Alli in Africa

Two fellow volunteers, Angel and Sarah and I all took a trip to the Eastern Province. While there we decided to go to Ndelelé to see the hippos. Once there, our moto drivers worked to set us up with a fisherman to take us out in a perogue. At one point, we couldn’t get a boater and they told us that we should just go out in the boat by ourselves! We were like ‘are you crazy!?! No way in hell!!” So, they managed to get us a fisherman. We got in these perogues with only an inch of room between the boat and the water on either side and we were taken to go see hippos. Now, I don’t know if you know, but hippos are a very dangerous animal and will kill people. The fisherman took us up near them and I was like ‘ok, stop here….here….here…Angel! Tell the man to STOP!!” We got really close. The scariest part was when they went underwater because you start to wonder, ‘shit! Where are they??’ and then they pop up closer to the boat. Really scary. One was even staring at us pretty hard and kept getting closer and closer. But luckily, our boat had a small hole in it and was leaking water into the boat so we got the guy to go back to shore. When we got out we all looked like we had pissed our pants from fear. But it was a great experience. 

After all was said and done, we got the moto drivers to take us to the main road and drop us and we walked the last 2 K into town. Well, we didn’t have any water and couldn’t find a bar but we got lucky because someone was selling passion fruit so we each bought 3 and chomped down as we walked. By the time we reached the village, we had fruit all over our faces, hands and clothes. Then, I saw a water pump as we entered the town so like people dying of thirst, we drank hungrily and then dumped water on and over ourselves. Some men sitting across the street were even laughing at us.

           As I stared at my boyfriend in disbelief while he explained that he had locked his keys in the car, I couldn’t resist the urge to ask “Do you have some string, an airfreshener, and a plastic cup?” Then as he stared at me (as if I had lost my mind), I told him that what I really needed just a clothes hanger…preferably wire. So there we stood, my boyfriend Mungai and his best friend Bel watching me as I manage to pop the lock on his car door in just under a minute. They were amazed that me, a girl, knew something about cars…wouldn’t they be amazed if they had any idea that I have had plenty of experience learning about cars, generally in lessons with my father after making huge mistakes such as overfilling the oil or letting my tires get too low on air. What I thought was amazing was that the only thing these guys could come up with to open the car was to break the glass! 

           For Christmas, my mother (in her usual genius for great gifts) sent me a book called What Would MacGyver Do?. As I began to read, it said that in today’s world, the majority of people are “good at the one thing that we are all paid to do, but clueless about most everything else.” So, I want to give you the word “MacGyver” in the vernacular:

Verb: To “MacGyver” something is to fix it in a resourceful and improvisational way

Proper Noun: as honorific, bestowed upon especially creative handymen or -women, eg. “Nice job, MacGyver.”  

The -ism: this can be either a) the act of “pulling a MacGyver,” or b) the thingamajig -  the makeshift invention – created in the process. 

Now, I charge you with going out and learning how to do something new…and use your imagination!!

So, yesterday I began my morning by waking at 5 am (half an hour before the Muslim call to prayer!!) and finished my small packing. I was taking a bus to Yaounde in order to attend some meetings and then go home for a lovely visit. After arriving at the bus park by 6, ensuring that I got the “good” seat I preceeded to wait until the departure time of 9. Finally around 9:45 when we have finally gotten around to trying to leave, a person came running up to tell a woman at the back that her daughter has just died in the hopsital. Understandably the woman begins to cry….then preceeds to hysteria to the point that she cannot even identify her bags for the workers to remove them from the vehicle. So we wait for another half hour for a family member to come and retrieve both the woman and her bags. We finally hit the road at about 10:30 and are doinjg quited nicely timewise until suddenly our bus driver pulls to the side of the road. The clutch is gone. It is now 1:30. So, I get off the bus and walk to 10 kilometers to Makenene (the market and midway stop point, which is by the way, a 2 hour walk in the blazing sun). Finally around 6:30 our new bus arrives at the market to pick up the ones who decided to walk. Everyone loads the bus….and we’re off, again! Live is grand, jamming to the abundance of boy bands blaring on the radio with backup help from all the women on the bus. Then, we stop in Bafia. There we take on 5 men….one of which has to sit 5 to a seat whereas everyone else is sitting 4. This should be nothing new to them, I mean, we’re in Cameroon for crying out load! Where it is normal to put 8 adults in a four door car! But this man continued to complain and bicker with the other passengers for 45 mintues, even over the blaring radio! Finally, the bus drvier (I love this man, by the way) pulls the bus over, gets out of the bus, walks down the side, yanks open the window and smacks the man upside the head and then preceeded to tell him to shut the hell up or he would drop him there in the middle of nowhere at night. Did I mention that I loved my bus driver? So after that we get about 10 minutes down the road when a gendarme stops us and checks i.d.’s. Guess who the 5 people were that did not have their i.d.’s??? So we sat for another 45 minutes while they argued and bribed the gendarmes and finally were able to leave.  After all this trouble, we finally arrived in Yaounde at 9:45 at night and the curfew for the office is 10. When all was said and done and I finally managed to get my bags down and get a taxi I was long past ten. I arrived at the office at 10:30 and I must say that I dare the country director to say anything to me!!! I am spoiling for an arguement!

