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
10.28.2009
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.
7.19.2009
La Coupe de Bogo
Every year during the rainy season when the kids are on vacation from school and the crops are being planted in the fields, the town of Bogo hosts a men’s soccer tournament for local teams. I don’t know if it’s actually called the Bogo Cup but it would make sense, so that’s what I’m calling it. The tournament, which has been highly anticipated and talked about by many people around town, began this month as the rains (and cooler weather) started to reappear.
So 10 local teams have converged on the Stade de Bogo for what will no doubt prove to be one of the great sporting events of 2009. The teams are split into two groups of five teams, each team playing their group opponents once. During group play teams receive 3 points for a win, 1 for a tie, and 0 for a loss. At the end of the group stage the top two teams from each group advance to the highly anticipated Semi final round. I’ve been training with my local neighborhood squad, “Auxerre,” in the hopes of not making a complete fool of myself in front of thousands of people, and while I don’t want to jinx our chances we are looking like one of the teams to beat!
Group Match 1-
Auxerre 1 Magoumai 1
A cagey match in which neither team really got going at full speed. Magoumai took advantage of an early goalkeeping error to take the lead, but Auxerre battled back valiantly in the second half to salvage a draw. Fans were quite amazed to see some random white guy out on the field for the 1st half, and much to their amazement he didn’t get completely manhandled!
Group Match 2-
Auxerre 6 Clandestine 0
While Clandestine (the local moto-taxi driver team) put in a valiant effort, unfortunately this match was over shortly before it started with Auxerre’s lightning quick strikers bagging three goals in the first 15 minutes. Frustration was evident as two Clandestine players were shown red cards in the dying minutes for a couple of overly aggressive challenges. Early afternoon rain showers brought the temperatures down to a lovely 75 degrees in time for kickoff and continuing cloud cover helped to ensure that Auxerre’s new American midfielder didn’t die of heat exhaustion.
Group Match 3
Auxerre 1 Sarare 0
In the third match of the group stage, the so far impressive Auxerre squad faced off against the defending champions, Sarare. This “match” could be better described as a street brawl, and was one of those games that you check to make sure all appendages are still attached after the final whistle. Between the late tackles, elbows to the ribs and copious yellow cards served out by the referee, Auxerre managed to find the back of the net just before halftime. Sarare didn’t help their cause after the break by having two men sent off for tackles that looked more intended to break someone’s leg than actually take the ball. Not the prettiest of games to watch, but the Auxerre squad will be happy to escape with the 3 points (not to mention all of our toes).
And with that, there is just one more first round game to go and the lads from Auxerre find themselves at the top of their group with 7 points from the first 3 matches. That’s all for now, but keep an eye out for the latest scores as the Coupe de Bogo progresses into the later rounds.
So 10 local teams have converged on the Stade de Bogo for what will no doubt prove to be one of the great sporting events of 2009. The teams are split into two groups of five teams, each team playing their group opponents once. During group play teams receive 3 points for a win, 1 for a tie, and 0 for a loss. At the end of the group stage the top two teams from each group advance to the highly anticipated Semi final round. I’ve been training with my local neighborhood squad, “Auxerre,” in the hopes of not making a complete fool of myself in front of thousands of people, and while I don’t want to jinx our chances we are looking like one of the teams to beat!
Group Match 1-
Auxerre 1 Magoumai 1
A cagey match in which neither team really got going at full speed. Magoumai took advantage of an early goalkeeping error to take the lead, but Auxerre battled back valiantly in the second half to salvage a draw. Fans were quite amazed to see some random white guy out on the field for the 1st half, and much to their amazement he didn’t get completely manhandled!
Group Match 2-
Auxerre 6 Clandestine 0
While Clandestine (the local moto-taxi driver team) put in a valiant effort, unfortunately this match was over shortly before it started with Auxerre’s lightning quick strikers bagging three goals in the first 15 minutes. Frustration was evident as two Clandestine players were shown red cards in the dying minutes for a couple of overly aggressive challenges. Early afternoon rain showers brought the temperatures down to a lovely 75 degrees in time for kickoff and continuing cloud cover helped to ensure that Auxerre’s new American midfielder didn’t die of heat exhaustion.
