Christmas Eve, 3:00PM- Getting back to Bogo after a long absence, I took the day to soak in the sights and sounds of the Thursday market. After all the travelling my level of exhaustion has hit levels I never thought possible. I retreat to my living room back at home and sink into a magazine, falling asleep after reading the table of contents.
7:00PM- I’m not much of a nap person, but that was glorious. Luckily I’m up in time to get ready for the Christmas Eve mass at the Catholic mission in Bogo. Though missing many things I associate with the holidays I’m very excited to spend Christmas in Bogo this year.
8:00PM- Three different friends have given me three different times for when mass begins this evening; 7:00, 7:30 and 8:00. Going on past experiences I’ll be arriving at the church at 8:30.
8:25PM- Bogo is always eerily quiet at this hour. A few blocks from the mission I hear ‘Daniel, Daniel!’ I turn to see a local friend who now lives out of town, back visiting family for the holidays. Catching up with him as we continue to the mission its strange to think that after one year I already have what I could consider to be ‘old friends’ from Bogo.
8:30PM- Just as I’m walking through the mission gates I hear the drums and jubilant singing begin. Finally I’m fashionably late for something in this town! The mission chapel lit up at night is quite pretty and I feel strangely comfortable spending Christmas Eve in this setting.
8:45PM- After a few rounds of local songs and hymns, the mission youth group begins the readings. First read in French, they will then be read in Fufulde.
9:00PM- Much to my surprise the next hymn is ‘Silent Night’ in French. Despite the difficulty in following the words when a large group is singing, the melody is immediately familiar and makes me feel at home here.
9:20PM- After a few more readings, a few more songs and lining up to add to the collection box, the father begins his sermon for the evening. Bogo’s population is almost entirely muslim, and in his message he emphasizes that the spirit of Christmas is not something exclusive to the Christian community of Bogo but something that can transcend differences in beliefs. Comforting in its inclusiveness and awareness of the diversity in Bogo society.
9:45PM- Mass is over and I’m on my way home through the dark and deserted streets. Hearing ‘Silent Night’ at mass was unexpected but enjoyable. Suddenly I find myself whistling ‘Let It Snow’ as I make the walk back home. I discover that if I close my eyes and concentrate, the loose sand under my feet feels almost like walking in snow. I think I am entirely alone, but anyone witnessing this has definitely concluded that I’m nuts.
10:00PM- Still exhausted. Back to sleep.
Christmas Day, 8:00AM- Looks like Santa comes to Cameroon as well! I start the morning opening the many packages that arrived at the post office this past week. Packaged food, candy, books, magazines; I can’t think of a better way to start my Christmas in Bogo.
8:30 AM- Back to the mission for the morning mass. Last night’s ceremony was fairly low-key. Not the case this morning as it looks as though the entire Christian community has turned out. The chapel is packed to the rafters, everyone with their best attire on.
10:00AM- Mass has progressed very similarly to last night’s up to this point. During one of the last songs, some of the older women in the congregation begin howling at the top of their lungs over the youth group’s drums and singing. About ten women take to the front of the church to dance. It quickly swells to half of the roughly 200-300 in attendance. The frenzy fills the church with sound and the sand floor being pounded by the joyous congregation fills the room with a dusty haze.
10:30AM- The celebrations are over and after wishing friends and colleagues a Merry Christmas I begin to make my way home. On the way out one of the nuns at the mission invites me to join them for lunch. She doesn’t need to twist my arm. I’ve eaten with the sisters at the catholic mission before and it is always delicious.
10:40AM- On my way back home I take a little detour to the market. Timshel could use some holiday cheer so I stop off at the grilled meat stand and purchase 1000 francs of grilled beef. Being a big cattle town, beef is very cheap here. For 1000 francs ($2), the butcher/griller gives me what must be close to a pound of beef.
10:45AM- Bogo is almost entirely muslim, especially in the center of town and my neighborhood. Nevertheless I am greeted with ‘bonne fete’ and ‘joyeux noel’ from all sorts of people. Its nice to know that despite the huge difference in cultures and religions there still seems to be a mutual respect present.
11:00AM- I’m back home and Timshel has caught the scent of what I’m carrying. Before he has a panic attack I empty the meat into his dish, wish him a merry christmas and quickly back away. Despite being a friendly dog Timshel does not like to be bothered when eating his meals, especially when that meal happens to be a grilled side of cow.
11:02AM- It looks like he enjoyed that. I don’t think he breathed that entire time, and he has retreated to the corner of the porch and looks to be down for the count.
12:30PM- Back to the mission. Timshel is out cold and its my turn to stuff my face.
12:40PM- Arriving at the mission it already smells delicious. Lunch is being put on the table as we speak. The mission at Bogo currently houses three nuns, one from Spain, one from Congo and one from India. All of them are extremely pleasant, and the Indian sister, being an Anglophone, is an excellent outlet when I am tired of speaking French and Fufulde.
12:50PM- We visit for a few minutes and then make our way to the table. Sitting at the table with a Spanish nun, and Indian nun and a Congolese nun (that sounds like the start of a bad joke); I am first treated to a huge salad, something which is hard to come by in Bogo. It is delicious and they do not have to push me too hard to take another helping.
12:55PM- Salad is done, and the main dishes start coming out. The Congolese sister has prepared some excellent chicken, plaintains and cous-cous. A large dish of pasta is also available. I try balance my desire to be polite with my desire to stuff my face.
1:00PM- I was already a big fan of the Bogo nuns, but they just went up a few more notches in my book, as one of them pulls out a cold bottle of 33 Export for me. At first I think it’s a test. Am I going to accept this frosty bottle of beer and then get wrapped on the knuckles with a yard stick? I roll the dice and am pleased to discover that it is no test of my moral fiber.
1:30PM- My belly is happy and about to get happier, as one sister brings out a tray of assorted Spanish and Indian pastries. I’m encouraged to try every one. I pretend to be full but promise that I’ll do my best.
1:50PM- That was a proper meal. They can be few and far between here in the village.
2:00PM- Before retiring to my living room to digest one of the sisters asks that I take a look at their gardens and fruit trees. Just as we are wrapping up the tour, a fellow PCV spending Christmas in Maroua gives me a call. They are incredulous that I am not in Maroua for the holidays.
2:02PM- I get a call from angry PCV #2. Apparently there is an Xmas present waiting for me in Maroua, and I’m very inconsiderate for not coming to join them for the celebrations. From my side of the line they sound as though they are having a pretty good time. All this peer pressure is starting to get to me.
2:05PM- I stop on my way home to speak with a few colleagues. Continuing home I see I have a missed call from angry PCV #3.
2:06PM- I call back angry PCV #3, at which point I am passed around to about 6-7 people telling me how uncool it is that I am not sharing Christmas with them. These guys really know how to lay it on thick, all the while using my phone credit to do so. I should probably get into Maroua for Christmas evening before this gets any worse. My village Christmas is winding down, and hey, its not every year that you can celebrate two distinctly different Christmases on the same day!
