Tu es là?

There are many small nuances to life and culture in Cameroon. I realized that many of them have now become commonplace to me. But I want to describe and detail them to you at home before I become too accustomed and forget how different and strange these little nuance are…

One of my favourite Cameroonian greetings:

When you see someone and you are first greeting them, you say “Tu es là?” which literally means “Are you there?” Then the person you asked answers, “Oui, je suis là.” Which means “Yes, I am here.” It’s just so funny to me because it’s so unnecessary. Obviously, that person is there, you’re looking at them! There are a lot of these greetings and saying in the Cameroonian French. They really like to point out the obvious, and spend a lot of time discussing/commenting on/dwelling on the blatantly evident aspects of life. Example: I get home to my host family’s and the first thing my father says to me is “Tu es là?” and of course, I answer “Oui, Guy, je suis là.”

Many times in Cameroonian life, there is a need to describe things with “beaucoup,” which means, “a lot.” i.e.: “there is A LOT of corruption in Cameroon,” or “there are A LOT of les blanches in Bafia now that all you Peace Corps volunteers here,” or “ .” there is a quirk here in Cameroon- they have a hand gesture that accompanies beaucoup! So almost every time they say beaucoup (usually to emphasize that there is many many many!) they make a fist with their right hand and take their left hand (palm out and facing down) and hit the top of their fist hand multiple times. that proved pretty difficult to explain via text. I wish I could show you, seeing the action is so much better…

One of my other favourite (yes, I am spelling everything the British way now, and using all British vocabulary, because the Cameroon educational system teachers British English, and that’s what their students are tested on, so that is what I am teaching- if the kids answer with “American English” on their nationwide exams, they will get the answer wrong!) sayings is “Nous sommes ensemble.” This is translated as “We are together.” Cameroonians use this a parting saying. So if you run into someone in the street, you have a little conversation about the weather and the health of their family, and when you part ways, one of you says “Nous sommes ensemble!” and the other answers, “Oui, Nous sommes ensemble!” The first time a Cameroon said this to me, he translated it into English. I didn’t realize at the time that this is simply a way to say goodbye, and thoroughly confused myself trying to comprehend what he meant. This saying is also used in the classroom frequently, usually when kids are talking/disturbing/not paying attention. The teacher asks, “Are we together?” and it is meant as a sort of rhetorical question and is simply a subtler way of telling the kids to shut up and listen.

Sachets! Ok, I heard rumors of this fact before coming, but now that I am here, I can verify its truth: many Cameroonians are alcoholics. Functioning alcoholics, but alcoholics nevertheless. You should see the size of the beer bottles here! Two American beers could fit inside one Cameroonian bottle easily. They also enjoy their palm wine… at anytime, including 8 o’clock I the morning. But it entertains me the most when they drink sachets. What are sachets? Well, sachets are square, sealed plastic bags. Full of liquor. Any type you want, vodka, whiskey, gin, rum, etc. There are probably about 4 or 5 ounces of liquid in each sachet, and you can buy one for 100 CFA (about 20 cents). Many people buy a few sachets and mix them in whatever soda or juice they are drinking, but those who are a bit more intense (like numerous moto drivers… safe??) like to just cut a small hole in the side of the sachet and drink their liquor straight, sort of juice box-style. When I first got here, I saw empty sachets littered all over the place. I was curious as to what they were, but I quickly deduced their contents after spotting a plethora of them outside the bar I pass walking to school everyday. Now I know, I and can steer clear of any moto drivers sucking on a plastic bag of questionable liquid!!

