My guardian angel works overtime

Do you believe in angels?  I do - my life has been blessed with so much good fortune, timely occurrences and luck of the draw.  My guardian angel works overtime.

The big Cameroonian adventure is over.  But what a blessing it was.  I learned so much - about Africa, about Cameroon, about great people and great challenges.  Mostly, I learned about myself - some good things and some not so good.  I like to think I am a better person today than I was eight months ago.

As you know, I had a medical scare.  Julie was visiting in Cameroon and by chance (by guardian angel) I mention a little problem I had been having.  Dr. Julie soon had me going for tests, which turned out just ambiguous enough for SVO UK (they were terrific!) to call me back  for more tests in London.  We caught it early.  There are pre-cancer cells, but in the earliest stages.  It now requires monitoring and if and when these cells develop, treatment will be quick and simple.  Thanks, Guardian Angel.

We spent a month taking refuge with our friends, Ann and Joe Wells in London.  We met Ann and Joe quite by chance (by guardian angel) about a year ago.  We became friends and when we needed them, their door was wide open.  We stayed with them a whole month - giving new meaning to the phrase 'overstaying your welcome'.  Yet this wonderful couple was always gracious and welcoming.  Thanks, Guardian Angel.

Dave and I have been in Winnipeg almost a week now.  We are spending time with our son Eric and his partner Claude before we go see Julie and Paul in Toronto, and spend Christmas with Robert and Linnea in Montreal.  One of my biggest regrets about going to Cameroon is that I would not be with my family for Christmas.  It will be a great time to re-connect with family and friends.  Guardian Angel saw to that too!

January will be time to begin a new adventure - what that is we are not sure yet, but I know my guardian angel won't fail me.  We miss Cameroon and all the wonderful people we met there.  We won't forget them soon and maybe some day, we will have the chance to go back to visit (Can you do anything about that, Guardian Angel?)

So this is the last blog about the Cameroonian adventure.  Thank you all for sharing it with us.  Please, stay in touch.

Who would have thought?

Who would have thought that Dave and I would be living and working in sub-Saharan Africa?

Who would have thought that we would be sleeping in a bed of questionable quality, with a pink fleecy blanket with a big picture of Barbie on it?

Who would have thought that in such a hot country, the water could feel soooo cold?

Who would have thought that I, the night owl, was going to bed as early as 8:30 and getting up at 6? 

Who would have thought that mud could be a slippery as ice?

Who would have thought that you could hold a conference for over 300 people with no toilet facilities?

Who would have thought that you can do off road without going off the road?

 

Who would have thought that there still existed trains where the toilet, with it shiny stainless steel seat, reveals a hole straight through to the tracks when flushed?

Who would have thought that at 58, Dave would be learning to ride a motor bike?

Who would have thought that putting a flashlight/torch on the end of a cell/mobile phone would be such a great idea?

Who would have thought that after only 7 months, our stay would be cut short….

Julie's Visit

I am very sad to say that Julie's visit is almost over – but I am so grateful that she was able to come and spend this very special time with us.
We returned to Bamenda with Julie on Wednesday night, just in time for our usual Wednesday night fish at Bob's where Julie was able to meet some of our friends who all knew how anxiously we had awaited this visit. The next morning, Julie was off and running to check out her volunteer placement, the Cameroon Baptist Conference Health Board, so that the following day, she was already off to Mbingo Hospital with our colleague. She has been volunteering there ever since.
We have had a great time with Julie, interspersed with dinners out with other VSO volunteers and colleagues, visits to our workplaces etc. We have kept busy.

The highlight of the visit was surely the visit to Kumbo some 100 km or 3 – 5 hours away, depending on the condition of the roads. I won't bore you with yet another description of what is no more than a series of muddy pot holes and ruts. We arrived at our colleague's Catherine, a palliative care doctor volunteering in Kumbo.  Cat lives in a nice house way up on a hill with beautiful views.  Check out the poinsettias in her neighbour's yard .

We had a nice lunch – cassava chips and tomato sauce. Then Julie and Catherine set off for the hospital where Julie was introduced and invited to help. That evening, Catherine had a few friends over and we enjoyed some home made pizza that she made with cheese that we had brought.
Saturday morning, we were up very early as it was Palliative Car Day and there was a special mention at Chapel at 7 in the morning. Chapel happens 3 times each week. Several hospital staff come for prayers and announcements. Catherine made a nice short speech explaining palliative care and others on her team described the difference they were making in people’s lives. At the end, Cat introduced Julie who said a few words.

After Chapel we went to the canteen for some good omelettes. Julie then headed to the paediatrics ward to help Mona, a German volunteer paediatrician. Cat took Dave and I on a tour of the hospital. That sure brought home how lucky we are. Walking through the wards where the beds are not the fancy adjustable beds we have in hospitals at home but steel frame straight cots, the sheets and blankets are thin and sparse and the doctors manage with limited resources makes you grateful with what you have access to.

