One Year!

Today is June 2^nd, 2011. By my calendar, that means I have been in Cameroon for one, whole, entire, and complete year. On the one hand, it seems like just yesterday that I was attempting to predict and pack what I would need in Africa for two years and saying my goodbyes. Sometimes I feel that it is uncanny that a year has already come and gone. But other times, I reflect on the events of this past year, and it seems like an almost infinite amount of time of unprecedented changes, learned lessons, and ** in my life.

First of all, I acknowledge the fact that I haven’t written in ages. However, I cannot apologise. I’m a busy girl with little to no internet (let alone electricity) access. And that’s that. But I will revisit some of the events of the past few months in an attempt to make amends.

Ahhh, so this past year living in Cameroon, I’ve had many many firsts. It’s been my first time:

-teaching in a formal atmosphere, in the North and South of the country.

-seeing an entire mountain on fire

-seeing monkeys and four feet long lizards roaming around “en brousse” instead of behind caged bars at a zoo

- chasing wandering goats, sheep, ducks, chickens, etc. out of my yard

-seeing the Nigerian border

-planning my daily activities around daylight, using candles every day (as my friend, Trevor, pointed out, candles will now forever only be associated with utilitarianism- as opposed to romanticism- for us), looking desperately forward to the illumination of a full moon (and the children’s dances and uplift of nightly activities that comes along with it), and being able to notice and appreciate the unadulterated brilliance and clarity of the stars

-being woken up every morning at 5 o’clock by the call to prayer

- paying the equivalent of twenty cents to a moto driver, hoping on the back of his moto, and trusting him to take me wherever I want in whatever town I happen to be in.

- haggling over the price of everything from leather bags to tomatoes to **

- going to a Cameroonian hospital, à cause de my first bouts of malaria and amoebas (at the same time!)

-living alone, and all that comes with that: biking 25 k to pay my rent to my illiterate landlord who only speaks Fulfuldé and getting stuck in the mud, trying to find someone to fix my walls when they split in two (and by fix I mean fill in the holes with cement and leave the issue of the crumbling foundation for the future), and trying to eradicate all my nooks and crannies of termites, flies, ants, wasps, lizards, geckos, mice, cockroaches, etc. that inhabit them

-marching in a parade.

- experiencing a hot season, where it’s upwards of 115 degrees in the shade (I can’t tell how hot it is in the sun, as the thermometer that Dad sent me goes haywire and refuses to function in direct sunlight. I guess it’s just too hot to measure.) You can cook your food by the power of the sun, some of the villagers huts (with their straw thatched roofs) simply engulf in flames without warning, all of your clothes are covered in salt stains from evaporated sweat, and I can’t tell you how many times I thought I had some how spilled some type of liquid on myself, and realised it was just copious amounts of sweat. One day, it finally cooled down a bit and I thought that I actually felt pretty chilly and was going to put on something a bit warmer. Then I looked at the thermometer. It was 97 degrees… But redeeming quality of the hot season: MANGOES!! They are everywhere, it’s the season and people have so many they practically give them away, and absolutely delectable in their juicy and tangy way.

- reading a plethora of books in rapid succession. My count is at 56 for this past year, and I’m sure I’ve forgotten many.

-burning my trash and being painfully aware of every single thing that I consume.

- seeing a Crater Lake

-using a Ditto machine to make “photocopies.”

-fitting 25 people into a car that should seat 8.

- eating goat, mutton, monkey, porcupine, anteater, fish heads (including eyeballs!), chicken throat, cassava (in all forms), millet, a leaf called follère, baobab (fruit and leaves), fresh figs, fresh dates, taro, okra, cashew fruit, koki (white beans mashed up into balls of mush!)

-owning a machete and daggers

-dying Easter eggs with Cameroonians and attempting to explain the Easter Bunny

- riding in a canoe around waterfalls.

-sleeping at least four people to one mattress.

- filling in hundreds of grades on giant sheets of paper with carbon paper to make a copy.

- drinking beers with Congolese priests at a Catholic Mission!

- riding a bike in a skirt.

- writing on a chalkboard only to have the black slate rub off onto the piece of chalk instead of the chalk showing up on the “blackboard,” which is actually just painted on the wall.

- speaking Fufuldé

-rejecting my colleagues’ marriage proposals

- fitting four people onto one moto.

-dropping my prescription sunglasses in a latrine :( (this happened at the school latrine, and seriously considered if there was any possible way to retrieve them… thankful I realised the preposterousness of that notion and grudgingly continued calculating students’ averages.)

-sleeping on a bed made of sticks (bound together by strips of animal skins) and a mattress made of cotton

- having my every move observed, scrutinized, and judged.

- ridden an overnight train.