12.27.2009
On the road again
I just spent the last three weeks travelling in the West of the country around Bafoussam and doing some mid-service medical exams in Yaounde. I don’t think I will ever piss and moan again when travelling in the U.S. I can’t think of anything in the states that can compare to the mayhem of travelling by bus or train in Cameroon.
As for my medical exams it was nice to receive a clean bill of health. I had a fairly unpleasant start to Peace Corps service by getting ill 1-2 times per month and dropping 30 pounds in the process. Knock on wood, but it seems that my body has slowly accepted the rigors of African village life.
I believe being away from someplace for an extended period of time affords me the opportunity to assess what I’ve come to know, or atleast feel, about that place I’ve left. I had to come to Africa before considering my life back in the states. The same has happened recently while spending 3 weeks away from Bogo. Getting to leave the Extreme North is a rare occurrence for me, so seeing some of the country’s southern regions was a real treat. The folks down south I met along the way were incredibly hospitable, PCVs and HCNs alike. I’d say the high point of the trip was our visit to the Palace of Foumban in the West Region. Two other volunteers and I spent a day touring the palace, palace museum, central market and mosque, ending the day at a beer garden in the center of town. The establishment’s anglophone owner, Tobias, fixed us an incredible feast (you name it, and it was brought to the table) accompanied with cold beers, promised to send us Xmas and New Years greetings via email (still waiting on those), and finally offered us his daughters’ as wives. Despite having to decline his last gesture of generosity, he assured us that we and any of our friends would be more than welcome in the future. For a foreigner in Cameroon visiting larger cities or tourist areas, the potential for negative interactions with a stranger could spoil one’s outlook on being open and friendly. Luckily meeting folks like this exuberant, welcoming gentleman reminds me that while being on guard is advisable when travelling here, the people welcoming you into their country/town/home are probably more often than not of Tobias’ mold. To any PCV in Cameroon or anyone planning to visit the country in the future, I could confidently say that spending a day touring Foumban would be one of the highlights of your trip.
While on the road I had plenty of time to ponder my first year in Bogo and I think the following sums it up pretty well:
1) I sometimes complain about my situation here in the Extreme North. Yes, it is hotter than the hinges of hell. Yes, having a nutritious diet in the village is nearly impossible. Yet despite seeing a number of beautiful areas around the country I can’t say I’d rather be living in any other part of the country. When I go to the bus station in Bogo I don’t get mobbed by every hustler, salesman, baggage porter, crazy person, etc. On the contrary the station chief will most likely take my bag, place it in the front seat, and usher me to a bench in the shade to await our departure. All the attention is a little awkward but appreciated nonetheless.
Some would see the flat, charred and barren landscape in my part of the Extreme North as ugly, and I admit that sometimes I see it as such myself. Yet I’ve watched the sun rise on the road between Bogo and Maroua while biking in solitude, and it is an image I’ll keep with me long after I’ve left Cameroon.
Fulbe, the predominant culture/language/ethnic group is obviously shockingly different than my own background, and it can at times be extremely frustrating in both professional and personal situations. With that said (and this is not to say the fulbe have a monopoly on hospitality), I have never felt unwelcome in a fulbe town. I may very well feel under the microscope and picked over by every eye in the village, but despite being such an anomaly I’ve rarely if ever left anyone’s home in Bogo without a full belly of hot tea and bowl after bowl of cous-cous. Still not a big fan of the cous-cous but working on it.
2) I actually missed my dog while away from Bogo. Its strange how Timshel’s mission in life seems to be causing me trouble and yet I miss the little bastard. To make up for my extended absence he got 1000 francs of street meat for his Christmas breakfast.
3) I also missed Bogo. That much is clear to me. I did not, however, miss eating dried fish and MSG sauce over rice. I’ll be avoiding that meal like the plague over the coming year.
4) It is amazing how much work we did in Bogo when I told colleagues I was leaving for a long time. Perhaps they misunderstood me and believed I was not returning at all. My work in the mango orchards progressed more in the month before my trip than it had in the 6 previous months.
5) Throughout the country I’ve seen some great markets, the center of any African village/town/city. With that in mind I still have to say that Bogo’s is my favorite. There are larger markets than Bogo. There are better supplied markets. There are more convenient and accessible ones too. Yet if you are looking for a market based on its level of authenticity and pure chaos, the Bogo Marche on Thursday has no equal that I have seen.
6) Its funny how safe Bogo feels at this point. The road trip around Cameroon was a blast but constantly worrying about being relieved of my possessions at any number of bus stations, markets, etc. can get old after 3 weeks.
7) If anyone from Brasseries du Cameroon reads this, start sending Pride Pilsner, Gold Harp and/or Castle Milk Stout to the North of the country. They are far superior to anything you currently offer us northerners.
8) I missed hearing call to prayer. Let me rephrase that: I missed hearing call to prayer, except for the one before sunrise. That one I could do without. The other four are fine. In all seriousness I find it to be a beautiful and exotic sound, just not at 4:30AM.
9) I’m about 2 hours south of Maroua at this point and I realise it’s getting really dusty up north these days. The rain has not fallen since September and the Harmattan winds are pushing in from the Sahara. I’ll probably need an entire day to dust and sweep my house.
10) Finally, a quick thanks to all the fellow PCVs in the West who hosted us during our adventure. The West region is beautiful and your hospitality was amazing. Come see us in the Extreme North sometime, as you are always welcome(but I’d stay clear in March and April!).
As for my medical exams it was nice to receive a clean bill of health. I had a fairly unpleasant start to Peace Corps service by getting ill 1-2 times per month and dropping 30 pounds in the process. Knock on wood, but it seems that my body has slowly accepted the rigors of African village life.
I believe being away from someplace for an extended period of time affords me the opportunity to assess what I’ve come to know, or atleast feel, about that place I’ve left. I had to come to Africa before considering my life back in the states. The same has happened recently while spending 3 weeks away from Bogo. Getting to leave the Extreme North is a rare occurrence for me, so seeing some of the country’s southern regions was a real treat. The folks down south I met along the way were incredibly hospitable, PCVs and HCNs alike. I’d say the high point of the trip was our visit to the Palace of Foumban in the West Region. Two other volunteers and I spent a day touring the palace, palace museum, central market and mosque, ending the day at a beer garden in the center of town. The establishment’s anglophone owner, Tobias, fixed us an incredible feast (you name it, and it was brought to the table) accompanied with cold beers, promised to send us Xmas and New Years greetings via email (still waiting on those), and finally offered us his daughters’ as wives. Despite having to decline his last gesture of generosity, he assured us that we and any of our friends would be more than welcome in the future. For a foreigner in Cameroon visiting larger cities or tourist areas, the potential for negative interactions with a stranger could spoil one’s outlook on being open and friendly. Luckily meeting folks like this exuberant, welcoming gentleman reminds me that while being on guard is advisable when travelling here, the people welcoming you into their country/town/home are probably more often than not of Tobias’ mold. To any PCV in Cameroon or anyone planning to visit the country in the future, I could confidently say that spending a day touring Foumban would be one of the highlights of your trip.
