Je tombe souvant dans la boue -- I often fall in the mud

It’s been a while since I’ve last written, but hopefully I can make up for it with some photos. We have one week left in Dschang with our host families until we embark on our "grand voyage". From there, we will be traveling up north and to the south, one more short host family stay in Ngaoundere for three weeks, and then our ISP (Independent Study Project) for the last four week of the program. That means that after next week my internet access will be even more limited, so my apologies in advance for neglecting the blog.

This weekend we went to Bamenda, a city located in one of the Anglophone provinces. Ahh, speaking English again was such a relief—even though we still had to somewhat translate into our English. Bamenda is known for its beautiful cloths used to make clothes, but it is necessary to know how to bargain before you throw yourself into the chaos of the market. Friday afternoon we had a crash course in Pidgin – which is just a really odd spin off of English mixed in with other native languages.
I be scoopyking -- translates: I am a student
How for you? / How now? -- translates: How are you today?
Who side you come out? -- translates:
Where are you from? I di chop – translates: I am eating
How much di cost dis rapa -- translates: How much does this cost?

We also visited the palace of the Bafut village, which was constructed by their German colonizers in the 1880s, witnessed of one the traditional initiation male dances, and met the Fondu – the superior chief, who has over 40 wives. The Fondu sat perched upon the large stoop of the oldest sacred building in Cameroon in his traditional tribal garments. It was a world completely about upholding tradition and respecting protocol that seemed almost untouched by the industrious world… that is until we saw a huge satellite dish in the middle of one of the court yard and the Fondu’s cell phone went off and we were reminded of the western world influence. He he he.

It still rains all the time, which explains why I often fall in the mud and my taste buds are being exposed to new phenomenons all the time, like macabo with fried “plums”. We had cous cous again last night but this time it was accompanied with another fish based concoction of over 22 ingredients called nkui. Our diners have been rather interesting this week because of the power shortage every night. Sometimes the electricity goes out around six or seven at night and lasts all night. Thus, all our diners this night have been eaten by candlelight and after diner my host siblings and I cram around a candle to finish our homework. My host father told that it is the fault of importing American businesses because of the privatisation of the electric companies, which is be true; however, I think some of it has to do the rain season. The real problem is that Cameroun has the resources to supply their own energy with all the waterfalls and potential dams in the country, however there is no money to develop the technology needed to created electricity from their own resources. Basically, the majority of the fault goes to the government corruption and poor dispersement of funds and aid from abroad. Aside from Boris, my four year old host brother, throwing a slight fit, the nights turn out to be alright and since I couldn’t do all of my homework, I get to go to bed early. C’est la vie.

This weekend I volunteered myself to make breakfast for the family Sunday morning, so I am whipping out my specialty of french toast. Its simple enough for my cuisine skills and I know I can find all the ingredients. I wanted to make pizza because my host sister asks me about it all the time, but I don't think that the cheese that exists here is pizza suitable. Also, cheese is very expensive.

These first couple photos are from our first week in the village of Fongo-Tongo, which is just outside of Dschang, where we’ve been attending school. We spent one afternoon visiting the famous “chute” of Mammy Water, one of the most sacred waterfalls in the region. We were able to hike down to the base of the waterfall but it was too misty to get any clear photos, so this one is taken from above. The other photos are taken in Dschang. Whenever I take out my camera with children around they always yell, “filmez-moi, filmez-moi” (film me). When this first occurred I was quite confused because I thought they were saying “fumez-moi”, which means smoke cigarettes. Thus, one of the photos is three of the four children in my host family along with some other neighborhood kids out front of our house. One photo is me being caught in the rain on my walk home one night…. you can witness the deluge I had to battle along with my gigantic hill that I often slip climbing down, while the neighborhood children pass me by giggling. I also have a photo with my host brothers and sisters. Since I am pretty computer illiterate, I'm not sure how they will turn out, but nous allons voir ..... Enjoy!!

*****Sorry, I couldn't get the photos to upload .... I am afraid you will have to wait until I get home.*****

Cous Cous anyone?!

