MMMMMMM best Thanksgiving dinner ever? Not quite... but snail soup is pretty good here. Spent Thanksgiving day on the black sand beaches of Limbe with these crazy German volunteers, where we spent the afternoon having hand stand contests and they attempted to teach me some New Zeland form of juggling. Bizarre. It's moments like this where I realize I couldn't be any farther from my family
This morning I visited one of the businesses of the recipients of a LINK UP micro credit loan. She sells "Sha", a traditional Bamenda corn drink outside her home in the morning and in the evening. I had no idea until I finished my bottle, but this "Sha" is fermented corn. I ended up getting inappropriately tipsy circa 8:15 AM with the neighbors and cousins.
Tomorrow I am ATTEMPTING to climb Mount Cameroon. Because of this research project, we are trying to do it in 2 days. Should be interesting...
Friday, November 27, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Pikins, Ashia, Chop
Pidgin lesson of the day:
1. Pikins = Children
2. Ashia= I’m sorry for you. (This is the catch phrase for just about everything... I hear it at least 50 times a day. It's hot= Ashia. I have to go cook= Ashia. When I jogging by people= Ashia. I'm full= Ashia. I have to take a taxi to Molyko= Ashia. EVERYTHNG)
3. Chop= Food
Despite the aggressive University of Buea campaign against pidgin English (signs around campus include “SHUN PIDGIN”, “PIDGIN RUINS YOUR ENGLISH”, “COMMON WEALTH: NO PIDGIN HERE” etc.), I’ve been making every effort to learn this odd language. The past two weeks have been full of impromptu lessons in taxis and restaurants in hopes of helping my research and equally as important, bargaining in markets. Being white+ knowing pidgin= major street cred.
I’ve started the fascinating but exhausting interview process with women recipients of micro credit loans through LINK-UP. I’ve sat in on their meetings, witnessed the “njangi”, watched how they save, and learned how the various groups work in general. Njangi is a common practice with women’s groups- every week each woman donates 1,000 CFA (about $2)- one lucky woman gets the pot each week when it is her turn. Njangi is there own more traditional system of saving, which they combine with the more modern LINK-UP system of savings (where interest is accrued). For more information, see my 40 page research paper due December 7…yikes.
The groups are a small but strong community. It has been evident so far through the interviews just how much the group means to the women. They are constantly telling me how “we be sister white man, you get?” Beside the social aspects, they also financially assist each other. They have a “trouble fund” used to assist a person if they are sick or a close family member dies. Recently, a group member passed away, and the women worked together to repay her loan to LINK-UP.
I’m starting to get a first hand look at the level of poverty these women are facing. Saturday night I sat in on my second meeting, and afterwards the eldest woman led us through a trash pile maze up the hill to her house. She showed me and Vivian (my sassy pidgin interpreter/LINK-UP social worker) where her neighbors were living. Basically, they are sleeping under umbrellas and with a giant plastic tarp as a blanket because half the roof has rusted away. This woman (I have no idea how to spell her name… phonetic spelling tells me Ngamadou?) is about 80 years old and lives alone in her dilapidated and barely furnished home. She uses the LINK-UP loan to help with her business, selling maniok to her neighbors who come to her house to buy. Before we left, she made sure to send Vivian and I with enough maniok for both of our families.
1. Pikins = Children
2. Ashia= I’m sorry for you. (This is the catch phrase for just about everything... I hear it at least 50 times a day. It's hot= Ashia. I have to go cook= Ashia. When I jogging by people= Ashia. I'm full= Ashia. I have to take a taxi to Molyko= Ashia. EVERYTHNG)
3. Chop= Food
Despite the aggressive University of Buea campaign against pidgin English (signs around campus include “SHUN PIDGIN”, “PIDGIN RUINS YOUR ENGLISH”, “COMMON WEALTH: NO PIDGIN HERE” etc.), I’ve been making every effort to learn this odd language. The past two weeks have been full of impromptu lessons in taxis and restaurants in hopes of helping my research and equally as important, bargaining in markets. Being white+ knowing pidgin= major street cred.
I’ve started the fascinating but exhausting interview process with women recipients of micro credit loans through LINK-UP. I’ve sat in on their meetings, witnessed the “njangi”, watched how they save, and learned how the various groups work in general. Njangi is a common practice with women’s groups- every week each woman donates 1,000 CFA (about $2)- one lucky woman gets the pot each week when it is her turn. Njangi is there own more traditional system of saving, which they combine with the more modern LINK-UP system of savings (where interest is accrued). For more information, see my 40 page research paper due December 7…yikes.
The groups are a small but strong community. It has been evident so far through the interviews just how much the group means to the women. They are constantly telling me how “we be sister white man, you get?” Beside the social aspects, they also financially assist each other. They have a “trouble fund” used to assist a person if they are sick or a close family member dies. Recently, a group member passed away, and the women worked together to repay her loan to LINK-UP.