- being on any form of transportation and being able to buy (through the window) any type of food or drink, or a surfeit of merchandise like sunglasses, dress material, watches, calculators, pens, candy, cookies, tee-shirts, DVDs, tissues, maps, CDs, magazines, planners or journals, keychains, etc. (this phenomenon is also at any outdoor restaurant/bar- as you are sitting at an outdoor table, a hoard of hawkers will pass you by selling any assortment of said merchandise. It’s even better than on-line shopping! They come to you, and you can touch and prod and try out any product before and buying it, after you bargain down the inflated price, of course!)

- being chased through the street by a pack of children chanting “Nassara, Nassara!” (White! White!)

- buying all types of food from hard-boiled eggs, tofu, meat, beignets, carrots, bananas, avocados, eggplants, etc. etc. from off of someone’s head.

- wearing clothes made out of pagne (the African material that one buys in the market and then takes to a tailor to make an outfit to the customer’s specifications). Identifying what patterns or objects are adorned on pagne, worn by others or in shops, has become one of my favorite activites. Some of the patterns really disguise what objects are printed on the pagne, and its quite a mental exercise to catch the object that is worked into the pattern. For example, here are some of the objects I have seen on pagnes:

screws, pipes, irons, monsters, hamburgers, muffins, roller skates, Maggi Cubes (cubes of MSG that are used to cook every Cameroonian dish), trees, Virgin Mary’s, planets, Lion King characters, mushrooms, keys, purses, lamps, furniture, gas station pumps, CamRail logos (the national railway company), cigarettes, parrots, feathers, genie bottles, leaves, etc. etc.

-seeing the lights illuminating a stage (powered by a generator) go out and literally instantaneously the stage re-illuminated by the spectators shining their flashlights/lanterns/cell phones towards the performer (which was much brighter than the weak generator flood lights!)

-being so incredibly aware of the fact that the treatment of women as second-class citizens (in the better scenairos) or simple property (in the worse cases) destroy any hope of a society progressing.

-pumping water from a communal pump and fetching water from a well

- using a giant clay jar of water, placed in a hole in the ground, to attempt to keep my water, fruits, and vegetables cool (it’s a natural refrigerator!)

- feeling as powerless and helpless as when I hear my neighbour beating his wife and children and can do nothing to stop it, or when I see teachers accepting bribes from students to inflate their grades, or when I see police accepting bribes and imprisoning innocents…

-realised the importance of White-Out in a school where everything must be written out by hand. It’s like gold!!

-washed all my clothes by hand.

Of course this list isn’t exhaustive. Some facets are positive and frivolous and fun. But others are certainly negative and deep and have made me reflect and evaluate my life and my decisions and my reasons for doing the things I do. And to evaluate these aspects of the people who surround me. Like all experiences, there are the highest highs and most beautiful roses. But there are also the lowest lows and sharpest thorns. I really think you need both those components to learn and change and grow. And I have certainly done all those things in the past year. Of course I still feel young and naïve and lost and overwhelmed and confused and frustrated everyday. But interspersed with those feelings of inadequacy are the breathtaking African sunsets, the unblemished natural beauty of this continent, the smiles of my students, and the compassion/loyalty/optimism/joie de vivre of so many of the Cameroonians that are now a part of my life. I can’t wait to see what first the next year will bring. I think I’ll have a host of other experiences to add to this list I’ll keep you posted!

** So, quickly, on a more mundane note, if anyone is interested in my schedule of late and future plans, here it is:

The school year is officially over on June 10^th, when we will finally hand back report cards and all the statistics and administrative paperwork will be over and finished with. Shortly thereafter, I will be heading down to Yaoundé for mid-service (basically so the Peace Corps can verify that I am still breathing). Then I am going to go to Bafia, which is the town where I did my training last summer. I’ll be there for two weeks to help “train” the new Education volunteers who will get in country tomorrow. I’m going to help teach English classes for the model school (like we did last summer), observe the new kids teahing I model school, and lead some training sessions (namely about how to identify problems in each volunteer’s community and then how to incorporate those issues into lesson plans, since as teachers we have the largest built in and established audiences in our students). I’m looking forward to it- I’ll get to see my host family again, meet the new kids coming in, and keep busy during the “long vacation” (it’s technically not summer). Afterwards, I’m hoping to do a bit of traveling around Cameroon and to get back to Hina by August to work on organizing a girls’ summer camp with Cheryl, my postmate. Hopefully during these travels, I’ll have some internet access, but if not, I’ll update once I’m back and settled.

I love and miss everyone and really appreciate the support. Hope everything is swell at home!

Some Photos...

Hi Friends!

So it's been a while, and I promise I will have a more updated blog post in the very near future. But I had some internet, and I wanted to take advantage of it to try to upload a couple pictures and a video. Hopefully it works! More to come soon!

This is during the Fête de la Jeunesse (Youth Day). These are our majorettes doing a dance performance.

