The Plight of Widows in Camroon.

Every day, I have reason to reflect on how fortunate we who live in the west are. In Canada for instance, when a woman loses her husband, friends and relatives gather to support her, comfort her and see to her needs. Food appears at the doorstep for the family, and there is always someone to make phone calls, accompany her to the funeral home, and essentially take care of day to day stuff.

Not so in Cameroon (and other African countries). The traditional tribal system is still very strong and holds customs that frequently work against the widow. Widows are often blamed for the death of the husband and submitted to quite cruel treatment.

The husband is the protector of the family. He may also be the income earner but as polygamy is still common, there may be many wives, each in their own small house and each responsible for the care of the children. Many are involved in subsistence farming or other minor income generation. Most cannot afford to pay children’s school fees.

Upon the husband’s death, the widow loses her protection. Most often, in town as in the villages, there is no marriage certificate, that being a process of modern society. Similarly, there is no birth certificate for the children. Therefore, even if laws exist to protect widows and orphans, there is no means of proving that you were actually married or that the children are legitimate. Too often, widows and their children are disenfranchised and left with nothing, including their homes, property and any means of support.

The situations can be very desperate. It leads some of them to prostitution – “sell one part to feed another” they say. Or, as in many tribal societies, the brother in law takes the woman as his own, whether she wants him or not.

There are many rituals around death and burials which we would consider nothing short of barbaric. These vary depending on the tribe and location.

• The widow may not be allowed out of the house for several days following the death.

• She may be locked up for days or hours with the corpse.

• She may have no say in funeral arrangements.
• She may be forced to sit on the floor for the duration of the mourning.

• She may not be allowed to bathe and forced to wear the same clothes during the whole mourning period.

• She may be forced to eat meals from leaves.
• She may be forced to shout and cry every morning before and after the burial.
• She may be made to dance half naked around her husband’s body

• She may even be made to drink unusual concoctions, the worse of which is the water that has been used to wash the body.

Please remember that only some of these practices will be common in any one village. Also, traditional rulers are gradually becoming aware of the injustice and slowly changing some of the practices.

Women are fighting to have their rights recognized in Cameroon. Although these are enshrined in law, they are not honoured in most tribal villages. That being said, there is progress to be seen, with women occupying leadership positions and/or owning businesses. But much more has to be done.

There is great need to support widows, empower them and provide them with basic needs to restart their lives. This is what Hope for the Widows and Orphans, my organization, does and I am fortunate to work for such a worthwhile cause.

Three Little House

Yes, we are now in Three Little House! We moved a week ago today and we are pleased.

It was time we left Two Little House. Living in a house which is not properly maintained is not fun. By the time we left, everything seem to have broken down. The wiring was shot, with most outlets and switches not working; the toilet tank was leaking, the toilet bowl was leaking and the pipes to the sink were also leaking. Did I mention there was not toilet seat left?

But now we are in Three Little House.  It is much the same in terms of layout. You walk into the living/dining room. To the right there is access to the two bedrooms and the (much larger) bathroom.   The water pressure is fine.  We have had the toilet re-seated and except for the lack of hot water, everything works.  We are going to look into having a hot water tank put in.  Wish us luck.

In the back there is a kitchen (again larger than the old one).   A small cemented couryard, maybe only 5 feet wide is at the back - perfect for washing and hanging clothes.

There are other advantages to Three Little House – it is in a closed compound with large steel doors – very secure and private. I did not feel unsafe at all at the old house – but this is also much quieter. We have a little courtyard – cemented but with little flower beds all around. I am already dreaming of biting into a beefsteak tomato I plan to plant.

There are also a few drawbacks. We will miss our neighbours, except for the ones that played the very loud music all the time. And I will miss the smiles of the little ones next door. And Dave will miss the view from the balcony (see pic) of Little Two House.. Still, this is for the better.

I must mention that there is also a pub just down that street which will replace the boulangerie as a place to go for a cold beer.  And now they are hoping to bring in a chef - so things are getting better all the time.  There is an internet cafe not far and a small grocery store on the main road.  All the amenites are therefore close by.

Moving went smoothly – we had a crew cab pick up that was great. We even went to a nearby village to deliver some furniture to a VSO colleague who did not have any. His stuff got a little wet … you take your chances here at this time of the year. Nothing too drastic though.

