Sunday 28 March 2010

Sounds of the Morning

A distant rooster announces the coming of dawn. The skies are still dark and the night still quiet, but all this is about to change. Another rooster answers the call. It is time for Bamenda to wake up. As I ease my way out of consciousness, I become aware of the many sounds that usher in the new day.
Slowly, almost unnoticeably, I hear the chicks being raised across the road, their happy “peep peep” a sharp contrast with the regular call of the roosters. I also hear a duck quacking, probably from the stream nearby. And oh, there are the crickets – that reminds me of home.
Not too far away, a man’s voice chants early morning prayers. The voice is strong, steady and soothing. It somehow brings hope and confidence for the day ahead.
An early riser passes on his motorbike. Compound doors scrape open down the road. The baby across the road cries out for his morning feed. All of this is punctuated by the roosters, still earnest in their efforts to announce the new day.
A group of women pass by, chatting happily, perhaps on their way to set up stalls at the local market. Another motorbike passes. The man who raises the chickens opens his little shop.
Now I hear the sounds of the horns of the taxis on the main road, searching for commuters. More motorbikes, more taxis, more traffic. Bamenda is awake.
Though it is still early for me, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, slip out from under the mosquito net and step out of the bedroom to be greeted by what I can only describe as African rock blaring from one of the back door neighbours. Yes, a new day has begun.

Wednesday 24 March 2010

Week One

Those of you who know me will be shocked! Shocked I tell you.  I have been awake by 7 every morning  (to the sounds of many roosters) and in bed by 9 p.m., when I can keep awake that long.  Who'd thunk!  Getting used to African Time.
My first week at work was a success.  I really like the people I am working with.  There are 5 of us total:  Mirabelle, the president, her husband Sam who does administration, Stephanie who is the Programme manager and Berry who does everything else.  There is a counsellor who comes in occasionally.
Sam and Mirabelle picked me up Monday morning - they wanted to make sure I found my way to the office.  We start Mondays with a planning meeting, reviewing the operational plan and planning the week ahead, a lot of which had to do with showing me how they work and introducing me to everyone you could think of.  In the afternoon was great fun as they took me shopping for household necessities (a fan for instance, sheets), and gave me a demonstration of effective bargainning.  That is a must have skill in Cameroon.
I was first in the office Tuesday.   Others ambled in shortly after (African time).  I spend the morning on the internet, on my dongle as there is no access in the office.  In the afternoon, we went just out of town to meet a widow who has just come to Hope for Widows and Orphans Ministry (HWOM)'s attention.  She lives on a small plot of land which she farms but which is not sufficient to feed her and her 4 boys and one girl. They are all obviously mal-nourished. When her husband died, her in-laws sold most of her land to a stranger.  Now and then, she can work on other farms and make a bit of money but on this day, she did not know where her evening meal was coming from. 
This widow lives in a big house!  A mission decided she needed a house - a white man's house as Mirabelle puts it.  It has three large bedrooms and one big sitting room.  There are two bathrooms, one a big on-suite - not much use as they have no running water.  The inside is not finished and there is no furniture to speak of. Left over building materials and just stuff are in every corner. Two of the bedrooms have cemented floors, the rest have mud floors around which her half naked baby crawls.   She uses her old two room house as a kitchen (read three big stones under which she has a wood fire)  It is filthy everywhere - even in the yard where the baby crawls - sticks, stones, old shoes, old tires, glass - you name it.  I cannot imagine living like that!
Wednesday I make my own way to work, sharing a cab with 4 other people and the driver (a little Toyota!) and again arrive first at the office.  Others ambled in shortly after (African time).   The outing for Wednesday was to the radio station where HWOM have a .5 hour show every week, discussing the plight of widows.  I was the star - being introduced to all.  "What are your plans for HWOM", Stepahnie asks.  Well,  third day in - I am not really sure.  "I will listen and learn for now and tell you next time I come on the program", I say.
Thursday -OH my God, what happened Thursday?  It is already a blurrr....    Mostly reading, questionning, internet.
Friday the whole day - African time - was devoted to meeting the town's officials.  I want you to know that I have been introduced to the Lord Mayor of Bamenda District III, The Commissional of Police and the Divisional Officer and yes, had my picture taken, several times over with each of them.  I am sure they have already forgotten who I am.  Friday night we celebrated a first successful week with a VSO (and other) volunteer tradition - beer and dinner at the international hotel.  YUM!
Saturday, Dave and I went shopping for odds and sods for the house, practicing our  bargainning skills with dubious success.  Sunday, we cleaned and cleaned and cleaned, then went for a great lunch at a new Western style hotel which serves great western style food (only pizza in town!)  Good African time!   A new tradition being intiatied cause for sure we will be back there next Sunday and the Sunday after.
Oh... is it that time already!  Almost past my African bedtime!

