Fin

In just a few short hours I'll be departing Cameroon. I finished packing the few things I'm taking home, said goodbye to folks in my village, and made my way to Maroua last week. A day or two later I arrived in Ngaoundere after the 8 hour drive. Before taking the overnight train to Yaounde I spent a day in town with a few other PCVs that are on their way out. It's a strange time for us all as we continue to make an attempt at understanding what we've just done. It's extremely difficult to make sense of the past two years and nearly impossible to explain it concisely or without contradiction. That's fine by me. While some complex, multifaceted idea or experience may invite analysis, I'm also quite content to take it at face value and appreciate it at the surface level. In that sense Peace Corps was something I did without regret, enjoyed immensely, and will never forget. Enough said.
People in the states may ask me about my service and to save them from an hour long diatribe on Cameroon, something simple like this is sufficient. Any time I'm asked about Cameroon I'm reminded of countless anecdotes I could share. Yet as they will stay crystal clear in my mind for some time to come, I'd never be able to do them justice.
I've done some thinking and decided, that while my service has been far from black and white, I could generally look around me and classify things into those which I will miss and those which I will not. I think one encouraging aspect of this is that the positives of my life here see to have far outweighed the negatives.


What I will not miss:
Hot Season- You've heard me bitch about this enough, but I'm going to do it one last time. I have infinite respect for people that can live and work with little to no modern comforts in such a harsh environment. With that said I think a community project to the tune of “let's all go live somewhere else” would have been wildly successful. No human being should have to endure 130 degree days without central air and a pool.

Bush Taxis (Coffins on wheels)- My knuckles are permanently white after using these death traps for so long. I still fail to understand how most bush taxi drivers have no regard for even their own life. They drive as if they were in a Porsche on the Nurburgring. Unfortunately for the 19 passengers aboard, the average bush taxi is a dilapidated minivan that looks as if it spent significant time in a conflict zone. To make it worse, most of Cameroon's roads appear as though they were shelled by heavy artillery.

Malaria- Malaria blows. That's really all I have to say about that.

Mefloquine- Actually I'm not done with the topic of malaria, as the medicine I am required to take weekly to prevent it also gets a big fat thumbs down. Just reading the warnings for Mefloquine is unnerving, and apparently it's not recommended that people take it for more than six months...super. I can't say for certain if Mefloquine had any adverse effects on me, but I get the feeling that my liver is not pleased. This particular malaria prophylaxis is also a psychotropic, and a common side effect can be very strange and vivid dreams. For a while I just thought the sandman was a big douche. It turns out that in order to keep malaria parasites from invading my bloodstream I have to endure extremely bizarre (and on a few occasions wickedly scary) nights of sleep from time to time.

Cous cous and sauce- I've often heard departed or soon-to-depart volunteers lament how much they miss or will miss eating this Cameroonian staple soooo much. I hate to sound insensitive but I will just say it: get a hold of yourself. Pick up the phone and order a pizza, go grab a burger, hit a diner, or do all of the above. Hell, just go to the market and make a delicious and healthy meal from any assortment of the thousands of available ingredients. That's not to say there aren't things wrong with what we eat and how we produce it, but that's an entirely different discussion. There is a good reason why Cameroonian cuisine isn't popular in America. We have options. If there were other cheap foods available here people would not feel compelled to take leaves off of trees, cook them with oil and a Maggi cube (and a bit of sand to taste), and sop it up with bland millet cous cous (or boule).

