sang in the local dialect with movements and drums and the whold shebang. I wish I had had a tape recorder and camera to capture it all. After the singing, Will and I met up with his co-workers who were there, and sat down for a few drinks at the make-shift bars to close out the evening.

Book Report:
Well, sometimes you just get hung up by a book you don't really care for, but since it takes about a hundred pages to figure that out, you're committed and feel like you have to finish reading it. As a result, it took me about six weeks to finish "Love in the time of Cholera" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I realize that he won the Nobel prize for literature, but that was for a different book. I don't know what to say about this one other than it was Jane Austen in style but dictionary in content. I did finish it though, but cannot recommend it, unless you're having trouble sleeping.

Immediately after finishing, I wanted to get back into the swing of reading with enjoyment. Luckily, I had brought with me "A Man in Full" by Tom Wolfe, the author of "Bonfire of the Vanities". Set in and around Atlanta, its a terrific tale of old versus new South and how they conflict to change the lives of four main characters. Its a lengthy almost 800 page read, but it flies by and is entirely enjoyable, especially if you're familiar with Atlanta and its people. Not high literature, but highly recommended.

On the heels of "A Man in Full", I was on a role and barrelled into Annie Proulx's "The Shipping News". I had seen the movie when it came out on video, but had forgotten most of it. Believe me, Kevin Spacey is not who you envision when reading the book. Another fast read, but much more interesting from a style standpoint, and quite enjoyable. These are characters you can really care about, and even relate to, despite the fact they live in the frozen tundra of Newfoundland. Recommended.

Next up is my vacation reading of Tom Clancy's "Without Remorse", which should be good if I get stuck in the airport for hours on end...

2004-02-02T11:23:00.000+01:00

Thursday, January 22, 2004

Christmas in Cameroon

So, I haven't related my Christmas story as of yet, so here it is... First, its probably necessary to discuss what the build-up to Christmas is like here, such as it is. Several weeks before Christmas, some of the general stores and some houses stock up with super-gaudy, straight from China (isn't that where everything comes from these days?) Christmas decorations. But really, that's about where it ends. I don't know if people actually bought the Christmas decorations, but most of the houses I went in shortly before had none. Similar with gifts. Ideally here, you give a smallish present to your young children. Older children and basically anyone else gets nothing, except of course, the President of the country. I don't want to get into a political discussion here, but every government appointee, which is everyone in any sort of power at all levels down to the equivalent of the town sheriff and agriculture extension agent, is expected to send a gift of some kind to the President (this is sort of a "thank you for paying me because there's tons of other people who would and could do this job"). I can only imagine the flood of gifts that arrives at his house. Gifts to children are generally small plastic or in some cases electronic toys, almost always the cheap Chinatown variety. The kids play with them extensively for a few weeks until they break and go back to playing with their pot-tops (the kids roll pot-tops down the street using a stick under the round handle to keep it upright) or sardine can cars- they seem to be almost as fun and last a heck of a lot longer.

Christina and several others had stopped by on the way back from their big training in Kribi and ended up hanging out for a few days. So, I decided to go to Nkongsamba to be with my "family" here in Cameroon for Christmas. Kristina's village is next to Nkongsamba, so we traveled up together (and was one of the reasons she hung around for a few days). When I got to Andy's house in Nkongsamba, it turned out that about 15 people would be there over the three days around Christmas. A good bunch of folks showed up and we had a great time shopping (for food and secret santa gifts), cooking, decorating and even cleaning. Nkongsamba is a great little town that was designed by the Germans early in the 20th Century and many of the buildings they built are used as stores and houses- without having been, or really needed, repair. There are two volunteers there, Andy, who works at the Afriland FirstBank and audits and otherwise assists many of the small regional cooperatives around Nkongsamba, and Nadia, a teacher at the high school. Both happen to have lived in New York City just before joining Peace Corps, so there's always lots of reminiscing that goes on when we get together. Over Christmas the subject turned to the weather. In Nkongsamba, in the hills and next to several smaller mountains, it stays a pleasant 75 to 80 degrees and a bit cooler at night. Perfect weather, if you ask me. All three of us were getting reports from friends and family of the bitter cold winter and snow in the Northeast and, while we missed the changing seasons, decided that we would enjoy our Christmas in sandals.

One of the first items of business, was to put up the decorations. Andy had found some kids selling cedar branches on the street, and had them bring over several large branches. We leaned them against the wall, tied them together, and strung lights on our two-dimensional, yet evocative, "tree". I was placed in charge of light-stringing since the branches reached the ceiling, and more lights were required in swooping fashion across the walls and on top of the doorways. The effect, at night with the other lights off, was truly magical. We had created our own hearth and home for a few days.

Christmas eve, we all assembled, had a fantastic dinner of beef stew, and exchanged secret santa gifts. I was assigned Khalil and his new Cameroonian girlfriend (who ended up not coming), and found a bottle of fruity liquer called "Safari", which turned out to be quite tasty. I received my gift from Jessica, a very quiet ex-accountant. She gave me a really cool handmade "chief-shirt" from Baffoussam made from hand-dyed fabric. She found it in the market and thought I would like it, which I do. Its sure to go up on the wall when I get back to the US... My friend, Joe, did the best, however. His secret santa, Jenn, who has a not so-secret crush on Joe, found tissue (fabric to make clothes and other items from) with the Pope on it, and another with the President of Cameroon. It was beautiful, and Joe promised to make boxer shorts out of the President tissue -which is not easy in some parts of the country since tailors are generally afraid to do anything that might be deemed disrespectful.

The day of Christmas was generally filled with cleaning from the previous night, and cooking the big Christmas dinner. Andy had invited some of his Cameroonian friends/neighbors, so there were more than 20 for the big meal. It turned out great- under executive chef, Loren, a former cook. We did lots of what probably should happen more at Christmas, talked, played cards and enjoyed each others' company.

A group of us got up early the next morning, since we had decided we would hike the mountain near Andy's house, Mt. Manengouba. After stopping at a nearby store for provisions of water and bread (Kelly's visiting girlfriend had brought him (and he shared, so, "us") a Pepperidge Farms summer sausage when she arrived, but was not interested in going hiking), we took a taxi to the base of the mountain. The first part of the mountain was all planted corn, the second stage was coffee plants (naturally, mountainy-coolness makes for good coffee-growing climate). After the coffee, were the woods and then tree-less weeds. Around the coffee area, we ran across one field that had a sign (there's a picture somewhere) to let us know that the field had been cursed, and anyone stealing from the field would be similarly cursed. Just after the woods, was a small pack of horses (I have no idea if they were wild or not- since people lived just above the wooded area), and above the horses were cows with large horns (pictures abound, check the links). About four and a half hours after starting, we finally reached the top. I have to admit that I was the last one up. The combination of my sad level of fitness, the altitude (a bit over a mile high) and the steepness of our "trail" caused me to go a bit slower at the end. I give all credit for my successful summit to my fellow hikers for their unwavering mental and physical (I didn't carry a pack virtually the whole way) support. To celebrate, we took pictures, and broke out the summer sausage and rolls we had bought. It was good to feel some processed fat and salt surge back into my body. After a little more than seven hours after starting, we found ourselves at the bottom again. Tired, dirty, but happy.

New Years (tropical beach-style)

Isabelle calls me from Melong a few days after Christmas and says "how about spending New Years with me and Peter and Kristen?".
I responded, "that sounds like fun, I don't have any other plans."
"Oh", she continued, "and we're going to Kribi, staying in the AES-Sonel beach house, and we'll pick you up!"
With that, I said happily, "Just tell me when." The only problem, I quickly realized after getting off the phone with Isabelle, was that I was short on money.