Tuesday 16 March 2010

One little house, two little house, three little house...? (14 Mar, 2010)

We have now slept two nights in our two little house. The people from Hope for Widows and Orphans Mission (HWOM) worked hard to have it ready on time. They took us there and when we arrived there was a lovely banner welcoming Dave and I to Cameroon.
We did not get one little house – the volunteer living there was extended and so the house with the leopard print sofas is no longer available.
Two little house is nice. You walk into a big enough sitting/dining room. A small table with 2 chairs is on the facing wall. From the front door, on the left, there is a small table, a sofa against and further down, before the back door, a cabinet for dishes and foodstuff. The rest of the room is filled with four matching chairs – quite comfortable, a corner unit with a little TV. At the back to the right is a galley kitchen which has a three burner gas stove top on one side; a sink, counter and fridge on the other. The outlet for the fridge is not working so we are still managing without.
To the right of this are the bedrooms and bathroom. The ‘master’ bedroom has a double bed and a built in wardrobe. Off the end is a little bathroom - so little that I cannot sit straight on the toilet without having my face in the sink. The shower head hangs between the toilet and the sink… try and imagine that! The bathroom is the shower. No separate room or enclosure or curtain. Everything gets wet!
The second bedroom is the same size with a double bed and a built in wardrobe. Between the two bedrooms, there is a second bathroom, bigger than the first one but still small when you shower in there.
All the same it is quite cozy in our little two house and we could see ourselves settling in quite comfortably here. Unfortunately, there are a few problems. The electricity is very iffy. Turning on lights means playing with the switch until you find the right spot for the connection – then don’t touch! The light in the sitting room is a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling which doesn’t work, alongside a florescent tube which also does not work. The plug for the fridge does not work – the wires are hanging out of the wall.
Also there is no hot water! None, nadda, not even a little drop. And no chance of any as the plumbing for it does not exist. Showers are an interesting event. And of course with heat here, they are frequent.
So the kind lady from HWOM, who was also less than impressed with some things in two little house, is already looking for three little house. Even though we will happily move to three little house, I am sure I will leave two little house sadly, as it is after all, our first home in Bamenda.

Monday 15 March 2010

Infrastructure (11 March, 2010)