I know I shouldn't have favourites, but I really like these two students, Nadege and Raphael. Nadege had a sweet 80s prom dress to celebrate la Fête.

This was on Women's Day, March 8. All the women were matching outfits and they parade and drink lots of beers and put on talent shows! This is Rose and Claire, two other PCVs from the Extreme North Region, and Martine who is going to school to be a French teacher. We are at Claire's post, which is called Tokombere.

Ok, this is the parading I know I've talked about. I tried to film it (I'm sitting behind the Sous-Prefet, the highest authority in Hina). Hopefully you can see it. It's all the students of the Lycée de Hina marching to celebrate Youth Day. We practiced marching for a week in preparation!

Couple Things

Hi everybody!

So I am in Maroua for a regional Peace Corps meeting, and the electricity, and hence the internet, was out most of the day yesterday and all day today until a few hours ago. It finally came back, so I’m going to try to get a quick post up before the “lumière” cuts out again.

The past few weeks at post have been very busy, but super fun. It is “fête” time in Cameroon- there is some sort of celebration almost every week until the end of the school year. Two weeks ago was Bilingualism week, which I got the honour of organizing as the English Department head. And last week was Fête de la Jeunesse, or Youth Day. I’ve also been trying to take more Fufulde lessons with Cheryl and our tutor, Mahamadou.

Before I left for my IST conference in December, I tried to go for a run every morning. Since I live in a fish bowl, everyone noticed. Teachers started making comments at school- Tu es forte! Quoi!? Une femme qui fait le sport!? The day before leaving, the gym teacher at school found me and insisted that it was NOT ok for me to go running alone. He proposed that we should work out together and that he would make a schedule and devise an exact routine, complete with cardio and calisthenics and muscle strengthening and proper stretching! Well, Cameroonians often talk about future plans but rarely follow up on them. So, I smiled and nodded my consent, my brain preoccupied with my eminent departure. I consequently forgot all about it. And of course, a few days after I had gotten back and school began again, I am woken up by a knock on my door at 5:15 A.M. Obviously, it’s the gym teacher, ready to go! I begrudgingly coalesced- I mean, I was up and awake at that point anyway. It turned out to be super fun and hilarious and it was interesting to see the differences in fitness training between cultures. He had me do all these ridiculous things like flap my arms pretending I was a bird, perform a hopping motion that was suspiciously reminiscent of leap frog, and attempt some pretzel like stretching exercises that my inflexible limbs refused to allow me to perform correctly. It was still pitch black dark when he first came and got me, but by the time all this craziness began the sun had started to rise. We drew a mini crowd and all the Cameroonians were fist dumbfounded, and than absolutely tickled by the “nassarra” faire-ing le sport. I even considered the possibility that maybe the gym teacher was having me do all this silliness as a great prank, but he was right there with me the whole time and made sure to observe the kids in gym class that day at school; and again they were doing all the same exercises! Gym teacher came the next morning as well… and this time the Vice Principal came with him!! If it was possible for my life to get more ridiculous, I think it just might have as I simulated wing flapping and toad hopping motions with the administration of the West African high school I try to teach English in….

I have a papaya tree in my front yard. It’s pretty giant. Now is “le moment” for papayas and the tree has been producing fruit like mad. I’ve become severely addicted- I mean like I gorge on papaya until I make myself sick. I think I’m subconsciously afraid that I’ll never see fruit again (at least until the next fruit season begins!) The fruit grows realy high up on the tree and usually Djoulde gets it for me with this super long pole thing he has with a hook on the end. Well, Djoulde’s been pretty busy lately with his nursery/garden. He hasn’t been to my house all that much. But there were 2 papayas that were becoming quite ripe and I didn’t want them to spoil. Of course I could have just walked over to Djoulde’s garden and asked him to help me. But if you know me, you know how stubborn and impatient I can be- my favourite maxim being “I can do it myself!” So, I fashioned my own long pole out of sticks and duct tape and wire shaped into a hook. I climbed about ½ way up the tree until I decided I couldn’t go any further without risking breaking a tree limb and falling to my death. The Papayas were still a ways up, and balancing on a precarious branch on my tiptoes while trying to loop the hook around the Papaya stem enough to pry it loose was a rather strenuous undertaking. But I succeeded and knocked one down! It thudded to the ground after hurdling past me and missing my head by only a few centimeters (and papayas are NOT dainty/light fruits. And it fell from a pretty steep height, so it picked up quite a steady velocity). Ignoring this blaringly obvious warning, I went to work on the second papaya (still directly beneath the fruit) It probably goes without saying that the second Papaya fell and hit me directly in the face. Yeah. I was terrified that I was going to have a black eye and have to explain how I got it to everyone in Hina, thus exposing my glaring stubbornness and stupidity. Luckily, it only left a red mark on the left side of my face that I chalked up to “sun burn” to anyone who noticed and inquired about it.