Some other news from in country (yes, this is what we say when referring to anything that happens here. yes, I know some of you have mocked me. no, I don’t care, and will continue to use this terminology.):

The Bananas Song has taken over Bafia!!! So last post I talked about how I had taught Bananas in class to my 5eme students. It REALLY caught on, and every time I see these students (in school or out) they start shouting “Peel, Peel Bananas/Eat, Eat Bananas/Go, Go Bananas!!” They have had other English teachers and have demanded to sing this song even when I’m not their teacher! My friend, Julia, another TEFL volunteer, taught it to her 3eme class, and now all the 3eme students are singing it! But it gets bigger. All of the 5eme and 3eme students have gone home and taught the Bananas song to their multiple siblings. So now countless children throughout Bafia know this song and I must hear 492 times a day. Walking almost anywhere I’m pretty much guaranteed to encounter it, and if I am ever eating a banana (which happens quite often, they are a staple in Bafia), it is certain some children will see me and begin chanting “Eat, Eat, Bananas!” But I haven’t gotten sick of the song yet. Not even a little bit :)

This week I’ve mainly been teaching the Terminale students (who are like our seniors in high school.) But I came in on Tuesday, and there were only three students in my class which usually has about 30! After a lot exciting French shouting, I realized that the Probatoire results had been posted. Probatoire is the nation-wide exam that is given after the Première year (like our junior year of high school) in the Francophone system. One must pass this test to continue on to the Terminale level. [There is also an exam after the Troisème year (like freshman year of high school) called le BEPC which must be passed to continue on to Seconde (like sophomore year of high school) and the BAC is the test that students take after Terminale and must pass to continue on to university. All these tests are commissioned by the government, written/graded by committee of teachers, and the same exact test is administered across the nation.] I think their system is crazy, complex, and ineffective. I simply doesn’t make sense to me to evaluate a student’s whole year of work based on one, two hour long test of arbitrary and ambiguous questions. Putting that much pressure and weight on one test isn’t logical. It sets the students up to fail. And fail they did- almost half my class didn’t pass the Probatoire, meaning they have to retake their whole première year. And this is why you’ll have students in Terminale who are older than I am. It’s a frustrating system, and heartbreaking to see the kids in tears, running home despondent and defeated. When I got home, I asked my host family about it and it sparked a huge debate about the inadequacies of the Cameroonian educational system. It ended as many discussions in Cameroon do, with the question “On va faire comment,” best translated as “What are you gonna do??” Maybe after a little more time here, I can come up with some answers to/suggestions for that question.

Well, I’m off to write an exam, next week is the last week of model school. The kids will take their tests on Friday, and then we’ll do lots of fun activities. More to come on that later. Miss you all and thinking about you! Nous sommes ensemble!

Me=teacher...?????

So… guess what?? I AM a teacher! This is a very new/foreign/bizarre assertion to make out loud. But I am now halfway through my second week of model school. There isn’t really anything “model” about this school; it’s pretty real. I am in a real Cameroonian school, with real Cameroonian students (and a large amount of those students, just like it will be in a real Cameroonian school), teaching from the real Cameroonian syllabus, with real Cameroonian textbooks. It’s crazy! The class I have taught the most is Cinquième, or our equivalent to seventh grade. They are… a handful. But they are certainly energetic and they keep me on my toes and they make me laugh a lot. Discipline is the big issue with these kids. Examples: they love hitting each other! I confiscated an old electrical cord one of my students had brought to class and was poking the girls in front of him with… one boy stole chalk from goodness knows where and started drawing on all the desks in the radius of his reach. Later, I was writing on the board, and I looked down and there was a child next to me pointing at the left side of his body. He was covered in chalk! The same kid had taken the commandeered piece of chalk and drawn all over the other child! They are obsessed with writing in their exercise books using red and blue pens (red to write the headings of activities/exercises, and blue to write the actual content) and rulers (or protractors or folded paper or other pens, anything that has a straight edge) to draw lines under headings, or fill in the blank lines or chart lines, etc. so stealing each others pens and rulers is a common practice. They all sit at benches that can comfortably seat two students. But they like to squeeze four or five to one of these benches and practically sit on top of each other (and then shove and elbow each to win some space). There is a class prefect, who is supposed to help the teacher discipline, take role, make sure the classroom is clean, etc. I would think this would totally be the kid who gets beat up after school behind the bleachers, but it’s actually the opposite- he’s very popular and relishes his role of enforcer. His favorite admonishment phrase is “Stop noise!” and another tactic is to appeal to me, with “Mada me, they are disturbing!!” ah, sometimes it’s pure chaos, and all you can do is laugh! Like I said, they definitely keep me on my game. I mean, these stories are just so ridiculous, all I can do is be entertained by them. What else can you do? What is probably more of a challenge than the discipline is the level of English of my students. The Cameroonian syllabus calls for teachers all across the country to teach a very specific level of English to each level. But the level it assumes my cinquième level students have attained is simply not reality for the majority of my students. What’s more, there is a monstrous gap in my class between a few students who can speak English very well and those who don’t understand a word that comes out of my mouth. How can I create lessons that instruct the lower level students on a plane that they can understand without boring my more advanced students out of their minds?? It is certainly a challenge, and one of the many reasons why the Cameroonian education system needs to evolve and grow and change. Just one of the many frustrations that comes with (attempting to bring about) development.