Group Match 3
Auxerre 1 Sarare 0
In the third match of the group stage, the so far impressive Auxerre squad faced off against the defending champions, Sarare. This “match” could be better described as a street brawl, and was one of those games that you check to make sure all appendages are still attached after the final whistle. Between the late tackles, elbows to the ribs and copious yellow cards served out by the referee, Auxerre managed to find the back of the net just before halftime. Sarare didn’t help their cause after the break by having two men sent off for tackles that looked more intended to break someone’s leg than actually take the ball. Not the prettiest of games to watch, but the Auxerre squad will be happy to escape with the 3 points (not to mention all of our toes).
And with that, there is just one more first round game to go and the lads from Auxerre find themselves at the top of their group with 7 points from the first 3 matches. That’s all for now, but keep an eye out for the latest scores as the Coupe de Bogo progresses into the later rounds.
It's Mailbag Time!
Many thanks to you all who submitted questions. They were all excellent and I thoroughly enjoyed responding to them. Furthermore I have still not opened War & Peace, so thank you very much for helping to preserve my sanity. And please keep submitting all those burning questions you may have and I will be more than happy to answer them periodically.
Question 1- What do Peace Corps Volunteers do with their pets when they finish their service? What is the plan for Timshel?
First let me give you some background on the Peace Corps pet policy. Volunteers in Cameroon are permitted to keep dogs and/or cats as pets while serving in Cameroon, provided the animal is given a rabies vaccination. The policy further states that volunteers are strictly prohibited from keeping any type of reptile or primate as a household pet. I found this both amusing and disappointing. Amusing in the sense that we volunteers need to be explicitly told not to keep vipers and monkeys as pets, but disappointing in the sense that I think Timshel would get along really well with a pet monkey.
Typically when a volunteer with a dog finishes their two years of service, the pet is going to be left behind in Cameroon. Most often he/she is adopted by another volunteer still serving in the country. One can only hope that cycle continues during the animal’s entire lifespan, but the reality is that dogs here have it a little rougher than their American counterparts. Keeping a dog enclosed or restrained in this country, at least in the villages, is a foreign concept. As a result pets are vulnerable to all sorts of dangers. Vehicles, less than friendly villagers, other stray animals, and of course the microbes and parasites that love a good host all play their part in the short life expectancy of a Cameroonian dog. As far as physical health and vitality, I believe Timshel is in a league of his own compared to the other canines of Bogo. Intelligence-wise however, his tendency to chase motorcycles down the street and all over the neighborhood is a little worrying.
In very rare occasions, a volunteer may bring their dog back to the United States after their service is up. I don’t have all the details on how this is done, but I’m sure that information is available through the U.S. Customs or State Department websites. In addition to all the red tape one must navigate, I would imagine it is also very expensive. While I’ve grown quite fond of Timshel and I think he would thrive in America, I don’t know that the U.S. is ready for such an animal. At the least, he would have to kick a few bad habits before I consider him as my second piece of checked luggage upon my return, namely:
Question 1- What do Peace Corps Volunteers do with their pets when they finish their service? What is the plan for Timshel?
First let me give you some background on the Peace Corps pet policy. Volunteers in Cameroon are permitted to keep dogs and/or cats as pets while serving in Cameroon, provided the animal is given a rabies vaccination. The policy further states that volunteers are strictly prohibited from keeping any type of reptile or primate as a household pet. I found this both amusing and disappointing. Amusing in the sense that we volunteers need to be explicitly told not to keep vipers and monkeys as pets, but disappointing in the sense that I think Timshel would get along really well with a pet monkey.
Typically when a volunteer with a dog finishes their two years of service, the pet is going to be left behind in Cameroon. Most often he/she is adopted by another volunteer still serving in the country. One can only hope that cycle continues during the animal’s entire lifespan, but the reality is that dogs here have it a little rougher than their American counterparts. Keeping a dog enclosed or restrained in this country, at least in the villages, is a foreign concept. As a result pets are vulnerable to all sorts of dangers. Vehicles, less than friendly villagers, other stray animals, and of course the microbes and parasites that love a good host all play their part in the short life expectancy of a Cameroonian dog. As far as physical health and vitality, I believe Timshel is in a league of his own compared to the other canines of Bogo. Intelligence-wise however, his tendency to chase motorcycles down the street and all over the neighborhood is a little worrying.