While on the road I had plenty of time to ponder my first year in Bogo and I think the following sums it up pretty well:
1) I sometimes complain about my situation here in the Extreme North. Yes, it is hotter than the hinges of hell. Yes, having a nutritious diet in the village is nearly impossible. Yet despite seeing a number of beautiful areas around the country I can’t say I’d rather be living in any other part of the country. When I go to the bus station in Bogo I don’t get mobbed by every hustler, salesman, baggage porter, crazy person, etc. On the contrary the station chief will most likely take my bag, place it in the front seat, and usher me to a bench in the shade to await our departure. All the attention is a little awkward but appreciated nonetheless.
Some would see the flat, charred and barren landscape in my part of the Extreme North as ugly, and I admit that sometimes I see it as such myself. Yet I’ve watched the sun rise on the road between Bogo and Maroua while biking in solitude, and it is an image I’ll keep with me long after I’ve left Cameroon.
Fulbe, the predominant culture/language/ethnic group is obviously shockingly different than my own background, and it can at times be extremely frustrating in both professional and personal situations. With that said (and this is not to say the fulbe have a monopoly on hospitality), I have never felt unwelcome in a fulbe town. I may very well feel under the microscope and picked over by every eye in the village, but despite being such an anomaly I’ve rarely if ever left anyone’s home in Bogo without a full belly of hot tea and bowl after bowl of cous-cous. Still not a big fan of the cous-cous but working on it.
2) I actually missed my dog while away from Bogo. Its strange how Timshel’s mission in life seems to be causing me trouble and yet I miss the little bastard. To make up for my extended absence he got 1000 francs of street meat for his Christmas breakfast.
3) I also missed Bogo. That much is clear to me. I did not, however, miss eating dried fish and MSG sauce over rice. I’ll be avoiding that meal like the plague over the coming year.
4) It is amazing how much work we did in Bogo when I told colleagues I was leaving for a long time. Perhaps they misunderstood me and believed I was not returning at all. My work in the mango orchards progressed more in the month before my trip than it had in the 6 previous months.
5) Throughout the country I’ve seen some great markets, the center of any African village/town/city. With that in mind I still have to say that Bogo’s is my favorite. There are larger markets than Bogo. There are better supplied markets. There are more convenient and accessible ones too. Yet if you are looking for a market based on its level of authenticity and pure chaos, the Bogo Marche on Thursday has no equal that I have seen.
6) Its funny how safe Bogo feels at this point. The road trip around Cameroon was a blast but constantly worrying about being relieved of my possessions at any number of bus stations, markets, etc. can get old after 3 weeks.
7) If anyone from Brasseries du Cameroon reads this, start sending Pride Pilsner, Gold Harp and/or Castle Milk Stout to the North of the country. They are far superior to anything you currently offer us northerners.
8) I missed hearing call to prayer. Let me rephrase that: I missed hearing call to prayer, except for the one before sunrise. That one I could do without. The other four are fine. In all seriousness I find it to be a beautiful and exotic sound, just not at 4:30AM.
9) I’m about 2 hours south of Maroua at this point and I realise it’s getting really dusty up north these days. The rain has not fallen since September and the Harmattan winds are pushing in from the Sahara. I’ll probably need an entire day to dust and sweep my house.
10) Finally, a quick thanks to all the fellow PCVs in the West who hosted us during our adventure. The West region is beautiful and your hospitality was amazing. Come see us in the Extreme North sometime, as you are always welcome(but I’d stay clear in March and April!).
10.28.2009
So You Want to Visit Cameroon???
Many of you have expressed an interest in visiting me during my time here in Africa. Personally I think that is fantastic, and I would welcome with open arms any and all of you hearty travelers out there in search of a good adventure. Yet a trip to Cameroon could quickly turn into a logistics nightmare for someone not fully prepared. Fear not as I, for one, am an extremely capable host. Furthermore, I have described below what a voyage to Cameroon to visit yours truly would entail and I could personally guarantee that you would have the experience of a lifetime.
Cameroon is an amazing country but let’s be honest; traveling in Africa is not for the faint at heart. Sure, one could travel to the dark continent to see the game parks and popular tourist haunts, and multitudes of people do just that every year. However if you are someone looking to experience the real Africa without the insulation of expensive safari tours and lavish hotels, then I believe you just may have what it takes to come see me in Cameroon!
Getting Here (In one piece)
Go to Europe and then turn right. Actually it’s a little more complicated than that, but keep in mind that your trusty sidekick(me) would be by your side to oversee all travel arrangements once you touch down. Most American travelers coming into Cameroon will arrive in either Douala or Yaounde in the south of the country via a flight from Paris, Brussels or Zurich. Swiss Air through Zurich seems to have the cheapest flights. But you still need to get to the Extreme North of the country. What are your options, you ask?
1) Fly into Douala or Yaounde (preferably the latter) and check into a hotel to rest up for a day or so. Lavishing your host with one or two nice meals is not required but certainly encouraged:) After recharging for a bit, we would hop on an overnight northbound train to the city of Ngaoundere. Using the train is perhaps the most common route to the north of the country, but the overnight voyage to Ngaoundere can quickly turn into a twenty hour fiasco depending on delays and breakdowns.
When arriving in Ngaoundere you’ll probably first notice the very pleasant temperatures. Spending a day climbing Mount Ngaoundere or just exploring the Central District and the Grand Marche is a great way to unwind and stretch those legs after being cooped up in planes and trains for so long. From Ngaoundere, Maroua is just another 7-8 hours by bus on a paved road.
2) Fly instead to Ndjamena, Chad which is just across the northern border of Cameroon. Once we get past the sticky palmed border officials we are only a few hours north of our provincial capital, Maroua. Despite the close proximity of N’Djamena to Northern Cameroon, political instability in Chad is frequently a problem and could potentially inconvenience any travel plans made in this area.
3) Fly to Abuja, the capital of Nigeria, and then take another flight to the northern city of Maiduguri. Maiduguri lies just a few hours west of Cameroon, and arranging private transport from Maiduguri is something I can do in advance from Maroua. Unfortunately I have no info on how well this option works, but I believe it will be attempted by a few visitors of a fellow volunteer in the near future.
What Do We Do Now?
Maroua-
We’ve arrived in Maroua, one of the only large cities in Cameroon predating colonization. Let’s take a day to wander around and see the city. Visiting the Grand Marche is always an adventure. For all you shoppers, the “Artisinat” at the market houses all sorts of traditional crafts, wooden masks of various local tribes, intricate carvings and leather goods. The local vendors and craftsmen, while a bit on the aggressive side, always love to see Americans. I think they like your American dollars even more, but disputing prices with them is always fun.
At this point it’s probably close to mid-day, which most likely means that we are drenched from head to toe in sweat. The only remedy for that is to head back to the hotel pool, take a swim and enjoy a few cold beers while waiting for the heat to recede. And while it is purely a suggestion, buying your favorite Peace Corps volunteer dinner at the local French restaurant that evening is not a bad way to end the day!
Up for a little nightlife instead? The main boulevard in Domayo quartier is the undisputed Maroua hotspot containing many bars, a few dance clubs and all the grilled meat and fish that you can handle.