I’m starting to get a first hand look at the level of poverty these women are facing. Saturday night I sat in on my second meeting, and afterwards the eldest woman led us through a trash pile maze up the hill to her house. She showed me and Vivian (my sassy pidgin interpreter/LINK-UP social worker) where her neighbors were living. Basically, they are sleeping under umbrellas and with a giant plastic tarp as a blanket because half the roof has rusted away. This woman (I have no idea how to spell her name… phonetic spelling tells me Ngamadou?) is about 80 years old and lives alone in her dilapidated and barely furnished home. She uses the LINK-UP loan to help with her business, selling maniok to her neighbors who come to her house to buy. Before we left, she made sure to send Vivian and I with enough maniok for both of our families.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Wazaaaaaaaa
Nope, not a super bowl commercial reference. Went to one of Cameroon’s few National Parks this week called Waza, located in the Extreme North. Cameroon’s tourism potential is absolutely incredible- one part of me wants this country to get its act together and start promoting itself to help out for a major economic boost. On the other hand, there is something so beautiful about how untouched much of Cameroon is.
We arrived in Waza after an 8 hour bus ride through Garoua and Maroua, where we went to some incredible marches. Florence is overrated; the leather products in Garoua were unbelievable. We bargained with vendors for hours, were given some impromptu Fulfulde lessons, and all pretty much bought an entire sheep or cow worth of leather products (and I think I bought an entire Boa worth of snakeskin products as well…)
Tons of monkeys in the trees as we pulled into our camp site for the night. Slept under the stars right outside the park, and woke up at the crack of dawn to head out on our safari.
Around 6:30, two ancient, white Toyota pick-up trucks pulled into our campsite. We piled into the truck beds and set off along a barely marked dusty road. I won’t be able to do justice in describing the scenery (Kat, I wish you were in my pocket for this voyage so you could help me attempt to depict the absolute beauty).
Waza was just completely wild in every sense of the word. We began our voyage as the sun was rising, beating down on our incredibly touristy straw hats. It became apparent that elephants enjoyed traveling on the dusty truck route, as their giant footprints provided us with some extremely bumpy terrain. The two inch dagger thorns flanking either side of the truck didn’t help either.
Saw tons of giraffes- incredibly majestic and graceful animals. Lots of antelope, ostrich, boar, monkeys, and huge birds. Found some lion tracks, but even Flobert (SIT’s head driver/renaissance safari man) couldn’t track them down.
Rode back 28 hours to Yaounde with 2 goats tied to the top of our bus. (Our bus driver really wanted to bring them back to Yaounde because they were so cheap…) The unexpected bathroom breaks of the goats kept us all on our toes and provided endless entertainment for those on the front of the bus (not getting sprinkled on).
We dropped of the 2 BIR officers (Cameroonian military elite) on our way back. These dudes were HUGE and ridiculously intimidating (as were their giant automatic guns and endless amo refills). Fortunately, the Coupers de route decided not to strike (we would’ve been a goldmine for them).
ISP (our 4 week independent research period) has officially begun. I’m heading to Buea to research the microfinance branch of LINK UP, an NGO focused on child development. I’m really looking forward to a month of total independence (no other students are traveling to Buea to conduct their research). I’ll be living with a Peace Corps Volunteer and German volunteer in Muea.
We arrived in Waza after an 8 hour bus ride through Garoua and Maroua, where we went to some incredible marches. Florence is overrated; the leather products in Garoua were unbelievable. We bargained with vendors for hours, were given some impromptu Fulfulde lessons, and all pretty much bought an entire sheep or cow worth of leather products (and I think I bought an entire Boa worth of snakeskin products as well…)
Tons of monkeys in the trees as we pulled into our camp site for the night. Slept under the stars right outside the park, and woke up at the crack of dawn to head out on our safari.
Around 6:30, two ancient, white Toyota pick-up trucks pulled into our campsite. We piled into the truck beds and set off along a barely marked dusty road. I won’t be able to do justice in describing the scenery (Kat, I wish you were in my pocket for this voyage so you could help me attempt to depict the absolute beauty).
Waza was just completely wild in every sense of the word. We began our voyage as the sun was rising, beating down on our incredibly touristy straw hats. It became apparent that elephants enjoyed traveling on the dusty truck route, as their giant footprints provided us with some extremely bumpy terrain. The two inch dagger thorns flanking either side of the truck didn’t help either.
Saw tons of giraffes- incredibly majestic and graceful animals. Lots of antelope, ostrich, boar, monkeys, and huge birds. Found some lion tracks, but even Flobert (SIT’s head driver/renaissance safari man) couldn’t track them down.
Rode back 28 hours to Yaounde with 2 goats tied to the top of our bus. (Our bus driver really wanted to bring them back to Yaounde because they were so cheap…) The unexpected bathroom breaks of the goats kept us all on our toes and provided endless entertainment for those on the front of the bus (not getting sprinkled on).