Corruption- Moving from something that churns my stomach to, oh wait, something else that churns my stomach. I could tell you that Cameroon is consistently ranked as one of the most corrupt places on the planet or that the president, a lifelong bureaucrat, has amassed a personal fortune estimated in the hundreds of million USD and spends $40,000 per day of state money when on vacation, but my experience has been with the corruption that has seeped through to the bottom rungs of Cameroonian society. To give a brief example, about one year ago the American Embassy donated a large amount of medical supplies to the district hospital in Bogo, a shining example of ineptitude and kleptocracy at their finest. As an American living in Bogo I was repeatedly invited to the ceremony and after numerous approaches I grudgingly accepted. No one from the Embassy was going to be there and I knew that this ceremony would be nothing more than a get together for the local big men who would act composed and respectful before making off with their share of the booty. Will you find any of these medical supplies in the local hospital or health centers today? No, but where you can find most of it is for sale in the market or stocked away in the homes of unnamed individuals. I was asked to say something at this ceremony and it was short and sweet. “On behalf of the American people, I sincerely hope that this will benefit those in need and improve the well-being of the Bogo community.” It's entirely possible that I will draw the ire of any number of people for what I have just written. I've used this blog during the entirety of my service to convey to you my experiences, and I believe I've maintained the required discretion throughout. I have no regrets about expending myself on the behalf of the Bogo community for two years, but at this point it needs to be said that there are individuals who, through their shameless graft, make working in Bogo extremely difficult. I merely want to give you an idea where our aid and goodwill ends up when it is not properly managed. It's sad to see good people trapped underneath such a dysfunctional system. I can't imagine the lives of average Cameroonians will ever change much if it keeps going on like this. Communities will never get the assistance they need to develop. People such as myself will continue to come here with high hopes, but will do little more than slow the bleeding and continue providing the country with the social services that it should be more than capable of providing for itself.

Bureaucracy- The DMV is a well oiled machine. Enough said.

My neighbor's cow- The animal is tied up on the outside of my bedroom wall and he is always the loudest around 5:30AM. I wish they would just eat him already.

The neighbors- Just to clarify I get along swimmingly with all my neighbors. I'll miss this tight knit community within the community a great deal. But much like anywhere else, many neighborhoods have that one household that seems to be auditioning for the Jerry Springer Show. In this case that household happens to be just next door (Not the house with the cow...they're cool).

What I will miss:
The pace of life- I don't know if sitting under a tree all day would be considered an acceptable use of my time in America. Some of my fondest memories here consist of me sitting under a neem tree outside someone's home chewing the fat with a couple of old fulbe guys. In some situations the slow pace here can be infuriating when it's time to get things done. Yet the laissez-faire approach that many have here is refreshing.

Hospitality- As a westerner I sometimes feel out of my element, but rarely have I ever felt unsafe or unwelcome. Theft and other petty crime is not uncommon, but it would probably be less likely to happen here than in any major American city.
It was humbling when first experiencing the hospitality and kindness that is extended by complete strangers. When biking out into the villages around Bogo it is easy to get turned around, and I often stop to ask for directions. A friendly conversation and cup of teas are almost always on offer. Early in my service some village farmer whom I had never met and have not seen since accompanied me over 5km just to see that I arrived at my destination. When on a long bus ride it seems to be customary to share any food you might have with the passengers in your row, and also accept anything they offer to you. When visiting multiple villages in one day I know to eat little to know food the night before and for breakfast as I'll be stuffed to the gills with pounds of food.

The Bogo market- In my book there isn't a single mall in America that can hold a candle to the Bogo market. The market is first and foremost a hub of regional commerce, but it serves a number of other social purposes. People from all over the Bogo arrondissement, Northern Cameroon, Chad, and Nigeria arrive in Bogo every Wednesday evening and Thursday morning. People coming from such diverse locations bring with them all sorts of outside information and ideas concerning their daily lives. There is always some outside news to talk about, whether it be the rainfall (or lack of it), new products available in Maroua, banditry problems on the Chad border, and countless other issues of public interest.
Townsfolk often go to the Thursday market without any specific items they need to buy or sell. Many people hang around all day just to see and be seen, talk and gossip with friends, or sport the new clothes, shoes, bling, motorcycle, etc. they just purchased.