See, the Peace Corps is supposed to pay you three months at a time, about two weeks before the period starts, by direct-deposit. However, Peace Corps was in the process of switching to Oracle financials worldwide. I have a sneaky suspicion that Accenture was involved...but I don't know. Anyway, as a result, they changed payment schedules, lost my direct-deposit information, and didn't bother to tell me or anyone else about it. So, I asked someone who was coming my way, bring me a check from Yaoundé the week before Christmas (I was supposed to get paid at the end of November). I deposited the check, but with the holidays and slowness of everything, it took two weeks for the check to clear, which meant I didn't have it in time for the trip to Kribi. So, long story, longer, I borrowed lots of money from Peter (Kristen's boyfriend- Kristen works for Sonel, Peter is a Brit installing the mobile phone network in Cameroon) for the trip. In the end, it all worked out.

All of this didn't mean that I wasn't going to enjoy myself, however. For four days, we ate fresh shrimp and fish, went swimming in the warm ocean, played board and card games, and generally enjoyed each other's company. Peter and Kristen's friends, four other ex-pat couples, came down from and stayed with us as well. It was a wonderful, relaxing break, and a true vacation.

The Grand Welcoming (Edéa-style)- January 13, 2004

After having been here in Edéa for about four months, the women's committee of the cooperative decided it was high time to welcome me as one of their own. My mama- Ngo Yem Marceline- (I have gotten in the habit of picking up mothers whenever my own isn't around) here in Edéa is the president of the women's committee, and she hosted the reception at her house. She lives in Mpongo, a tightly inhabited neighborhood not far from the center of town. Her, her daughters and the other women of the committee prepared a tremendous feast for me, Will, George, the bank president and a few of their husbands who are also members. The food included: mbongo chobe (catfish in flavorful black sauce), koki (white beans with palm oil), sweet potato fries, pistache (a "cake" with meat inside), and ndole (similar to collard greens). It had been quite a while since I had eaten and drunk as well as I did that night. After eating, speeches (of course, I made one thanking the women), and drinking, there was dancing. It was a wonderful evening, and one I will remember for a long time.

Tuesday, January 27, 2004

I taught my kids how to play "Simon says" yesterday, and they loved it! They got so happy when they won and so upset when they got caught doing something without Simon saying. In my older class, the students even took turns being Simon when they won.

Sunday night, I was outside with my new machete (that's right, I'm dangerous now) cutting some flowers and cutting back the bushes. On my way back into the house, I saw movement near the driveway. Across the driveway and to the front of the house, the largest lizard I've ever seen outside of a glass cage passed not five feet from me. I don't know what its real name is, but it was about six feet long, the body was a good 18 inches in diameter and had feet with long fingers and nails. I thought about going after it immediately, but I decided I better get my machete first, which I had put down. By the time I got it and chased around the front of the house, the lizard had disappeared. I still can't figure out where he went, except maybe under the house...

When I got into work and told George about the lizard, his eyes lit up and asked if I had killed it. I told him I went after it, but it was too fast for me. He then went on to tell me how delicious it was and how you prepare it. There's a cultural difference for you- I'm thinking how interesting, dangerous, whatever this animal is and George thinks of it as food...

Friday, January 30, 2004

In case you weren't aware, the African National Cup soccer championship is going on now in Tunisia. Cameroon's national team, the Indomitable Lions, won a convincing victory last night over Zimbabwe. Not that I could see the TV very well though... After class was over (I taught them the "Hokey Pokey", a good review of parts of the body and learning left and right, and they caught on pretty quick!), I met up with Will, my new postmate, at a bar near his house (he lives in "Centre Ville", behind a string of bars) to watch the rest of the game that had started while I was teaching. The streets were oddly vacant, and the bars, every single one of them that has a TV, was overflowing. So much so that it took me a half-hour to get a beer because the waitress couldn't get to me! Afterwards, we grabbed some Cameroonian fast-food (read: grilled mackerel on the side of the road) and went back to Will's to eat. That was not before being harassed by several Cameroonian women looking for "rich" men to buy them drinks. We suggested that they ask their husbands (which both of them had, but were conveniently out-of-town), took our fish and left.

Yesterday, I received a package of letters from the Providence Day School, a private school in Charlotte, NC (go Panthers!). I had begun conversing via email with their geography teacher, Brian Field, as a result of the Peace Corps World-wise schools program. Twenty-nine hand and typewritten letters addressed to me were inside. I read them all this morning, and its wonderful to hear that this group of young people are so interested in a world so outside their own. Apparently, they have been following my experiences too. I plan on using their letters to generate discussion and learning opportunities both with my kids at the school, and the English club at one of the high schools that I have just begun to work with. I'm hoping to get answers to many of their questions about life here in Cameroon. I'll make sure to put the highlights here as well.

2004-01-17T00:20:00.000+01:00

This note was sent out to all volunteers and I thought some of you reading this might be interested in participating. Kaitlin, the woman who is running this is a friend of mine. I will not be personally involved, but I'm confident it will be very well run- so to speak...

January 16, 2004

Greetings from Dusty Cameroon,

We hope everyone is enjoying the New Year. We are planning a Women’s Day road race for March 6th, 2004 in Bamenda Cameroon. Women’s day is a national holiday in which women celebrate their womanhood. As Peace Corps Volunteers living in Cameroonian communities we see the effects of HIV/AIDS daily. 2 out of 3 people living with HIV/AIDS in Africa are women. As a result, we feel it necessary to promote HIV/AIDS awareness and the importance of a healthy lifestyle to the women. Last year Peace Corps Volunteer Kaitlin Haws organized a 5km road race in her small village. It was a huge success with over 100 women participating in the race. This year we are hoping to expand the race to the city of Bamenda with 500 runners. After the race we are planing to have a health fair run by Cameroonians to share information about HIV/AIDS, obesity, diabetes, and family planning.

Peace Corps fully supports our initiative however due to budget constraints Peace Corps is unable to assist us financially. Therefore we are soliciting you, our friends and family, for your financial support to organize this race and fair. According to our budget we anticipate needing $3000. We are aware that this is a lot of money, yet every little bit counts. In the event that we do not receive the full $3000 we are still planing to hold a health fair for women’s day. This has the potential to impact more than 5,000 people living in the Bamenda area, who are at a great risk for HIV/AIDS and other diseases.

If you are interested in donating some money to the ‘Bamenda Cameroon Women’s Day Race March 6th 2004’ or if you are not personally interested but know someone who might be please pass this email on the them. All checks should be made out to Pat Vaughan and should be sent to The Vaughan’s, 4038 Thornoaks Ann Arbor, Michigan 48104. We ask that all checks be sent before February 1st, 2004. (Due to our geographical constraints Kelly’s father is collecting the money, which will be wired to the race account in Cameroon. If you contribute money please email Kaitlin at kaitlinzoe@yahoo.com with your name and the amount for our records.)

We will provide receipts for tax purposes, a report on the race, and a photo to all that donate.

Thanks in advance,

Kaitlin Z. Haws and Kelly A. Vaughan

2004-01-16T13:45:00.000+01:00

Another bunch of photos. Most of this one is when I visited my homestay family in Bandjoun after Thanksgiving. These are by far the best photos of them, although not all of the kids are represented. There are 13, and every kid in these pictures is part of the same family. All of the closeup photos of the inside and outside of the house is where I was living for my first three months in this country.