SO all this week, I have been attending meetings and training sessions with my Cameroonian counterpart, which requires large amounts of skits and public speaking. Through these experiences, I have discovered the difference in public speaking styles for Cameroonians and Americans. As any American stands before a large group of people to speak, their heart begins to race and the hands begin to sweat and shake. As they begin to speak, they start at a normal volume and speed but as the time in front of the audience progresses so does the speed and their voice occasionally takes on a slicglty higher pitch. Usually at the end of the speech, whatever they have tried to convey has been lost in the fast speech and abnormally high voice. On the other hand, the more nervous a Cameroonian gets, the slower they begin to speak putting very large emphasis on key words as if the audience is mentally slow while stating the most obvious things as fact. THAT      IS        ALL       I       HAVE         TO           SAY          TODAY.

With everything that has been going on lately, I have not managed to update lately. Ashia. so here goes: First, at the end of January my patenrs and grandfather came to visit post. Talk about a “site visit”. I do believe that I have managed to have one of the most memorable out-of-country experiences while they were here but I must admit, it was very enjoyable as well. From dad yelling at mom and I for laughing in the face of car troubles to fixing the leaking pipes in my compound to a ncle Charles flashback at C.P.C. with Dr. Gwanfogbe, it was nothing but memorable. I can only look back and smile (thankfully). Following that in February, there were the transportaion strikes nationwide that disrupted daily life and gave me one of the most exciting taxi rides ever. Running blockades, fighting and arguing with blockade-ers, and the car sooo full that there was even a man riding hood…..You don’t get that kind of field experience just anywhere. These demonstrations also forced the Peace Corps to evacuate my province and bring everyone to the capital (Yaounde) for 4 fun filled days of surfing the web, fighting with the dvd player, playing softball and shotput with ripe avocados, and any other activity set to occupy the minds of 23 cooped up adults. But luckily, we were soon returned to our posts and life resumed its usual snail’s pace into the future. The last thing that has happened was I lost a very dear member of my African family, Maddi (my dog). Not surprisingly, the veteraniary care here is not of the highest caliber and so after a visit with the vet, he died of an allergic reaction to some medicine. Let’s all just pray that things settle down on this side of the world for a while.

As you know, I have a new puppy that is prone to misbehavior. I have been told that there are a number of ways to train a puppy. I have tried all that have been suggested and these are my findings.

First, there is the “water treatment” method.It is as follows: When the puppy misbehaves, you are to spray or splash water at them, preferably in the face. Maddy tends to just stare at you for a moment as if you have lost your mind and then resume the misbehavior with renewed vigor.

Next, you have the “rocks in a can” method. The object is to shake it loudly at the offending dog in an attempt to scare them out of misbehaving. Maddy has taken this as a game. He will start to bounce on his front paws, barking excitedly and then, after the fun is over (owner becomes exasperated and stops), he returns to the misbehavior.

The third method is the “pop with a rolled magazine” one (A book will work in a pinch). This is where you walk around with a rolled magazine in your back pocket and whip it out with a quickness at the dog when you see he is being naughty. You then precede to dive a light “warning pop” on the butt and if the dog does not stop his offensive behavior, you then administer a more firm “I mean it” whack to the rear. Maddy has only responded to this method by launching a counter attack on both the magazine and arm holding the magazine as well as any other body parts if the mood suits him. I have found this method does nothing but teach him to harbor a sincere hatred of all things written.

The final method is th e”chain you up” one. The scenario: The dog misbehaves and you pick them up and chain then to “teach them a lesson” while repeating No_______ (insert offense here). I have found that the problem with this is the dog does not understand English and the only thing accomplished is a severe headache ofter enduring what you deem is a “good amount of time” of whining, howling, yelping, etc.

So, this owner has resigned herself to having a dog who sits on the couches with her and owning chewed arms and shoes. If you have any suggestions, ALL ARE WELCOME.

So we have hit what everyone considers the “true dry season” and you want to talk about dry. I have only been outside walking for at the most an hour and yet I am covered in this reddish dust that just does not come off…I am turning into an African!Or at least the color of one…if this keeps up they won’t be able to honestly call me a whiteman anymore! The dust is so bad it literally gets everywhere…hair, nose, mouth (imagine sand crunching between your teeth), eyes, shoes….the list goes on and on.

Even the dog and cat are suffering from the dust. In fact, the dustier it gets…the more they seem to act up. Although, I must say that I think the cat is picking up some bad habits from the dog. If you didn’t know, I am still working on the “no bite” lesson with Maddy (the dog), much to his chagrin because a lot of whacking with a book or magazine is entailed. Well, last night Meinu (the cat) decided that because he did not agree with the amount of time it was taking to cook his eggs, he would just take a bite out of my ankle. (Yes, he gets eggs because cat food is very hard to find here). Needless to say, there were eggs on the ceiling and floor and I was not at all amused. Just the daily antics of what is quickly becoming “Alli’s Farmhouse”. We have now gained a dog, a cat, one goat (which is soon destined for someones table), 4 pigs, and a boatload of chickens will be arriving shortly. Yes, most definitely “Alli’s Farmhouse”.