Bogo-
Enough hotels and swimming pools, lets go to the bush! 40km east of Maroua is the place I call home. From reading my blog I’m sure you’ve already learned a great deal about my town so I will spare you the details. But a trip to Bogo is not complete without visiting the Thursday market. It is truly a sight to behold, and beyond just being a great market, moving around the stalls and various thoroughfares affords me the opportunity to show off my nasarra visitors to local friends and colleagues. By the end you’ll be so tired of saying ‘Jam Koodume’ which basically means I’m very well and ‘Mi Jabbi’ which is what you say when someone welcomes you to Bogo, that you’ll never want to hear them uttered again.
Enough with the market, let’s go see the big man. The Lamido of Bogo is very welcoming and friendly, and he is always extremely pleased when visiting Nasarras come by to say hello. There are plenty of other friends and neighbors to visit. While staying in Bogo for just a few days you’ll shake more hands then you ever thought possible, and the hot tea and cous cous will be free flowing!
If Bogo wasn’t far enough off the beaten path for you, then during our last day in town we’ll head out another 10km to the village of Bagalaf where my main colleague lives. The simplicity and tranquility is something I enjoy a great deal when working here. If you had a mental picture before the trip of a traditional African village, then I would bet that it looks a lot like Bagalaf.
Farther Afoot
Got some extra time in country? Below are many interesting and highly recommended areas of the country to visit. I myself have yet to visit many of these sites but would no doubt accompany you throughout. And keep in mind that half the fun of traveling in Cameroon is the voyage itself (minus the overloaded buses and sharing seats with goats).
Kribi
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kribi
Limbe
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limbe,_Cameroon
Mount Cameroon
http://www.mount-cameroon.org/en/index.htm
Rhumsiki
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhumsiki
Waza National Park
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waza_National_Park
Mandara Mountains
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandara_Mountains
Foumban
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foumban
Cameroon is an amazing country but let’s be honest; traveling in Africa is not for the faint at heart. Sure, one could travel to the dark continent to see the game parks and popular tourist haunts, and multitudes of people do just that every year. However if you are someone looking to experience the real Africa without the insulation of expensive safari tours and lavish hotels, then I believe you just may have what it takes to come see me in Cameroon!
Getting Here (In one piece)
Go to Europe and then turn right. Actually it’s a little more complicated than that, but keep in mind that your trusty sidekick(me) would be by your side to oversee all travel arrangements once you touch down. Most American travelers coming into Cameroon will arrive in either Douala or Yaounde in the south of the country via a flight from Paris, Brussels or Zurich. Swiss Air through Zurich seems to have the cheapest flights. But you still need to get to the Extreme North of the country. What are your options, you ask?
1) Fly into Douala or Yaounde (preferably the latter) and check into a hotel to rest up for a day or so. Lavishing your host with one or two nice meals is not required but certainly encouraged:) After recharging for a bit, we would hop on an overnight northbound train to the city of Ngaoundere. Using the train is perhaps the most common route to the north of the country, but the overnight voyage to Ngaoundere can quickly turn into a twenty hour fiasco depending on delays and breakdowns.
When arriving in Ngaoundere you’ll probably first notice the very pleasant temperatures. Spending a day climbing Mount Ngaoundere or just exploring the Central District and the Grand Marche is a great way to unwind and stretch those legs after being cooped up in planes and trains for so long. From Ngaoundere, Maroua is just another 7-8 hours by bus on a paved road.
2) Fly instead to Ndjamena, Chad which is just across the northern border of Cameroon. Once we get past the sticky palmed border officials we are only a few hours north of our provincial capital, Maroua. Despite the close proximity of N’Djamena to Northern Cameroon, political instability in Chad is frequently a problem and could potentially inconvenience any travel plans made in this area.
3) Fly to Abuja, the capital of Nigeria, and then take another flight to the northern city of Maiduguri. Maiduguri lies just a few hours west of Cameroon, and arranging private transport from Maiduguri is something I can do in advance from Maroua. Unfortunately I have no info on how well this option works, but I believe it will be attempted by a few visitors of a fellow volunteer in the near future.
What Do We Do Now?
Maroua-
We’ve arrived in Maroua, one of the only large cities in Cameroon predating colonization. Let’s take a day to wander around and see the city. Visiting the Grand Marche is always an adventure. For all you shoppers, the “Artisinat” at the market houses all sorts of traditional crafts, wooden masks of various local tribes, intricate carvings and leather goods. The local vendors and craftsmen, while a bit on the aggressive side, always love to see Americans. I think they like your American dollars even more, but disputing prices with them is always fun.
At this point it’s probably close to mid-day, which most likely means that we are drenched from head to toe in sweat. The only remedy for that is to head back to the hotel pool, take a swim and enjoy a few cold beers while waiting for the heat to recede. And while it is purely a suggestion, buying your favorite Peace Corps volunteer dinner at the local French restaurant that evening is not a bad way to end the day!
Up for a little nightlife instead? The main boulevard in Domayo quartier is the undisputed Maroua hotspot containing many bars, a few dance clubs and all the grilled meat and fish that you can handle.
Bogo-
Enough hotels and swimming pools, lets go to the bush! 40km east of Maroua is the place I call home. From reading my blog I’m sure you’ve already learned a great deal about my town so I will spare you the details. But a trip to Bogo is not complete without visiting the Thursday market. It is truly a sight to behold, and beyond just being a great market, moving around the stalls and various thoroughfares affords me the opportunity to show off my nasarra visitors to local friends and colleagues. By the end you’ll be so tired of saying ‘Jam Koodume’ which basically means I’m very well and ‘Mi Jabbi’ which is what you say when someone welcomes you to Bogo, that you’ll never want to hear them uttered again.
Enough with the market, let’s go see the big man. The Lamido of Bogo is very welcoming and friendly, and he is always extremely pleased when visiting Nasarras come by to say hello. There are plenty of other friends and neighbors to visit. While staying in Bogo for just a few days you’ll shake more hands then you ever thought possible, and the hot tea and cous cous will be free flowing!
If Bogo wasn’t far enough off the beaten path for you, then during our last day in town we’ll head out another 10km to the village of Bagalaf where my main colleague lives. The simplicity and tranquility is something I enjoy a great deal when working here. If you had a mental picture before the trip of a traditional African village, then I would bet that it looks a lot like Bagalaf.
Farther Afoot
Got some extra time in country? Below are many interesting and highly recommended areas of the country to visit. I myself have yet to visit many of these sites but would no doubt accompany you throughout. And keep in mind that half the fun of traveling in Cameroon is the voyage itself (minus the overloaded buses and sharing seats with goats).