After that we went off to Cat's, to meet up with more friends for food and good times. The evening found us at a local pub for beer (of course) and chicken and joined other expats for discussions and story telling. The real adventure started when it was time to get home. Being the rainy season, it poured and being after 7:30, there were no cabs available. In this rain, there was no question of walking home, so we hailed two motorcycles. So here we are, Julie and Cat on a bike with no headlights and Dave and I on another going up this hill, getting to the muddy ruddy part and getting soaked. My sweater is still wet! Having no choice, we broke every VSO rule riding after dark on a bike with no helmets. And this was my first time ever on a motorcycle!

Sunday started off with a lovely brunch with friends. Cat prepared yam cakes and Dave stepped up to the plate by making some delicious pancakes with honey. We started our trip home at 11:30 and made good time, covering the 100 kms in about 3.5 hours.

We are back in Bamenda. Julie is finalizing some presentations she is giving this week and finishing off her volunteering. Sunday, we are back on the bus to take her to Yaounde. Time does go by too quickly some times.

Are we there yet?

The alarm goes off at 6:30 am.  Dave gets up, dresses and is out the door.  He is going to the bus station to pick up tickets to Yaounde – we are going to pick up Julie and we are excited.

I get up, pack a few things.  I never drink or eat before travelling – 7 hours with only one toilet stop is a long time.  Dave returns,  announcing that the bus is leaving at 8, not 9:30 as usual.  So we grab our things go.  Indeed the bus is there waiting when we arrive.  I make my usual last trip to the toilet (read stinky hole in the ground) and board.  The bus if filling up – that is good;  it won`t leave till all seats are sold and passengers on board.  We wait... and wait....  We finally are on our way a 9:30!  Oh well this is Africa.

As we take off, one guy says “Are we there yet?”  I groan.  The entertainment begins.  You see, on every trip, we get a short haul passenger who is either a preacher or a salesman.  This one starts off as a preacher, saying a prayer and asking God for a safe jouney.  Then he goes on to selling some miracle drug or something, in pidgin English. He must have been funny since the whole bus is laughing a lot.  I try to ignore him and read my book.  Soon, I fall asleep – unusual on this bumpy road.  Luckily we are sitting at the front where the bumps are less hurtful to our soft western derrieres.

I snooze off and on, noticing that we are moving along quite well.  We reach Bafoussam with its horrid, pot holed, muddy and unconfortable road.  (It has been this way since we arrived so I have given up saying it is under repair!)  We have lost our salesman on the way.  About an hour later, we arrive at our one stop.  We all pile out and head for the facilities.  100 Francs to get in but they give you toilet paper and the place is relatively clean.  Never mind that the taps don`t work and you have to wash your hand out of buckets outside.  After, we buy oranges and bananas at the adjoining market.  I risk a few gulps of water.

We are making good time and by about 4, we are on the outskirts of Yaounde – we should arrive within the hour.  Not surprisingly, part of the 4 lane road is under repair; all traffic must make do with two lanes.  Well not quite.  There is one line of vehicles coming out of  Yaounde but there are at least two going the other way, with cars, buses, trucks, motorbikes and pedestrians squeezing into any little space they think they can.  Then,  “CRUNCH!”  Some taxi tried to get on the road from the left, cuts it short and the driver, which could not possibly have seen him, gets him in the back door, driver`s side.  The driver, the assistant and several passengers go outside to take part in the ensuing quarrel.  We wait. 

It is quite fascinating to watch the traffc while this is going on. While Africans take a relaxed approach to time, this does not apply to drivers which are aggessive and risk takers.  Our half of the road is about 2.5 higher than the half that has been closed down.  The stream of traffic headed toward us is constant,  slowing to a crawl.  We are blocking a good portion of the road but the vehicles behind us are not waiting;  they are going around the bus – both sides!  Finally a few on coming cars decide to roll down the slope to the closed part of the road – not a bad idea since nothing is going on there.  The real fun starts when the cars following us also decide to use the closed section further back, rejoining the road just in front of our accident.  One car races up, wheels spin, can`t make it up the 2.5 feet of mud.  Try again – almost makes it on two tires.  Backs up, takes a running start – and here he comes...  You realize that he has to cross in front of the oncoming traffic and no one is stopping it!  Luckily some vigilant driver sees what is happening and stops his car while the other one screams up the slope, crosses the road and squeals in front of the bus.  How it was managed without any collision will always be a mystery to me.

It has been about 45 minutes when someone convinces the taxi driver that he was at fault and there is no way the bus company will pay for the damage.  Another guy moves to the back of the taxi, picks it up by the bumper and movers it clear of the bus.  Finally we are on the road, while the poor taxi driver has pulled over and is trying to punch out his read door so that it will close. 

We are moving, sliding into the middle lane.  Then “CRUNCH!”  Yep, the same thing all over again.  We have not been going 3 minutes!  This time it is a private car – and the police arrive to help.  Still another 30 minutes lost.  No one is asking “Are we there yet” as it would surely jinks us.

When we are off again, the bus turns down a side road to loud protest from the passengers.  Many want to continue down the main road to be dropped off along the way.  We turn around, go back up the hill, drive 20 feet and stop for about 20 minutes while about half the passengers get off and their luggage is unloaded. Will we ever get there?