We who live in the western world do not realize how lucky we are!
Cameroon is a beautiful country, a microcosm of the Africa with all its varied climates and its diversity of people. Cameroonians we meet are friendly, intelligent, hardworking and loyal. They work in a world that is manual and hard, with little infrastructure to support them.
The company that supplies electricity in Camroon is AES, locally known as “Always expect shortages”. Every day, there are power cuts: some last for seconds, some for hours. In the last three days, Dave has been trying to replace the power bar for my laptop. There is no problem finding it, but the shop no electricity the two times Dave went to buy it – so we can’t make sure it works. Imagine what that would be like in your life. Still, when the lights went out yesterday, I found it quite enjoyable to sit in the dark of our hotel room and listen to the chanting outside with no pressure to hurry.
There are major, paved highways that connect different parts of Cameroon. Cities have their main roads tarred. Other than those however, roads are unpaved, revealing the deep rust colour of the soil. They all have bumps (big ones) and potholes (big ones). With the rainy season, what you get is a lot of red mud. When buses travel on the dirt roads during rainy season, they often get stuck. Apparently out of nowhere, several men appear to push the bus out. In a country of extreme poverty, repairing that road may mean the loss of livelihood for some.
Drains are interesting in Cameroon. They are 2 foot concrete trenches, about 18” wide sometimes covered with wood or concrete slats. that line both sides of roadways. Last Tuesday, Dave and I went off early for dinner so that we could go to the internet café before meeting our colleagues, now friends really, at the restaurant. There were heavy rains on Tuesday so off we go, carrying our rain gear and making our way down the mud lane that leads to the main road. It is dark. Streetlights are few and far between here. We are almost at a main road when, in a effort to avoid a big mud puddle, I side step right into the trench. Suddenly, I am on my behind in this hole, with no foothold as it was on a hill and at the exact point where the trench took a step down of about 2 feet. Three or four men appeared out of nowhere to help out. A car and two motor bikes stopped to shed light on the situation. People were fabulous! With a little effort, I was hauled out of the gutter (literally), with some pretty severe scratches but lucky that there was nothing broken. I hobbled back to the hotel with Dave continually repeating “Boy, were you lucky” Entering the lobby with my skirt all muddy and stinging some from the scrapes, it was hard to see his point.
Then there is the water. There is running water everywhere but in remote areas. Water systems are iffy. Today, we had no hot water in our hotel room. The service is excellent however and it was repaired within half and hour of brining the problem to the hotel’s attention.
When I finally reached our room after Tuesday’s adventure, I headed straight for the shower with some my clothes and my sandals still on to wash all the mud off. When done, I put my sandals on the balcony to dry, all the time noticing that there was water dripping from the ceiling into the bathroom. No big deal, we would tell the hotel staff tomorrow. Back from dinner, we noticed that the drips were more frequent, but since the drain for the shower is in the middle of the bathroom floor, we thought, shut the door so that it does not keep us awake and off to sleep we go. Those of you who know Ottawa airport will know what I mean when I refer to the fall sliding down the big stone wall. That is what we woke to in the morning – a steady stream of water coming down the bathroom wall on the inside and the same coming down the wall to the balcony. Since no-one had thought to put drain holes in the balcony, I found my sandals lazily floating in three inches of water that was slowly backing up into the room. Luckily, nothing was damaged and they put us in a new room right away.
So, as I said, we westerners are very lucky, especially where material things are concerned. But you know, the people here are happy and friendly. They party and laugh a lot. They are creative and resilient. And there is a lot to be said for that!

Monday 8 March 2010

The Road to Bamenda (March 6, 2010)