Kribi
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kribi
Limbe
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limbe,_Cameroon
Mount Cameroon
http://www.mount-cameroon.org/en/index.htm
Rhumsiki
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhumsiki
Waza National Park
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waza_National_Park
Mandara Mountains
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandara_Mountains
Foumban
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foumban
Une Soirée Camerounaise
As many of you already know my local neighborhood team, Auxerre Marouaré FC, won the recent Coupe de Bogo (or Coupe des Vacances as they call it here). Now that the month of Ramadan has come and gone, the official Coupe des Vacances shin-dig was held this past Saturday evening. Held at the large event hall at the town Sous-Prefecture (think middle school auditorium), the entire Auxerre Marouaré squad plus the captains of all other participating teams are invited by the tournament organizers to celebrate for the evening. I’ve considered numerous ways of how to recreate this highly anticipated event for you, and I think the only way to do it justice would be to run you through a mental log I was compiling as the evening progressed.
Party Log- 11:30AM Saturday
At this point I am out in the bush working with a few project farmers discussing their current activities and possible well building projects in the future. That’s right, its not all soccer here. I also do work.
Biking about 12km back into town, I immediately run into two fellow teammates lazing out under a Neem tree by the soccer field. They seem incredulous that I have been working this morning and not at my house. Another teammate has been banging on my door frantically all morning because he has my printed invitation to this evening’s fete. Apparently this is the hot event of the weekend on the Bogo nightlife scene.
Noon Saturday
Returning to my home and a hungry dog, I go to my water tank to fill a bucket. I need to cook this raving lunatic of a dog some rice before he eats his tail, and I severely need a cold bucket bath. Uh oh, water tank empty. I go around the block to ask a kid to bring me water. Getting back to my house I learn that my frantic teammate was again banging on my door after hearing I was back in town. From what I understand the party is not until 8PM this evening so I plan to hit him up after taking a delightful bucket bath.
1:00PM
Bucket bath completed. Decreased internal temperature achieved. Dog fed and happy. It looks like my to-do list for the day is pretty much checked off. I look at my phone after getting dressed; 5 missed calls from frantic teammate. I appreciate his diligence but surely he is overreacting seeing as we have 7 hours before the festivities begin. I call frantic teammate. He sounds winded. He’s coming over “toute de suite!” he tells me. I’ve never heard anyone in Bogo so worked up.
1:45PM
Frantic teammate arrives chez moi, not quite ‘toute de suite,’ for probably the eightieth time today. This time I’m here. He comes in and produces 2 invitations for the party. That in and of itself is odd, but my suspicions are aroused further when he tells me the second invitation can only be given to a girl. Nice try, pal. I’ll add that to the growing list of ways people try to set me up with one of their cousins. I don’t know how to translate ‘going stag’ into French so I tell him I’ll check my rolodex and see what I can do. I think that has gotten me off the hook for now. Frantic teammate leaves less frantic.
2:20PM
No work this afternoon so I settle into the latest Economist that I picked up from Maroua. I think it’s an issue from late August so I’m a bit behind in the news.
4:00PM
After eating some leftover spaghetti I head down the road to Bogo stadium. Preceding the party this evening there is a friendly match between our squad and Siratare. I’m merely a spectator for this match. The game kicks off about 1 hour late, and I begin to wish I had laced up this evening as the game for once seems surprising amicable. I didn’t see anyone try to rip an opponent to shreds with his cleats the entire game.
6:00PM
On account of darkness and the evening call to prayer, the game gets called after only 60 minutes played. Auxerre Marouaré wins 2-0. I head back to my house with a teammate/neighbor. He is genuinely surprised when he learns that I don’t have a suit for the evening. I assure him that I’ll be dressed appropriately. I’m also told that I must be there at 8PM sharp. Cameroonians, especially in village, aren’t too concerned with punctuality. Perhaps this is such an anticipated party that it actually starts on time, I think to myself.
8:00 PM
Nope, I’m not yet at the party. I’m in the process of putting on my finest white shirt and gray slacks. I think I look quite dapper, but if you saw my finest white shirt and grey slacks you would know it doesn’t say much about the rest of my wardrobe here. I’ve decided to stroll over to the hall at around 8:30. I’ve never been to or organized a single event or meeting in this town that started on time so I presume I’ll show up just as the others arrive.
8:36PM
Approaching the hall I hear thumping rap music at high volume. That’s a good sign, I think. It sounds something like Akon, maybe Nelly, or whichever other marginally talented knucklehead the kids are listening to these days in Cameroon. Regardless, my plan has worked and surely the nassarra is not the first to show up!
8:37PM
The nassarra is yet again the first one to show up. I picture all my teammates snickering behind the bushes. “Haha, that moron showed up 30 minutes late. How does he not yet know that we show up to things 2 hours late?? Hahaha.”
I take a seat next to my buddy who is the DJ for the evening. Nelly is pumping through the speakers saying something deep and thoughtful like, “Yeah, Oh…uh uh. Oh, yeah!!” I tell him I have some Tribe Called Quest on my iPod back at my house if he’s interested. He doesn’t look interested. We shoot the breeze for a while. I ask when the people are coming. He shrugs as he continues thumbing through a stack of CDs. I truly fear what is next on his party mix. He tosses a disc in and “Barbie Girl” belts through the speakers.
8:45PM
Down the road a ways out of earshot I take a seat at the local watering hole and crack open a frosty 33’ Export. Cut me a break. That music played at such a volume has the ability to disintegrate eardrums. I settle in with a few of the regulars who are watching a match on the TV. It just started and it looks to be one hell of a game. I promise myself I’ll go back to the party in 30 minutes.
9:45PM
So much for 30 minutes. But atleast I got to see the whole first half. I begin to worry that everyone has already arrived and I’m past being just fashionably late. That turns out to be a silly thought as I arrive once again and there are at maximum about 15 people. Ok, I know that nobody wants to be the first one to the party, but this is getting to be ridiculous! I’m welcomed in and the inevitable questions from my teammates begin. “Où est ta femme, Daniel?” They assure me its no problem. “Many many girls are coming!”
10:30PM
Most of the guests have arrived. Some of the ladies would look more at home at a high school prom. Most of the gentlemen look very put together as well. There are a few 50 Cent wannabes in attendance, but for the most part a nice pressed shirt and slacks seems to be the norm.
10:35PM
I was quite comfortable at the table where I was sitting, but now I’m being escorted across the hall to another empty table. A few minutes later the same teammate brings some other guests over to join me at the table. We all greet each other (I don’t know a single one of them), and my teammate sits one of the ladies next to me as he shoots me a goofy grin. I strongly doubt that I could be any more uncomfortable right now.
11:00PM
After trying to make friendly conversation with my fellow revelers at table 3, the entire group has fallen silent for about 15 minutes. They also look extremely unhappy. I take back my previous statement made at 10:35PM. This is more uncomfortable.
11:25PM
I am beginning to wonder if my team is playing a very large and elaborate joke on me. Table 3 is still silent. Nothing that resembles a party atmosphere has taken place in about 30 minutes, with the exception of the thumping music. I look around and all other tables are at about the same stage of apathy.
11:30PM
I have to be honest. I’m starting to lose faith in this party. At this point the organizers need a small miracle to bring this thing back to life. I look at my friend at the DJ table. His expression tells me that he is also highly confused. I take comfort in this. It tells me that this is not how they typically put a party together. I say this is comforting for someone like me because I imagine that I’ll be attending similar events in the future. Someone obviously dropped the ball this evening.