At the end are the beginning photos of the trip to Limbe. The guy doing the acrobatics is my friend Khalil who is a volunteer in a village called Loum.

Photos

2004-01-16T11:14:00.000+01:00

and here are a few photos from the meeting we had in Limbe in the middle of December. As you can see, most of the fun was had on the beach- yes that's me getting buried in the volcanic sand by a bunch of kids...

Photos

2004-01-16T11:11:00.000+01:00

These are some photos a friend of mine took over the past couple of months. I'm in some of them...

Photos

2004-01-16T11:00:00.000+01:00

Monday, December 22, 2003

My its been a while since I've written, and its because life has been quite busy in the past few weeks, I haven't had a chance to settle down and write it all down!

After Thanksgiving, I returned to Edéa for a mostly calm week until Saturday when I was picked up by Tyrone, the Peace Corps Director of the Small Enterprise Development program- my boss, on the way to our week-long training in the beach town of Limbé. I figured since he had to pass right through my town on his way there, I might as well ride with him! Since we got there a day early, I ended up staying with my friend Mike, who lives in Limbé, right on the ocean- rough life. We all went out to dinner with Tyrone for a nice meal seaside of roasted chicken and fries after which we went to an outdoor bar with live music and dancing. It was great fun, and of course I had to get up and make a fool of myself.

Sunday, a bunch of us who were already in town met up with Sonny for a ride in his pickup out to the beach for the day. Sonny is a one-in-a-million type guy. He's from rural Mississippi, south of Jackson and grew up a crop-duster. He decided that he would use his experience in crop-dusting travel the world. So, now he's in Cameroon living on the beach with his pickup truck. Three times a week he gets in his bi-plane and crop-dusts cocoa and coffee plantations and gets paid very well by local standards. Just a good-ole boy, never meanin' no harm...

The beach is a black sand volcanic beach next to Mt. Cameroon, the largest mountain in Western Africa. Obviously, this makes for a dramatic tropical backdrop from which to enjoy swimming!

When we finally checked into the hotel where the training was to be held, there was a large spread of food awaiting us. After we had finished eating, a group of women performed some traditional dances for us. The last of these, I have gotten used to and it requires appreciating the dancers by dancing with them and giving them money. What happens is the dancers come around and choose a man to dance with. This is signaled by putting a scarf or towel around their necks. The man is then expected to get up, shake it a little and place paper money of some denomination on the lead dancers forehead, where due to sweat, it usually sticks. We don't always get along, but Tyrone, who sent the dancers my way in the first place, seemed quite happy that I got into it.

The conference itself was quite boring, and I won't get into the details. The biggest problem from our perspective was that one person from each of our banks was there, which forced the conference to be in french and much more formal. If we had been there alone, we could've concentrated on more sharing of best practices with how to cope with daily life in a micro-credit bank in Cameroon. Each night we tried to decompress by chosing a different restaurant on the water to eat, drink and catch up on the last three months we had spent apart.

On the way back to Edéa from the conference, about five of us stopped at Kristen and Peter's place in Douala. Kristen, Isabelle's friend from DC who lives the expat life and whom I have hung out with several times, had invited us over for a lunchtime conference call. Kristen is a member of Democrats Abroad, and on the call that day was none other than Howard Dean to answer questions from concerned Americans around the world. Kristen got to ask the first question, about Dean's policy on renewable energy and throughout the call, Dean was impressive. He was knowledgeable yet personable. He was really able to convey that he truly cared about the issues and was not a stiff Gephardt-like politician.

Several friends followed me back to Edéa to rest for a day or so before heading on home. The refrain I kept hearing was "This is not Peace Corps". I was hoping they were referring to my innovative interior decorating, but I'm pretty sure they were talking about the large kitchen, air-conditioning and hot water.

2003-12-28T15:44:00.000+01:00

I realize that its been quite a while since I updated the blog. I have been quite busy, and its taken me a couple of failed trips to the internet café in Edéa to realize that after lowering the prices, they also disabled all of the disk drives, thus eliminating my upload capability! Needless to say, I'm not happy about it. I am continuing to write my blog in its somewhat extended format, however, and will upload it when I visit places that have that capability. That likely means that I'll update this less frequently, but when I do, I'll try to upload all the updates so that each posting will probably be rather lengthy. I know this isn't optimal, but I think its better than sitting here in the hot, crowded internet place trying to be witty and thorough at the same time. Its not as easy as it looks...

I will probably be in Yaoundé in a week and upload everything then. I did have a very nice Christmas with about 15 of my friends here in Nkongsamba. We ate, drank, were merry, and even had a makeshift Christmas tree made of large cedar branches that some kids cut down for us with blinking lights from the Chinese store. I hope that each of you had a wonderful holiday and best wishes for a happy 2004!

2003-12-03T18:18:00.000+01:00

Monday, November 24, 2003

Wow, what a surreal bunch of events this weekend! It started Friday when, after work, several of us went to the tailor to pick up our "shirts" which were not yet finished. I tried it on and I have to say, it is clearly one of the ugliest things I have purposely worn in public (I'm sure my mother has a differing opinion). Its closer to a short-sleeve sportcoat with three pockets and is mostly lime green with the medallions of my bank in purple. Its rather hard to describe- hopefully I can upload a photo soon.

Friday night, I was invited to my neighbor's house for a dinner party. Lucky for me, my new neighbor happens to be the Director of Alucam/Socatral, a large company that refines and transforms aluminum. Until recently, it was owned by the French company, Pechiney, but they were bought out by some Canadian company. Anyway, being the end of November and my neighbors largely French, it was, of course, a party to celebrate the Nouveau Beaujolais! It was quite a strange feeling being in the middle of Africa, being served french wine, pâté, and chocolate mousse. It was all fantastic, and I ate and drank entirely too much. I did meet my neighbors, virtually all of the expats in Edéa, who were all really nice folks and some of whom even speak pretty good english. Not quite the Peace Corps experience I was expecting, but a great moment to remember.

I had to leave the party a little early so I could get some sleep since I was to wake up at 5:30am the next morning to leave for Douala. I met about twelve other folks from my bank all dressed in the same fabric (called tissue) at 7am at the bus depot to head to Douala for National Credit Union Day. When all arrived, around 8am- I can't believe I still feel like I have to be on time!- we piled in a bus to meet the several hundred other "cooperators" from around the region- almost all wearing the same tissue as myself and the others from Edéa. I guess somehow its not quite as ugly when there are lots of others dressed just like you. We got in line behind a band with large drums and horns, and proceeded to parade down the main two streets of Douala, diverting traffic and making quite a ruckus. I was, needless to say, the only white man in the parade, so I was joked with and heckled by the spectators, but it was all in good fun. The parade finished and we retired to a large hall where we were subjected to several hours of speeches and finally, mercifully, fed.

Upon returning to Edéa, I stopped by Gabriel's supermarché to say "hi", and he asked if I had plans for the evening. I said "no", whereupon he said we were going to Douala for the night, even though I had just come from there. As it turned out, we went up for the funeral of his aunt, and he wanted me to meet his family and see where he grew up. It was interesting meeting his father, brothers and even old girlfriends from back in the day. We got back at a punishing 3am whereupon I slept for most of the next day.