It all went smoothing and by 3 o’clock we were cleaning – at least trying to as the water ran out and it wasn’t till about 5 that it came back. But unpacking is done, we have negotiated who gets what space and have decided that we need more storage in the kitchen.  We have big plans.

And oh… anyone interested in coming to Bamenda for a painting party?

Sad Goodbyes

When we arrived in Cameroon as new VSO vollunteers, there were 13 of us. 3 went to the Far North. Now 5 more are leaving us – all short term volunteers from the Welsh Assembly. There will be a big hole left in our group.

We couldn’t let them leave without a gathering of course – so we offered our house.  Around 20 people showed up, some having to make a fair trip into town to participate!

The event was pot luck – everyone who came was to bring food. The result was nothing short of a feast. The table could not hold it all so we ended up using the ironing board to extend the space. Spring rolls with spicy peanut sauce, vegetable pie, potato salad, humus, fruit, pickles, marble cake, chocolate cake (baked in an earth oven!) and snacks of all kinds. I had to struggle to keep people away from the table until all the guests arrived! Of course, true to form, I forgot the coleslaw I made in the refrigerator. 

We had a wonderful time. Of course, several small groups set about fixing the world's (and Cameroon's) problems. Others told stories of their stay here and discussed their experiences in Cameroon. Many went out on the veranda to enjoy the view. Others still played catch with the little ones next door.

So we say “Till next time” to some special people: Gweneira (Snow White) who developed marketing profiles for a number of local agencies; Rosalind, who worked with a local council to help them develop better processes; Rowland, the civil engineer who mapped roads without a GPS for a small community nearby and Stacy who worked with a Community organization way out to engage people in participation. Last but not least, we say goodbye to Linda, our roommate of the last five weeks, with whom we shared after work beers and who helped us maintain perspective on all that is happenning to us.

The party broke up early, as they tend to do here since it gets dark so early. There were many sad goodbyes, promises to keep in touch and even talk of a reunion. Who knows?

In the meantime, we wish them a swift return home (without volcanic ash) and happy reunions with friends and family. We will miss them.

Our Saturday in Pictures

We had a great Saturday.  We woke and got out of bed a little later than usual, having promised Hein, our dutch friend and VSO colleague that we would go watch him play football (soccer for North Americans) near his house.  He had promised us a pancake breakfast to follow so who could refuse.

We had a bit of difficulty getting a taxi that morning - lots of people going to the market I guess.  The picture here is from the top of the hill called Mile 2, looking down the hill toward the centre of town.  Notice the beautiful hills in the background.  And that yellow car coming forward, that is a typical Bamenda taxi - a small Toyota.

We made it to the football field to see Hein playing the last five minutes of the first one hour half.  The heat was scorching and Hein was exhausted when he got off.  We sat on a bench under the shade of trees, fieldside, while he cooled down and changed out of his sports jersey.  That gave us the opportunity to meet a couple of his fellow footballers who all said that Hein was a very good player.  As you can tell from the pictue, he is pretty tall.  Taller than Dave actually.

After the match, we headed off to Hein's for the promised pancakes.  While he was showering and changing, Dave played techie and cleaned his laptop etc etc etc - you know, what Dave does.  He is quickly becoming the techie for the volunteer group and for his and my organization.  Believe me it is needed.

As you can see, Hein is putting a very special ingredient in his pancake mix.  Supposedly, it makes it rise better. All I know is that they were tasty and Dave has not forgiven me yet for saying they were so.  He thinks I have betrayed him as the premier pancake maker around.  But Hein you see is Dutch - therefore, pancake making is in his blood. 

I must say we had a long discussion about whether or not they were pancakes or crepes.

This picture is proof of how delicious they were. We had them with lemon and sugar or honey, and some had bananas in them.  YUM!  So good that I admit I had some difficulty resisting an after brunch siesta while Dave and Hein continued to clean up and update his computer.

After the pancake feast, we all returned to our place.  Actually we returned to our local boulangerie/pub where you can get some great bread, buns and cookies (baked on the spot), but where you can equally sit on the veranda and enjoy a beer.  Not cold because the fridge has not worked for weeks, but fresh.   This is where Dave and Linda and I go almost every day after work.  We all downed one beer and then I left for that afternoon siesta I wanted while the boys watched a Manchester football match.