I am also under the impression that the dustier it gets here, the more the children act up as well. In fact, I had a wonderful encounter with 3 pickins yesterday. I went to the little shop that I go to everyday to buy any number of things but this morning instead of any adult, there were 3 children running the store. I ordered my usual bread and they began laughing and joking on me in the dialect (thinking that I am so stupid as to not understand). Well, after receiving my food and change as well as calming the suppressed anger I have towards all children in my village, I calmly let them know that it was not nice to laugh at people no matter how different from them they are. Well, as children always do, they acted like they didn’t understand. So, I again let them know that it was rude….well, let’s just say that if they had come close enough to the counter I would have popped all three before they knew what happened. (Yes, it is legal and expected to get smacked if you are deranging…and I would be quite happy to oblige). But luckily for them, I got another handle on my temper and let it slide….which is becoming a little bit easier to do day by day….although I would still love to smack all the children who sing the “whiteman song” to me daily.

For a season so filled with laughter and cheer, It is hard to believe the holidays are here;

Walking around in jeans and flip flops, Sweating right through my lightest tank top;

The street vendors sell their tinsel and fake trees, While those on the streets pray for a cool breeze;

The house is decorated as best I can with Cypress and lights, Let’s just pray they don’t blow by a power surge in the night!

My eyes are twinkling, my cheeks all aglow, More from dust and sun with no chance of snow;

The planned feast of the day is pizza, a wonderful Italian dish, While the locals prefer chicken to their usual fish;

Some of the Christmas songs are new, some are not; Memories of past Christmases in my mind are caught;

But a good book for company, a good friend with which to dine; A new experience this season, no worries I am fine;

The sun scorches down in a bright blaze; Direct from Africa, I wish you all Happy Holidays!!

Well, I have officially managed to survive 3 months at post on my own and 6 months total in Cameroon. All is going well and I am still loving it…although I do have my moment when the water is out or it feels like someone is playing the off, on, off, on game with the electricity. I have just finished with my first in-service training session that lasted for a week and lets just say that I am ready to head back to post. We arrived in Kribi (the beach) last sunday in the afternoon with some free time so everyone went and hung out at the beach swimming and acting like children who have never seen the ocean before. It was a blast!

The sessions started on monday (very helpful but distracting form the beach) and they gave me some of my lacking motivation back. I had begun to loose it due to the failure of some of my projects but I am back on track so that is good. It also helped being around my fellow American friends who understand exactly what I am goinjg through here in the country. That and the fact that there were a number of after-session activities due to 3 birthdays and the bonfire/gift exchange. I must admit that it is REALLY hard to get into the Christmas spirit and sing songs about a white winter while sitting on the beach and away from the fire because it is at least 70 degrees at night. But we did indulge in some night swimming…numerous times throughout the week seeing as it is a great way to cool of after having a good time at the discotech and such. My final adventure in Kribi was the Reggae Fest on the beach where I was pulled on stage with my other friends to dance in front of a very large numbr of Cameroonians. Talk about embarrassing and yet exhilirating at the same time.

So tommorrow I head out from Yaounde to go back to Bamenda but like every holiday season, there is no slowing down. Two of my friends are coming to visit me and explore Bamenda and the surrounding area. I’m excited and yet a little anxious for some peace and quiet. But that will not happen until after New Year’s becasue after they leave, I will be heading to Limbe (the other beach)  for some R&R before and after climbing Mt. Cameroon. Can’t wait to do that becasue we are doing th 5 day trail and willbe seeing some Jungle Elephants. YEA!! Then I’ll be headed back to my area for a lilltle bit of time by myself before my family comes to visit and it’s whirlwind all over again. But I can’t wait!!

September 27, 2007

So I have found out where the pool in Bamenda is located. Quite a nice one actually….if you are faced away from the road, you can almost imagine that you are in a very developed country…then you hear the constant honking of taxis and it kills the daydream. It wa actually quite wonderful, though. I managed to a mini layout session for 45 minutes before the rain about 2 weeks ago in my frnot yard wearing a tank top and shorts while sitting in a dining room chair and my feet propped on a coffee table (can we say uncomfortable?). Needless to say, I got ridiculous burn lines that needed fixing (why is it that I always forget when I am nearer to the equator and manage to fry myself?). So today when I went to the pool, I lathered on the 30spf sun block (yes mom, you would be proud) but it didn’t make a lick of difference. Well, ok, yes it did because you can definitely see the spots I missed. They are a maroon red where as the rest of my exposed flesh is only the color of fire engine red. I USED SUNBLOCK!!!! What happened???? Ok, so maybe it was the fact that other than my face and arms, the rest of my body has not seen the light of day in almost over a year. That and the fact that all of us were enjoying ourselves so much that we were there for 4 hours. Sad, I know. But it felt like a bit of home. Then after crisping ourselves, we all went to an amazing restaurant and had the most delicious meal I’ve had in  a long time.