Johnstone Journal

My guardian angel works overtime

2010-12-01T08:55:00.000-08:00

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?

2010-10-22T06:54:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-14T02:44:00.000-07:00

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?

2010-09-30T04:58:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-15T03:14:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-01T03:32:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-19T04:31:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-07T06:53:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-07T06:41:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-20T14:14:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-08T01:44:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-01T07:33:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-23T05:42:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-06-20T22:40:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-06-16T08:45:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-13T13:42:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-05T12:49:00.000-07:00

“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!”

The Plight of Widows in Camroon.

2010-04-28T07:02:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-26T04:13:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-22T02:17:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-14T02:19:00.000-07:00

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....

2010-04-04T03:34:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-01T02:25:00.000-07:00

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.

Sounds of the Morning

2010-03-28T13:20:00.000-07:00

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.

Week One

2010-03-24T07:07:00.000-07:00

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!

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

2010-03-16T02:21:00.000-07:00

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.

Infrastructure (11 March, 2010)

2010-03-15T13:16:00.000-07:00

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!

The Road to Bamenda (March 6, 2010)

2010-03-08T14:11:00.000-08:00

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.

Thoughts after 1 week. (Mar 6,2010)

2010-03-07T13:49:00.000-08:00

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.

First Day in Yaounde

2010-03-04T10:09:00.000-08:00

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.

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

2010-03-02T04:06:00.000-08:00

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!

48 hours

2010-02-27T14:40:00.000-08:00

Hi all,
The flat has been deep cleaned, the suitcases have been packed (hopefully below the weight allowance), we have had our last beer at the Monkey Puzzle, we have said our last goodbyes...

Our trip to Scotland was just what we needed. A four day break visiting the highlands of Scotland and enjoying the vast vistas and beautiful landscape. Beautiful sunny day followed by heavy snowfall... it felt like being home.

In less than 48 hours, we will be in Cameroon and I must admit the butterflies are fluttering and a few tears have been flowing. We are excited about our new adventure but sorry to leave London and the great people we have met here. Please, please all stay in touch.

When we wake tomorrow, we will go for a quick breakfast, then off we are to the airport hotel. Hard to believe we are already there.

Our new life is about to begin... but we will not forget the wonderful times we have had in London.

One week to go...

2010-02-21T14:27:00.000-08:00

Time has been crawling and racing at the same time. And all of a sudden, we only have one week left before we leave for Bamenda, Cameroon. And we are excited!

The apartment/flat is almost empty. The suitcases are packed and down to the allocated weight. A shipment has left for Canada. The cleaners come on Friday. Not much left to do.

We had a great week. Thursday was our farewell party at the Monkey Puzzle (where else would we have it?) and it was wonderful to have so many great friends show up and spend time with us. Now if I could only get Dave to upload the photos from his new camera, you would see what I mean.

Last night, we had another great farewell party, hosted by Pat Grey, a former colleague and friend from my days at fpa. Many of the fpa gang was there and that was a real treat. How come one has to be on the verge of leaving before re-connecting with special friends? We do so get caught up in our own little lives...

Tomorrow we leave for Edinburgh and 4 days in the Scottish highlands. Crossing our fingers that the tour we booked will go ahead despite the fact that is not the height of the tourist season. If not, we will figure out some way to travel around and enjoy this one part of the UK we have not seen so far. This will be our break before starting a completely new life.

By the way, we still don't have an address in Bamenda but I will make sure that I send it to everyone as soon as I do.

With all this activity, it still hits that we are leaving a place where we have been very happy. We have met some very special people here. We pray that distance will not make us lose touch, but as if often the case, will give encourage us to keep in touch.

We will miss everyone here.

3 weeks today....

2010-02-07T14:02:00.000-08:00

Hi all,
Well we are down to the wire, we think.
The last rabbies shots are done; all the medicals have been passed; (950 GBPs of medicals and shots!) our visas are on the way (we think) and we are almost packed -- ARGGGGH!

This is really tough - how does one get their whole lives down to 50lbs? It is impossible, especially when you have to deal with everything you own. The pile going back to Canada increases by the day and so is the charity box. Everytime you think you are done, you think of something else that has not been packed. And then you give the suitcase a final weighing and damn! it is over. I think it magically gains weight when we are not watching!

There is some good stuff on the horizon however. Today we booked a trip to Scotland - our last hoorah before we leave the UK. We are off to Edinburgh on the 22nd and hope that the tour to Inverness and Loch Ness goes ahead. If not, we can always revert to the excellent UK train system. We come back on the Thursday (25th), for final preparations.