Tuesday, December 2, 2003

Last tuesday, I left for my big trip to Bamenda and beyond for work and to spend Thanksgiving with friends. I left my house a bit before 7am to attempt to make it all the way in one day. After 10 hours of riding buses and taxis and waiting for buses and taxis, I arrived at my friend Mike's house in Bamenda, Anglophone Cameroon. Mike is a twice-divorced computer programmer from Cleveland, who is quite entertaining. We went to Dreamland, the "western" restaurant where we would eat three more times over the next two days. We ran into another volunteer there, Mike from Limbé, and had a nice meal of steak and fries.

Wednesday, I spent the day at CAMCCULL headquarters (my bank is part of the CAMCCULL network) meeting people and collecting as much information as I could to bring back with me to Edéa. I was even able to meet the new President of CAMCCULL, who is charged with turning this ship around. Good luck. I spent the afternoon with the Ntaringkom branch of CAMCCULL checking out their operations. For a couple hours, I rode around in a taxi with their two loan officers (they have 4000 members, and have about six employees, as opposed to our one) as they went around to collect delinquent loans. We knocked on doors, talked to children, wives, and even found people at bars to deliver a delinquent loan notice and to find out why they haven't paid on their loans recently (read: last three months). We even told some of them we would take their house if they didn't come into the office to pay or work out a new payment plan. Sadly, this seems not only necessary, but is apparently the only way to get many debtors to pay. For me, it was a great learning experience. That night Mike from Limbé and I had grilled fish for dinner and walked down the street to talk a bit. We ran into George, Director of the Agro-Forestry project of Peace Corps. He bought us a couple of drinks as we talked with a local drunk who was quite amusing, but kept touching Mike a little too much.

Thursday, I went up to Njiningkom for the 40th Anniversary of CAMCCULL, the oldest credit union network in Africa. The mountains there are quite beautiful, and it was nice and cool, a welcome change from Edéa. I took the tour and then ran into the volunteer there, Mindy, who I had tried to call that morning. She was with another volunteer, Fran, and they were heading back to Bamenda for dinner and the night. I saw that the celebration was not really going to happen until the next day, so I left with them. That night, we had a big dinner, again at Dreamland, with about seven volunteers, to celebrate Thanksgiving- with a cheeseburger and fries and a cold beer. It doesn't get any better.

On Friday morning, I went to Bandjoun to meet some of the volunteers in training there, catch up with my favorite trainers, see my friend the mirror man, and share stories of Edéa with my family. Everyone seemed happy to see me, and I was quite happy to see all of them. The new volunteers all seemed quite nice, and I had lunch with Will, who will be my new postmate! That's right, I'm getting someone right here in Edéa! It'll be nice to have an American to hang out with from time to time without having to travel, and since he's Agro, we can do projects together to hopefully have a greater impact.

Jean-Guy, the small businessman I tried to help in Bandjoun, was quite surprised to see me. I hadn't called to tell him I was coming since I only had a couple of hours. He told me that business was going alright, but that his shop had been broken into and money and mirrors stolen a month or so before. I didn't want to ask whether he had been using the accounting methods we had discussed since he didn't bring it up. I'm assuming no. Three months isn't enough time to make that kind of change permanent.

The family was ecstatic to see me, and I had brought them some candy, a CD and some papaya, which they loved as well. I had a large dinner with them on Friday night, and came back again on Sunday to take pictures- this time with the digital camera. The photos I had taken of them with my manual camera didn't come out for all kinds of reasons. I'm getting better at it though. Katie, the volunteer living with them now, told me all kinds of stories about how she hated me because they talked about me all the time and showed her pictures of me, and wanted us to get married. Nice girl, but I don't see a wedding in our future.

Saturday, I went to Bangou to have Thanksgiving dinner at Loren's house. Bangou is what we call "en brousse"- in the bush- so it was about an hour ride on dusty, dirt roads to get there. He had already begun cooking the two turkeys the eight of us who made the trip were to eat. The turkeys had been beheaded and deplumed that morning by a neighbor. After several more hours of cooking, we had a great meal with mashed potatoes, squash, stuffing and gravy with pumpkin cake for dessert. A few of us tried to leave town after dark, but there was simply no way, so we slept on thin foam mattresses on the floor.

I returned to Edéa on Sunday, just catching the last bus out of Douala and avoiding an unwanted overnight there. It was truly nice to be back home...

One last item- there seems to be some confusion as to my current address. I did move houses, but my address is a post office box (BP stands for Boite Postale), so my address has not changed. It remains:
Peter Bine
CPC/FIMAC/SM
BP 508
Edéa, Cameroon

The initials are the name of the bank- Caisse Populaire Cooperative des groupes FIMAC de la Sanaga-Maritime. The abbreviation is much easier.

2003-11-24T09:11:00.000+01:00

Friday, November 21, 2003

Tomorrow marks the three month anniversary of my being a volunteer for the Peace Corps, and a week from next Wednesday will by my six month anniversary in Cameroon. This means I am almost one quarter through my time here. Its hard to believe, but as long as it continues to be interesting, fun and I feel as though I'm helping someone, the time will continue to go faster and faster, I'm sure.

I wanted to talk a little more about the classes that I'm teaching. The school is called "Centre Scholaire" and is only for the children of employees of Alucam, owned by the now Canadian (formerly French) company, Pechiney. I teach two different classes each twice per week for an hour, so I'm there each Monday and Thursday from 3-5pm. Each class has exactly one white french boy and about twelve Cameroonian children for a total of about 25 students between the ages of 9 and 11. This is markedly smaller than the normal class size for that age which is around 60 in public schools- hard to imagine how they learn anything, but discipline is pretty strict.

In general, my kids are pretty bright. I speak English almost all the time, but occasionally translate when its really necessary to understand what I'm saying. Their retention is pretty good, considering I give them about twenty new vocabulary words each class. Yesterday, we learned "Old MacDonald had a farm" and learned the names of some animals. They seemed to enjoy it and hopefully learned something as well. Monday we're going to talk about family and the American holiday of Thanksgiving. Should be fun.

2003-11-19T18:44:00.000+01:00

Wednesday, November 19, 2003

A very strange thing happened yesterday afternoon, and I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was...

Around closing time, three o'clock, my housekeeper Marie, met me at the office, as we had previously arranged. We had to go to the new house together so she could get through security and I could give them a letter stating that she is, in fact, my 'ménagere'. As soon as we got to the house, I got a call from my friend Gabriel who, upon learning that I was home, said he had something to discuss and that he was sending a driver over to get me. I quickly showed Marie around the new house, including the washing room- a separate room from the inside of the house with two large tub sinks and her own bathroom, and gave her copies of the keys to that room and to the kitchen, from which she can enter the house. It really is a great set-up. I told her that I would pay her a bit more since the house is further away and a little larger, at which time the driver arrived. He was the same guy who drove us to Douala on Saturday for a little shopping trip to buy Christmas items for Gabriel's store.

We arrived at the bar where Gabriel was talking with two other men, I greeted them appropriately, sat down and ordered a soda since I was a little tired and didn't feel like a beer. Gabriel has just about given up fighting when I order a 'jus' instead of a beer. The man sitting at the power position of the table was introduced as a very rich man who owns a road construction company with contracts throughout the country. He had come to Edéa to find someone to manage his in-process hotel that he is virtually finished building in town. It should be noted that he is building the hotel entirely with cash-on-hand, a completely foreign notion in the US. We began talking and I told him that I was not familiar with his hotel at which point he demanded that the driver take me over to tour it before we continued the discussion. I went over and the driver and the guardian of the site showed me around. The hotel has forty rooms, parking in the rear, an in-process "conference center" with two decent-sized rooms. The ceiling on the entrance level is low, but nicely paneled in stained wood. There are two sizes of rooms. One has a standard double bed with a small verranda and small bathroom. It is quite small, but serves its purpose. There is no room really for an armoire or television. The other is basically two of those rooms connected to each other with a slightly larger bathroom, and one of the rooms meant for sitting. This is the only one with an air-conditioner.