Grilled beef- I've eaten my fair share of grilled beef here. There are few places in the country that do it as well as the guys in the market here. They take long pieces of thinly sliced filet, cover it with salt, vinegar, and hot sauce, throw onto the grill for a few minutes, pull it off, cut it into small pieces, and then serve it with more hot spices, beignets, and hot tea. I can't think of anything I'd rather have for lunch except perhaps for a turkey sandwich. Saying that I'll miss beef sounds strange seeing as how I can get a steak pretty much anywhere at anytime in the states, but it doesn't get any fresher than diving into a plate of grilled beef as someone takes the just-butchered cow's head away in a push cart.

Fulfulde- Sure, when I speak fulfulde most people in my town think I'm slow in the head. Nevertheless I find it to be a very attractive sounding language.

Evening soccer practices- The fellas of Auxerre Marouare FC organized a little match for me the evening before I left Bogo. I honored them by scoring my first and last goal ever in Bogo (and then proceeded to miss a penalty. Afterwards they gave me the trophy we won the past two years. Its been a great playing with them for two years.

Call to prayer- The call to prayer at 5AM is one I could do without, but when evening is settling upon Bogo and people retreat to their homes the Imam comes on the loudspeaker at the Central Mosque. The city is silent for the most part as “Allah akbar” drifts across the neighborhoods. I'm obviously not muslim and have no attachment to it beyond just thinking it to be a very beautiful and calming sound.

Nighttime in Bogo- I was thumbing through a National Geographic a year or so ago and came across a satellite map of the world at night. The Eastern United States, Western Europe, parts of Asia, and many other urban centers around the world were illuminated and visible from space. My attention turned to Central Africa and it was amazing to see it in such a way. With the exception of perhaps Antarctica it is without a doubt one of the least artificially lit places on the globe. Douala and Yaounde, the two largest cities in Southern Cameroon barely show up. Northern Cameroon, Chad, and the Central African Republic are completely devoid of any light whatsoever. From here on the ground in Bogo it is evident, as the night sky is crystal clear. On nights when the moon is full a flashlight isn't even necessary.

Mama Akamba- There's one bar in Bogo. This has not been too much of a problem as it's a very traditional area where most of the population looks down upon alcohol consumption. Yet sometimes I just needed a beer and thankfully Mama Akamba is there to provide me with a cold one every now and again. To her I am 'mon fils' (my child). She is most certainly not from Bogo originally. She's about 300 pounds, has an anchor tattoo on her massive upper arm, and is usually laying outside the bar on a plastic mat trying to keep cool with a fan and a bottle of Beaufort Light. I doubt I will ever encounter a more welcoming or intriguing barkeep.

Djawe- If Bogo was my Shawshank Prison, and from time to time it did feel like I was doing time, then Djawe was Red, the man who knows how to get things. He's one hell of an entrepreneur. Most days he can be found working in his music shop. On the others he splits time between being a moto-taxi driver and a cameraman/deejay for local concerts, weddings, and other events. He knows everyone between Bogo and Maroua, and for two years he's been there to help me out with just about anything. Beyond all that he's helped out with, he's as good a friend as one could ask for. I don't want to be hyperbolic, but I'm convinced that he would at least consider laying across train tracks for me. Saying goodbye to him was probably the most difficult part of leaving Bogo. It's quite possible that I will one day find myself visiting Bogo again. It will be interesting to see what has happened to the seeds (literal and figurative) that I planted here through my work.

So that about does it for my time here. Tonight I'll be heading out of Cameroon for good. A few weeks in Europe with two fellow volunteers is on the agenda. Seeing as I have not a single article of winter clothing in my possession I went to the Ngaoundere market to the section where they sell secondhand clothing from Europe and America. Locals are often shocked by what we often just give away. After much haggling I was able to purchase a nearly brand new winter coat for 4000 francs ($8), and a few woolen beanies. That should help prevent exposure as a few friends and I take a less than direct route home.

Here's my itinerary before returning to the states on December 22:

Casablanca, Morocco
Frankfurt, Germany
Heidelberg, “
Konstanz, “
Basel, Switzerland
Lyon, France
Paris, “
Amsterdam, Netherlands


Thanks very much for letting me share my experiences with you over the past two years. I hope it was entertaining. I hope it was informative. I look forward to joining you back in the U.S. of A!!