11:33PM
I stand corrected. Just in time, a number of bodies begin hauling in cases of beverages followed closely by ladies with plates of all sorts of tasty looking treats. The beer, orange fanta and cokes get doled out while ladies begin setting plates of cookies, peanuts, fries, popcorn and grilled meat at all the tables.
11:35PM
That was a hail mary if I ever saw one. Whoever engineered the last minute appearance of beverages and grub averted a possible riot. I try to eat as much as possible; particularly the grilled meat and cookies while trying not to look like a pig. I doubt it’s working. The party seems to be in full swing.
11:50PM
It looks like everyone has had their fill. Despite the music at about 100 decibels, I feel incredibly content and relaxed. My belly is full and I’m nursing a cold bottle of orange fanta. Sadly I’ve given up on my fellow partygoers at table 3. I guess they’re the silent types. I begin to check my watch. I was hoping to stay for some dancing, but it’s almost midnight and I’ve got some tree planting to do at sunrise.
11:54PM
“Attention ladies and gentlemen…” My DJ friend announces that pictures of the team will be taken with the trophy, and that dancing will commence shortly. After the pictures I expect people to take to the floor. However, my friend begins picking ladies and men from the audience and pairing them together in the middle of the floor. This does not look good. When I heard there would be dancing my mental picture was jumping around and gyrating to some chaotic African pop or something. This sounds suspiciously like a Celine Dion song. The couples on the floor slow dance for about 15 seconds and the music stops. Once again, I retract my statement from 11:00PM. This is more uncomfortable.
Another round of couples are chosen and dance for no more than 15 seconds to the same song. They all look as though they want to run off the floor in a panic. No need for chaperons with rulers here, as these young lovebirds look like they don’t want a thing to do with each other.
11:54PM and 30 seconds
Either that meat was of questionable quality or I’m seriously nervous right now, because the sweat is beading on my forehead and my tummy is grumbling. I look over to my friend with the microphone. He looks as if he’s up to something. I don’t say anything to him as he’s across the room, but I think my glare and subtle shaking of the head effectively indicates to him that I will take that microphone and beat him over the head with it if I am selected in the next round of awkward slow dancing.
Midnight
It’s been quite a journey over the last 12 hours. In short, my carriage is about to turn back into a pumpkin so it’s about time I hit the dusty trail. I’ve got some trees to plant at sunrise tomorrow and the mix of Nelly and Celine Dion is beginning to make my ears bleed.
Party Log- 11:30AM Saturday
At this point I am out in the bush working with a few project farmers discussing their current activities and possible well building projects in the future. That’s right, its not all soccer here. I also do work.
Biking about 12km back into town, I immediately run into two fellow teammates lazing out under a Neem tree by the soccer field. They seem incredulous that I have been working this morning and not at my house. Another teammate has been banging on my door frantically all morning because he has my printed invitation to this evening’s fete. Apparently this is the hot event of the weekend on the Bogo nightlife scene.
Noon Saturday
Returning to my home and a hungry dog, I go to my water tank to fill a bucket. I need to cook this raving lunatic of a dog some rice before he eats his tail, and I severely need a cold bucket bath. Uh oh, water tank empty. I go around the block to ask a kid to bring me water. Getting back to my house I learn that my frantic teammate was again banging on my door after hearing I was back in town. From what I understand the party is not until 8PM this evening so I plan to hit him up after taking a delightful bucket bath.
1:00PM
Bucket bath completed. Decreased internal temperature achieved. Dog fed and happy. It looks like my to-do list for the day is pretty much checked off. I look at my phone after getting dressed; 5 missed calls from frantic teammate. I appreciate his diligence but surely he is overreacting seeing as we have 7 hours before the festivities begin. I call frantic teammate. He sounds winded. He’s coming over “toute de suite!” he tells me. I’ve never heard anyone in Bogo so worked up.
1:45PM
Frantic teammate arrives chez moi, not quite ‘toute de suite,’ for probably the eightieth time today. This time I’m here. He comes in and produces 2 invitations for the party. That in and of itself is odd, but my suspicions are aroused further when he tells me the second invitation can only be given to a girl. Nice try, pal. I’ll add that to the growing list of ways people try to set me up with one of their cousins. I don’t know how to translate ‘going stag’ into French so I tell him I’ll check my rolodex and see what I can do. I think that has gotten me off the hook for now. Frantic teammate leaves less frantic.
2:20PM
No work this afternoon so I settle into the latest Economist that I picked up from Maroua. I think it’s an issue from late August so I’m a bit behind in the news.
4:00PM
After eating some leftover spaghetti I head down the road to Bogo stadium. Preceding the party this evening there is a friendly match between our squad and Siratare. I’m merely a spectator for this match. The game kicks off about 1 hour late, and I begin to wish I had laced up this evening as the game for once seems surprising amicable. I didn’t see anyone try to rip an opponent to shreds with his cleats the entire game.
6:00PM
On account of darkness and the evening call to prayer, the game gets called after only 60 minutes played. Auxerre Marouaré wins 2-0. I head back to my house with a teammate/neighbor. He is genuinely surprised when he learns that I don’t have a suit for the evening. I assure him that I’ll be dressed appropriately. I’m also told that I must be there at 8PM sharp. Cameroonians, especially in village, aren’t too concerned with punctuality. Perhaps this is such an anticipated party that it actually starts on time, I think to myself.
8:00 PM
Nope, I’m not yet at the party. I’m in the process of putting on my finest white shirt and gray slacks. I think I look quite dapper, but if you saw my finest white shirt and grey slacks you would know it doesn’t say much about the rest of my wardrobe here. I’ve decided to stroll over to the hall at around 8:30. I’ve never been to or organized a single event or meeting in this town that started on time so I presume I’ll show up just as the others arrive.
8:36PM
Approaching the hall I hear thumping rap music at high volume. That’s a good sign, I think. It sounds something like Akon, maybe Nelly, or whichever other marginally talented knucklehead the kids are listening to these days in Cameroon. Regardless, my plan has worked and surely the nassarra is not the first to show up!
8:37PM
The nassarra is yet again the first one to show up. I picture all my teammates snickering behind the bushes. “Haha, that moron showed up 30 minutes late. How does he not yet know that we show up to things 2 hours late?? Hahaha.”
I take a seat next to my buddy who is the DJ for the evening. Nelly is pumping through the speakers saying something deep and thoughtful like, “Yeah, Oh…uh uh. Oh, yeah!!” I tell him I have some Tribe Called Quest on my iPod back at my house if he’s interested. He doesn’t look interested. We shoot the breeze for a while. I ask when the people are coming. He shrugs as he continues thumbing through a stack of CDs. I truly fear what is next on his party mix. He tosses a disc in and “Barbie Girl” belts through the speakers.
8:45PM
Down the road a ways out of earshot I take a seat at the local watering hole and crack open a frosty 33’ Export. Cut me a break. That music played at such a volume has the ability to disintegrate eardrums. I settle in with a few of the regulars who are watching a match on the TV. It just started and it looks to be one hell of a game. I promise myself I’ll go back to the party in 30 minutes.