Refreshed and well rested, I met with the boys and we headed off to Sister Rose, a new restaurant that one of the volunteers discovered.  Since it is in walking distance from our place (it will be even closer to our new place!), off we went.  Down the hill the road is blocked for 'road works".  Interesting stuff here - no real barrier and people line up to watch or trudge through the outskirts to the other site.  Not exactly the safest thing to do but when in Rome....

We arrived at Sister Rose's in plenty of time.  Three volunteers were there already enjoying a cool drink. Soon, Linda (our room mate), Gweniera and Ros arrived.  All three are here for a short term placement from the Welsh Assembly.  They return home in two weeks.  We will miss them.

So here is the whole party, clockwise from the front left:  Ros (Wales), Hein (Netherlands), Michelle (Australia), Catherine (Canada) Michael (Austria), Heather (UK), Dave, myself, Gweniera (Wales) and Linda (Wales).

So let me tell you about Sister Rose's.  They only serve two dishes really, each big enough to feed two people easily.  You can have a chicken, or you can have a fish.  Each dish comes with jama jama, a local dish made with a leaf very much like spinach and spiced up with whatever, and cooked plantains.  This is a typical Cameroonian meal.

Our little group shared two chickens and two fish.  As you can see, it looks delicious, and it is delicious.  We had a roaring good time until the sun started setting and most of us needed to head down the hill and past the infamous road block, even trickier in the darkness and with what seems like thousands of motor bikes trying to cross in the same spot pedestrians are crossing.

Dave, Linda and join split from the group at our junction, saying many goodbyes and promising to do it again soon.  It was the end of a good day!

You know its hot when....

You know it’s hot when you can’t walk from the bedroom to the living room without breaking into a sweat.
You know it’s hot when your African colleagues complain about the heat.
You know it’s hot when sweat beads form on your upper lip.
You know it’s hot when you lie on your bed spread eagle and don’t want to move.
You know it’s hot when even the cold shower is welcome.
You know it’s hot when there is a drip between your boobs.
You know it’s hot when the fan can’t begin to keep you cool.
You know it’s hot when you resent turning on the light because of the heat it emits.
You know it’s hot when you look for excuses to open the fridge door and just stand there.
You know it’s hot when even the British won’t drink tea.
You know it’s hot when you drink two litres of water and still don’t need to pee.
You know it’s hot when you just lie there thinking about ways to finish the sentence “You know it’s hot when…”

Thinking out loud

Dave and I have now been in Cameroon for a month! We are in our third week at our placements – so much has happened.
We had both expected that by now, we would be looking at each other saying “What have we done!?! But that is not the case at all; neither of us can imagine throwing in the towel. We are adapting slowly and there are many positives about being here.
Still, sometimes before I go to sleep or when I wake in the morning, I wonder. What is this new world I have thrown myself in? How am I adapting? Can I actually do anything which will make a difference – the problems are so big?
You see, after a month I feel in a bit of a daze. I would call it shell shock but that would be overstating it. I easily go day to day doing my little bit (and trust me it is little). But somehow it seems all so unreal! And I do miss my friends and family.
I have established a daily routine. After Dave and Linda (the volunteer staying with us for a few weeks) leave for their placement each morning, I start getting ready. I am due at the office later and have a shorter commute. I try and have some breakfast, depending what is in the house, get dressed, add a bit of make up, turn out the porch light and set off. Some days, I stop by the pub to pick up a bottle of water or a bun to eat. I may pick up some bananas at the stall up the street. Then I walk up the hill to hail my taxi to the office. By 3 or so, I am ready to return home, retracing my steps. It is becoming rote already – but not quite normal.
What is normal about dirt and pot holed mud tracts for streets, small Toyota taxis with 6 people in them (where is my London black cab?), car and bike drivers who ignore road rules, dust so thick in the air that you cough all day, temperatures so hot you drip with sweat, shoeless children with torn clothes, and so, so many babies and children?
This is my new home. I enjoy the people; they are kind, welcoming and hard working. I enjoy the cheery “Good morning” of my neighbours. I enjoy the fresh pineapple, bananas, avocadoes, papaya and mangos. I enjoy the fresh tomatoes, onions, peppers and potatoes I can buy from the stall across the street. I enjoy the market, the crafts, the busy-ness of life here. I enjoy meeting up with volunteers from all over the world to exchange stories and ideas. And I have Dave.
After work today, Dave and I will sit at the pub, enjoy a cold one and share the ups and downs of our day. And who knows, the dust and the daze may start to lift.