Bilingualism week- We celebrated the supposed bilingual nature of this country two weeks ago. The two official languages are English and French. (All those pesky tribal languages and various dialects don’t count. “We must only speak English and French. They are the countries that colonized us, so we don’t have a choice.”- this said by the principal to the kids… maybe I’m jaded, but I were a student, that would certainly be the last argument to motivate me to learn either of these languages. In fact, I would probably motivate me more to actively rebel against learning either of these languages of the countries that raped, pillaged, and enslaved my ancestors… or maybe I’m being overly dramatic. Still, when I try to convince my kids of the importance of English, I attempt to emphasize the benefits of being able to speak both English and French in Cameroon. For example, all of their universities are bilingual, so if a student does continue on to higher education, even if they are studying Chemistry, all of their classes could be taught in either language at the professor’s discretion. And obviously, most employers in the professional realm look to hire bilingual employees. Granted, these arguments can be rather unconvincing to most of the kids in Hina- who have never and will never leave the village limits- but I’d like to think it’s at least a little better than telling them they must speak French or English “because I said so”/ “that’s the way it is”/ or “they are simply the languages of our colonizers.” Anyway, throughout bilingual week, all teachers, students, and administration were to speak only English on school grounds and in the administrative block. Francophone teachers were to give at least 15 minutes of every class in English. These were great ideas in theory. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out as planned in practice. But the majority of teachers and a good amount of students did truly make an effort. So, Friday was the big day of all the festivities. The president of English lub gave a speech, a couple kids read poems in English, I tried to play jeopardy with English Grammar, and then we did a debate on the role bilingualism plays in being a professional in Cameroon. It went alright- I got very little direction about how the activities should be run, and then of course, the day of is when everyone and their brother decided to add their two cents on how things should have been done… mais ça c’est Cameroon. And I think the kids had fun, which is what counts!

Finally!

Ahhhhhhhh I am sooooooo shamefully behind on blog updates! I apologise!! Profusely!! I’ll try to remedy the situation by sharing a couple of quick tidbits about my life.

I could talk about school, but it’s much the same as before. Lots of paperwork, lesson-planning, test writing, grading, attempts at classroom management, etc. But some good stories from the past couple of weeks:

-I was in class with my sixièmes (like sixth grade) one Thursday, and there were only a couple minutes of class left. Suddenly, one kid (who is always disturbing class) stands up and starts yelling, “Cholera! Cholera! Madame, Madame, il y a le cholera!!!” Naturally, I assumed he was just trying to create a distraction to get out of having to listen to me explain English grammar. I eventually went to investigate a found that another kid had projectile vomited on the whole bench of kids sitting in front of him. Since there was a Cholera epidemic in the Extreme North region of Cameroon over the summer, these kids have been conditioned to think that whenever anyone is sick, it is Cholera. So as news spread that there was indeed vomit within the class, a stampede erupted. I was nearly trampled as over a hundred children fled the scene, all trying to simultaneously squeeze through the classroom door. It was chaos! But I did have to laugh.

**The kid did not have cholera!! Just a stomach bug :)

-Another day with my sixièmes, there were probably about 5 or 6 kids sitting on one bench (that’s how Cameroonian classrooms are, there are a bunch of benches and the kids shove as many as can fit onto one that probably made for 2 to 3 students). And from underneath them, the bench collapsed! I absolutely freaked out, fawning over them, repeatedly asking if they were injured in any way. They assured me they were fine, and one of them asked to go out of the class for a minute. He comes back within seconds with a fist-sized rock which he uses to pound the nails back into the bench. Once repaired, the same students went back and sat on the same bench for the rest of the class, urging me to continue. It blew my mind.

So school the end of the second sequence also brought the end of the first trimester. This meant grading the tests of the second sequence, filling in all the report cards (on giant sheets of paper with carbon paper beneath it to make copies!), calculating the averages of all the students, and since I was forced to be the head of the English department (who knows how or why this happened), I had to fill out all this paperwork documenting the progress of the department as a whole. In essence, this meant chasing around the other two English teachers who are hardly ever there to find out how many hours they had actually taught and how many chapters they had covered. A lotttttt of hours were logged in the Salle des Professeurs (Teacher’s Lounge) but it was nice because almost all of my colleagues were just as busy as I was. And in commiserating over our collective hand cramps and statistic calculating-induced headaches, I think we got closer. I’m starting to feel more and more comfortable and accepted. I’ll always be the crazy white female (gasp!) that doesn’t really know exactly what’s going, but I think the male teachers at school are coming to recognize my presence a bit more. I’m “la petite soeur” (the little sister) of everybody, or so they like to say. I could take offense that they still see me as a little girl, but they all look out for me (I suppose as an older brother should), so I’m picking my battles.