Another 20 minutes and we arrive at the main bus station (not where we expected to end up).   It is now  7 pm. And we have been travelling for almost 12 hours! We are so relieved that we even forget about our bladders.  All we want do to is get a cab which takes us straight to the pizza place, starved and not really believing that yes, we are there.....

A Bemenda Wedding

It is the first Saturday in September.  Being non-African, we arrived at the church on time – 11:00 sharp.  It is a beautiful Presbyterian Church which can hold several hundred people.  But at this point, it is virtually empty – not a dozen people if you don’t count the choir which is warming up.

Slowly people start arriving.  The civil ceremony, which was held prior at city council was delayed.  We spot a few people from Dave's work - it is their colleague who is being married today.  At about 12:45, it begins with th slowest bridal entrance ever.  First 6 ushers take their posts along the aisle to form
a guard of honour for the bride.  The bridal party starts with 4 little boys all dressed in dark suits and 4 little girls, all in white.  They are followed by 4 bridesmaids and 4 groomsmen.  After them come the tiniest ring

come the tiniest ring bearer and flower girl, he is a light gold suit to match the groom's (who is waiting at the front), she in a dress of the same style and ivory colour as the bride's.  The bride and her parents close the procession, pacing slowly.  She is wearing a great smile.


The service was very near the Catholic ones I am used to.  There were a few differences.  The bride was ushered to sit with her parents.  Once the service began, the pastor asked “Who gives this woman today?”  At that cue, her father rises to say he did and walks to bride to sit beside her husband to be, with matron of honour and best man behind them.  The pastor asks if anyone knows of any reason the wedding should not happen; the groom and bride make a similar declaration.  The bride and groom themselves walked up to the dais and read the readings themselves.  The service continues with a 45 minute homily and lots of singing of hymns and chanting to the beat of African drums.  Vows are exchanged with great applause.  Three hours later, we say the final Amen and the new couple marches out slowly. 

Many pictures are taken on the steps of the church, including one with the NOWEFOR team, which then quickly repaired to the nearest pub for a pre-reception drink.

The hall was nice – but too small for the number of people.  With small windows, it was not long before the temperature rose.  Snacks and drinks were waiting on the tables for us.  The festivities began with the new couple entering to some music and sitting on two large decorated wicker chairs under a canopy.  Speeches are given before the couple stands at the front while dancing, swaying people come to present gifts:  first the bride’s family, then the groom’s, then the colleagues, then the friends.  Man, were we getting hungry! 


And we were not disappointed.  The food was plenty and tasty.  A mixed salad, two rice dishes, baked beans, spaghetti, fish, chicken, watermelon….


It was not long after dinner that the Chair of NOWEFOR decided to leave – so we followed.  I know there was to be a dancing evening after but we figured we came early, we’ll leave early.  We still gained a few more insights into African tradition.  

Working children

Last Thursday, when it was very quiet, I went to get something from the shelf at the other end of the meeting room.  As I walked along, a movement behind the pillar caught my eye.  I found a little boy; I would guess six years old, looking very upset.  I asked if I could help.  With tears in his eyes, he told me his story but his voice was so soft, all I could make out was “plantains”.  By this time, my one other colleague in the office is coming forward.  He bends down to ask the little boy to repeat his story.  He had been here a little earlier, he said, selling plantains.  A woman agreed to buy some and sent him to get a bag for them.  When he returned, he only found our large empty space, no woman, no plantains, no money.  You could see, with his little eyes brimming with tears that he was on the verge of panic.  What he lost may very well have represented his family’s evening meal, or a substantial part of it.  How was he going to explain the loss?  He said the woman had been on the balcony, so we took him there to show there was no one.  Then it occurred to us that he was on the wrong floor.  My colleague took him upstairs and sure enough, the woman was found and the plantains were recovered.  My heart went out to that little tyke and I was so relieved that we solved the mystery for him. 

The bottom line is that no child that age should have to walk up and down busy streets, among people, cars, motorbikes, moving carts, with a load on their heads, selling whatever they can get their hands on, just so their family can survive  Yet thousands do.  Many walk around with old scales offering to weigh you for 25 francs or carrying popcorn or coconut or bananas, whatever.  As we in the west spent small fortunes on good quality food and fine wines, families here sometimes survive one or two meals a day, usually rice with oily tomato stew, maybe plantains or yams.  Most families here can only afford to have meat once or twice a week, and even then, the quality is very poor. 

Walking home from dinner last night, Dave and I were walking along Nkwen road where there are many stalls where street vendors sell food.  It was already dark out.  We noticed one stall which was run by two little boys, selling roasted fish.  They appeared to be around 5 and 7. 

I don’t want to have to see this anymore…. But I don’t want to become so accustomed to it that I don’t see it anymore.

A very full weekend

Catholic Mission, Ndop

We intended to travel to Ndop (1 hour out of Bamenda) on Friday morning, for a day long VSO volunteer meeting.  However, a call from one of the organisers on Thursday informed us that a paid up bed was available at the Catholic mission if we wanted to come early.  We arrived in Ndop in time for a delicious evening meal.