Dave and I have both been in touch with our partner organizations in Bamenda. It seems they are eager for us to arrive. Not as eager as we are to get there I am sure. On the 28th, we will take a hotel near the airport as our March 1 flight leaves really early. Not to mention that we have to be out of the flat on that day.

We spend one week in Yaounde, the capital of Cameroon, for training. Then, we are told, there is another week of training in Bamenda before we actually start.

Jabs and more jabs.... a new home

2010-01-12T19:21:00.000-08:00

Dave and I returned from Canada just over a week ago. Our time there was very busy as we enjoyed special family time and holiday festivities. The trip culminated with our daughter Julie's wedding to Paul Graham. It was a wonderful day, everything when just right and Julie was the most beautiful bride EVER!

Back in London, our minds are turning to our great adventure in Africa. If all goes well, we will be in Cameroon in about 6 weeks! So preparations are well under way. Our motorcycle helmets (both too small) arrived while I was in Canada. Now there are forms and more forms to fill and today, I sent in our passports etc for VSO to get our visas. Packing is taking some planning. I will never ever know how one is supposed to reduce their entire life to 23 kg. but we will do it somehow. A bunch of stuff is already in Canada and there is more on the way... The local charity shop just loves us!

Two things happened today to really make this real. First, we went to the medical clinic for our jabs. Thank goodness we already had a number of them from our trips to the Philippines and India. Still, we needed yellow fever, rabbies and menangitis. Luckily, there were no adverse reactions though I wonder if all those little bugs are having a good time in my body. We need to return twice more to get the last two rabbies shots. Then we need to get lots and lots of malaria pills.

The other thing that happened to day is that we received pictures of the apartment where we will be living in Bamenda. Would you believe leopard print sofas? Appropriate, don't you think?

We are excited to see what will soon be our new home. It looks big enough and another volunteer lives upstairs. I can hardly wait to get there and make it our own little corner of the world. Of course, there are two bedrooms, so there will be space for any of you who want to visit.

SKWID Training

2009-12-08T13:47:00.000-08:00

From Thurs the 3rd to Sun the 6th of December, Dave and I attended SKWID, Skills for Working in Development Course. This training was held at Halbourne Hall in Birmingham (pictured). Now it really feels real. We are going to Cameroon - and we found out a lot about what the reality might be like and what we can expect. We are, more than ever, excited about going.

The training was great - and thanks to a team of really superb facilitators. Those of you who know me know that I am a real critic when it comes to trainers and facilitators - but this trio was superb, some of the best trainers I have had the pleasure to see.

The participants were also a very special group - smart, committed, varied and creative. VSO is really good at selecting the right volunteers. It is a priviledge to be among them.

The training started with a session on health and safety. We learned all ab0ut malaria and rabies, along with a number of other tropical diseases. It is enough to turn you away. However, the statistic that out of all the volunteers who have gone on placement in the past 50 years, 98% come back just fine.

Then we went onto a number of sessions, including relationship building, participatory approaches and negotiation, among others.

We are now on countdown - 3 months to go...

About Bamenda, Cameroon

2009-12-01T12:16:00.001-08:00

Bamenda is the capital of the Northwest province of Cameroon. It constitutes the heart of Anglophone Cameroon with a population of 450,000. It is the largest English speaking community in the country.
Bamenda is 670km from Yaounde, the capital - getting there takes about 7 hours by bus on a well tarred road.
There are two seasons in Bamenda - the dry season runds Nov to Mar while the rainy season runs from April to Oct. During the dry season, places are dry and dusty because most of the inner city roads are not tarred. Some trees shade leaves, shrubs and weeds dry off while available leaves and rooftops become brown with dust. When the rains come, places become lush with greenery and a vairety of vegetables and fruits are available. It is also very wet and cold, especially at night and in the early morning.
Many shops in Bamenda sell local and imported provisions, canned food and frozen chicken/pork/beef.
A variety of food items, rice, yams plantains, irish potatoes, corn, beans cabbages, carrots, lettuce, mangoes, avocadoes, water melons, etc are available throughout the year.

The start of a new adventure

2009-12-01T08:54:00.000-08:00

Today is December 1, 2009. In two days, Dave and I will be attending SKWID (Skills for Working in Development). This is the second weekend of training that we undergo before heading off to our placement in Bamenda Cameroon at the end of February 2010.

As a means of documenting our experiences, and more importantly keeping in touch with friends and family, I am starting this blog.

But still much has to happen before we leave the UK. Not the least of which is a holiday trip to Canada which will culminate in our daughter Julie's wedding to Paul Graham on Jan 2. The whole family are looking forward to that happy event.

So this weekend, we will learn a lot about working in a developing country, including health and safety issues. Stayed tuned to hear all about it.