As soon as I finished with all my paperwork, I had to cut out of school early!! I left a week before Christmas started because I had a Peace Corps conference in Kribi. Kribi is in the South Region of Cameroon, and it is a touristy beach town! We spent most of our days in a conference room, but we did get to go to the beach a fair amount. The first day we got there was actually my birthday, and I went swimming! It was crazy, having a December birthday, I’d never had that opportunity before. The conference, called IST, for In-Service Training, was good overall. We got some useful information about funding sources, more medical information, various Peace Corps committees we can be a part of, etc. Unfortunately, it ended on a bit of a sour note, as towards the end of the week, about 20 volunteers were robbed at a bar next to our hotel :( No one was gravely injured and the gendarmes actually caught two of the guys responsible and found almost everyone’s identity and bank cards. Still, no one wants to be threatened, and it put quite a damper on things.

*tangent- I know some out there are prone to worry, but please don’t! This could have happened in any touristy place anywhere in the world. I feel completely safe in my village and am being as careful as possible!

Anyways, I spent one last night in Kribi, saw some beautiful waterfalls, ate a lotttt of fish, and bought some cool African jewelry!

So I headed back up to the Grand North of Cameroon in time for Christmas. I visited a town called Meigonga in the Adamoua Region. A bunch of volunteers are posted in an around Meigonga, a town absolutely covered in a thick red dust. When traveling anywhere you get coated in it! I wish I would have taken a picture of us after being on a bus for four hours- it looked like we had smeared red clay all over our bodies and my friend Rose’s blond hair had turned to copper! Christmas was so fun, we had a private Cameroonian concert in one of the volunteer’s houses. We also did a secret Santa, watched It’s a Wonderful Life, played Risk for about four hours, and cooked a veritable Mexican fiesta for dinner. All in all, a pretty great Christmas! (Although I must admit, with the weather here, it felt nothing like Christmas. I think this fact has tricked my psyche into believing it’s not truly Christmas, and this is the single reason why I avoided feeling a crippling amount of homesickness over the holidays.) Then I headed back to Hina for a few days to decompress, but was back in Maroua (the Extreme North’s regional capital) for New Year’s. There was a HUGE new year’s eve party at our Peace Corps house- there must have been about 50 or 60 volunteers there! It was a lot of fun and dancing and general absurdness, as usually occurs when a mass of Americans who have been sitting alone at post for a while get together.

School started again on the 3^rd of January, and I have been BUSY!! I think this is a very good thing, and I’m happy to be getting even more involved with the students. My clubs (English Club and Les Filles et Progrès, Girls’ Club) are garnering more interest. Yay! And there are sooooo many activities coming up tht we have to start planning for, like Bilingualism week, Youth Week, Women’s Day, Labour Day, Independence Day, etc. etc. AND other big news; I have a post mate!!!! Her name is Cheryl, and she is another Peace corps volunteer, in the health sector, living in Hina now! I’m sooooooo happy to have her at post! I hope this doesn’t sound to ethnocentric, but sometimes it is really nice to have another American to talk to- to vent, to share a story or joke that Cameroonians simply wouldn’t get, to lament a failure or celebrate a success, or just to spend time with someone who can understand you without at least a portion of what you say getting lost in translation.

Yeah, things are good! I feel like I’m kind of getting in the groove of this living in Africa thing. I love the people (Cameroonian and American) that I’ve met here, I love my beautiful village, my job can be frustrating but simultaneously rewarding, and feel like I’m growing. Successes all around! Downsides, of course, being that I miss everyone at home terribly. But I am thinking of you always. Hope everyone is spectacular, and I promise the next post will not be so long in coming!

HIIIIII Everyone!!!

So, I am in Maroua for just a few hours- I am actually meeting my future post mate! That's right, another Peace Corps volunteer in Health will be sent to Hina in December! She is supposed to come this week for a visit! So I am here to take her back to Hina and show her around. more on that to come. But while I have internet for a little while, I wanted to take the opportunity to post to pictures. and, also, to THANK YOU to my wonderful friends and family who have been sending me packages and letters non stop!!!! Seriously, I had SIX packages at the post last week!! I feel so loved :) But really, I am so thankful. I'll never be able to explain how much I really really really appreciate all the support. and i looooooove hearing from everyone. thank you thank you thank you. Thinking of you, and miss you all!