It is 7 a.m. when the phone rings. It is Menge, our host/coordinator. We need to be downstairs by 7:45, to get to the bus depot early for our trip to Bamenda. We get downstairs for a quick breakfast for Dave. I am not having any. There was an Immodium tablet last night and another one this morning. I only have two sips of water. This is going to be a long trip.
After emotional goodbyes with 3 of our group who are off to the Far North, we are ready to leave (past 8 – getting used to African time), Menge hails three cabs into which we cram with our suitcases. Yes, that right, 4 suitcases as 2 carry-on bags will go in the VSO car and the umbrella, unfortunately, was forgotten at the hotel. Off we go to the bus station – nothing like you would expect back home. Here there is a large parking lot where several old buses are lined up and vendors and travellers alike mix to buy tickets, load luggage, buy some food…. We manage to get in the bus, where we wait, and wait. Vendors come in and out of the bus selling books, peanuts, cassava and other things. The driver will not leave until the bus is full.
This bus has 70 seats. Picture a regular bus but instead of 2 seats on each side, there is a 3 – 2 combination. The seats feel like they are about 10” wide. We squeeze in. What we don’t know yet, (should have guessed) is that the bus has no suspension to speak of. In one set of three seats, there are 2 women, one with one child and one with three. Yep, 2 adults, 4 children in three seats. One little tyke ended up sitting on his mother’s bag down in the aisle. All the children on the bus were amazingly well behaved – you hardly hear a ‘peep’ from them.
At the back of the bus are six seats – I am supposed to squeeze in there. In actuality, Dave couldn’t fit in any seat so he ended up spending the whole trip standing of sitting in a stairwell to the back door. I took his seat. And the road is really bumpy. He is a bit stiff today.
Finally, at about 9:30, off we go. The bus rumbles and bumps out of the station. We have to go back the way we came to get out of the city. On the outskirts, the bus stops. One passenger picks up a case which someone brings on a motor bike. Off we go again.
We roll along for another several minutes when the bus stops. This time, it is for people to purchase food items and water from the vendors, mostly by hanging out the windows. That takes a few minutes. Off we go again.
The bus stops again: a checkpoint. In comes a tall man in military gear. We watch as he heads right to the back of the bus where we are all sitting. A bit nervously (almost holding our breath), we take out our ids – and he checks them one by one, and then proceeds down the bus to check all 70 passengers. Two of them are asked to leave the bus – their papers are not in order. We wait. Not sure what happens but a few minutes later and return to their seats. It is clear some negotiations occurred. Off we go again.
At about 12:30, we finally stop for the one break. Everyone lines up at the toilets (50 CFA); some of the more adventurous ones head for the nearby vendors where you can buy all sorts of fruit, sweets, drinks and meat. Off we go again.
Only half the trip left and now. We reach Bafoussam, the capital of West province. There is major road construction and we need to detour. Not just any detour, but one riddled with potholes that are big enough to swallow a VW Beetle! Our bus struggles through, sometimes hitting huge potholes and I prayed we would not roll over the incline was so steep. After what felt like hours, off we go.
I must say that the scenery is really beautiful. Coming out of the rainforests to agricultural lands to mountainous terrain, it was impressive.
After going for a while longer Menge announces – 1 more hour to Bamenda. We cheer. I take out the water. I am safe now, I can drink all I want. But I am learning about African time, so I take it slow. I am getting hungry; the two buns we brought and now ate are far gone and I have a bruise on my left side where the arm of the seat I was in keeps poking every time we hit a pothole.
Finally we reach the outskirts of Bamenda - relief. The end is in sight. The bus stops to someone to get off. No big deal, we are soon back on the road. The bus stops again. The driver needs to fill up with gas before getting to the station. Fair enough, that will only take a few minutes. Well, not really. You see, they are pumping the gas by hand! Off we go.
We finally arrive at the bus station at 5:30. Like the one in Yaounde, it is a sea of people and activity. Menge ever arranges for a van to take us all to the hotel. The only thing that is moving now is the arm that is lifting a chilled beer to our thirsty mouth.
And then I realize, this is my home for the next two years.

Sunday 7 March 2010

Thoughts after 1 week. (Mar 6,2010)

Thirteen of us have received ‘In country training” this week. Tomorrow, we leave Yaounde for our final destination, Bamenda for Dave and I. There is much to reflect on.

It has been a good week. Much easier to acclimatise with the support of the group: great bunch, with interesting backgrounds, engaging personalities and common values.

We stayed in a hotel called “Le Diplomate”. Its marble staircase and wooden banister suggest it was high class in its day. Unfortunately, it is long past its best before date. Though clean and with good service, it is in need of repair. We have had a toilet seat replaced, light bulbs replaced and the air conditioning repared. One participant had only warm water in her shower and a bare light bulb sits in the middle of the ceiling. Still, it is secure, the rooms are a good size, the location convenient and it has a fair restaurant. We are after all in a developing country.