When I was studying in France last semester I absolutely fell in love with cous cous. Its texture, color, adaptability with go with practically anything, and that fact you can always come back for more just amazed me. So, when I heard that we were having cous cous last night for dinner you can imagine how excited I was, however even things that you think are familiar to you are indeed quite different.

After conquering my calf-burning hill last night, I arrived home. I’ve been trying to make an effort to make myself more accessible and useful around the house by volunteering to wash the dishes, buying bread in the morning, setting the table, and helping out with diner. I entered our kitchen last night hoping to find some minimal task to do that my host mother would probably have to explain to me in great detail. I was disappointed to discover that diner was already ready (I had returned home last since class ran late), but elated to find out that we were having cous cous. Finally a food I recognized and I know I could eat. I lifted the pan to observe the rice-like entrée, but only to find our usual “yellow yams”. My mother laughed and lifted the lid of orange plastic bucket that held individual baggies of a gelatine-like corn-based blob. My four siblings and mother could have obviously seen the look of bafflement on my face as they all giggled to themselves. Since diner was already ready I offered to set the table and reach for the forks. “Non” my mother laughed, “We use our hands, but you can use a fork.” As if I wasn’t quite ready for the cous cous cultural emersion – baby steps are necessary.

We sat down to diner and my host mama dished up a couple scoops of “Gumbo” in each our our bowls. It was an interesting concoction of actual ground up gumbo – which is a green pepperish plant with a little bit of a kick – meat – still not quite sure of what kind – various veggies, and something that makes it into a brown slimy sauce. I waited for the others to start eating to observe their technique, which involves tearing off a chunk of the blob and circular scooping/dipping motion in the bowl of gumbo. After a couple tries with my hands I gave in and took up the comfort of using my fork. It actually turned out to be pretty good and by the end of the meal, I would say that I have graduated the novice class cous cous scooping. My host papa shared stories of growing up on cous cous with his nine other siblings. There are a ton of different sauces one can make to accompany the cous cous. Apparently up north, which is where we will be travelling to later, cous cous is its own food group. Therefore, I anticipate plenty more cous cous adventures to come.

Thanks for those who wrote to me. I really love hearing from back home. Every chance I get I’ll try to give you my brief Cameroon update, but the internet accessibility is pretty scarce here. I miss you and love you all!!!!

Patience is a Virtue

Curiosity, anxiety, dumb-fondness, awe-struck, humble, guilt, confusion, frustration, happiness.

I've been in Cameroon over a week now, and I feel as if I've learned more lessons than in a lifetime. Who could have thought that one could feel so many things in such a short period of time? My head is spinning and its just the beginning. We’ve seen and experienced so many things already that are completely out of our realm – its difficult to find somewhere to start.

The first and most important lesson I’ve learned so far is that patience is a virtue. That was the first thing Christaine, our amazing program director, told us when she greeted us in the airport in Douala. We practiced major patience when three students had some lost luggage – mine included – and we circled around the airport to wait in line to talk to someone from Air France only to be send back to where we were before to wait in line again. I discovered that customer service doesn’t exactly exist abroad as it does in the states and the most you can get is a small toiletry bag including a toothbrush, deodorant, a hair brush, and an oversized white t-shirt sporting the Air France logo on the sleeve.

We stayed at a mission the first night and the next morning headed out early for the city of Dschang, located in the southwest. On the map it really doesn’t look that far away, but in a 15 passenger van packed “Cameroonian style” on a Cameroonian road during rain season it took about five hours. It was a good icebreaker for the group of fourteen girls and one boy from all over the States. The best part of our voyage was the trip up to Fongo-Tongo, a village outside of Dschang, where we spent our first week of orientation. Once the rain hit, there was little hope for our van to make it up the muddy red clay hills without the group effort of pushing the van. Sigh. Good times caked in mud!