Missions such as this, run by religious groups are the best place to stay when travelling around Cameroon.  They are not luxurious, but always clean, with working toilets, good food and hot water.  After the meal, we gathered at our cottage – 5 rooms arranged around a common room.  We sat and chatted.  I headed for the sac about 9 but the hardy ones continued several hours.  It is hard to explain how valuable this time with fellow volunteers is – a wonderful opportunity to share experiences and frustrations.  It makes you realize that you are not the only one having doubts. 

Kareen, Heather, Amelita, Rob

 The next day’s sessions went well.  A lot of good work was done,with some recommendations about volunteer support going back to VSO Cameroon and a better understanding of financial management in NGOs and councils. 

Friday night, we headed off to Jakiri with a volunteer Shamsul to visit his house.  This is another 1 – 3 hours further, depending on the condition of the roads.  Another colleague, Pat, who lives another hour or so beyond in Kumba came along.  We bought extra seats in the taxi (otherwise you have to wait for the driver to fill his car with six others – they want 8 in a car).  I said the roads in Cameroon were bad – in this case there was barely a road at all – just muddy rut after muddy rut.  Potholes that could swallow a VW Beetle are hardly and exaggeration.  And the road was dry – imagine after a heavy rain!  We bumped our way up the mountain to Jakiri.  Wide vistas, revealing ribbons of falls down the cliff, greeted us at every corner – spectacular!

Shamsul is muslim – currently fasting for Ramadan.  But as soon as the sun set, we were presented with fresh dates, bananas and nuts.  This was followed by an excellent beef curry, mixed vegetables and plain rice.  Do I need to tell you we overate!  After the meal, we watched a Bollywood movie with occasional English subtitles.  We did manage to follow the plot – which was very funny!  Then to bed, which was the most comfortable bed we have slept in for months!

After a lazy Saturday morning for me, an early departure for Pat (to beat the rain) and a walk to the summit for Dave and Shamsul, we hired a taxi back to Bamenda, which we reached in record time – 2 hours – just missing the rain.

The road down from Shamsul's

In Bamenda, Dave gets a text from Simon, inviting us to beautiful Belo to celebrate his birthday.  So, Sunday, off we go for another ride in the mountains, about an hour away to enjoy some relaxation time with other volunteers before heading back again. 

Thank goodness today, Monday, is a national holiday, giving us the opportunity to sleep in and rest after a very full weekend.  

New Placement

After all this time, I finally have a new placement. All was finalized yesterday (Friday).

My new organizations is the North West Association for Development Organizations (NWADO). It is a networking agency with about 35 development organizations as members. I think I will be very busy there.

There were a few things I wanted out of the placement – which I did get. One is the flexibility to complete some projects that I started when between placements. Since all the projects and VSO related and since all the affected organizations are NWADO members, there was no issue there. Also, I retain some flexibility to continue to support HOPE, informally, if they request it. (More on this in a later paragraph.)

On the other hand, there are many things which I am expected to work on. First is a membership survey to assess what services members want from NWADO. Since it is the end of their 5 year plan, it makes sense to do this. Second, I will be supporting volunteers from the Welsh Assembly which will now come through NWADO. These are Welsh Civil Servants who come for a 6 week placements. They will be placed in different local councils (villages) so I will hopefully get to visit them there. Third, I will be working with a women’s rights organization to prepare a grant for a gender workshop (they are also NWADO members). Finally, I will help re-establish the shared area for VSO volunteers in Bamenda. That is a place where they can come to chat and share resources etc. At least that is a starting point.

I am looking forward to getting busy again – sitting at home has never been good for me.

As for HOPE, they are hoping to find a way to be less dependent on a single funder – and as best as I can, I will support them in that process. I also hope to continue helping them make for effective use of their computers etc.

So there it is…. Watch this space – there are bound to be interesting stories!

Visiting the Extreme North

For those of us who live in Canada, even in the UK, it is hard to imagine that any place in Africa, let alone Cameroon, could be called the “Extreme North”. But it exists, further north than the North Region (of Cameroon) and of the Far North Region. It is just east of Nigeria, South of Niger and West of Chad. More striking is that is it on the very edges of the Sahara desert. It takes 2 full days to get there from Bamenda and that includes an all night train trip.

As we drive closer to our destination Maroua, the landscape changes. Driving down from low mountains, the savannah displays its short trees and low grasses. Small herds of very skinny cows, goats and several donkeys graze quietly. Scattered here and there are traditional thatched huts, usually huddled in a group. The huts are not very big; I understand that there is usually one for each wife and her children and there may be one for storage. Of course, the head of the family has his own. It is a tough life for these villagers who have no electricity and no running water.

The rainy season has just begun in the Extreme North. That means that fields that are normally expanses of sand are showing some green: short grasses and the new shoots of the annual crop – maize, cotton, millet. In the middle of Maroua, there is even a small field of rice. However good that sounds, there is a real shortage of food. The rainy season came late and so the crops are late. Last year’s stock is long gone and market prices are up. People do not have sufficient food and a large number of the population is mal-nourished. Fruit is rare. If you have been following the crisis in Niger, it is working its way down to the Extreme North of Cameroon.