The sessions were useful. The most appreciated was an excellent session on “Understanding Cameroon” and one on “Tips for coping with cultural diversity”. We heard some very funny stories and examples of cultural miscommunication. Apparently, women need to get used to advances by men looking for wives. One man in our group has already received his first marriage proposal.
On Thursday morning, those of us who are here long term went to the police station to get residency permits. Interesting experience! As we arrived, two men in our group are refused entry because they have short pants (trousers for you UK folk). We all wait while out host negotiates our entry. Once inside, the all-manual process begins. First, a mug shot –the worse picture I have ever seen of myself – can’t wear glasses, can’t smile -just like in Canada! Each of us is then called, in turn, by an officer who fills out a three page form. An uncommunicative clerk then takes our finger prints. It is a slow process. Roll the paint on the pad; press each finger hard on the pad; put a thumb print on the card form; then each finger on another part of the form. Luckily, there was a basin in which we could remove most of the ink from our hands. Finally, the same clerk ushers us to a wooden height measure. We all watch in amusement as the short clerk struggles to reach and put the bar on the head of one of our group, who is taller than Dave is measured. And all this is happening in a room that is about 13’ x 13’ with three desks, some shelves and cabinets, a photo booth, 7 VSO people, 2 immigration officers and 3 clerks! We leave with a wave to the large uniformed officer sleeping at the desk next to the door.

You never know what to expect. That morning, we left some laundry at the hotel desk. When we returned for the afternoon training session, just outside our training room, there is our underwear, laid out on a table, where the young man was ironing it. I quickly covered it all up with a towel before our colleagues arrived!

As each day begins with a light breakfast in the hotel restaurant, each evening, we go together for a meal, accompanied by a beer (the beer bottles are really big here – the size of a “Cobra”). We share our impressions of the day, funny stories and the anxieties we still have. We speculate on what will happen next and what we can expect when we are in our respective placements. We retire secure in the knowledge that we already have a strong support group that we can count on when we will surely need it.

Thursday 4 March 2010

First Day in Yaounde

From the window of our 3rd floor room, I can see that life starts early in Yaounde. At 6:45 in the morning, vendors are already setting up their stall by the side a street in bad need of repair. Further on, children in bright blue uniforms dot the school yard and battered yellow cabs, nothing like those we see in films of New York, beep their horns in the hope of a fare.
Yaounde is the capital city of Cameroon. It has a population of 1 million and the main language is French. It is built on the side of a big hill and is mostly in need of repair. There are a few exceptions like the big modern multi sports facility that was a gift from China. Everyone is welcoming and ready with a smile. Residents are, of course, black. Although men wear mostly western type clothes, women are often seen in beautiful multicoloured African dress and it is not unusual to see them with bundles on their heads.
We are 13 volunteers (including 3 Canadians, 1 Dutch and 1 Australian) here ready to begin assignments all over Cameroon, though 6 of us are headed for Bamenda. The length of our assignments varies from 8 weeks to our 2 years. We are eager and a bit nervous at the prospect of what is facing us.
Despite the oppressive, humid heat, our first day of orientation was easy. Due to our late arrival on Monday, we did not start till 11 a.m. We walked about 15 minutes to a modern internet café where we had breakfast – either continental or omelette – followed by a short internet session for the purpose of e-mailing friends and families and registering with the local embassy. We then piled into VSO vehicles to be driven to a monastery for lunch with local VSO staff.
It was a pleasant restful 2 hours. The monastery compound sits on the side of a hill with beautiful vistas of the city which extends all the way down the valley and up the other side. On one side, a huge tree, heavy with maturing mangos shaded the goats, lambs, roosters and chicken roamed the grounds. Men worked on completing a new building. Low clouds and an occasional fresh breeze helped us cope with the heat. We were served a delicious meal of vegetables, plantain, rice, chicken, fish, a bean salad and fresh watermelon, sweat juicy pineapple and papaya.   Conversation was animated and full of optimism about the work the VSO is doing. Afterwards, we visited the monastery museum which held some impressive artefacts.
At about 4, we were driven back to the hotel, having completed the programme for the day. The 13 of us sat on the hotel patio enjoying a beer and discussing our impressions of the day and the city and speculating about what would come next.