Our ride from Douala we witnessed a vast and diverse landscape of tropical rainforests and highlands. We were stopped many times by government officials on the road -- in which case the local men, women, and children would attempt to sell us fruits, veggies, and peanuts through the windows. We spent the first week in an isolated structured camp like setting in the immensely spread out village of Fongo-Tongo. There was a building with 15 bed for the students to pitch their mosquito nets and sleeping bags. Since my mosquito net was lost along with my other stuff for the first week, I got to snuggle up with one of the girls each night (a good way to meet someone for the first time … he he he). Besides our sessions on safety and health we went hiking into the clouds one afternoon and for a moment of clearly got to see how beautiful Cameroon really is. We also visited a waterfall by having quite the adventure on the truck ride there and a nice hike through the scared rainforest to the base. Our last night in Fongo Tongo the community held a “cultural soiree” for us where we met the head chief of the village and learned a couple African dance moves. Quite the night and some really fun pics. (If I figure out a way to upload them I will)

We met and moved into our host families in Dschang Saturday night and had the whole day Sunday with them. For me, this experience was more difficult than I expected. My family is incredibly sweet and has four small children, but it was difficult for me to understand my role in the family. Should I act as a guest, sibling, student? Is it ok for me to go out? Everyone seems to do their own thing and I wasn’t quite sure where I belonged. Most the time, the children go unsupervised in the streets and the house. Should I act as a baby sitter? As an American I am use to things happening all the time and conversation as well, but here its normal to sit in silence with your family as a sign of respect and exercise a different type of independence. At that point, I still didn’t have my clothes (besides what I had borrowed from the other girls) and I needed to wash what I had. I learned how to wash my clothes by hand and the other kids got a really good kick out of it. One of the most challenging things I faced was when my host sister, who is nine, and I were washing the dishes and she asked if I had a machine for washing dishes like my clothes, of course I had to say yes. She told me that I have everything where I am from and to look around and see that they have nothing. I tried to explain to her that machines and things don’t necessarily equal happiness, but it was difficult for me to explain.

As the days go on, I am becoming more and more comfortable with Dschang, class, and my family. We started classes this week which definitely give me something to focus on besides the overwhelming feeling of the culture shock. Every day and every new incident is a learning expericence. I have tons more to say, but I’m afraid I am going to have to sign off for now. It raining – like usual – and I have a huge hill to get down (hopefully not on my butt) in 30 mins for less. Love you and miss you all. À bientot!!

Spread Your Wings and Fly

Here we go. The last moments of hectic preparations, the continuous revamping of my to-do list, my nail-biting anxiety, and farewell hugs and kisses have arrived. I've spent almost a year of dreaming and planning of this moment, but for some reason I never thought it would come so fast. Sunday morning I will embark on a new journey of my life as I begin my semester abroad in Cameroon, Africa.

With the guidance of my lovely friend, Chelsea, I have decided to keep an online diary of my experiences in Cameroon. I'm not gonna lie to you though, I'm a little nervous about keep this up to date, as Molly can testify that my journal entries in France dwindled to nothing after the first two months. Also, unlike some absolutely amazing people I know, I am not one that can write so wittily and freely. So, let's all keep an open mind, aye?

Cameroon, located in central western Africa, is a country with a little bit of everything. About the size of California, the country consists of everything between tropical rainforests to semi-deserts. Population of 16.5 million, it is home to about 250 different ethnic groups and languages with colonial heritages of German, British, and French. Today, the national language is French with English spoken in the north. While I am in Cameroon, I will continue my French language studies as well as receive a crash course in Fulfulde, a popular language spoken in the north. I am studying with a program called SIT (Study of International Training), a graduate school located in Vermont, with fourteen other students from universities and colleges across the United States. The theme of our program is Culture and Development. Not only will I be taking courses about the development, music, language, geography, history, culture, and politics of Cameroon, I will be experiencing it all as we travel about the country and stay with host families.

As the weeks have wound down to days and the days to hours, I am looking forward to an experience unlike any other and, at the same time, without turning my back to my amazing friends and family I have back at home. Though I know most of you think I am crazy, I truly love and appreciate all of you and your support this summer and in my life.

Jillian!

I miss you and hope you use this blog as much as you can in Africa. Im an avid blogger and blog reader and I firmly believe that these are the times of our lives that need to be documented forever. Be safe, have fun, and learn as much as possible.
I know you'll do wonderfully!!
<3
Chelsea