Our stay there was none the less pleasant. We stayed in a newer hotel with a good restaurant and a comfortable terrace. The rooms are clean, with A/C and hot water showers. The rooms are arranged around a treed courtyard where geckos of varying sizes and colours scuttle about. The only annoying part was the large amount of house flies and mosquitoes. (Canadian mosquitos may be big but you can hear them coming and the sting does not continue for three days. More importantly, they do not carry malaria!)

Dave and I were part of an exchange trip: representatives from two NGOs and two village councils were meeting a similar contingent from the Extreme North. We had four days of exchange and one day a VSO only meeting. It was great to greet colleagues and meet new friends. One morning, we went on a field trip to a counsel and then to a cotton and millet farm. On the way back, we spotted the 'sacred' mountain with a natural rock formation that resembles a sitting budha.  Quite amazing! The meetings were useful, though long drawn (time management is no one’s strong suit in Cameroon!). I felt like I was back in Canada as there were both French and English speakers and everything had to be translated. There was an excellent exchange of ideas and commitments to continue to learn from each other.

Part of our group made a very interesting visit to the Lamido (tribal chief) of one of the tribes. He received us in a carpeted room with little furniture. Shoes were left at the door and we discovered later that women were not supposed to enter without head cover – wish we had been told. The Lamino was quite gracious however, sitting on a sofa rather than his elaborate throne. He gave us an expose of the tribe’s history and patiently answered questions from the audience – first in his native language, then in French , then in English. The Lamido is a tall, smart and handsome man so it was not surprising to hear that he had 4 official wives, one ‘unofficial’ wife and 16 chilldren.

Not sure I will ever be back in the Extreme North but it is a trip I will not soon forget.

Belo

If you have not heard from me yet about my placement, it is because I still don’t know…. There is a potential placement in the works but nothing has been confirmed so I am still waiting. This is Africa – nothing happens quickly.

In the meantime, I have been trying to keep busy, helping out some colleagues with projects etc. One of these brought Dave and I to a small village called Belo, about 1 hour away from Bamenda. Nestled in the hills, it has beautiful scenery – cliffs, falls, etc. We have two VSO colleagues in Belo: Amy and Simon.

The first day, we arrived at about noon and Simon took us to a local ‘chop shop’ for rice and tomato stew – a staple around here. Afterwards we walked around town in the rain, admiring some of the vistas. We paid a brief visit to Amy’s organization. Then we trudged our way back to the compound where they both live. By this time, the road to the compound was all muddy and rutted – part of the adventure.

That night we stayed at Amy’s house – a nice big three bedroom house. She fed us a very good meal and we chatted away. She has a small balcony from which the view is spectacular. In the evening, we could see the clouds, at our level, wafting through the valley. In the morning we sat on the same balcony, sipping coffee and enjoying the fresh mountain air.

The next day, Simon, was kind enough to take us on the Belo walk. This is a trail that was marked by a local NGO that takes you right around the village. Simon promised that it was an easy walk. Clearly, he is in much better shape than I. Up and down the path went – and it was hot! The surroundings were simply beautiful! We often came upon thatched huts that so many of the locals live in. I only made it about half way before taking the short cut back to Simon’s.

As we headed back home, we passed Nbingo. The reason this is of note is that it is the hospital where our daughter Julie is likely to be working when she comes to visit in September. We are very excited about her visit and about being able to take the opportunity for her to also do her annual African volunteering stint. Couldn’t have worked out better.

The news finally came

Monday morning, I go into the office as usual. I am expecting Berry to come in but she does not appear. The cleaning lady, Grace, does a beautiful job and I quietly appreciate the women that I have met at Hope.

My placement being on hold, there is really no work to do. So I write and print a letter to my favourite aunt (which I better remember to mail) and do e-mail. I play solitaire while the very slow download of e-mails occurs. A couple of people come in and I explain that the people they were hoping to see were away until Thursday. Then I resolve that I will complete the Activity Log that VSO has required us to do… a task I had been putting off since my return from Canada.

Then the e-mail comes in. In big bold letters “Termination of Collaboration.” You all know I was expecting this to happen. HOPE really had no choice but to let me go – me or the funding, not much choice. But I was devastated. This was a pretty rude way to find out. I understand that my boss is away with the Fundamentalist couple but I had hoped a one-to-one conversation or at least a phone call. As a few choice words for the Fundamentalist couple spring to mind, the tears start rolling. I call Dave (always there when I need him) and tell him, asking him to come over. I need to pack up my things and leave.

As I wait for Dave, I write a note to Berry and one to Stephanie: “Sorry I did not get a chance to say goodbye in person, …” I empty my desk drawers – what comes, what stays. I put some things that need attention on Berry’s desk, then Stephanie’s desk, wiping my eyes as I go.

Just before Dave arrives, a lady appears at the door to visit. What a strange feeling. I put on my mask, greet her with a smile and explain that everyone is away at a mini-conference. Would she mind returning Thursday?

With Dave’s help, I put things away, collect others, and pack up my laptop. “What will you do with the keys? Dave asks. Nastily, I reply “That is their problem; they can come and get them!” In my heart, I know this is not HOPE’s fault – they were between a rock and a hard place, but I still feel disappointment and some anger.