When I got back to the bar, the 'patron' decided that I was the one to make his business run well. He told me that Cameroonians only work hard for whites and that he would tell everyone that I had bought the place had was the real owner. He would give me a car and office and anything else I needed such that it appeared to all as if I ran the place. He would also, obviously, let me have a percentage of the profits. All this, just for giving him advice on how to operate the business and for showing my white face (and presumably introducing him to my white friends). I had a hard time taking him seriously, but he was in fact quite serious. Gabriel was to run the day-to-day operations, his new wife to run accounting-apparently she has some training in that field- and I would be the PATRON- while only the four of us would know that he was the one who actually owned the place and received a majority of the profits. I didn't know what to say other than I appreciated his offer and that I was a very busy person. I didn't want to ruin it for Gabriel, so I told him (Gabriel) that we would have to work through the numbers so I could advise him whether or not to become involved himself (there is a backstory there...), and then we parted ways with a promise to talk again later this week.

Gabriel's story-which becomes clearer and clearer each week: Gabriel was hired two years ago by the Greeks who own the supermarket to run it for them and send them the profits while they left town (I don't know where they are yet). In the two years since, Gabriel has steadily run the business into the ground, to the point that he has trouble covering both inventory purchases and salaries when they occur within a couple weeks of each other. As nice as he his, he is not a very good manager of a retail business or of employees (he treats them all with contempt-as if they are all stupid and trying to cheat/steal from him). As a result of this and his barely competitive prices, his customers have found other places (including driving to Douala) to get what they need. The nail in the proverbial coffin may come in a couple of months when his chief competitor here, Petit Jean, opens a true supermarché on the main road in a brand new building.

2003-11-14T15:51:00.000+01:00

Monday, November 10, 2003

We got our signs! Before today, the cooperative operated in a virtual shadow hidden behind a wall in the market. Now, we have three large signs which proclaim to the world that we are here! With the signs and the brochure that the Vice President and I are almost finished with, I'm hoping for loads of new members.

I also taught my first two classes of English today! I was incredibly nervous and sweated profusely during the first class. The second class went more smoothly and I'm hoping there will be at least a little retention. We went over introductions, colors and numbers through 20. They all seem to be fairly bright and were very well behaved during my classes. I hoping to settle down over the next couple of weeks and get into a rhythm of review, new stuff, stories and songs. If anyone knows a website or can send me words to songs we sung as little kids but which I have now forgotten, please email me!

Book report: I finally had some time over the weekend, while relaxing on the beach in Kribi, to finish "The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde. I was expecting it to be a stodgy classic that would be mildly enjoyable, but that at the end I would be a better person somehow... Happily, that was not the case. I found myself deep into the story, laughing out-loud at Wilde's witicisms and almost sad when I had finished. There are some fantastic passages which, although the first Wilde book I have read, show his brilliance and insight into the human condition. Highly recommended (I must add that I've been very lucky with my choices thus far and have had to recommend almost all of them). After I get settled into my new home hopefully by the end of the week, I will begin Nabokov's "Lolita".

Thursday, November 13, 2003
I finally moved yesterday! Its amazing, and I am so much happier in the new house! I even have a screened-in porch and Alucam gave me some furniture, so I have enough to put some outside to enjoy the outdoors when the weather is nice. We started at around 2pm when I went up to the office of the Delegate for Agriculture, (the man who oversees agriculture for this Department-equivalent to a county in the US-for the government) who also happens to be a friend of mine. He also happens to have a pickup which I had asked if I could use for my move. The brother of the president of the bank was with him, and we got in the truck to get the other men who my friend Gabriel "lent" to me for the afternoon. The vice-president also came by so there were five of us (the Delegate had work to do, so he didn't help out) who loaded all of my stuff and the accumulated furniture of three generations of volunteers into the truck. It took us a little over two hours and three trips with the pickup, but we got everything over. My housekeeper showed up at the end to clean the empty house, and I gave some small furnishings to her, and to one of the men who helped. To the others, I gave some money-almost a weeks pay for a couple of them, and took all of them out to the bar after we were done to relax and celebrate. After all that, I went back to the house to assemble the bed that I sleep in. I have to say that a hot shower after a hard day's work and a nice air-conditioned room is a wonderful thing.

2003-11-06T18:22:00.000+01:00

Thursday October 30, 2003

Now that we’ve had the computer for an entire week, the members have begun to get the word out. We’re also putting up signs that tell people where we’re located (right now, we’re in an unmarked building in an unmarked office inside a cement wall, although there is an old, barely readable sign on one of the cement walls). We figure with the new computer, signs and the brochure that I’m working on that tells all the great things about the cooperative, we should have people flooding in to become members in the next few weeks and months. If they don’t... well, we’ll have to go to Plan B. Isn’t there always a Plan B?

Wednesday night, I cooked my first big meal for my friends! It took a while to get up the courage, and to know the market well enough to know what ingredients were available, but I did it, and I think it was a success! I had over my friend Yves, the french guy who is helping me with the new house and who has cooked wonderful french food for me several times, and Gabriel, the manager of the supermàrché and his fiancée who have me over often for meals and to watch bad american films dubbed in French (“Showtime” with Eddie Murphy and Robert DeNiro-what was he thinking?- is a favorite). I made a classic southern meal of cornmeal fried fish with sautéed squash and onions and mashed potatoes. I have to say though, that I really dislike cleaning fish. The gutting part I can handle, but the scales flying all over the place it what really makes it bad (sorry for those of you who may be vegetairans). In my new house, I’ll have a real kitchen inside the house with a sink, so that should make the task of cooking dinner much more pleasant than cleaning fish in the bathroom sink.

This weekend, I’m heading to Kumba for the annual Peace Corps Cameroon Guitarfest! Its kinda like Lollapalooza, but different. Its being hosted by my friend, Cathy, who is supposed to be working for NISCAM, a now mostly defunct bank wrought with corruption, but is actually assisting local womens’ groups get organized. The big draws of Kumba are the large market with lots of black market items smuggled in from Nigeria-the home of the African black market- and Classy Burger, a hamburger and fried chicken restaurant run by an American who used to live in Georgia. It’ll be really nice to see some of my friends I haven’t seen in over two months now.

I promised to start my observations of life here in Cameroon this week, so for the first week since I’ll be traveling on them this weekend, I’ve decided to talk about Bush Taxis. Bush taxis are some melange of regular taxis and public buses which traverse Cameroon getting people where they need to be (but not necessarily when they need to be there). There are “stations” in every major town in Cameroon and in larger cites, mutiple stations depending on which direction you want to go. A number of different “agences” or bus companies have locations in and around the area of the station, each with their own specific destination. Perhaps its easier to understand if I explain what I will be doing Saturday morning. There are two “stations” in Edéa, one that goes to points north on the north end of town, and the other which goes to points east and south (on the south end). Since I need to travel to Douala to change buses there, I will be heading north. There are no agences based in Edéa, so I wait for a bush taxi passing through to stop to drop off and take additional passengers. This bush taxi can take several forms, a traditional Greyhound-type bus, a modified full-sized van or a Toyota Corolla or equivalent car. The price to Douala is a flat-rate of 1000 FCFA (a little less than $2), unless you command the entire small taxi, in which case its closer to 8000. The large buses are obviously the most comfortable, but they come around less frequently and only on selected routes. You actually get your own seat on those. The vans are modified such that there are five rows of seating, including the row with the driver. In these, about 24 adults including the driver travel- children are not charged and sit on top of either their parents or whoever else is willing to hold them. Sitting five across in these can be painful, especially if a large-ended woman happens to be sitting in that row. The aisle to get to the back of the bus are fold-down seats such that when full, no one is going anywhere unless the side sliding door is opened.