In very rare occasions, a volunteer may bring their dog back to the United States after their service is up. I don’t have all the details on how this is done, but I’m sure that information is available through the U.S. Customs or State Department websites. In addition to all the red tape one must navigate, I would imagine it is also very expensive. While I’ve grown quite fond of Timshel and I think he would thrive in America, I don’t know that the U.S. is ready for such an animal. At the least, he would have to kick a few bad habits before I consider him as my second piece of checked luggage upon my return, namely:
1) Trying to eat my hand before I can even put his food dish on the ground
2) Eating my soap and toilet paper
3) Humping everything that moves
4) Eating cow and goat droppings
5) Urinating on my porch
6) Scaring the life out of the village children
Actually, that last one is pretty funny and I encourage it on a regular basis. Watching a puppy of no more than 10 pounds chase full speed after 20 frantically screaming children is about as entertaining as my day gets here au village.
Question 2- Any embarrassing stories? If so, DO TELL!
I feel as though I’ve done a good job thus far in not making a complete ass of myself. Nevertheless, there are always embarrassing moments when adjusting to a new culture. Below I’ve described a few of the more awkward ones:
1) During our training in the village of Nassarao, I was walking from our training center to my family’s home. While walking home I kept hearing giggling behind me. This had become quite normal so I didn’t think much of it at first, until someone gave a slight tug on my wrist. I turned around to find a small boy of about 5 or 6 years old with what I will assume was his older siblings about 20 yards back down the road still giggling and chattering away. The little boy proceeded to ask me if I wanted to marry his older sister (who was probably about 15), which everyone in the neighborhood within ear shot found to be hilarious. Luckily this was early in training, and claiming ignorance with the language while slowly backing away is an excellent defense mechanism when people are offering their relatives as brides. Nowadays I’m a little savvier when it comes to deflecting marriage proposals. When many people come to my home for the first time the inevitable first question is “Ou est ta femme?” meaning ‘where is my wife?’ I tried telling someone that I keep her locked in the kitchen, but I don't think they picked up on my poor attempt at humor and they may have actually taken me seriously. When telling them that I don’t have a wife, their excitement is often poorly concealed since they inevitably have an available female relative. For a villager in Bogo, seeing a man of twenty five living alone is an oddity, so I don’t get too bent out of shape when it happens. I hate to be rude so at the least I humor them and inquire as to their asking price, but I think word has finally started to spread around that I am not in the market for a wife.
2) About a month back I was in the middle of my routine at the Bogo market picking up some produce and other provisions. I enjoy going to the market as it is truly a great place to not only stock up on household needs, but also to converse with locals and get to know people a lot better. Normally the market excursions are pleasant but altogether uneventful. However, recently a certain person who frequents the Bogo market has begun to take an interest in me. In the United States we might refer to a person such as this gentleman as “special.” Yet the term most often used here is fou, or crazy person. I do not know his name so I typically just refer to him as crazy market man. Crazy market man usually spends his time wandering around the market in an intensely funny conversation with himself, laughing hysterically every few minutes or so. He tends to pop out of the woodwork at random times, and I believe he possesses either super human speed or the ability to teleport, as you can watch him walk by one minute and a few seconds later he appears again coming from a completely different direction.