Last Saturday, Djolde, my guardian, came to my house and wanted me to come to his Pepinere- it's kind of like a garden/tree nursery. It's super beautiful- he has papaya trees, guava trees, sugar cane, banana trees, potatoes, tangerine trees, etc. he made me bring my camera and it quickly turned into an African photo shoot... i hope you enjoy. and i apologize that they are mostly of me.... Djolde went a bit crazy and this is the result:

Picking guavas...
Tangerine trees!!
Sugar Cane!
Please notice my face: this is the creepy Baptist Minister who likes to come to my house and make me feel uncomfortable...
Djolde! (he like to joke he is my protective big brother) with his papaya tree.
Women coming back from working in the fields all day. such an African moment.
with Zeus in front of the well .

Oh Hey!!!

Greetings from Africa!

I have escaped the technologically lacking wilderness of Hina for a few days, and finally have some web access to post a bit of an update of my life. I know people have been curious as to what’s been going on over here, and I have to apologize for not updating sooner. But this is the first time I have left post in a month! It’s funny how quickly humans adapt; it’s so weird to be in a city (even a city by African standards) and see cars and paved roads and fluorescent lights! Seriously, when I see signs of electricity, I’m a little caught off guard! Anyways here are some tidbits about Claire’s life:

- School is what my life revolves around. There are positives and negatives to this fact, of course, but currently, the positives are outweighing the negatives. And that’s good enough for me. After all, every experience has its ups and downs, and I think all one can hope for is that there are more good times than bad. Anyways, school is keeping me super busy, which is probably a very good thing. The past two weeks have been especially hectic, as it is the end of the Première Sequence (the year is divided into six sequences, each six weeks long. At the end of each sequence, we test students to see if they have learned anything over the last six weeks…) So I wrote my tests, and gave them to the secretary two weeks before the students were scheduled to take their exams. The secretary types all the tests on a giant typewriter (that makes a reverberating tock-tack-tock-tack sound throughout the administrative building, and looks like it was probably donated by some Western office building circa 1977), and then he does this nifty thing where he rolls the paper (that’s on a carbon copy) against ink and it makes copies. This is an archaic procedure to me, much akin to caveman practices. I.e.- I have no idea how this process works, because when it was utilized in the States, it was a decade before my existence was even a slight notion. I tried explaining this to my Cameroonian colleagues, but there are just simply baffled that I, as an American, am not up to date on the latest technology. Which apparently, in Cameroon, is this “ditto” machine- I asked mom if she knew of this contraption, and after some research (namely from Aunt Kathy) she deduced its moniker. Alas, I digress! So I turn my exams in with ample time to spare, yet exam day rolls around, and there are no tests. Anywhere. And not just for me, but for ALL the teachers. The story is, the secretary “fell ill” and didn’t type or copy any of the exams. When the Censeur (the Vice Principal) told me this, I inquired as to why no one in the administration tried to find someone else to type the exams in the regular secretary’s place. I found this to be quite a logical solution, but my suggestion was met with dumbfounded looks. It seems in Cameroon, if the first option doesn’t work, it is considered simply ludacris to look for a solution/ an alternate option. They just shrug their shoulders and say “On fait comment?” (what can you do?) And I want to scream: YOU CAN FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO TYPE THE DAMN EXAMS!!! (Of course, I don’t, I just attempt to re-explain my point of view in my broken French.) It just seems so blaring obvious to me and I don’t understand why the Cameroonians don’t see it. Cultural differences! I know! It’s just frustrating. Finally, they let some reason seep into the system and got the Lamidou’s (he is the traditional chief of Hina) secretary to come and type some of the exams. But by this time, it was the last week of the Sequènce, and all the teachers were frantically trying to schedule their tests. (Last Saturday, we had to have kids come in to take exams, because it was the only time available, and some were there as late as 5 p.m.) There was a complete and total lack of communication, where teachers were trying to give their tests at the same time. Now, many Cameroonians have a laissez-faire attitude when it comes to work, but they can be extremely passionate when it comes to other aspects of life, especially when they feel that they have been slighted. There were some epic battles between teachers trying to give their tests at the same time, each claiming that they had the right to give their exam at that hour. Harsh words were exchanged and I’m convinced that some of the disagreements would have come to blows had some bystanders not intervened. It was chaos! I really couldn’t believe how order disintegrated so quickly and entirely. I commented to one of my colleagues that this system was in complete disorder and needed to re-evaluated. He responded “C’est le sous-développement, c’est comme ça.” And another chimed in, “Ce n’est pas le sous-développement, c’est un refus total de travailler!” Ok, so maybe the problem is that Cameroon is “underdeveloped.” Or maybe the problem is cultural, as there truly is a widespread refusal to work. We could debate all day about what the problem is, but I think the more important question is how do we fix it?? Both my colleagues shrug and say, “On fait comment?” I have a feeling that I may really start to hate this phrase by the end of these two years. In the end, everything worked out. All the tests were given, and the grades may be a bit late getting back to the students, but they will get them. So, as many volunteers find in Cameroon, although it may seem that nothing works, somehow, everything always works out.