Tuesday 2 March 2010

Four suitcases, two carry-on bags and my umbrella.

It is 3:30 a.m. when the alarm clock sounds. I am still reading my book and Dave is dozing. It is time to head for the airport to begin our big adventure. Dave gets a trolley to carry our four suitcases, two carry on bags and my umbrella. We are on our way. By early evening, we will be in Cameroon!

We arrive at the airport before the check in counter opens – and run into a colleague, Hazel, who is also on her way to Cameroon. Just as the counter is about to open, an agent announces that the flight has been cancelled (apparently there is a ½ day strike at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris). We all trail in a long line to another counter to have our tickets changed. So off we go with three trolleys, six suitcases, three carry on bags and my umbrella.

Though fairly close to the front of the line, it was about 45 minutes before 5 of us, all going to Cameroon get to the desk. By this time, we have imagined being delayed to Wednesday when the next flight to Yaounde leaves Paris and we are joking about sleeping for two nights at the airport. As it turns out, we are lucky – there is another way to get to Cameroon – through Casablanca. Now that sounds romantic! But as always, there is a catch – this flight leaves at 12:30 from Gatwick airport. We are at Heathrow.
So off we go. One of us is being driven but four of us have to catch the National Express bus to Gatwick. Four of us, 8 suitcases, 4 carry on bags and my umbrella head to the Arrivals level where we are to catch the bus. Luck is with us…. The next bus is in 5 minutes. Wait. The vouchers the airline gave us need to be turned for tickets and the ticket office at Terminal 4 is not open. What to do, the next bus is in two hours? The driver informs us that buses go every hour from Terminal 5 – and there is a ticket office there that is open.
So our little group of 4 with 8 suitcases, 4 carry on bags and my umbrella hike off to the train. Plenty of time still. By now we realize that this is going to be a very long day. We load 8 suitcases, 4 carry on bags and my umbrella on to the train for the one stop to Central Station where we unload the 8 suitcases, 4 carry on bags and my umbrella and walk across to the other platform, load the 8 suitcases, 4 carry on bags and my umbrella for the one stop to Terminal 5. Luck is changing again, we find the ticket booth, exchange our vouchers for tickets and guess what – the next bus is in 5 minutes – so off we go.
Oops – this bus is also full. Wait for another bus and, yippee, it has room for us. We load the 8 suitcases, 4 carry on bags and my umbrella in its underbelly and off we go to Gatwick. We will get there you know…
Once at Gatwick, we load up trolleys with 8 suitcases, 4 carry on bags and my umbrella and make it to the check in. Hallelujah! The 8 suitcases, but not 4 carry on bags nor my umbrella are in the care of Royal Air Maroc, almost all making the weight limit. Heather did have to dish out some pounds for extra weight. Off we go to security. “No ma’am, you cannot take your umbrella on the plane, it has to be checked.” While everyone patiently waits for me, off I go back to the check in counter. Sure they can check my umbrella – as oversized baggage!
So we take 4 carry on bags through security, no problem right? Guess who is asked to completely empty her carry on for a full check. Of course, in the madness of packing, a few small bottles of shampoo and stuff got thrown in. Out comes underwear, shirts, computer mouse, hairbrush… All pass muster in the end and off we go.

We did get on the flight, joining up with many other VSO volunteers going to Cameroon. I did not count the number of carry on bags and I am sure you are not interested. After a brief stop in Casablanca we boarded a plane for Yaounde where with any luck at around midnight tonight, Hazel, Dave and I will collect our 6 suitcases, load up our 3 carry on bags and I will retrieve my umbrella. The big adventure has begun!