9:45PM
So much for 30 minutes. But atleast I got to see the whole first half. I begin to worry that everyone has already arrived and I’m past being just fashionably late. That turns out to be a silly thought as I arrive once again and there are at maximum about 15 people. Ok, I know that nobody wants to be the first one to the party, but this is getting to be ridiculous! I’m welcomed in and the inevitable questions from my teammates begin. “Où est ta femme, Daniel?” They assure me its no problem. “Many many girls are coming!”
10:30PM
Most of the guests have arrived. Some of the ladies would look more at home at a high school prom. Most of the gentlemen look very put together as well. There are a few 50 Cent wannabes in attendance, but for the most part a nice pressed shirt and slacks seems to be the norm.
10:35PM
I was quite comfortable at the table where I was sitting, but now I’m being escorted across the hall to another empty table. A few minutes later the same teammate brings some other guests over to join me at the table. We all greet each other (I don’t know a single one of them), and my teammate sits one of the ladies next to me as he shoots me a goofy grin. I strongly doubt that I could be any more uncomfortable right now.
11:00PM
After trying to make friendly conversation with my fellow revelers at table 3, the entire group has fallen silent for about 15 minutes. They also look extremely unhappy. I take back my previous statement made at 10:35PM. This is more uncomfortable.
11:25PM
I am beginning to wonder if my team is playing a very large and elaborate joke on me. Table 3 is still silent. Nothing that resembles a party atmosphere has taken place in about 30 minutes, with the exception of the thumping music. I look around and all other tables are at about the same stage of apathy.
11:30PM
I have to be honest. I’m starting to lose faith in this party. At this point the organizers need a small miracle to bring this thing back to life. I look at my friend at the DJ table. His expression tells me that he is also highly confused. I take comfort in this. It tells me that this is not how they typically put a party together. I say this is comforting for someone like me because I imagine that I’ll be attending similar events in the future. Someone obviously dropped the ball this evening.
11:33PM
I stand corrected. Just in time, a number of bodies begin hauling in cases of beverages followed closely by ladies with plates of all sorts of tasty looking treats. The beer, orange fanta and cokes get doled out while ladies begin setting plates of cookies, peanuts, fries, popcorn and grilled meat at all the tables.
11:35PM
That was a hail mary if I ever saw one. Whoever engineered the last minute appearance of beverages and grub averted a possible riot. I try to eat as much as possible; particularly the grilled meat and cookies while trying not to look like a pig. I doubt it’s working. The party seems to be in full swing.
11:50PM
It looks like everyone has had their fill. Despite the music at about 100 decibels, I feel incredibly content and relaxed. My belly is full and I’m nursing a cold bottle of orange fanta. Sadly I’ve given up on my fellow partygoers at table 3. I guess they’re the silent types. I begin to check my watch. I was hoping to stay for some dancing, but it’s almost midnight and I’ve got some tree planting to do at sunrise.
11:54PM
“Attention ladies and gentlemen…” My DJ friend announces that pictures of the team will be taken with the trophy, and that dancing will commence shortly. After the pictures I expect people to take to the floor. However, my friend begins picking ladies and men from the audience and pairing them together in the middle of the floor. This does not look good. When I heard there would be dancing my mental picture was jumping around and gyrating to some chaotic African pop or something. This sounds suspiciously like a Celine Dion song. The couples on the floor slow dance for about 15 seconds and the music stops. Once again, I retract my statement from 11:00PM. This is more uncomfortable.
Another round of couples are chosen and dance for no more than 15 seconds to the same song. They all look as though they want to run off the floor in a panic. No need for chaperons with rulers here, as these young lovebirds look like they don’t want a thing to do with each other.
11:54PM and 30 seconds
Either that meat was of questionable quality or I’m seriously nervous right now, because the sweat is beading on my forehead and my tummy is grumbling. I look over to my friend with the microphone. He looks as if he’s up to something. I don’t say anything to him as he’s across the room, but I think my glare and subtle shaking of the head effectively indicates to him that I will take that microphone and beat him over the head with it if I am selected in the next round of awkward slow dancing.
Midnight
It’s been quite a journey over the last 12 hours. In short, my carriage is about to turn back into a pumpkin so it’s about time I hit the dusty trail. I’ve got some trees to plant at sunrise tomorrow and the mix of Nelly and Celine Dion is beginning to make my ears bleed.
Extra, Extra
First of all let me apologize for being such a poor blogger. No posts in two months?? Yes I am in the bush, but I have to say that is just inexcusable! So while I am diligently working on several new posts that should be up later today and possibly next weekend, here are some interesting articles I've come across that have to do with Cameroon. So forget the local newspaper when you wake up this morning, and take a look at whats going on in our neck of the woods.
It Takes Courage: Honoring Cameroonian Journalist Agnes Taile (FindingDulcinea)
http://www.findingdulcinea.com/news/international/2009/Oct/It-Takes-Courage--Honoring-Cameroonian-Journalist-Agnes-Taile.html
Chad Expels Cameroonian Journalist After Nobel Story (CPJ)
http://cpj.org/2009/10/chad-expels-cameroonian-journalist-after-nobel-sto.php
18 Die In Cameroonian Boat Accident (AP)
http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5iTR75hfQtopGsGDvhRNIo8UmnomA
Cameroon Military Repels Pirate Attack, Kills 4 (Reuters)
http://www.reuters.com/article/latestCrisis/idUSLF20942
Cameroon's Security Forces Dismantle Armed Bandits (Trading Markets)
http://www.tradingmarkets.com/.site/news/Stock%20News/2578689/
World Bank to Invest $215 to Boost Internet in Africa (Voice of America)
http://www.voanews.com/english/2009-10-06-voa43.cfm
Humanitarian Crisis Looms Around Shrinking Lake Chad (Reuters)
http://www.alertnet.org/db/an_art/59567/2009/09/15-102623-1.htm
Efforts to Save Lake Chad Intensify (Voice of America)
http://www.voanews.com/english/Africa/2009-10-12-voa19.cfm
Cholera Kills At Least 51 in North (IRIN)
http://www.irinnews.org/Report.aspx?ReportId=86608
Cameroon Defends Biya Hotel Bills (BBC)
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8236962.stm
N'Guemo Aiming to Emulate Milla (ESPN)
http://soccernet.espn.go.com/news/story?id=687694&cc=3888
Cameroon Beats Togo 3-0 (USA Today)
http://www.usatoday.com/sports/soccer/2009-10-10-2543409791_x.htm
Le Guen's Lions Ready to Roar
http://www.fifa.com/worldfootball/ranking/news/newsid=1121833.html
It Takes Courage: Honoring Cameroonian Journalist Agnes Taile (FindingDulcinea)
http://www.findingdulcinea.com/news/international/2009/Oct/It-Takes-Courage--Honoring-Cameroonian-Journalist-Agnes-Taile.html
Chad Expels Cameroonian Journalist After Nobel Story (CPJ)
http://cpj.org/2009/10/chad-expels-cameroonian-journalist-after-nobel-sto.php
18 Die In Cameroonian Boat Accident (AP)
http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5iTR75hfQtopGsGDvhRNIo8UmnomA
Cameroon Military Repels Pirate Attack, Kills 4 (Reuters)
http://www.reuters.com/article/latestCrisis/idUSLF20942
Cameroon's Security Forces Dismantle Armed Bandits (Trading Markets)
http://www.tradingmarkets.com/.site/news/Stock%20News/2578689/
World Bank to Invest $215 to Boost Internet in Africa (Voice of America)
http://www.voanews.com/english/2009-10-06-voa43.cfm
Humanitarian Crisis Looms Around Shrinking Lake Chad (Reuters)
http://www.alertnet.org/db/an_art/59567/2009/09/15-102623-1.htm
Efforts to Save Lake Chad Intensify (Voice of America)
http://www.voanews.com/english/Africa/2009-10-12-voa19.cfm
Cholera Kills At Least 51 in North (IRIN)
http://www.irinnews.org/Report.aspx?ReportId=86608
Cameroon Defends Biya Hotel Bills (BBC)
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8236962.stm
N'Guemo Aiming to Emulate Milla (ESPN)
http://soccernet.espn.go.com/news/story?id=687694&cc=3888
Cameroon Beats Togo 3-0 (USA Today)
http://www.usatoday.com/sports/soccer/2009-10-10-2543409791_x.htm
Le Guen's Lions Ready to Roar
http://www.fifa.com/worldfootball/ranking/news/newsid=1121833.html
8.31.2009
Pictures!!!! And other ramblings from a nasarra...