As you can see, school has a tendency to toy with my sanity. Most of the administration assumes, for some reason, that I intuitively know how the Cameroonian Education system works. They never explain or give me any notice when something important is happening/there is a deadline for something. When I finally become in the know, and realize I didn’t do something when I was supposed to, they chuckle and say, “that’s ok, you’re foreign!” “But,” I stammer, “I don’t want to be the clueless foreigner! I want to be organized and on top of things and prompt. All you need to do is keep me up to date!” Then they act surprised, like I’m asking for them to procure ice (which doesn’t exist in Hina- slightly difficult to come by without electricity), and promise to tell me “next time.” So I’m slowly realizing that things I consider to be common sense are not here, and I must explicitly ask for something (this includes information) if I want it. And I know that now so hopefully things will roll more smoothly from now on.

I really love my students, in their cut little blue uniforms with their names embroidered on the pocket (where they keep their pens, pencils, rulers, etc). Even the troublemakers- they make me so uncontrollably angry one minute, then they do something totally endearing and I forgive them in the next minute. This does not bode well for my disciplinary skills… But the kids make all the administrative muck bearable. It’s my students who have given me guidance in my desperate attempt to navigate the Cameroonian Educational system (more than my colleagues ever have). When I’m frustrated with anything else about Cameroonian life, I look at them I and I recognize why I am here. The majority of them truly want an education, and they are struggling for it. And it is certainly a struggle to get an education here. It’s no easy task, it seems like all the odds are stacked against the kids. One really has to want it and work for it. If I can help them in even a miniscule way, it will all be worth it.

-La fête des enseignants:

So apparently, “international” teacher’s day was October 5^th. I had never heard of this holiday, but it is “bien fêter” (well celebrated) in Cameroon. Really, any excuse the Cameroonians can find to party and avoid work, they seize with elation. Anyways, here’s the gist of what went on:

All teacher’s buy the same “pagne” (material) and have clothes made from it. So everyone has a different outfit, but in the same material. This year’s pagne displayed a male and female teacher standing in front of blackboards, books, diplomas, and many great adages, like “The teacher says: NO to corruption, NO to smoking, NO drugs, NO to alcoholism, NO to AIDS,” and “Quality teachers for Quality Education,” and “Teaching is a vocation, an engagement, and not simply a job.” And since Cameroon is technically a bilingual country, all of these maxims appear on the pagne in both English and French! Too much, you say?? Never! This is Cameroonian pagne, nothing is too loud or too busy (some of my favourite pagne I’ve seen is gas station themed, that has pumps and attendants ptinted on it, and Department of Transportation pagne, a real gem with every type of transport imaginable printed on it). I had a pretty sweet dress made out of this pagne, by my neighbor, who used her foot powered Singer sewing machine, which looks like it came from an American garage sale and could probably be several decades old. And she put the finishing touches on it by candlelight, while comforting her colicky newborn (who of course was soothed by being tied to his mother’s back with a piece of fabric and kind of jiggled around in a jerky dance- I think this is the African version of those cool vibrating chair things we have for babies.)

The fête was to begin at 7 a.m. at the aptly titled “Place des Fêtes” (which is a wide open space where everyone in village can gather, usually for parties), but of course, things didn’t get rolling until about 11:30. To be fair, it was raining for most of the morning, and in Africa, the slightest bit of precipitation means no one can do anything, anywhere. It’s truly mind-boggling to me how every facet of their daily activities comes to a complete halt when there is a change in weather. But the rain did let up, and so the festivities began. Highlights were speeches by the Sous-Prêfet (the highest government official in Hina, who of course is appointed, not elected), a roundtable debate/discussion of the teacher’s role in the development of Cameroon (this was great and super amazing to hear what actual Cameroonians had to say about this, since I feel like I spent a good bit of training talking about it with other Americans. It was nice to hear what the nationals themselves think), and probably the best: the marching. Yes, you read correctly, the marching. Evidently, in most Cameroonian fêtes, whoever is being celebrated must march. All the teachers stood in rows of four and march, in time, and while singing, across the Place de Fêtes, which can’t be any longer than half a football field. And for some reason, they all thought it would be a great idea for me to be a leader of one of these four lines. Of course, I had zero idea what I was doing, and I also found the whole process to be intolerably hilarious. I really couldn’t stop laughing. I tried, but you know how attempting to stifle laughter just makes it that much more difficult to contain. It was so ridiculous! My colleagues really didn’t understand what I found so funny, and were incredulous when I tried to explain that this does not happen in the United States. “WHAT!? You don’t march?? But how do you celebrate??” Ok, extended family: Christmas 2012, We are all going to line up and march around town (in time, and preferably singing). With all my relatives, I think I could amass a pretty decent sized parade. Then, our holiday in America will be bien fêter, and I can send photographic evidence to my Cameroonian friends to show them that Americans can party just as hard as Cameroonians. Marching included. What do you think?