But there are some great moments to even out those annoyances/aggravations. Like I’ve taught the upper level classes, called première and terminale, which are the equivalent of juniors and seniors. They are soooo great. They are of course much better behaviour wise. In the one class, we had a discussion about different religious stereotypes! They discussed amongst themselves and talked about stereotypes that they know others have of their religion, and stereotypes they have of other’s religions. It was so great, they were hesitant at first, but they got really into it! The Cameroonian system is so structured and generally only allows for teachers to dump unmanageable amounts of information on their students. Most Cameroonian teachers simply lecture to their students, and there is never any room for discussion or generation of ideas or critical thinking. It’s terrible, many students can only regurgitate would has been ingrained into their heads, and they are terrified when asked to do anything in class besides take notes. Obviously, this is awful for teaching language. They need to speak to ever have a hope of being able to communicate in English. So it was super amazing to have them participate in and enjoy an activity where they actually got to speak and voice their opinions.

Another great moment, and this is especially for Puh’tok people: I have now taught all my classes the bananas song and the Penguin Attention! song!! I they freaking love them both. Forcing my students to sing camp songs is my way of channeling my longing and nostalgia for Puh’tok… next I may just start making them sing, “I wanna go back, where!?”

I was walking home with my friend, Julia, and we walked past a house where another volunteer lives. I think they are probably 8 or 9 children who live at this house, and we see them almost daily, as we pass their house on the walk home. They usually run out to greet us, but this day, they started running towards us, yelling “Madame Kihn! Madame Kihn! Madame Kihn!” I was so confused as to how they knew my name! It turns out their older sister is in my 5eme class. She had told her parents and siblings about me, and described well enough that the kids recognized me when I walked by the house! It was such a surreal and funny and rewarding moment.

Some other highlights:

- Fufuldé language learning has been going relatively swimmingly. We learned to count yesterday. Would you like to know how to say 999 in fufuldé? Because I can tell you! It’s “teeméré jowé nay e cappande jowé nay e jowé nay.” Yeah… I can’t wait to get to the market in Hina to test out my fufuldé counting skills!

- I went on my first shared moto ride (up until this point I’ve only been brave enough to ride with just me and the driver). I think I should have stuck with that rule. It’s very common in Cameroon to shove as many people/objects onto a moto as humanely possible. I have seen 5 full grown adults on a moto, and am waiting to top that record. But when Julia and I tried, we did not experience success… First of all, a moto can just barely fit two adults when they are of normal size. So, with the driver in front, me in the middle, and Julia in the back, all of our personal space bubbles were violated, actually, they were demolished into smithereens. One has to pretty much straddle the person in front of them to not fall off, and let’s just say, I was all up in this moto driver’s grill. So we were going to centre-ville (the center of town) to the super-marché (supermarket), but when we were almost there, we saw that the paved road had been blocked off because they were doing some construction. Our moto driver took the unpaved road. Unpaved road in Cameroon is synonymous with giant ditch. So it was quite treacherous, and all I could think was, “we are going to fall, there is no way we won’t fall off this moto.” And… surprise! He lost balance and the moto tipped over! We were completely fine, because the moto was almost completely stationary at this point, so we were able to kind of jump out of harm’s way. I don’t think either of us will be sharing any motos in the next two years!