Once home, all stuff is dumped and Dave says “Can I make you a cup of tea?” “No.” “Can I make you a hot chocolate? “No” “Is there anything I can do?” “Yes! Buy me a beer!” So off we go to the pub next door. (There always seems to be a pub next door where we are living!)

We sit at the pub for an over an hour, talking, discussing, chatting with the bar tender, and for me, shedding a few tears. Yet when we leave I felt refreshed and ready to move on. I know this really has nothing to do with me and the options open to me are not bad – another placement of my choosing or go home. I can handle either.

A conference like none I have ever seen

On June 22 to 25, Hope for the Widows and Orphans Ministry (HWOM) held its Conference of Hope - a conference like none I have ever seen. This year is special as HWOM is celebrating its 10th Anniversary. What a 10 years! The organization has grown from the vision of one person, Mirabelle Karawa and the unwavering support of her husband Sam. Working out of their home, they visited widows and their children and offered support whenever they could. Ten years later, HWOM serves over 2000 widows in at least 10 communities in the North West Region of Cameroon. They have sponsored over 500 children through primary, secondary and post secondary education. They have set up approximately 200 women in small business and provided direct charity in countless of ways, and more. A celebration was well deserved.

The conference started every morning with chanting prayers. Usually standing at the back, I would see 300+ women from all over the region swaying to the music and the beat of the drum. They are clearly joyous. The celebration takes on the air of a southern revival meeting. Soon you find yourself also swaying to the rhythm.

The conference, always running late, is interspersed with sessions and workshops. Sessions are presentations about topics of interest (my colleague Stephanie did a good one on HIV/Aids) and the workshops are for discussing topics addressed in the presentations. But in between, there is a lot of dancing and singing, skits and testimonials, lots of “Praise the Lord”. A group of children perform an African dance – great stuff! Outside tables are set up where widows from different communities present and sell their goods and crafts. There are some truly skilled women around.

The highlight of the conference came Thursday when Mirabelle presented a short history of the organization and then received congratulations from many supporters. Punctured with songs and prayers, it was a sincere tribute to her commitment and dedication.
There was the cake cutting – 11 cakes in fact, ten representing ten years of success, decorated as colourful baskets, symbols of abundance. The last was in the shape of an open bible, with the verse Mirabelle’s vision was based on. The cake cutting was  formal, pieces being presented by Mirabelle to guests of honour and the rest shared among the audience. Can you believe there were several cakes left over?
Now the conference is over, the hall is cleaned up. The end right? No, Mirabelle, Sam, Stephanie, Berry and the Americans are up in Ndu (about 6 hours away) having a mini conference for the women there. Then they will go to at least two more locations to do the same.  Now that is having a conference!

About roosters - a diversion

Let me start with a big thank you for all the comments and e-mails of support I have received in the last couple of days.  They are heartwarming and always appreciated.
First, a quick update.  Dave's mom is still in palliative care - we are just waiting for the phone call now.  Our son Eric tells us that she is peaceful.  My work is essentially on hold until the end of the big 10th anniversary conference that HOPE is now putting on.  I will be supporting them by doing registration etc.  After that we will see.

As the uncertainty in our lives continues, one turns to more mundane things to keep our mind off troubling ones. So I want to tell you about the humble rooster (not so humble actually!)

Around my place of work and my home, actually everywhere in Bamenda, there are roosters.  Not a creature that I have paid particular attention to in the past, the rooster has insituated itself in my daily life.  Where once I though of being woken up early by a country rooster an idyllic country image, now I am more likely to want them to just shut up. 

Who would have thought that cookle-doodle-doo could be so loud.  On reflection, when waking up a whole barnyard I guess one must be loud.  Still the other day, when one proud specimen let it all out just beneath my window, I truly jumped out of my chair.  I thought the world was coming to an end.  And trust me, they don't just crow in the morning, they start way before dawn and go all day. As a matter of fact, I hear one outside my window as I write this.

Not that I dislike the rooster.  He is a proud animal, strutting around his domain, usually surrounded by several hens.  With his head, crowned by a magnificient red crest, held high, he constantly surveys his entourage through jerky head movements, the rest of him very still, frequently letting out his cry.   Yesterday, as I was looking out my window, there was one.  As I stood up, the sharp eye made contact - I swear he was daring me to come closer, despite the wall and window that separated us.  Because roosters seem to have one eye on each side of the head, they always look like they are peering at you with suspicion. 

I don't know much about the love life of the rooster.  Here is what I have briefly observed.  The rooster, head erect, prances about the yard, cookle-doodle-doing at leisure, surrounded by his harem.  Then in a flash he sprints and jumps onto a neaby hen from behind.  By this time, the hen is already running away for dear life, but he jumps anyway.  Then, he falls off, straightens himself out and struts away.   Hard to say whether or not he has succeeded - it all happens in a flash.  By the number of eggs that are available around here, I gather he is successful more often than not.  Talk about the 30 second deed, this is more like 3.

Anyway so much about the rooster.  I trust that next time you hear one in the distance, or spot one, you will think of this creature with a different eye.

Things change so quickly!

Those of you who read my last blog will know what a struggle it was for me to leave Canada and return to Cameroon.  Things change so quickly!