I don’t have too much time in Maroua today. I’m just here talking to some folks about building wells in Bogo and treating an insect problem in our local orchards, but I will add some thoughts/happenings from the past few weeks (And my blog entry on the work in Bogo will be forthcoming, I promise!):
-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
Mmmm, goat horn
And he loves his new dog Frisbee, thanks mom for spoiling my half-wild dog :)
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!
-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, BogoEn brusse near Bogo…if you build it they will comeThe 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 hornAnd 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 BogoAnyone 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! 8.14.2009
La Coupe de Bogo; Part II
**Note: Unfortunately yours truly was unable to take part in the final three matches of the Bogo Cup. After a basketball game with some Cameroonians in Maroua I was relegated to the disabled list with a sprained ankle. Regardless of the injury I was on hand to report all the tournament’s happenings and witness Auxerre’s glorious run to the final.
Group Match 5
Auxerre 0 Diables Rouges 0
Nothing too exciting to report about this match. Although the signature Bogo halftime show was on display and was by far the most interesting part of the game. Basically 7-8 children line up at one end of the field on the backs of donkeys during the halftime break. Yes, you heard me correctly; the halftime show is a donkey race. Someone says ‘go’ and some more children behind the donkeys and their jockeys get them started with a few cracks to the behind with tree branches. Off they go from one end of the field to the other, the jockeys hanging on for dear life, while the hundreds of other children who have wandered onto the field frantically dive out of the way of the oncoming stampede. The finish line is the other end of the field but I don’t think the donkeys are told this as there are always a few competitors who continue at full speed down the road and out of sight. As for the match, the 0-0 draw was enough to ensure Auxerre finished the group phase as the top seed and truly a force to be reckoned with!
Semifinal Round
Auxerre 0 Siratare 0 (Penalty Shootout: Auxerre 6 Siratare 5)
Everyone seemed pretty nervous for this game, and I honestly can’t remember anything of importance happening in the 90 minutes of regulation time. Both teams had a goal disallowed due to offsides in the 30 minutes of overtime, and the match went to penalties to decide a winner. Auxerre’s keeper came up big on two occasions to save penalties, but Siratare’s man between the sticks was equal to the challenge by denying the Auxerre penalty takers twice as well. Finally, in the eighth round (penalty shootouts are sudden death after the 5th round) the Siratare penalty taker missed the target completely and the next Auxerre player stepped up to finish them off.
Final Round
Auxerre 1 Carlos 0
The final was, much to my surprise, a very amicable affair. A number of the Carlos players train with the Auxerre team, so while the competition was fierce it never boiled over as in some of the tournament’s past matches. The Bogo Mayor and Sous-prefet were also on hand to see the final. Auxerre’s striker and the tournament’s leading scorer opened up the scoring about twenty minutes into the first half. Despite constant pressure from in the second half, Auxerre maintained the 1-0 advantage to hoist the trophy!
And in other news, Auxerre’s 27 year old captain and central defender was spotted by CotonSport de Garoua, arguably the top professional team in Cameroon (and one of Africa’s best for that matter). While the Auxerre squad traveled to Maroua for a provincial tournament, their captain was being given a tryout and possibly a chance to play professionally.
Group Match 5
Auxerre 0 Diables Rouges 0
Nothing too exciting to report about this match. Although the signature Bogo halftime show was on display and was by far the most interesting part of the game. Basically 7-8 children line up at one end of the field on the backs of donkeys during the halftime break. Yes, you heard me correctly; the halftime show is a donkey race. Someone says ‘go’ and some more children behind the donkeys and their jockeys get them started with a few cracks to the behind with tree branches. Off they go from one end of the field to the other, the jockeys hanging on for dear life, while the hundreds of other children who have wandered onto the field frantically dive out of the way of the oncoming stampede. The finish line is the other end of the field but I don’t think the donkeys are told this as there are always a few competitors who continue at full speed down the road and out of sight. As for the match, the 0-0 draw was enough to ensure Auxerre finished the group phase as the top seed and truly a force to be reckoned with!
Semifinal Round
Auxerre 0 Siratare 0 (Penalty Shootout: Auxerre 6 Siratare 5)
Everyone seemed pretty nervous for this game, and I honestly can’t remember anything of importance happening in the 90 minutes of regulation time. Both teams had a goal disallowed due to offsides in the 30 minutes of overtime, and the match went to penalties to decide a winner. Auxerre’s keeper came up big on two occasions to save penalties, but Siratare’s man between the sticks was equal to the challenge by denying the Auxerre penalty takers twice as well. Finally, in the eighth round (penalty shootouts are sudden death after the 5th round) the Siratare penalty taker missed the target completely and the next Auxerre player stepped up to finish them off.
Final Round
Auxerre 1 Carlos 0
The final was, much to my surprise, a very amicable affair. A number of the Carlos players train with the Auxerre team, so while the competition was fierce it never boiled over as in some of the tournament’s past matches. The Bogo Mayor and Sous-prefet were also on hand to see the final. Auxerre’s striker and the tournament’s leading scorer opened up the scoring about twenty minutes into the first half. Despite constant pressure from in the second half, Auxerre maintained the 1-0 advantage to hoist the trophy!
And in other news, Auxerre’s 27 year old captain and central defender was spotted by CotonSport de Garoua, arguably the top professional team in Cameroon (and one of Africa’s best for that matter). While the Auxerre squad traveled to Maroua for a provincial tournament, their captain was being given a tryout and possibly a chance to play professionally.
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