-The rain arrived in Bogo mid-August with greater regularity. The mayo is full, the corn and millet crops are now above my head, and the place looks less and less like a desert every day.
Mayo Doumou, Bogo
En brusse near Bogo…if you build it they will come
The street outside the Maroua PC house during rainy season. We call that pristine body of water 'the soup'
-I was involved in my first traffic jam since leaving the DC area last year, and I must say despite my disdain for sitting in traffic a wave of nostalgia swept over me. Leaving Bogo after a busy market day, the rain came with a quickness and force that could rival some hurricanes I’ve experienced. Our overloaded Toyota minivan had just reached Balaza, the halfway point between Maroua and Bogo, when we came to an abrupt halt. The van’s windshield wipers did not work (big surprise) so I could not see what had caused us to stop. Using my fledgling Fufulde skills to listen to the conversations around me I came to understand that the problem we had encountered was the road ahead was a shallow lake for about 5 km. The road is always busy for market day in Bogo, and this day I found myself sitting in a cramped minivan during a downpour with what was probably close to one hundred minivans, bush taxis and market trucks lined up and down the road. Gradually the rain tapered off and, taking full advantage of the stranded travelers, the locals of Balaza showed us their entrepreneurial spirit and began hawking everything from cookies to soccer jerseys to barack obama baseball hats. Some of the local kids had more excitement than they could handle when a white man exited one of the minivans. Everything I did, whether it was checking my watch, scratching my head or even just taking a seat next to a tree seemed to them as the most interesting thing that they had seen all day. It’s very flattering to be found so interesting, but after three hours of being stared and giggled at our car was finally ready to move on. So the caravan of stranded vehicles moved on through what was now only about a foot of water and pulled into the station in Maroua (also flooded) in no less than 5 hours total for a trip that under ideal circumstances is usually 1 hour. The Bogo road on market day still doesn’t hold a candle to I-395 South on a Friday afternoon, but it was nice to see some good-ol' gridlock again.
-Ramadan, the month long fasting period observed by Islam, began about 1 week ago. So everyday from about 5AM to 6:30PM the faithful who are physically able to do so are fasting. Commerce around town has gone down, not to mention everyone’s blood sugar. You may be asking if I am observing this holiday season with my muslim brethren in Bogo. The answer to that is no. I don’t walk down the street munching on a steaming plate of goat or anything, but the nasarra that I am needs water throughout the day and a little nibble at lunch time. And after the evening prayers, my good pals who grill meat down at the market fire up their operation and the slices of hot and spicy beef, overly sugary tea and greasy beignets that I have grown to love are free flowing once again. Yes you heard me correctly, I have found my niche in the world of Cameroonian food. Meat, tea and fried bread!
-Speaking of food, vegetables have begun to appear again in the Bogo market. For about two months I saw nothing but onions. We now have potatoes, tomatoes, hot peppers, citron and even guavas making a return. Onions and tomato paste on macaroni and plain omelettes were getting a little old.
-I granted Timshel (aka the Cameroonian dingo) his freedom the other day. My concession in Bogo is very small so I felt bad about having him stuck in there all day. The perfect opportunity presented itself when about 15 children gathered outside my door. I told them I had a surprise for them at which point I opened the door and whistled for Timshel. Tongue flapping and tail wagging he took off full speed out to the street as the neighborhood children dived into nearby doorways, scampered up trees or just ran off down the street screaming bloody murder. Some may call me cruel but watching these kids run for their lives from an 8 month old puppy really brings a smile to my face:) To his credit he is very good about returning to the house and I believe he still considers my yard as his home turf. After a few hours of exploring he returned with an impressive sized goat horn. I just hope he found it on the ground and not on a live goat. The last thing I need is having to reimburse the neighbors for murdered livestock. So Timshel has himself a fine new chew toy, and the neighborhood of Garre have themselves a new friend, or perhaps a new problem depending on how he behaves.
Mmmm, goat horn
And he loves his new dog Frisbee, thanks mom for spoiling my half-wild dog :)And here are a few more pics from the last few months:
Coupe de Bogo, Carlos (Red/White) vs. Clando (Yellow)
Grilled Pig on July 4th. Happy birthday ‘Merica!
Storm approaching Bogo
Anyone feel like chicken tonight? (Picturing fellow volunteers Brian Humphrey of Tibati village on left & Josh Bylotas of Magdame village on right)
Yes, that is literally a chicken jumping and running around with its head cut off…my apologies to all vegetarians and PETA but sometimes you just want to eat some chicken! 