I still want to be in Canada. However, after a few days back at the office and working with the wonderful people at Hope for the Widows and Orphans Ministry as well as meeting up with other VSO volunteers, I was settling back in and feeling more accepting of the two year commitment that we made.   I know that   I am able to carry out my placement and do my best to help this organization.  (BTW, thanks to the wonderful and supportive comments I received on my last blog – truly appreciated).

Then two things happened.  The first was a call from our son Eric, informing us that Dave’s mom has taken a turn for the worse – she is not expected to live many more days.  Needless to say, emotions are running high.  Should we have stayed in Canada, despite the fact there was little we could do?  Should we return – no as we probably would not get there in time.  We are questioning and doubting everything.  Of course, we were also mourning, crying, remembering, talking… all the things one does when one loses, or expects to lose a loved one.  Mom is in our thoughts all the time now, wondering how she is doing, speaking to family about her condition etc.    We have come to accept this loss, knowing for some time that it was coming.  We just wish we could support Eric our son and Barb, Dave’s sister more effectively at this trying time.   

Then another thing happened, putting into question our time in Cameroon.  The majority funding for my organization is through an American couple who heard of HOPE way back and created their own Ministry (also called Hope), in the US, to support the Cameroonian HOPE.  As it turns out, they are very unhappy about VSO’s  involvement with the organization.  They say they are afraid decisions will be made that they won’t approve of.  I met with them today and they grilled me on my qualifications and on VSO’s motivations.  The bottom line is that they don’t want anyone interfering with influencing in anyway that might take control away from them.  They do not want VSO involved.  It puts my boss in a very delicate situation as they unashamedly threatened to withdraw all funding if HOPE did not comply with their wishes.   So, my placement is in jeopardy. 

Oddly enough I am OK with that.  I don’t know how my boss will handle this; I surely would not want to be in her position.  If she decides that is in the best interests of the organization for me to disappear, then I will.   Sadly, this will severely restrict HOPE’s flexibility to grow and develop and to collaborate with other agencies.

But who knows what tomorrow will bring? Things change so quickly.

It's just that...

It isn’t that I don’t want to return to Cameroon, it’s just that I don’t want to leave Canada. It is very difficult to leave family this time, maybe because I feel we will be so far away for what seems to be such a long time.
So, 35,000 feet up, somewhere over the Atlantic, I am wondering – is this the right thing?
The trip to Canada was fabulous. In a whirlwind tour that is becoming our norm, we travelled across Canada and back again twice, enjoying every minute, even the time we slept in the car because we could not find a hotel.

The day after landing in Toronto, we flew to Calgary to meet up with the happy couple. Caravanning the moving truck and car 2300 miles and 2 time zones down the Trans-Canada highway, we moved all their wordly belongings to Montreal. On the way, we visited briefly with my sisters in Kirkland Lake, my aunt and sister in law in Rouyn Noranda, my brother, brother in law, nieces and nephews and friends in Ottawa.

A few days later, we were off in the opposite direction again toward British Columbia, north to Prince George, then drove two hours to the little town of Wells and the historic town of Barkerville where Rob and Linnea were married. Picture wonderful meals, story telling, laughter and catching up.... Picture wedding rehearsal, morning at the beauty salon (including mamosas) and decorating the reception hall. Picture a beautiful wedding, a glamorous bride arriving by stage coach to a small rustic village chapel to marry my first born. 

Then it starts getting difficult. The goodbyes on the Sunday after a fun BB-Q at Linnea`s parents` cottage were wrenching. I did not want to leave and hugged Robert so hard, I might have bruised him.

Next stop: Winnipeg to visit Dave’s mom who we helped move into a senior’s residence. It is good that she is in a good place where all her needs will be met. Very difficult to leave knowing that she is frail and not knowing when we might return.  So another difficult goodbye, quickly followed by another when we left Eric and Claude – why must I always get weapy?

Our last day was spent in Toronto with Julie who just finished a 24 hour shift at Sick Kids. She came with us on some last minute errands and we had a lunch together. Time for anotherdifficult goodbye. We missed Paul who had not yet returned from a business trip.

It is not that I don’t want to go back to Cameroon; it`s just that I don’t want to leave Canada.

So, focus on what awaits in Cameroon,  the friends that we made, the work we will do, the small contribution we hope to make. Time will pass quickly and when the time comes, it will be hard to leave there to return home.

It is just that I miss my family, the friends I saw and those I did not get to se, the fresh air and the space of Canada.  But I will make it and when I return to Canada, family and friends will be there and I will have a pile of great memories to share. It is just that, way up in the sky, there are still tears.

Making a House a Home

One step at a time, Three Little House is becoming our home. We really like our new house. It isn’t fancy but it is just what we need.

It is the little things that matter the most. Last week, Dave paid a farmer 1,000 CFA (about $2 CDN) for a small palm tree. It stands about 4 feed high and Dave planted it in the small earth border that we have. I carefully counted the bricks to its height (9) so that we could measure its progress up the wall.

Then we had the little rattan table made – just a small thing, but important to us. Our routine is to sit on our little porch to enjoy hot chocolate in the morning. It is a wonderful little spot where we can listen to the morning birds and talk about the day ahead. The little table is just perfect for holding the cups, and for my work as I sit doing needlepoint, waiting for Dave to return from work in the afternoon.