Once I get to Douala, I have to take a taxi from the south side of town where I will get dropped off, to the north side where the agence area is for points north and west of Douala. This includes Kumba. I've been told there's an agence that goes directly to Kumba, which is a good thing and will prevent me from having to change buses again in some, likely out of the way, city such as Buea.

10 observations and rules of the buses:
1. Buses do not leave the station until full, except Centrale Voyages between Yaoundé and Douala which leaves on schedule (mostly).
2. When buses are not full, they employ "hustlers" to try and get you on their bus instead of the bus next door by promising that they will leave first. These hustlers sometimes sit inside the bus making you think the bus is fuller than it actually is trying to persuade you to get on.
3. If you want to sit up front with the driver, you sometimes have to pay extra for the priviledge.
4. If you're in a van and sitting in the last row next to a window and you want to get out at your village which is not a regular stop for the bus, you will be expected to exit through the window, unless you are a woman or old man.
5. Vans, not often buses, are routinely stopped by police who control/extort money from drivers who are interested in arriving at their destination without delay. Without payment, police will examine all of the driver's papers (license, registration, insurance) and then proceed to examine each of the passengers' papers. This process can take hours if the policeman so desires. Usually, 500 will prevent this from happening.
6. If you have a package you are traveling with, it goes either above or below the bus (if that's an option). Much care is taken in making sure that things don't fall off the top of the bus during the trip.
7. Its generally accepted that the driver will have a beer or shot of whiskey before leaving. It "loosens him up".
8. Buses do not have shocks, and thus traveling over unpaved or poorly paved roads and speedbumps can be painful and is not recommended for those with bad backs.
9. If you need to go to the bathroom, inform the driver and he will decide where to pull over. The passenger side rear is the accepted place for releiving yourself with the maximum privacy. Women do the same.
10. Bad West African music (yes, there is good music, but its not very popular) is almost always played at loud volumes throughout the trip ensuring that you and more importantly, the driver, stays awake.

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Tuesday, November 4, 2003

I returned from Kumba yesterday afternoon after almost six hours of travel each way on the vans described above. Needless to say, I slept quite well last night as my body recovered.

Guitarfest was awesome! There were about 25 of us who came from all around the region to get together for food, friends and fun. My friend Zal who lives in Kribi came up on Friday night to hang out in Edéa for the night and to travel to Kumba together on Saturday morning. We had a great dinner of roasted chicken, plantains and fries and took a nice walk around my town. The trip to Kumba was much as expected, but when we arrived and saw many of our friends the drain of the trip left us.

The party started after dark, and there were five performers, including me! I was encouraged to perform a few numbers at the last minute and one of the guitarists who could read music well agreed to help me out with no rehearsal whatsoever. I sang five songs, but really should have only sung three. The other two were sadly lacking in practice, but it was all in fun, so why not? The other performers varied in skill levels, but just getting up there was something and the audience, although admittedly a bit under the influence, was very encouraging. There were even a couple who had written songs themselves and performed them. My friend Jeremy, who lives virtually on the Nigerian border, had a particularly funny one about being a "psychotic, neurotic Peace Corps volunteer". The evening was one of those experiences I will look back upon fondly for the rest of my life.

Kumba, the city, is not all that special, although we did eat at Classy Burger several times- which did have quite a tasty cheeseburger. I did get a chance to walk around the market, which, although very large, was mostly unremarkable for the product selection. I did get some nice fabric to have a shirt made, and now need to find a good tailor. I also had the opportunity to practice my pidgin, which was lots of fun. The woman I bought the fabric from in the market was pleasantly surprised with the amount of pidgin I knew, which was great to hear. Pidgin is derived primarily from English, but is truly its own language. For example, "I want to eat a steak" is translated to "Ah de wan chop kaw-bif". Fun stuff!

I went by my landlord's house on Friday before I left and told him that I was moving out before the end of November and reminded him that I had already paid the month of November. His wife, who really runs the show, was not there at the time. She was, however, waiting for me in the market and stopped me on my way to work this morning. She was clearly not happy that her three-year Peace Corps gravy train was coming to an end. She even had the gaul to suggest that I hire a full-time guard to stand outside my house in my crowded neighborhood to protect me. I told her that I shouldn't have to pay for a guard just to stay in that house. She started to give me a whole sob story, but I stuck to my story, and she saw that I wasn't going to change my mind and that it was already done. Finally, after about five or ten minutes, she let me go. I told her I would return the keys after I had left the house. I knew she wasn't going to let me go easily, but its all for the best.

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Wednesday, November 5, 2003

I took a tour of the school in which I will be teaching beginning next week, and of my new house last night! The school is for the kids of the employees of Alucam, and while not quite to US standards, is probably the nicest school in the country. Their classrooms even have air-conditioners, and they have a computer room with dial-up internet access! Its pretty unreal, and I would feel as though I'm not helping the people who need help except for the fact that 98% of the students are Cameroonian, and its opportunities like this that give them a chance to succeed in the wide world and give something back to their own community. I will be teaching two different classes each for two hours a week beginning on Monday afternoon. The students are between 8 and 10 years old. I'm very excited about it!

The house is about three doors down from the school within the Alucam "plantation". Its a really nice two bedroom house with screened in porch, kitchen and outdoor sink for washing clothes. I feel a little guilty about this, but I have three airconditioners and two water heaters, which is absolutely unheard of for Peace Corps volunteers. I am getting all of this for the same price per month as my current house, with the balance being paid-in-kind by my work at the school. The best part is that utilities are paid for and that my closest neighbor will be a healthy fifty feet or so, which will allow me to sing and play music and have dinner parties without people caring. I will be getting the keys sometime late this week or early next week after their finished putting a new coat of paint and fixing the place so its close to perfect! I can't wait!!!

2003-10-27T10:09:00.000+01:00

This is so exciting ! I can’t believe I’m writing this on our new computer ! Its hard for me to explain what a huge deal this is. Maybe if I put it in dollars... The entire budget for the entire year for the cooperative is about $5000. The sole employee makes about $70 per month, and rent and electricity is donated by the State. The single largest expense each year is Provisions for Bad Debts which is budgeted at around $800. This computer with printer and scanner- a last minute decision- and UPS to guard against frequent brown/black-outs cost about $1200- a quarter of the entire year’s budget! Needless to say we had to get special permission to buy it. The President, being a palm oil plantation owner and not the least bit technically inclined pushed the Board of Directors to decide that the purchase of a computer for the cooperative was indeed a decision for the entire membership. A special meeting was convened on a Saturday two weeks ago and the plan was presented. I had done, with some help of the manager, a cost-benefit analysis to show that the computer would pay for itself in less than one year. They approved it and finally after some additional research and talking to my friend, Gabriel who runs the largest supermarket/general commerce store in town, the President and I went to Douala on Tuesday morning to close the deal. We took the bus up and met with our regional auditor, Mr. Wifoke, who accompanied us. We took his pickup, found the store I had been to almost a month beforehand when doing research, and went upstairs to discuss the deal in private with the owner. Mr. Khodor is a fairly young Lebanese muslim- I’m not sure why, but there’s a sizeable lebanese population in Douala- and was very generous in giving our small cooperative a very good price, and significant reductions from the list prices. As a thank you gift for coming with us- and explaining to the owner the finer points of micro-credit banking in Cameroon, we bought him a new mouse with scroll- something he’s been wanting. To celebrate our purchase, and the fact that the computer was going to be delivered the next day to our door for free!, we went across the street where the President had chinese food for the first time- curry shrimp and ginger beef- yum!