Developments:

- I don’t know how it has happened, but I somehow have a sort of tan! Ok, ok, it’s not really a tan so much as a slightly beiger shade of white, but I can see the chaco outlines on my feet, and I’ve got a bit of a farmer’s tan going on! (But I am wearing sunscreen! That African sun is intense.)

- I think I can safely say I’m no longer a vegetarian :( I have now eaten goat, sheep, beef, and chicken since being in Hina. I never buy it myself, but if I ever go to anyone’s house, I’m pretty much forced to eat, and the Hinarian (my made up word) diet consists of couscous (usually of millet, it is not couscous like Americans think of couscous, it is ground up millet with water added to it), sauce (usually of oil and a magi cube, which is pure MSG) and meat (usually goat, which I think may be the chewiest, most gristle-infested, and most unappetizing meat ever.) It’s incredibly rude to refuse food when it’s offered to you, in the Cameroonian culture, so I try to just suck it up. I was even pressured into eating a chicken neck! I mean, WHY?!?!? There is barely any meat on a chicken neck! But apparently, it’s “one of the best parts of the chicken” and it was an honour to be offered it. Sigh, what are you going to do?

- Zeus and I have been fighting. We are not getting along! he is being a real jerk. I usually keep him chained up because he does bad things if he’s not. But I’ve been feeling bad about it, so I started to leave him off the chain. Problem is, he follows me to school. Then he runs into the school compound like he owns the place, and even tries to come into the classroom! So I’ve had to attach him before leaving in the mornings, but the problem is, he knows that I want to attach him, and he runs away from me. I have to lunge after him and have a really hard time catching him (he of course sees this as a game). So the other day, I went for a run before school (this means five o’clock in the morning when the moon is still out). I let Zeus come with me a lot; it’s good for him to get out and run around, and frankly, people leave me alone more when he’s with me (they still think it’s weird for a woman to “faire le sport”). Anyways, on the way back home, he got in a fight with two other dogs. I didn’t know what to do, and didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire, so I just kept going. Zeus came barreling behind me, evidently trying to escape the other dogs, and I didn’t see him, and he knocked me over, sending me literally tumbling across the rocky road. I was livid. And he knew it. So he ran off somewhere, hiding from me. But when he started to leave for school, he reappeared and began to follow me. The last time he followed me to school, my vice principal was quite upset with me, so I knew I couldn’t let it happen again. So I had to jump off my bike, leave it in a field, and chase Zeus until I finally got a hold of him. Then I had to drag him back by his collar, and he obviously didn’t like that, so he scratched and bit me (didn’t break the skin, he is vaccinated anyway). But this behaviour obviously did not win him any sympathy from me. This only happened two days ago, but since then he knows I am disgusted with him, and he’s been moping around and trying to nuzzle up to me as what I assume is some attempt at reconciliation. But I am quite fed up with his shenanigans. Alas, he is attached to me now, and there is no way to get rid of him, because even if I tried to find a Cameroonian who would take him, he would follow me wherever I go. I think were stuck together!

Other things to hopefully give you a laugh:

- One of the teachers at school heard me incorrectly when I told him my name: he thinks I said Queen instead of Kihn. So he began calling Ms. Queen. I have corrected him on multiple occasions, but no, he prefers Queen to Kihn. And now, he’s dropped the Ms. as well, and when he sees me, he shouts, “Queen!” “Queen!” and then asks me how I’m doing. My mission is to find a equally ridiculous nickname for him…

- So I graded all the tests from the end of the Sequènce and handed them back. I calculated and recorded everyone’s grade and then called out their names to give them the results. I must admit I do not know many of my students names in my defense, I have upwards of 300 students, and here are a couple of examples of names I have to attempt to pronounce: “Zaczou Mbarga,” “Maidjapa Nyera Rode,” “Djitta Ngafka,” “Yaouba Yababa.” I did not make these up. The kids all laugh at me when I try to pronounce their names, and I laugh at myself.

- I asked a child in Sixiéme (6^th grade) how one would respond if they were greeted with the phrase, “Welcome to Cameroon!” (or America/England/Nigeria/ wherever. The response I was looking for was “thank you.”) The kid had no idea, but his friend was dying to help him, convinced that he knew the correct response. I finally asked the confident friend to help him out, and with a smug smile on his face, he emphatically shouts “Bank!” For some reason I found this to be absolutely hilarious and could not contain my laughter. I have no clue why this kid truly believed that when being welcomed, it is only common courtesy to shout “BANK!” in their face.

Alright, these are the things I can think of right now. Hopefully that gives a little information about what’s going on here. I miss everyone terribly and am thinking of you always. I’ll try to post again soon with more Cameroonian stories!