As I was finishing my shopping at the market one day I turned to leave the inner section which is a courtyard with narrow walkways around numerous stalls of veggies, fish, grains, spices, etc. It was a bit crowded at that time and navigating the aisles can be difficult with all the people moving about. At just about that moment my eyes met with none other than crazy market man on the other side of the courtyard. I was heading for one of the exiting corridors and soon realized that he was moving towards my point of exit with his eyes fixated on me. It was very hot outside this day (imagine that) and I didn’t have much energy in reserve for any sort of interaction with crazy market man, so I subtly turned around to head out in another direction. Unfortunately the path from whence I came had been blocked. I was trapped! I turned back to find crazy market man finishing up another hysterical conversation with himself as he approached me. Immediately upon reaching me he stood at full attention and began saluting and bowing with the entire market looking on in amusement. Once I calmed my new friend down a bit I politely explained that I was leaving. However, crazy market man was not finished with me, and saw it as his duty to see that the Nasarra had a clear path to exit the market. He dodged past in a frenzied loyalty to his new found friend and began pushing people, bicycles, chickens, etc. out of the way exclaiming that he was helping the Nasarra leave the market. At this point everyone witnessing this event was either close to tears in laughter or frantically dodging to get out of crazy market man’s way. I can only imagine how red my face was as I ashamedly shook my head in disbelief. As crazy market man continued on his path of destruction down the aisle I took the opportunity to slip out a side corridor to safety. Hopefully the ‘you break it you buy it’ principle doesn’t exist here seeing as crazy market man has sadly been absent for some time, and the last thing I want is the bill for his loyal yet altogether overzealous actions.
Question 3- I want to see the market and the soccer dirt.
Thank you for that thoughtful submission. Below I’ve attached a few pictures of the main “stade” in Bogo where I train with the local guys every evening. It’s a pretty good field despite the difficulties I have with playing on loose sand, and behind one of the goals is a large garbage pile so one must always be wary of the occasional rusty or sharp object.
As for the market, I have yet to take any decent photos, but it is at the top of my to-do list. However, I have attached a photo of a recent wedding that I attended in a village just outside of Bogo to give you another glimpse into the daily happenings around here. I’m so well integrated I bet you can’t even find me in the photo!
Question 4- Do you have to treat the water you bring into your home? How receptive have the locals been?
The water I use in my home for drinking, cooking, bathing and cleaning comes from a water pump just down the road. It comes from deep in the ground and to the naked eye looks relatively clean. However, drinking or even coming in contact with untreated water here can lead to all sorts of diseases and infections such as dysentery, giardia, amoebas, hepatitis, typhoid, cholera, schistosomiasis and an array of other nasty little bugs. When arriving in Cameroon I was given a water filtration system that I will use for the entirety of my service. Basically it looks like two plastic buckets stacked on top of each other. All I have to do is pour water into the top bucket which contains something that resembles a pool filter. The water goes through the filter and then into another filter in the bottom which I believe cleans the water with charcoal or carbon particles. Wait a few minutes, open the tap at the bottom and voila!, clean and potable water. This is the water I use for drinking and cooking. The water filter is not fail-safe however, so its always a good idea to treat the water by boiling or with chlorine solution before filtering. Since my water comes from a deep underground source I don’t believe its necessary to treat my bathwater, but a few drops of chlorine solution in my bucket bath beforehand is never a bad idea.
When I’m out and about, having clean water available is always a challenge. I drink a great deal to avoid dehydration, and every once in a while I find myself in a village or out in the bush without my own clean water. Villagers are always very kind and will offer a drink of water without hesitation, and while one does not want to be rude and turn down their generosity it is always a risk to drink water from unknown sources. The Peace Corps provides us with Aquatabs and Iodine treatment in case we are in a bind, but these are not methods that can be used day in and day out. And if I’m in desperate need of liquid there is always soda or beer! Not to mention the local millet beer concoction they call bil-bil. Mmmmm.
As for the receptiveness of locals, I think I can safely say that I am welcome in Bogo. Without a doubt my appearance, accent and mannerisms are extremely strange to them. Walking through a section of the market or down any of the streets can draw blank and confused stares or the occasional “Nasarra!” The crowds of children can be very annoying when yelling “bonjour” or “comment ca va?” 800 times in quick succession regardless of how many times I respond. I’ve found that chasing them yelling bonjour!bonjour!bonjour! is an excellent way to disperse the crowd, and their parents usually find it to be hilarious. When first arriving in Bogo 7 months ago I was called Nasarra by everyone in village. Nowadays I am called Daniel more and more every week, often by people I’ve never even seen before, so that’s got to be an indicator of some progress. While I hope my work here in Bogo will ultimately be what they remember me for, playing soccer with my neighborhood team has done wonders. Some of the bigger matches can draw huge crowds, and I don’t exactly blend in. In many of my dealings around the community I’ve gone from just plain old Nasarra (white man) to Boppa Nasarra (uncle white man), but this may just be a result of the beard I grow from time to time rather than their increasing respect.