We dropped of the 2 BIR officers (Cameroonian military elite) on our way back. These dudes were HUGE and ridiculously intimidating (as were their giant automatic guns and endless amo refills). Fortunately, the Coupers de route decided not to strike (we would’ve been a goldmine for them).
ISP (our 4 week independent research period) has officially begun. I’m heading to Buea to research the microfinance branch of LINK UP, an NGO focused on child development. I’m really looking forward to a month of total independence (no other students are traveling to Buea to conduct their research). I’ll be living with a Peace Corps Volunteer and German volunteer in Muea.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Nalsala
Nalsala= "la blanche" in Fulfulde.
I am sorry to report that today was the final day of the weave, affectionately known as Carmella. Ngaoundere is HOT. And the 5 pounds of fake purple and brown hair just wasn’t cutting it. Spent about 3 hours this afternoon with about 4 women huddled around my head, jabbering away in Fulfulde. A lot of the women in my compound are forbidden by their husbands to leave their houses. I seriously have no idea what they do all day. Normally when I get back from school and ask them about their days, they reply that they did “rien” or nothing. Seems like it is lots of Brazilian Soap Operas, gossiping, and cooking. Interestingly, lots of Cameroonian families have “domestiques” (a servant)- even the families with no running water.
Tomorrow, my neighbor is taking me to get some traditional Muslim henna. She just got out of a 10 year relationship and is now living at home with her father, his 4 wives, and her 15 brothers and sisters. She married at age 14 and had her first child at age 16. She once had 4 kids, but 3 have died. This woman is about 3 years older than me. I talked to her a little bit about Sophia, her daughter only remaining 5 year old daughter. She told me she prays that she will be able to go to a University and marry after she finishes schooling.
Visited the “Lamidat” or head of the Muslim church in Ngaoundere. He used to be a political, economic, and spiritual leader but lost lots of his power after colonization. He still has servants- they are born into servitude and can become free by converting to Islam. However, since there families have been servants for generations, they have zero relatives, contacts, or money to help them get started. Therefore, the vast majority of them choose to not convert and stay slaves for life.
When we walked into the Lamidat’s “palais”, there were huge decorated columns. Someone in the group innocently asked what the decorations were, and we soon found out that they recounted the stories of a few lucky prostitutes… Apparently these “sinners” were buried alive inside these columns a few centuries ago…
In other news, I can’t believe Wake lost by 1 to Miami. Joey, I can’t believe you kicked a 50 yard field goal to beat us- and I can’t believe we lost to Navy. Congratulations on bragging rights for the year. Tonight the Eagles play the Giants and the Phillies are on too…. Wish I could portkey home for the night.
Just got bit by a mosquito, I really hope I don’t get malaria again.
I am sorry to report that today was the final day of the weave, affectionately known as Carmella. Ngaoundere is HOT. And the 5 pounds of fake purple and brown hair just wasn’t cutting it. Spent about 3 hours this afternoon with about 4 women huddled around my head, jabbering away in Fulfulde. A lot of the women in my compound are forbidden by their husbands to leave their houses. I seriously have no idea what they do all day. Normally when I get back from school and ask them about their days, they reply that they did “rien” or nothing. Seems like it is lots of Brazilian Soap Operas, gossiping, and cooking. Interestingly, lots of Cameroonian families have “domestiques” (a servant)- even the families with no running water.
Tomorrow, my neighbor is taking me to get some traditional Muslim henna. She just got out of a 10 year relationship and is now living at home with her father, his 4 wives, and her 15 brothers and sisters. She married at age 14 and had her first child at age 16. She once had 4 kids, but 3 have died. This woman is about 3 years older than me. I talked to her a little bit about Sophia, her daughter only remaining 5 year old daughter. She told me she prays that she will be able to go to a University and marry after she finishes schooling.
Visited the “Lamidat” or head of the Muslim church in Ngaoundere. He used to be a political, economic, and spiritual leader but lost lots of his power after colonization. He still has servants- they are born into servitude and can become free by converting to Islam. However, since there families have been servants for generations, they have zero relatives, contacts, or money to help them get started. Therefore, the vast majority of them choose to not convert and stay slaves for life.
When we walked into the Lamidat’s “palais”, there were huge decorated columns. Someone in the group innocently asked what the decorations were, and we soon found out that they recounted the stories of a few lucky prostitutes… Apparently these “sinners” were buried alive inside these columns a few centuries ago…
In other news, I can’t believe Wake lost by 1 to Miami. Joey, I can’t believe you kicked a 50 yard field goal to beat us- and I can’t believe we lost to Navy. Congratulations on bragging rights for the year. Tonight the Eagles play the Giants and the Phillies are on too…. Wish I could portkey home for the night.
Just got bit by a mosquito, I really hope I don’t get malaria again.
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