- My host mother asked me what kind of cream I put on “tes taches” to treat them. Literally translated, tache is a spot. She was referring to my freckles. I had to explain that they were not a malady or skin ailment, but a part of my skin that I had been born with. It was pretty hilarious. I tried to explain that many Caucasian have freckles and it’s just part of our pigmentation. it was just so funny to me. I never thought I would need to explain freckles to someone!

There’s less than a month left of training, I can’t believe it! Time has flown by, but at the same time it seems like I’ve been here for months and months. Very soon it will be off to post, fingers crossed I can get myself and all my stuff there without too much of a challenge. Love and miss everyone terribly, thinking about all and hoping you’re all doing fantastic!!

LETTERS!!!

So this will be quick- yesterday, one of the Peace Corps logistics guys was running all over the lycée where our model school is looking for me. I, paranoid as always, thought I was in trouble, but it turns out he had a package for me AND multiple letters!!! It was like Christmas! Just wanted to say a huge MERCI to mom and dad for the package, Ben Molly Joey and Bradley for the adorable card, Grammy for the sweet note, and Linda for the letter and awesome articles. You guys are amazing, you have NO idea how much it means to me to know you are thinking of me. I am thinking of you all as well and am in the process of sending letters (with sweet Cameroonian stamps) to everyone. Just wanted to say thank you quickly and let you know how appreciated the little things are. They go a long way when you're so far from home, living in such a different culture it could be a different planet! Anyways, made my week, thanks again :)

post site visit!