2) Eating my soap and toilet paper
3) Humping everything that moves
4) Eating cow and goat droppings
5) Urinating on my porch
6) Scaring the life out of the village children
Actually, that last one is pretty funny and I encourage it on a regular basis. Watching a puppy of no more than 10 pounds chase full speed after 20 frantically screaming children is about as entertaining as my day gets here au village.
Question 2- Any embarrassing stories? If so, DO TELL!
I feel as though I’ve done a good job thus far in not making a complete ass of myself. Nevertheless, there are always embarrassing moments when adjusting to a new culture. Below I’ve described a few of the more awkward ones:
1) During our training in the village of Nassarao, I was walking from our training center to my family’s home. While walking home I kept hearing giggling behind me. This had become quite normal so I didn’t think much of it at first, until someone gave a slight tug on my wrist. I turned around to find a small boy of about 5 or 6 years old with what I will assume was his older siblings about 20 yards back down the road still giggling and chattering away. The little boy proceeded to ask me if I wanted to marry his older sister (who was probably about 15), which everyone in the neighborhood within ear shot found to be hilarious. Luckily this was early in training, and claiming ignorance with the language while slowly backing away is an excellent defense mechanism when people are offering their relatives as brides. Nowadays I’m a little savvier when it comes to deflecting marriage proposals. When many people come to my home for the first time the inevitable first question is “Ou est ta femme?” meaning ‘where is my wife?’ I tried telling someone that I keep her locked in the kitchen, but I don't think they picked up on my poor attempt at humor and they may have actually taken me seriously. When telling them that I don’t have a wife, their excitement is often poorly concealed since they inevitably have an available female relative. For a villager in Bogo, seeing a man of twenty five living alone is an oddity, so I don’t get too bent out of shape when it happens. I hate to be rude so at the least I humor them and inquire as to their asking price, but I think word has finally started to spread around that I am not in the market for a wife.
2) About a month back I was in the middle of my routine at the Bogo market picking up some produce and other provisions. I enjoy going to the market as it is truly a great place to not only stock up on household needs, but also to converse with locals and get to know people a lot better. Normally the market excursions are pleasant but altogether uneventful. However, recently a certain person who frequents the Bogo market has begun to take an interest in me. In the United States we might refer to a person such as this gentleman as “special.” Yet the term most often used here is fou, or crazy person. I do not know his name so I typically just refer to him as crazy market man. Crazy market man usually spends his time wandering around the market in an intensely funny conversation with himself, laughing hysterically every few minutes or so. He tends to pop out of the woodwork at random times, and I believe he possesses either super human speed or the ability to teleport, as you can watch him walk by one minute and a few seconds later he appears again coming from a completely different direction.
As I was finishing my shopping at the market one day I turned to leave the inner section which is a courtyard with narrow walkways around numerous stalls of veggies, fish, grains, spices, etc. It was a bit crowded at that time and navigating the aisles can be difficult with all the people moving about. At just about that moment my eyes met with none other than crazy market man on the other side of the courtyard. I was heading for one of the exiting corridors and soon realized that he was moving towards my point of exit with his eyes fixated on me. It was very hot outside this day (imagine that) and I didn’t have much energy in reserve for any sort of interaction with crazy market man, so I subtly turned around to head out in another direction. Unfortunately the path from whence I came had been blocked. I was trapped! I turned back to find crazy market man finishing up another hysterical conversation with himself as he approached me. Immediately upon reaching me he stood at full attention and began saluting and bowing with the entire market looking on in amusement. Once I calmed my new friend down a bit I politely explained that I was leaving. However, crazy market man was not finished with me, and saw it as his duty to see that the Nasarra had a clear path to exit the market. He dodged past in a frenzied loyalty to his new found friend and began pushing people, bicycles, chickens, etc. out of the way exclaiming that he was helping the Nasarra leave the market. At this point everyone witnessing this event was either close to tears in laughter or frantically dodging to get out of crazy market man’s way. I can only imagine how red my face was as I ashamedly shook my head in disbelief. As crazy market man continued on his path of destruction down the aisle I took the opportunity to slip out a side corridor to safety. Hopefully the ‘you break it you buy it’ principle doesn’t exist here seeing as crazy market man has sadly been absent for some time, and the last thing I want is the bill for his loyal yet altogether overzealous actions.
