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.