We also had a rattan shelf made. Dave took off the door to the kitchen, which makes access easier and gives it a lot more room, and creating a special place for our new shelf. Dave has commandeered the top shelf for tea, coffee, cocoa, etc. The middle shelf is perfect for rice, pasta and spices while the bottom shelf holds the pots we use most often. I expect this is boring detail for you, but for us, it is one little thing which makes us feel more organized at home.

We also bought a new mattress (my back thanks me every day!) We had to bring it home in a taxi, yes those small Toyota - what a saga!

Of course there is the need from much scrubbing. The levels of cleanliness here are lower than what we are used to and we are discovering why. It is very difficult to keep things clean. There are three reasons for this as I see it.

1. The surfaces are rough,  easy for dirt to dig in for the long run.

2. There is always lots of dust (or mud when it rains). It is impossible to keep the house free of it.

3. Water. If we go into the bathroom to wash, the floor is the drain. If we wash or clean outside, our feet get wet – so as soon as that happens, we track water that mixes with the dust to outline some fine footprints all over the floor.

So, you learn to live with it. Last weekend, I scrubbed the kitchen floor behind the cabinet that holds our 3 burner stove, and the cabinet itself – funny we have not seen the mice since then. Dave had a go at our bedroom floor. Then we have each acquired an extra pair of flip flops to wear when the bathroom floor is wet. It takes some planning.

We have more plans – bringing some beefsteak tomato seed back, maybe some peaches and cream corn seeds etc. We bought a mirror which we need to find a place for, and of course, more scrubbing.

All that to say, that we are making Three Little House our home and loving it. Now if I can only convince the landlord to give it a good coat of pain

Labour Day Parade

“We have to be there by 8 am” Dave says.  I chuckle.  “As if anyone is going to show up by 8 am.  This is Africa remember.”   But we always talk of leading by example, yada yada…  So, we agree to be there by 8:30.  We need to drop off by Hope’s office on the way so that I can pick up my phone and Dave, our resident techie, can start a download.  We get to North West Farmers Organization (NOWEFOR) where Dave works, about 8:45. 

It is May 1^st, Labour Day, and NOWEFOR is marching in the big parade. 

There are a few people around when we arrive – maybe ½ or so.  So we settle down around the big table.  Dave strikes up a conversation with two Peace Corps guys and I start reading the “Farmers’ Voice”.   People drift in.  Shortly after 9, one of the workers suggests it is time to go.  We all move outside for the ‘group picture’.  There are probably a dozen of us by this time.  There are whispers that we should get going – it is almost 9:30 and the parade starts at 10.  But we wait around.  The coordinator has finally arrived but we are still waiting for … something.

About 10, the big NOWEFOR 7 ton truck pulls up.  They are going to transport us to the main road where the parade is to take place.  I have a bit of a challenge and some help from a couple of farmers to climb up the back of this truck and it is only after we set off that I realize that all the other women has disappeared and I am the only female there.  We rock and roll to the top of Commercial Avenue.  Now, I have to get off the truck.   Thank God Dave was there to catch me. 

As a group, we walk about down to where chalk markings on the road indicate this is our organizations meeting point.  We gather and start waiting… a few more people arrive including the women.  The sun is getting hot.  The sunscreen comes out (this strange thing that white folk do).  Dave tells me I am getting a burn where my hair is parted (I was wearing a visor).  After a while, we join a gang from our group which is sitting on the steps of a building across the street where there is shade. 

It is wonderful to watch all the people.  Labour Day is a big occasion in Bemenda.  Businesses and organizations by the hundreds come, each in special dress – ours was a black bottoms and a green t-shirt with NOWEFOR’s name and logo on it.  But other organizations go all out, having fabric made in bright colours with their company names on them.  Then men and women alike go and have special outfits made – fancy dresses for the women, suits for the men.  Among the throng of people, vendors come and go – selling ice cream, ground nuts, drinks, tissues,  sun glasses, even toilet paper.

This was supposed to start at 10, but it is now near 11 and one of the workers call us back for a ‘group picture’.  Our number has grown quite a bit.  I guess people who were there last year knew better and just joined at the meeting point.  We go to the shade. 

Nearing 12, Dave notices some movement - the parade has started and groups have already been marching past the grandstand.  As each group prepares to march, the people hiding in the shade swell the crowd.  It is a mass of colours and cheer. 

 Finally, we are off.  The coordinator struggles to get us lined up in three columns, with two banners announcing who we are.   Some farmers are carrying small plantain trees and palms.   We start moving down the street and I realize that the group has actually started marching in step.  We approach the grandstand, the loud speaker announces us and explains who we are.  A row of officials applauds and… and its over.  Except of course for the (you guessed it) group picture.

Dave and I are grateful to hear that NOWEFOR is putting on food and drink for the marchers.   We all troop off to a nearby pub where after a few speeches (including a short one from Dave who was asked how he found the march), we eat and drink.  Every one is hot and tired but the mood is jovial.  In the end there were more than 35 of us proudly promoting a good organization.   A14:00, we can already say:  “This was a good day!”