Question 3- I want to see the market and the soccer dirt.
Thank you for that thoughtful submission. Below I’ve attached a few pictures of the main “stade” in Bogo where I train with the local guys every evening. It’s a pretty good field despite the difficulties I have with playing on loose sand, and behind one of the goals is a large garbage pile so one must always be wary of the occasional rusty or sharp object.
As for the market, I have yet to take any decent photos, but it is at the top of my to-do list. However, I have attached a photo of a recent wedding that I attended in a village just outside of Bogo to give you another glimpse into the daily happenings around here. I’m so well integrated I bet you can’t even find me in the photo!
Question 4- Do you have to treat the water you bring into your home? How receptive have the locals been?
The water I use in my home for drinking, cooking, bathing and cleaning comes from a water pump just down the road. It comes from deep in the ground and to the naked eye looks relatively clean. However, drinking or even coming in contact with untreated water here can lead to all sorts of diseases and infections such as dysentery, giardia, amoebas, hepatitis, typhoid, cholera, schistosomiasis and an array of other nasty little bugs. When arriving in Cameroon I was given a water filtration system that I will use for the entirety of my service. Basically it looks like two plastic buckets stacked on top of each other. All I have to do is pour water into the top bucket which contains something that resembles a pool filter. The water goes through the filter and then into another filter in the bottom which I believe cleans the water with charcoal or carbon particles. Wait a few minutes, open the tap at the bottom and voila!, clean and potable water. This is the water I use for drinking and cooking. The water filter is not fail-safe however, so its always a good idea to treat the water by boiling or with chlorine solution before filtering. Since my water comes from a deep underground source I don’t believe its necessary to treat my bathwater, but a few drops of chlorine solution in my bucket bath beforehand is never a bad idea.
When I’m out and about, having clean water available is always a challenge. I drink a great deal to avoid dehydration, and every once in a while I find myself in a village or out in the bush without my own clean water. Villagers are always very kind and will offer a drink of water without hesitation, and while one does not want to be rude and turn down their generosity it is always a risk to drink water from unknown sources. The Peace Corps provides us with Aquatabs and Iodine treatment in case we are in a bind, but these are not methods that can be used day in and day out. And if I’m in desperate need of liquid there is always soda or beer! Not to mention the local millet beer concoction they call bil-bil. Mmmmm.
As for the receptiveness of locals, I think I can safely say that I am welcome in Bogo. Without a doubt my appearance, accent and mannerisms are extremely strange to them. Walking through a section of the market or down any of the streets can draw blank and confused stares or the occasional “Nasarra!” The crowds of children can be very annoying when yelling “bonjour” or “comment ca va?” 800 times in quick succession regardless of how many times I respond. I’ve found that chasing them yelling bonjour!bonjour!bonjour! is an excellent way to disperse the crowd, and their parents usually find it to be hilarious. When first arriving in Bogo 7 months ago I was called Nasarra by everyone in village. Nowadays I am called Daniel more and more every week, often by people I’ve never even seen before, so that’s got to be an indicator of some progress. While I hope my work here in Bogo will ultimately be what they remember me for, playing soccer with my neighborhood team has done wonders. Some of the bigger matches can draw huge crowds, and I don’t exactly blend in. In many of my dealings around the community I’ve gone from just plain old Nasarra (white man) to Boppa Nasarra (uncle white man), but this may just be a result of the beard I grow from time to time rather than their increasing respect.
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