So we are now in Week Five of Training and our Model School has officially began! In fact, it was supposed to be ushered into being with the pomp and circumstance of a super fancy opening ceremony on Tuesday morning. It was scheduled to begin at 8am. So all the volunteers were there. All the Cameroonian teachers who are also teaching at the model school were there. And the Peace Corps administration were there. All the students who will be attending model school were there (in lines, in a field, in direct sunlight). But the actual ceremony did not start until after 11:00. We had to wait for the Prefet and the Sous-Prefet to show up. These are appointed officials of every town in Cameroon- a direct translation would be a Senior Divisional Officer and a Sub-Divisional Officer. They operate on their own “African Time.” And you do not question their warped sense of time. So we waited. For three hours. But they finally did show up and the Cameroonian students raised their flag and sang their national anthem. And us trainees were forced to sing the Star Spangled Banner. Let’s just say it’s probably a good thing none of us our here to give singing lessons. Except maybe Liz, who hit the soprano note in “o’er the land of the freeeeeeeee.” It was pretty much awesome. So model school has commenced! We are all observing the Cameroonian teachers, and some Peace Corps Volunteers who have been here for a year already, this week, and I’ll start teaching English next week (eight hours to be exact). AND I started learning Fufuldé today! I forgot how absolutely infantile one feels when they start learning a new language. But I’m super jazzed about it! It’s quite an experience to learn a new language by a teacher explaining said language in another language that is not your mother tongue. Ok, that was slightly convoluted; I’m trying to say Aicha, the woman who is teaching us Fufuldé, speaks only French and Fufuldé to us, so she explains grammar points and vocabulary of Fufuldé, in French. It turns out to be awesome, because this way I can learn Fufuldé AND improve my French! Win-Win! Also, since I am at an “advanced” (notice quotation marks) level of French, we are supposed to be writing a weekly newsletter for all the trainees and instructors. We had one issue already and are about to start working on the next one. Needless to say, we got a lot going on! But it’s good to be busy and I know all this information is going to be indispensable when I get to post.
Speaking of post…. I’ve jumped ahead of myself and described what’s going on right now, but I haven’t forgot I need to detail the events of last week. They are vital to my Cameroonian life! Last week, I went on site visit. I will by teaching at the Lycée Gouvermental du Hina, and my censeur (the vice principal), named Gabriel Nono, came to meet me in Bafia last Monday. We had a workshop in Bafia on Monday and Tuesday morning, and then we departed for a VERY long journey to the Extreme North Region of Cameroon on Tuesday, around 1pm.
So, the Grand North of Cameroon consists of three regions: Adamawa, North, and Extreme North. In my stage (the name we call our training group) there will be two Education (ED) and two Small Enterprise Development (SED) volunteers in Adamawa, no new volunteers posted in the North, and five ED and three SED volunteers posted in the Extreme North. All of the ED volunteers had there site visits at the same time, so all seven of us going to the Grand North (and our counterparts who came to meet us in Bafia) took a bus from Bafia to Yaoundé to start our journey. This is only supposed to take about 2 hours, but some traffic issues made it take more like 3 ½. Oh, yes, and by bus I mean one of those white passenger vans where, in America, three people would sit to a seat. In Cameroon, at least five people sit to seat, and children don’t count as people, so they are just laid across laps. Luggage is put on top of the van and tied down with a tarp (and by luggage I mean anything from produce to furniture to goats. Yes, live goats.) So we get to Yaoundé Tuesday night, grab a taxi, navigate to the train station, and get on the train with just a little time to spare. The train is an overnight journey that takes about 14-16 hours (although I’ve heard that number can be elevated to near 30) to Ngaoundere in the Adamawa region (if you look at a map, it’s about the halfway mark of the country). The train was SWEET. It was probably the best part of the traveling, since we had couchettes! Couchettes= bunk beds, 4 in your own little room on the train. It was pretty awesome to be able to move around and to SLEEP! So we arrived on Wednesday morning in Ngaoundere. Andrew and Andrea parted ways with us there to find there posts, as they will be in the Adamawa region. Liz, Rose, Emily, and Claire (yes! there is another Claire, her last name is Kelly so we’re also both CK!, and we are both going to be living in the Extreme North, and she’s super cool and we’re friends, and we’ve bonded over our Claire-ness and we referred to as the “Claires” a lot and shout out to Claire’s Jersey friends who have read my blog since she hasn’t updated hers, and I’m finished with my Claire tangent ☺) continued on with our counterparts by hoping on a 7 hour bus ride to Maroua, the regional capital of the Extreme North. This bus was more spacious, more like a Greyhound bus. Just a very long ride (7 hours usually turns into more like 9) and hot. So we arrived in Maroua on Wednesday night and we stayed in the Peace Corps house there. We met some of the volunteers there, and one of them, Stephen (i.e. our savior), showed us around Maroua, took us to restaurant that had CHEESE (almost non-existent in Cameroon), and helped us open bank accounts the next morning. We would have completely floundered without him! Honestly, the volunteers in country were the reason any of us survived this trip. They took care of us and showed us the ropes despite being warned of our imminent arrival only hours before in some cases. They were GREAT and we couldn’t thank them enough. Anyways, back to Thursday, Gabriel (my censeur) met me at the Peace Corps house, and we took a 3 hour moto ride to Hina. On unpaved roads. What is a moto some of you may be asking? Well, I think the best equivalent at home I can describe it as is a moped. They are absolutely everywhere here. Guys drive them around, and you just flag on down and jump on the back to get around any town or village. It is the standard way to travel. And to transport anything. I mean anything. They transport live animals, furniture, produce, suitcases, bikes, other motos, etc. on motos. So we get to Hina as the sun is setting on Thursday. This time is important since there is no electricity in Hina…
Once in Hina, I went to Brad’s house. Brad was a Health volunteer who was posted in Hina. He was supposed to be there until December, but he left earlier because he got an awesome scholarship and is going to start grad school in August… NOT because he didn’t like Hina (a relief to hear, I must admit). His house is said to be in a secure part of Hina, it’s walled in, has a pit latrine, a bedroom, a sitting room, a space to shower (a room with a drain), and a kitchen that is detached from the house. I met the dog Brad left behind (still not sure of his name) and Djulde, the guy who guards the house when no one is there. Then Gabriel came over and we had some dinner and talked a while before much needed sleep. Friday Gabriel and I were up and ready to go at 6:30. We comissioned two motos to take us around Hina to see the Lycée (which is situated on a HUGE expanse of land), meet the lamidou (an important chief of the village who only speaks Fufuldé and gave me cake!), the mayor (who gave me a juice box of Sangria at 7 in the morning!), the chief of police, the chief of the gendarmarie (another division of security), a head of an agricultural committee, and I got to meet my provisieur (prinicipal) which was lucky because he was supposed to be in Maroua. It was a whirlwind tour, and I wish I would have been able to spend more time in Hina and been able to explore a bit more, but I had to catch a truck to Mokolo. Mokolo is a much bigger town then Hina and about 2 hours away. There is a big market in Hina on Friday, and sellers from Mokolo come in to sell there goods. Gabriel and I hitched a ride back to Mokolo with them (they were supposed to leave at 10, but didn’t actually leave until 12:30). Once in Mokolo, we ran into Emily’s provisieur who insisted that I stay in Mokolo that night and travel back to Maroua the next morning. So he took me to a bar and ordered me some meat dish that I think was goat. I ATE IT. All of it! (attn: Cluck and/or Jason if you are reading this). It was gross. I’m not even going to sugar coat it. Then Emily (the volunteer from my stage who will be posted in Mokolo) and Fleurange (the SED volunteer who has been in Mokolo for two years and is leaving in less than two weeks) met us at the bar. Fleurange offered to let me stay at her house because she’s amazing, and so I spent the rest of the day in Mokolo. We saw Emily’s house, visited another volunteer in Mokolo, ate tofu (YES! They have tofu in Mokolo!), and explored Mokolo a bit. Then Friday we woke up super early and caught a bus to Maroua. We got there and rendez-vous –ed with Rose, Liz, and Claire who had been in Mora (another bigger town in the Extreme North). We bought tickets for a bus back to Ngaoundere, but waited for 2 ½ hours before it actually left. This bus to not get to Ngaoundere until after 9pm. It was pretty miserable. We all were having some intense stomach issues. I don’t want to be too graphic, but I think it necessary to share this detail- I felt nauseous almost the entire ride, but I only threw up once on the bus. Luckily I had a plastic bag with me, and after I had filled it just tossed it out the window. It’s actually a hilarious visual to me, now that I am feeling much better and off that darn bus! We were all super dehydrated and I also had stuffed up nose/sore throat/headache combo going on. Evidently, when we got to the Peace Corps house in Ngaoundere we were extremely relieved. The next day we finally had a bit of down time, so we just sat around mostly as ALL our energy had been pretty much spent. But it was the Fourth of July, and the super generous and fantastic volunteers at the cas (peace corps house) in ngaoundere shared a sweet barbeque with us, complete with hamburgers, potato salad, and fruit salad. Then we had to catch the overnight train back to Yaoundé that night. We got to Yaoundé Monday morning and took a bus back to Bafia, finally getting back to Bafia in the early afternoon. Whew! I’m sure I forgot some details, but that is the general outline of the crazy adventure of traveling almost the entire span of the country in six days. It was definitely worth it to be able to see Hina and experience the trip up there for myself, it just would have been nice if the logistics were slightly better planned. I’m excited to go to post, but I’m really happy to be back in Bafia. I’m looking forward to spending the next several weeks with my host family, practicing at the model school, hanging out with the other trainees, and just passing time in Bafia. So I think I’ve babbled on long enough, I’ll stop there, and more updates to come soon!