I’ve spent the last couple of days developing some templates in Word and Excel as well as beginning the development of the database I designed to run the cooperative. My favorite incident thus far was yesterday when I put together a schedule of payments for credits of varying lengths and interest rates with equal payments each month. This is something that he calculates anew for each customer, and has been known to make minor mistakes and takes him about ten minutes. Now, we’re down to 30 seconds. He stared at it for a long time and made me explain the formulas over and over. He’s happy now, and has already begun to fully embrace the computer’s capabilities.

Other great news, I found a new house and will hopefully be moving in the next couple of weeks- I will likely be paying for two houses for the month of November, but it’ll be worth it. A little background, and Mom, please don’t worry... I’ve been having a bunch of little problems in and around my house. First of all, the house is simply too big for one person. Its a big white house on a hill and overlooks the surrounding, much smaller houses containing large families. Others seem to feel the same way at times. I have been asked for money several times by different neighbors in a “I’m hungry” kind-of-way. Additionally, I still have not gotten used to the noise and routinely wake up at 5:30am thinking that the neighbor unlocking his door is actually my door- his door and mine are about equidistant from my bed. Also, I had two incidences where one or more of the mischevious teens tried to open my lock in the middle of the night, but failed- when I’m inside, each door has a lock and at least two bolts, so its very hard to get in. And lastly, someone somehow got into my room and took my portable CD player- I’m very sad about that one. I’ve deduced that it must have been the guy who came to fix my door after the lock was broken the first time, but its not to my benefit to accuse him since he’s a member of the cooperative and generally looked upon as an honest, hard-working man in the community. The only other choice is my housekeeper, who, when I told her about it, became very upset that I would even consider that it was her, and said it would be stupid for her to take something so soon after starting work. She does really good work, so I reluctantly believe her and told her that if anything else goes missing, she’s history.

Anyway, the new house is within the grounds of the Aluminum factory in town where a number of French families live currently. The house has a yard and is air-conditioned! There is also a guard 24 hours a day and only lets in employees and approved visitors. All of this for the same price I’m paying now. The only catch is that in two weeks, I will begin teaching english after work for four hours a week to little kids at the Alucam-sponsored school. I figure that should put a fun mix into my work, so I agreed.

As a follow-up to the story about the guy who cornered me in the bar demanding a loan... the next week, he came in and the manager and I went out to see his house. It seems that he needed money for aluminum sheeting for the roof of his “retirement house” in a far quartier of Edea. When we got back, we looked at his situation and, after some haggling back and forth, he got his loan of a little over $1000. Needless to say he was frustrated but in the end pleased with the result.

Other things have happened- connecting with a world-studies teacher in Charlotte through the Peace Corps World-Wise Schools program, a trip to Cameroon’s Ocktoberfest festivities complete with brautwurst, saurkraut and a German band, a night out at a Douala nightclub with Gabriel, and the return of Hortense, but this is already quite lengthy. I’ll just finish with a quick book report. I finished James Clavell’s “Tai-Pan” and although the written-in accents of British and Portuguese sailors was a bit tough at first, the story was fast-paced and interesting, and I enjoyed the historical aspect of the creation of Hong Kong as a British trading outpost. Recommended. I also finished William Goldman’s “The Princess Bride”. Yes, its THAT Princess Bride. The book was written ten years before the movie, so I figured it should be good, and it was. It was at least as funny as the movie, and there were passages which much better explained some of the events in the movie that I have always thought were a bit incongruous. A very quick and enjoyable read. Two-thumbs up. Next up: “Picture of Dorian Grey” by Oscar Wilde.

A mail update: since moving and changing mailing addresses, regular airmail takes only about 9 days to get to me with packages only slightly slower. I LOVE packages (recent faves included mac&cheese, m&ms and US Magazine!), but if you send one, please seal it very well. Two packages I received recently had been “accidentally” opened, although I think all the contents made it more or less intact.

Finally, since I will now be prewriting the blog updates, I want to start a series of observations/thoughts on various topics. So, if you’d like to send suggestions, things you’d like to know about here, send them to: pbine@yahoo.com

2003-10-23T20:32:00.000+01:00

I'm alive! Sorry for the long absence, but things have been nuts around here. Plus the fact that every time I started to go to the cyber cafe either sunspots were blocking the satellite reception or the power was out (living in Africa, thats a regular occurence). I do have good news though, my cooperative finally agreed to and bought a new computer! So, I will be prewriting my posts from now on, which should mean higher quality reading henceforth. This will start on Sunday when I visit the cybercafe in Kribi- yes its a beach weekend folks! Really folks, life is hard here, but people don't seem to believe me...

2003-10-05T13:21:00.000+01:00

I'm in Douala at the moment and had a few minutes left on my credit, so here's another update. I'm still trying to make up for the several weeks when I wasn't able to write anything.

My friend, Isabelle, who is based in the village of Melong near the city on Nkongsamba, made it down on Friday afternoon to visit and see the town. Isabelle is one of my friends that I had previously done a lot of traveling with, including my trips to Bamenda and Foumbot. Anyway, we had a really nice afternoon and evening, except for when we went to a bar to have a drink and one of the members of the cooperative was there. He's been very upset for the last week or two because he applied for a loan and was denied because he wanted too big of a loan with no collateral. So he caught me in the bar, after I had already sat down and ordered a drink, and started telling me that if I couldn't give him the loan then he was going to take all of his money out of the cooperative and bank somewhere else. I really don't know the details of his file, but I did tell him that if he came down on Monday morning, I would look at his file and discuss it with him further. The funny part was that he lied to me and said that the President of the Board had told him that I was the one who made all the decisions and that not only was I in charge, but I was managing some amount of money that the American government had given to the cooperative. Not only would the President never say such a thing, its so far from the truth, that he obviously made it up all by himself. Monday should be fun.

Saturday morning, we got up and walked to Akbar's place, a great place for omlettes, on our way to the bus stop to go to Douala for the day. After eating, my friend Gabriel just happened to be out in the road and saw us- not that I'm that hard to spot and identify, mind you. He offered to have his driver for the day take us up to Douala and drop us off, so we got a ride in a brand new Toyota Land Cruiser! Well, that was only the start of the extravagances for the day. We met with Isabelle's friend from DC who lives here now and works for the american company, AES, which owns all the hydroelectric power plants here in Cameroon. She lives with her boyfriend, a brit, who works for the company expanding the cell phone network here. Needless to say, when we got to their apartment, it was a whole new world. Their deck overlooks the port and river Wouri, and has a separate hot water heater for each of the three bathrooms and kitchen. They even had a washer and dryer, which is very rare here- you can hire a woman to wash your clothes by hand cheaper than buying the machines. Anyway, they wanted to go to the "club" for the day, which, having no other plans, I was happy to go along. When we got there, it was just like Michael Jackson's Neverland- or as close as it can get here. The man who owns one of the largest breweries here built this huge complex which almost no one uses! It has a grass soccer field, large swimming pool, go-kart track- which we tried and had great fun, and it was several times faster than anything in Myrtle Beach and thus probably somewhat dangerous. There's also a carnival-type section with electric bumper cars, several other carnival type rides, an electric bronco, and a video game hall. All of this was staffed and powered up, but there was no one there but us! We had a really great time though, just the four of us, plus two of their british friends.

After, we had a fabulous steak dinner at a restaurant here, and I ended up staying the night. Not a typical Peace Corps experience, but that's part of the fun!!!

2003-10-02T19:47:00.000+01:00

There is one interesting story that I forgot to include in my last post- which was really completeed on the 30th of September, and begun on the date of the post...

My friend from training, Kelly, is a 33 year old single but strangely engaged woman from Denver. I say strangely because I'm not entirely sure how someone who's engaged could up and join the Peace Corps for two years...
She's a nice woman, but occasionally a little emotionally erratic. So, several weeks ago, I received a text message- thats how most of the volunteers communicate with each other here since calls are so expensive- that said "I'm about two seconds from going home, please help". Well, of course, I returned the text with a 'what's wrong?'. The response I got back was "I can't stop crying. I can't get anything done right and am out of money. I have pissed off 3 of 5 coworkerss and haven't even started work yet. I feel completely worthless". Well, at that, I felt a call was necessary to figure out what was going on, and if I needed to go and try to help sort things out- she was probably closer to me than just about anyone else within a day's drive of her.

I finally decided that I needed to go to her post of Bafia, which had been previously labeled the "seventh ring of hell" by a volunteer who's been here for a while. After riding on two buses and two taxis, I finally arrived six hours after leaving Edea. She was quite happy to see me, needless to say. The basis of the problem was that she had given money to people to do work for her new house before the work was completed. In this country, that's inviting trouble, especially for a single white woman. I spent almost three days there, but finally was able to work out some of the problems and convince her to just forget about the money for now. She has stayed, and today told me that she is enjoying work. I have to admit though, that the people of Bafia are not nearly as kind as most other places, and the heat is a bit intense- but without the humidity of Edea!

I neglected to give the 'book update' in the last post. I have completed George Orwell's "Coming up for Air", which was interesting from a historical point of view, but not all that great of a novel, I didn't think. I'm now knee deep in James Clavell's "Tai-Pan". It was a little rough at the start, mostly because of character accents, but I'm really getting into it now, and HAVE to see the movie at some point.

My friend Isabelle is coming down from her small town of Melong to visit tomorrow, which should be great fun! I love having visitors!

An update on Gabriel- I finally met his girlfriend the other night. She seems very nice and yesterday made a very nice lunch for the two of us. I think this may be one of those relationships that thrives on stress and hightened emotions. Supposedly we're all going to a nightclub in Douala on Saturday night, so I should be able to make a better analysis then.

2003-09-21T15:41:00.000+01:00

Sorry about that! I had thought that after writing my last post on the 7th that I had actually pushed the "Publish" button. Apparently not. But, it was still there, so I've published it unedited for your reading pleasure.

The past couple of weeks have been quite busy in a mostly good way. I have begun to settle into my new home in Edea. I have to say though that I had quite a rough patch over the anniversary of September 11th. It provided a serious mental check to confirm why I'm really here and where I have come from, and all of the wonderful people in my life who have helped me along the way. In some sense it made me sad that I don't see or talk to my friends and family as often as I would like. On the other hand, it helped me understand that being here is a wonderful opportunity to do something to improve the lives of people without any access to knowledge of how to make a bank run or how to create a successful enterprise. This country is in many ways like the wild west, with people doing whatever they can think to do to make a life for them and their families. When someone has a good idea and executes it well, he can be very successful. And when someone here is successful, often he shares it with not only his extended family, but friends and people in the community.

The days after the 11th were much better, and life has continued to get better here since then. I met a really nice guy who is the manager of a supermarche here, named Gabriel. Gabriel is single and he thinks that the woman he is involved with/living with is cheating on him. I have yet to meet her since she has been in Yaounde for the last several weeks, but from the stories he tells, its not good. Gabriel speaks French, English and German, so I'm not only improving my french when we hang out, I'm also getting a little German bonus. He actually lived in Germany for several years, near Hamburg.

My friend Cathy came to visit down from Kumba that weekend. She has yet to work at her bank, since the people who run it are corrupt to the point where a couple of weeks ago their suppliers repossessed their computers, office furniture and files. Its kinda funny in a really not funny way. She is planning on finding another bank in town to work with as well as helping the large women's group that's there. We took a nice trip up to Douala to get lots of fun groceries, like pasta with cream sauce in a bag- just add water! I also found HoneyNut Cheerios, which I have been savoring. Sadly, the ants have figured out that I have them too, so I've learned to keep everything in a ziplock container. Cathy and I also made it down to Kribi for a day at the beach and hanging out with our friend and fellow volunteer Zal, who lives there.

The weekend after Cathy left, I went back to Kribi and Grand Batanga for a regional meeting which featured a grilled seafood dinner in swimsuits on the ocean. We had shrimp, fish and stingray- all caught that morning. You know, sometimes being a volunteer has its benefits.

Last weekend, I met a really nice French guy who works with Alucam, the large aluminum factory in town. He's a friend of Gabriel, and made a fantastic shrimp and pork dinner for me, french style, with some nice bordeaux wine. Sunday, Gabriel and I went to visit Lake Osso, which isn't far from Edea, and is a beautiful virtually untouched lake in a valley. I took some photos...

Ok, my time is up for now. I'm helping the bank buy their first computer, so I hope to have time to prewrite these in the next few weeks!

2003-09-07T20:09:00.000+01:00

Its now into my second week at my lovely new home of Edea, and things are starting to get settled. I do have a great deal of furniture and a semi-working fridge that the previous Peace Corps tenants left me. Its made my life quite a bit easier. In fact, to cinch my semi-laid-back lifestyle, I hired a housewoman this week. She started on Thursday, and comes twice a week to clean the house -mostly the floors- and hand-wash my clothes and linens. Its really a wonderful thing, and I highly recommend it. For this, I pay her 12,000 CFA per month (including 2000 for moto transportation, since she lives a little too far to walk)- this is about the equivalent of 22 dollars, but represents a third of an average secretary's monthly wages. In Edea, they get paid about 35,000 per month.

I went to the market this morning to do a more thorough check of what was available. I came away with a papaya, five oranges and five mandarins for a grand total of 650 CFA, a little over a dollar. Sometimes, I love this country.

My neighbors have gone from overly curious to decidedly indifferent. In general, I think they've decided that I'm not going to open my doors and talk to them all day or whatever. I'm not sure exactly the best way to handle the situation, but I think I'll let it evolve over time. Some of the neighbors who are not adjacent to me seem to be quite happy everytime I see them though, which is nice. Work on the other hand is going quite well. The people I work with and the current clients of the cooperative have all been great to me, and have taken me out to lunch several times this past week. We've already started talking about how we can help the cooperative and even some of the members who have outstanding loans. Work should continue to get better and better.

On the free-time front, I've had a lot of it. I have completed the Salman Rushdie book-interesting, but not fabulous. Not a must-read, unless you're interested in Pakastani history, in which case its quite fascinating. I also finished "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" by Milan Kuntera or something like that. I think they also made it into a movie. Anyway, highly, highly recommended. I really did enjoy it. Its a bit deep at times too, which is a little different for me. Now, I've switched things up a bit and am halfway through "1st to Die" by James Patterson. Quite fun to read.

I'm out of time, so until next week- keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars!