Work update
Things are moving along in the creation of my ‘long-term plan for sustainable development.’ Metsama (my homologue) and I are currently working with a unit of the school called the ‘Conseil d’École.’ In principle, this group is formed of people from the community, as well as teachers and directors that work together for the development of their school. Unfortunately, most of the time these committees only exist by name, as meetings seldom occur and progress is extremely slow. I have been doing my best to motivate these individuals to come together to improve the education in their community. When they do show up, I do organizational development activities, such as developing and defining a vision for the ideal school, and finding the steps necessary to achieve that vision. It’s obvious that in a rural village of a developing country money is often what is lacking. However, as I try to explain here, it isn’t the ONLY answer. There are countless other things that need to be done besides injecting money in the process. The countless other things are why I try to focus our energies on.
Cotton work
Cultural integration is an important part of my time in my village, and sometimes you have to create your own opportunities to participate. This was my philosophy as I decided to visit some cotton workers who had been working close to one of my schools. For these villagers, the cotton collection phase was already complete; they were now weighing and loading their shares onto a large truck. When I first arrived, people starred (as usual) and probably wondered what I was doing there. I started talking to one of the men in charge, who seemed to be supervising the operation. He helped me understand the process of cotton picking and selling. Today, he explained, was one of the last phases of the process. Farmers brought their cotton to the station, which they tied together in very large bails. These bails could way anywhere between 40 and 80 kilos (surprising, as a handful of cotton ways next to nothing). After waiting in line for possibly several hours, the men’s bails’ weights were recorded. This information would be used later to pay the men for their share.
I stayed at the weighing station for a while and eventually got involved with the calculator (they were impressed by the speed with which I used it) to calculate the sums. After a few mathematical operations, someone said that I looked like a big guy (in the heavy sense), and that it would be a good idea to weigh me. We all laughed as I accepted to step on the cotton scale. It read 83 kilos, which the men found extremely funny. Some of the men present weighed no more than 45 kilos soaking wet, so the contrast was evident. After finding out my weight, someone said that I should be strong enough to help them lift the large cotton bails. I happily took on the challenge, which surprised all who were there to see. As I helped lift the bails into the truck, people either laughed hysterically, or starred in disbelief. “A nasara (white person) helping us work with the cotton?” After working with them for at least half an hour, several people thanked me for my help. They couldn’t believe that a white foreigner, usually distant and reserved, was doing physical work with them. I knew that I was making only a small contribution, and I was also enjoying the experience. I had to explain that at home, we also have to do hard work at times. I told them my grandfather had been a lumberjack, which somehow made me look more human to them. They could relate to that.
After lifting and throwing about two dozen cotton bails, I followed ten men into the truck. It was time for some heavy duty stomping; we had to make room for the remaining bails. So there I was on top of a pile of cotton, stomping away with my fellow villagers, humming the Mafa tune that a few of the men were chanting. The rhythm of the chant was meant to guide the rate of our stomps. It almost looked like we were dancing. At the time, I felt happy that I was doing something new, and that people appreciated my help. The men around me were either focused on the task, or still laughing at me. Either way, we both got something out of it. I left the cotton station with a good memory, some new friends, and clothes full of small white puffs.
Package from sister
I’m really excited to get my first package from home. My sister has given the package to Mélanie, Hugo’s girlfriend who lives in Ottawa. Hugo is my best friend here in Maroua, and he’ll be travelling to Europe at Christmas to meet Mélanie. Therefore, the package has gone from my family’s hands to Mélanie’s, who will then give it to Hugo, who will be back in Cameroon in mid January. Through this exchange, I’m sure to get my package on time and will all the items in it! I’m expecting to receive some books, a GMAT prep book, The Office Season 3 and few surprises.
Baptism
Most of the habitants of the Far North province of Cameroon are of Muslim faith. My village, however, is an exception. Although you will find a few Muslim families here and there, the majority of people here are Christian. I actually live on an old Baptist mission compound. Currently, there are about thirty priests living in an area close to my house. They are doing some sort of training that will last until March. Every morning at 4:00 am, a bell is rung for the call to prayer. It used to bother me at first, but now I sleep through it on most days.
Last Sunday, I was invited to come watch a baptism ceremony in a field close to my house. I’m not sure what I expected, but it was probably much different than anything I had imagined. A baptism at home is a quiet, formal ceremony held in a church, where a young infant gets baptised. The annual baptism ceremony in Soulédé is of much larger scale. In the end, I figure approximately 300 people were baptised in front of over 3000 spectators.
The ceremony was said to start at 9:00am, but in true African fashion, it started at about 12:00pm. First there were announcements, which were made mostly in Mafa. Second came the donations portion of the ceremony. Each specific region or church group of the larger Soulédé area took their turn to enter the middle of the gathering to drop some spare coins in a bucket. Every group entered the centre singing and dancing; it was obvious that the individuals were proud of their affiliations with their groups. I joined in when Soulédé Centre was called it, and donated my share as well. After each group had passed, the actual baptism portion started. For this part, a large trench (about 15 feet long, 4 feet wide and 5 feet deep) made of cement was used. It had been filled with about 3 feet of water the day before. Turn by turn, groups of eight kids climbed down into the water, and waited with their backs to eight church members who placed a hand on their heads. The kids looked like young teenagers, whilst the church members were all older men. After a prayer was spoken, the church members would, in synchrony, dunk the kids’ heads in the water. Then, soaking wet and vaguely stunned, the kids walked out of the trench, and into their new lives with God. :-)
jeudi 20 décembre 2007
lundi 12 novembre 2007
First part of November 2007
November 2007
Address
I have one! And if your card or packages makes it across the border, it is very safe. That being said, there aren’t many problems with mail. Just don’t send me a new digital camera (recently one was held ransom for 270 000 CFA at a border). Many people have said that they use DHL to send things here.
Jean-Philippe Michel
VSO Maroua
BP 1004, Maroua
Extrême Nord
Cameroon
This is the VSO office in the bigger city of Maroua, and volunteers all ask for their mail to be delivered here. Unfortunately, there is no mail-service that goes directly to my little boukarou in my village.
Lack of posts
Why haven’t I written in over a month? Is it because nothing has happened? Is it because I am lazy? Lack of access to the internet? Although these could be good reasons, I don’t think they explain my lack of posts properly. When I arrived in Cameroon, I was very excited to share stories of my adventure. It was exciting, and I was happy to be here. But I think eventually I realized that I am not on a trip, and that I am not coming home soon. I am here for 6 months, and that can be a VERY long time. This is my reality now. Facing the fact that I will be here for so long has been tough. Sometimes, posting on my blog makes me miss home, and I try to stay away from that as much as I can. Because the more connected I feel to home, the more I miss it. Therefore, instead of staying plugged into Canada, I have tried to accept Cameroon as my new reality. It is better to do it this way as I will fully appreciate my experience. The downside is that I have less energy and motivation to do things like post on my blog. Despite this reluctance, here I am typing again. Many people have requested that I post more often, and because you are my friends and family, I feel like you deserve to know what I am doing. Donc, voila! Even though I am trying to cope with my new reality by focusing on Cameroon, please keep sending news from home. I love to get messages from people, even if they are small.
Sickness
On Sunday night, I felt terribly exhausted. My stomach was killing me. I had diarrhea. My muscles were sore. I didn’t want to move. The next day I went to get tested; I had to give a stool sample in a plastic cup. Exciting! The analysis showed that I had amoebas and yeast in my stomach. Nice… They give me a whole bunch of pills that I had to take over the course of two weeks. I think the pills were tougher on my body than the amoebas. Regardless, I had to take them to get better.
Later on, I found out that I might have contracted something called “jardia,” since I was regularly having burps that brought the smell of sulphur from my stomach. Oh, and your welcome for these delightful details.
I think the next time I am in Maroua I will get tested again, maybe at the hospital this time.
Address
I have one! And if your card or packages makes it across the border, it is very safe. That being said, there aren’t many problems with mail. Just don’t send me a new digital camera (recently one was held ransom for 270 000 CFA at a border). Many people have said that they use DHL to send things here.
Jean-Philippe Michel
VSO Maroua
BP 1004, Maroua
Extrême Nord
Cameroon
This is the VSO office in the bigger city of Maroua, and volunteers all ask for their mail to be delivered here. Unfortunately, there is no mail-service that goes directly to my little boukarou in my village.
Lack of posts
Why haven’t I written in over a month? Is it because nothing has happened? Is it because I am lazy? Lack of access to the internet? Although these could be good reasons, I don’t think they explain my lack of posts properly. When I arrived in Cameroon, I was very excited to share stories of my adventure. It was exciting, and I was happy to be here. But I think eventually I realized that I am not on a trip, and that I am not coming home soon. I am here for 6 months, and that can be a VERY long time. This is my reality now. Facing the fact that I will be here for so long has been tough. Sometimes, posting on my blog makes me miss home, and I try to stay away from that as much as I can. Because the more connected I feel to home, the more I miss it. Therefore, instead of staying plugged into Canada, I have tried to accept Cameroon as my new reality. It is better to do it this way as I will fully appreciate my experience. The downside is that I have less energy and motivation to do things like post on my blog. Despite this reluctance, here I am typing again. Many people have requested that I post more often, and because you are my friends and family, I feel like you deserve to know what I am doing. Donc, voila! Even though I am trying to cope with my new reality by focusing on Cameroon, please keep sending news from home. I love to get messages from people, even if they are small.
Sickness
On Sunday night, I felt terribly exhausted. My stomach was killing me. I had diarrhea. My muscles were sore. I didn’t want to move. The next day I went to get tested; I had to give a stool sample in a plastic cup. Exciting! The analysis showed that I had amoebas and yeast in my stomach. Nice… They give me a whole bunch of pills that I had to take over the course of two weeks. I think the pills were tougher on my body than the amoebas. Regardless, I had to take them to get better.
Later on, I found out that I might have contracted something called “jardia,” since I was regularly having burps that brought the smell of sulphur from my stomach. Oh, and your welcome for these delightful details.
I think the next time I am in Maroua I will get tested again, maybe at the hospital this time.
October 2007
October 2007
I am still alive!
Motorcycle accident
Have you ever seen someone die?
Ed and I were eating lunch a Sunday afternoon in Maroua, when we heard a loud noise outside. When I rushed out, I saw a motorcycle that was still sliding across the pavement. I couldn’t see the driver around, but there were already people running towards the scene. The first person who got there rushed towards the “canivaux” (the sewage system which I once walked into and cut my leg). He reached in the three-foot deep sewer and pulled out a young man by the armpits. He was obviously unconscious, as his body was not moving at all. I knew from basic first-aid that you shouldn’t move a body like that, since the accident could have caused spinal damage. But I don’t think basic first aid is taught or practiced here... Anyways, as the body was dragged out of the ditch, people started forming a circle around the injured man. His face was bleeding pretty badly, probably from its contact with the asphalt. The first man who was “tending” to him obviously didn’t know what he was doing; at one point I saw that he was covering the injured guy’s mouth and eyes. (Note: I later learned from a doctor that this a traditional method - in Cameroon - of assuring that a deceased person’s eyes and mouth remain closed after he passes. Unfortunately, this is sometimes done when a person is not completely dead, asphyxiating him within a few minutes.) A second, more competent, man eventually showed up and checked vital signs. It looked like he knew what he was doing. He then proceeded to give mouth to mouth for a few minutes. Since he stopped, Ed and I assumed that the man was dead. It was really hard to watch all this happen, but I thought that I would rather know what happens than to go back to my isolated little lunch. One of the worst things is that we didn’t know what to do. Who do you call? How do you call them? Is there someone who comes when you call? I think by the end we figured out that the answer is no. There is no “911” here. There are no ambulances like the ones we have at home. So what if it was Ed who was in the accident? Or me? What do you do? Well, we learned that you find the closest car, and ask the driver to bring you to the hospital. As odd as that would seem on a north American street, people here would do something like that in a heartbeat. It is still scary to think that it’s up to you to get to the hospital, no matter what.
Therefore, our accident was no different, we had to find a vehicle to bring the man to the hospital. After a few minutes, a pickup truck was flagged down. Four men carried the body into the truck, and we assumed that he was brought to the hospital. We asked strangers on the street if the man was dead. They said: “not yet.”
Seeing that completed changed whatever was happening for us that day. You sort of tried to change the subject, talk about something else, think about your plans, but it was pointless. Ed and I both felt like that. We were just shocked. It was a poignant reminder to wear your helmet. The man in the crash didn’t wear one (just like 99% of the people here). Maybe if he did he would have survived. But the sad reality is that most of the people here can’t afford a helmet.
Good friend
My best buddy here is Benjamin. He is a very nice, trustworthy guy. Very polite. I feel like I can trust him. It takes a while to be able to trust someone here. With him, I know his intentions are good. He often comes to visit me at my place. We go out for a drink sometimes on Thursdays. We go to Mokolo for market day on Wednesdays. I taught him how to use the computer and the internet. We created an email account for him last week. He is very pumped about that. I sent him an email with some pictures, and he loves it! He just doesn’t have anyone to email yet. If one of you guys could send him an email, he would be so happy! His email is benjamimbelawadzai@hotmail.com. Send him a hello from Canada! Thanks.
Role at work
Finally, I think I can define it better now. Why I am here? What am I doing? Here goes: I am a facilitator that is seeking to mobilize the education community in Soulédé to find solutions to their problems in education through participatory tools. What do I do every day? First off, let’s make this clear: I don’t work a 40 hour week. I am not sure if anyone does here. I think on a typical day (if there are any), I could either visit a school, do classroom observation, organise a formal meeting, attend a meeting in one of my schools, in Mokolo, or in Maroua, or work from home. Working from home could involve transcribing meeting minutes, writing a report, inputting data, preparing for a meeting, etc. All other time could be written off as “integration in the community.” As unofficial as that sounds, it is a key area to my success here. There is so much important information and knowledge I pick up outside of formal work times.
Other activities
Besides work, what do I do in Cameroon?
-Play basketball in Maroua
-Read a book (brought a few)
-Buy food at the market
-Hang out with friends
-Go on a hike
-Go out drinking with volunteers
-etc...
I am still alive!
Motorcycle accident
Have you ever seen someone die?
Ed and I were eating lunch a Sunday afternoon in Maroua, when we heard a loud noise outside. When I rushed out, I saw a motorcycle that was still sliding across the pavement. I couldn’t see the driver around, but there were already people running towards the scene. The first person who got there rushed towards the “canivaux” (the sewage system which I once walked into and cut my leg). He reached in the three-foot deep sewer and pulled out a young man by the armpits. He was obviously unconscious, as his body was not moving at all. I knew from basic first-aid that you shouldn’t move a body like that, since the accident could have caused spinal damage. But I don’t think basic first aid is taught or practiced here... Anyways, as the body was dragged out of the ditch, people started forming a circle around the injured man. His face was bleeding pretty badly, probably from its contact with the asphalt. The first man who was “tending” to him obviously didn’t know what he was doing; at one point I saw that he was covering the injured guy’s mouth and eyes. (Note: I later learned from a doctor that this a traditional method - in Cameroon - of assuring that a deceased person’s eyes and mouth remain closed after he passes. Unfortunately, this is sometimes done when a person is not completely dead, asphyxiating him within a few minutes.) A second, more competent, man eventually showed up and checked vital signs. It looked like he knew what he was doing. He then proceeded to give mouth to mouth for a few minutes. Since he stopped, Ed and I assumed that the man was dead. It was really hard to watch all this happen, but I thought that I would rather know what happens than to go back to my isolated little lunch. One of the worst things is that we didn’t know what to do. Who do you call? How do you call them? Is there someone who comes when you call? I think by the end we figured out that the answer is no. There is no “911” here. There are no ambulances like the ones we have at home. So what if it was Ed who was in the accident? Or me? What do you do? Well, we learned that you find the closest car, and ask the driver to bring you to the hospital. As odd as that would seem on a north American street, people here would do something like that in a heartbeat. It is still scary to think that it’s up to you to get to the hospital, no matter what.
Therefore, our accident was no different, we had to find a vehicle to bring the man to the hospital. After a few minutes, a pickup truck was flagged down. Four men carried the body into the truck, and we assumed that he was brought to the hospital. We asked strangers on the street if the man was dead. They said: “not yet.”
Seeing that completed changed whatever was happening for us that day. You sort of tried to change the subject, talk about something else, think about your plans, but it was pointless. Ed and I both felt like that. We were just shocked. It was a poignant reminder to wear your helmet. The man in the crash didn’t wear one (just like 99% of the people here). Maybe if he did he would have survived. But the sad reality is that most of the people here can’t afford a helmet.
Good friend
My best buddy here is Benjamin. He is a very nice, trustworthy guy. Very polite. I feel like I can trust him. It takes a while to be able to trust someone here. With him, I know his intentions are good. He often comes to visit me at my place. We go out for a drink sometimes on Thursdays. We go to Mokolo for market day on Wednesdays. I taught him how to use the computer and the internet. We created an email account for him last week. He is very pumped about that. I sent him an email with some pictures, and he loves it! He just doesn’t have anyone to email yet. If one of you guys could send him an email, he would be so happy! His email is benjamimbelawadzai@hotmail.com. Send him a hello from Canada! Thanks.
Role at work
Finally, I think I can define it better now. Why I am here? What am I doing? Here goes: I am a facilitator that is seeking to mobilize the education community in Soulédé to find solutions to their problems in education through participatory tools. What do I do every day? First off, let’s make this clear: I don’t work a 40 hour week. I am not sure if anyone does here. I think on a typical day (if there are any), I could either visit a school, do classroom observation, organise a formal meeting, attend a meeting in one of my schools, in Mokolo, or in Maroua, or work from home. Working from home could involve transcribing meeting minutes, writing a report, inputting data, preparing for a meeting, etc. All other time could be written off as “integration in the community.” As unofficial as that sounds, it is a key area to my success here. There is so much important information and knowledge I pick up outside of formal work times.
Other activities
Besides work, what do I do in Cameroon?
-Play basketball in Maroua
-Read a book (brought a few)
-Buy food at the market
-Hang out with friends
-Go on a hike
-Go out drinking with volunteers
-etc...
mardi 25 septembre 2007
September 17th : Happy Birthday to me
September 17th : Happy Birthday to me
Thank you
So many people wrote to me to wish me happy birthday. Thanks so much! It felt great to hear from you guys. I only got the messages when I got back to Maroua (later on in the week), but it still felt nice to see that people hadn’t forgotten me at home. I wish I could have been with you on my birthday, but instead I was alone in my hut. I won’t lie; it was somewhat depressing when, at 6:30, there was no light and nothing to do. Not because it was my birthday, but just because.
Homologue
Met my partner in crime. His name is Matseme. I’m not sure about the spelling. He is pretty gangster. He is a “go against the grain” type of guy. He is a bit of an agitator. I figure this could both help and hinder the education project we are undertaking together. We’ll see. He is from Soulédé originally. His father is a religious leader (a “lawane”), and has six wives. This means my partner has over 30 brothers and sisters. Crazy. He is well known in the village, which has helped make some good connections. I look forward to working with him. I think I am in good hands, but who knows for sure at this point.
Football-Soccer
I played soccer for the first time here. I brought a ball, so it was not complicated to set up a game. Many kids showed up to watch, but only about 10 people ended up playing. It was fun, and I think I held my own. However, I am really out of shape! If I can play a couple of times a week, I think I will be fine.
First meeting
My inspector (head of school board) is on the ball. Very organized. Accordingly, we already have had our initial meeting with all the directors of the Soulédé-Roua region. Over thirty of them showed up. We did some very interesting activities. First, we reviewed enrolment rates for all the schools in the region. If they were lower than last years, people were in trouble. The inspector was not afraid to tell them. He said something along the line of “those who do not want to do the work will see us do the work without them”. This meant that they would be fired. Open threats flew throughout the meeting. Sometimes, the directors would finish the sentences of the inspector, as if they had heard his instructions a thousand times before. I was impressed about how strong his leadership style was. I’m sure it was effective in some ways. However, ruling this way did not help him be a good listener. He turned a deaf hear to those who offered reasons why their enrolment rates had dipped. At one point he said to someone, “I see you have your hand up, but clearly I am not done talking.” That gives you a small idea of what the inspector is like when it comes to work. I am happy to be on his good side though. He has been very good to both Christine and I…
Thank you
So many people wrote to me to wish me happy birthday. Thanks so much! It felt great to hear from you guys. I only got the messages when I got back to Maroua (later on in the week), but it still felt nice to see that people hadn’t forgotten me at home. I wish I could have been with you on my birthday, but instead I was alone in my hut. I won’t lie; it was somewhat depressing when, at 6:30, there was no light and nothing to do. Not because it was my birthday, but just because.
Homologue
Met my partner in crime. His name is Matseme. I’m not sure about the spelling. He is pretty gangster. He is a “go against the grain” type of guy. He is a bit of an agitator. I figure this could both help and hinder the education project we are undertaking together. We’ll see. He is from Soulédé originally. His father is a religious leader (a “lawane”), and has six wives. This means my partner has over 30 brothers and sisters. Crazy. He is well known in the village, which has helped make some good connections. I look forward to working with him. I think I am in good hands, but who knows for sure at this point.
Football-Soccer
I played soccer for the first time here. I brought a ball, so it was not complicated to set up a game. Many kids showed up to watch, but only about 10 people ended up playing. It was fun, and I think I held my own. However, I am really out of shape! If I can play a couple of times a week, I think I will be fine.
First meeting
My inspector (head of school board) is on the ball. Very organized. Accordingly, we already have had our initial meeting with all the directors of the Soulédé-Roua region. Over thirty of them showed up. We did some very interesting activities. First, we reviewed enrolment rates for all the schools in the region. If they were lower than last years, people were in trouble. The inspector was not afraid to tell them. He said something along the line of “those who do not want to do the work will see us do the work without them”. This meant that they would be fired. Open threats flew throughout the meeting. Sometimes, the directors would finish the sentences of the inspector, as if they had heard his instructions a thousand times before. I was impressed about how strong his leadership style was. I’m sure it was effective in some ways. However, ruling this way did not help him be a good listener. He turned a deaf hear to those who offered reasons why their enrolment rates had dipped. At one point he said to someone, “I see you have your hand up, but clearly I am not done talking.” That gives you a small idea of what the inspector is like when it comes to work. I am happy to be on his good side though. He has been very good to both Christine and I…
September 15th : Life in another universe
September 15th : Life in another universe
The trip
Like I said in my last post, Christine and I waited a long time on Saturday morning for the bus to Mokolo. We expected a bus at 7, but it only came at 9:30. Once we left, the road there was pretty good (by Cameroonian standards). When we arrived, we were greeted by the Inspecteur and a director of a school in Soulédé. Together, we travelled by motorcycle on a country road. What a ride! I had all my bags strapped on to the back of the moto. The road was terrible; we swerved left and right to avoid potholes, rocks and puddles. At times, we crossed right through small streams of water that flowed across the road. I was happy during this ride. I was heading to my village and looking forward to it. The scenery was beautiful; we were entering the mountainous area. Everything is green at the moment because we are in the rainy season. In a month, the scenery will be very different. The downside of the rainy season is that it destroys the roads. People manage to travel however, as we saw a few other motorcycles travelling to and from Mokolo. Everyone that happened to be on the side of the road stared. They must have wondered; “what is a white person doing here?” The more people we past, the more I saw that people in rural areas were poorer than people in urban areas. We saw many little huts on the side of the road. The huts, the people, the road, the mountains, the moto; I really felt like I was on an adventure during the ride. After about 25 minutes, we arrived to my house.
My first place
I guess it is different than most people’s first place. Since pictures speak louder than words, I posted a whole slew of them on Facebook. I also posted a video. Check it out and let me know what you think. I guess the best way to describe is: “charming.” It looks like I have three little huts all too myself. The first hut is my executive bathroom suite. The toilet is interesting. First, the water at the bottom of it is dark brown. There is no running water, so you can’t flush. You just pour water in when you are done. Also, there is no toilet seat. The shower is a nice mould-green colour. There is often a toad there in the morning to great me. We are not friends. When you are naked in a hut, washing yourself with cold water from a bucket, it is not fun when a slimy creature jumps on your feet. The second hut is an empty room. I haven’t figure out what to do with this circular, cement space. The third hut is my home. It is my kitchen and bedroom. The kitchen is quite filthy. There is some sort of sink that drains very slowly, a counter top, and some shelves. I am looking forward to cleaning it, but I do not have those supplies right now. My bedroom is pretty big. I guess I can also call it my living room. There are many shelves, as well as a storage unit. I set up my mosquito net over my bed. It is an adjustment, but I guess I am pretty comfortable there. During the day that is…
Alone
What do you do when it is pitch black outside at 6:30pm in a small African village? Go inside. What do you do inside? Turn on a light. Wait! You don’t have electricity. What can you do then? If someone can answer that, I will be very grateful, because so far, I have no good ideas. It can get very lonely very fast here. Especially if you are stuck cooking your supper or washing yourself in the dark. At 5:45, you will notice there is a little bit less light. So, from 5:45 to 6:30, I usually have a race against time to get myself set up for bed. If I do not to take care and prepare for this, I will be stuck stumbling in the dark trying to get organized. After the craziness, I usually end lying in my bed. How can you fall asleep at 6:30? So usually I am left wondering and worrying. Thinking about how much it sucks here. Thinking about how much I miss home. I know it is unhealthy, but very often I think about all the great things I will do when I get home. I want to go to a restaurant, I want to play basketball, I want to get ice cream, I want to see this, to do that, I want to hang out with this person, etc. I know I can’t keep doing that. I have over 5 months left! I have to find more things here that make me happy. I guess that will come with time. But for now, I can say that being alone in my village is tough.
The trip
Like I said in my last post, Christine and I waited a long time on Saturday morning for the bus to Mokolo. We expected a bus at 7, but it only came at 9:30. Once we left, the road there was pretty good (by Cameroonian standards). When we arrived, we were greeted by the Inspecteur and a director of a school in Soulédé. Together, we travelled by motorcycle on a country road. What a ride! I had all my bags strapped on to the back of the moto. The road was terrible; we swerved left and right to avoid potholes, rocks and puddles. At times, we crossed right through small streams of water that flowed across the road. I was happy during this ride. I was heading to my village and looking forward to it. The scenery was beautiful; we were entering the mountainous area. Everything is green at the moment because we are in the rainy season. In a month, the scenery will be very different. The downside of the rainy season is that it destroys the roads. People manage to travel however, as we saw a few other motorcycles travelling to and from Mokolo. Everyone that happened to be on the side of the road stared. They must have wondered; “what is a white person doing here?” The more people we past, the more I saw that people in rural areas were poorer than people in urban areas. We saw many little huts on the side of the road. The huts, the people, the road, the mountains, the moto; I really felt like I was on an adventure during the ride. After about 25 minutes, we arrived to my house.
My first place
I guess it is different than most people’s first place. Since pictures speak louder than words, I posted a whole slew of them on Facebook. I also posted a video. Check it out and let me know what you think. I guess the best way to describe is: “charming.” It looks like I have three little huts all too myself. The first hut is my executive bathroom suite. The toilet is interesting. First, the water at the bottom of it is dark brown. There is no running water, so you can’t flush. You just pour water in when you are done. Also, there is no toilet seat. The shower is a nice mould-green colour. There is often a toad there in the morning to great me. We are not friends. When you are naked in a hut, washing yourself with cold water from a bucket, it is not fun when a slimy creature jumps on your feet. The second hut is an empty room. I haven’t figure out what to do with this circular, cement space. The third hut is my home. It is my kitchen and bedroom. The kitchen is quite filthy. There is some sort of sink that drains very slowly, a counter top, and some shelves. I am looking forward to cleaning it, but I do not have those supplies right now. My bedroom is pretty big. I guess I can also call it my living room. There are many shelves, as well as a storage unit. I set up my mosquito net over my bed. It is an adjustment, but I guess I am pretty comfortable there. During the day that is…
Alone
What do you do when it is pitch black outside at 6:30pm in a small African village? Go inside. What do you do inside? Turn on a light. Wait! You don’t have electricity. What can you do then? If someone can answer that, I will be very grateful, because so far, I have no good ideas. It can get very lonely very fast here. Especially if you are stuck cooking your supper or washing yourself in the dark. At 5:45, you will notice there is a little bit less light. So, from 5:45 to 6:30, I usually have a race against time to get myself set up for bed. If I do not to take care and prepare for this, I will be stuck stumbling in the dark trying to get organized. After the craziness, I usually end lying in my bed. How can you fall asleep at 6:30? So usually I am left wondering and worrying. Thinking about how much it sucks here. Thinking about how much I miss home. I know it is unhealthy, but very often I think about all the great things I will do when I get home. I want to go to a restaurant, I want to play basketball, I want to get ice cream, I want to see this, to do that, I want to hang out with this person, etc. I know I can’t keep doing that. I have over 5 months left! I have to find more things here that make me happy. I guess that will come with time. But for now, I can say that being alone in my village is tough.
mercredi 19 septembre 2007
September 14th : End of training : Boredom, Bleeding Leg, Big Meeting
September 14th : End of training : Boredom, Bleeding Leg, Big Meeting
“Can’t stand ya”
If you watch the TV show Seinfeld, you will remember when George Castanza was bullied, and that other kids would call him “Can’t stand ya” instead of Castanza. Well, seeing the same people for two weeks straight, everyday, all the time, I think “can’t stand ya” is appropriate. Maybe I am just speaking for myself, but enough is enough.. Besides the VSO volunteers being fed up with seeing each other, the training is becoming painful. Some training sessions are borderline useless, so waking up for them doesn’t seem worth it. Personally, I am looking forward to getting to work in my village. Anyways, the training is almost over! Pretty soon, VSO will cut the umbilical cord and I will be free!
Injury
How embarrassing…I fell into something called a ”canivaux”, a sewer on the side of the street. About two and half feet deep and one and half foot wide, these sewage corridors pick up excess water from the rain. Cameroonians also find them convenient for throwing away their garbage. I don’t know if I mentioned earlier, but garbage is everywhere here. In the canivaux, in the streets, in the fields, everywhere. You can imagine how dirty this makes everything seem. Anyways, late at night, I accidentally walked right into one of the sewage corridors. Consequently, I slit open my big toe and cut up my left chin. I am sure you already figure that getting injured in another country is a bad idea. Getting an open wound is probably worse. Dipping a bleeding wound into a sewage corridor filled with brown water and garbage? Now you’re asking for trouble. I walked home, my feet wet with sewage and gashes bleeding, wondering what kind of dirty bacteria was currently entering my body.
When I got back to the mission, I got someone to clean it up. Soap and water, polysporin, alcohol, the whole thing. I had to bite into a towel while they poured alcohol on my toe. Better this pain now than an infection later.
Obviously, I survived the small incident with no significant viral infections.
Big Meeting
Today I met the Mayor and the Inspecteur of Roua-Soulédé, which is the region where I will live. The Inspecteur will be my number 1 man for the next 5 months, so it was an important day. He is an imposing man. He stands about 6-4, and is probably over 230 pounds. He commands respect. He speaks his mind at meetings. He looks like he knows what is going on. Overall, I got a good first impression from him.
After I spoke with the Inspecteur and the Mayor alone, we joined a larger group of all the VSO education development advisors (our job titles). They were accompanied by their respectful Mayors and Inspecteurs. This meeting was pretty chaotic, long, and heated. This is what student politics and the fraternity prepared me for! This is my element. While other volunteers felt intimated and confused about what was going on, I feel like it is Sunday night with the Sammies.
After the meeting, the Inspecteur offered to drive us immediately to our villages. We were not prepared for that, so we opted to leave Saturday morning at 6:45am. We went out at night, as we were kind of celebrating my birthday, so I only got to bed at 3:00am (after packing). The next morning was rough, as we headed out to the bus station very early. We experienced “Africa time” that morning, as the 7:00am bus only left at 9:30am.
More updates to come very soon…
“Can’t stand ya”
If you watch the TV show Seinfeld, you will remember when George Castanza was bullied, and that other kids would call him “Can’t stand ya” instead of Castanza. Well, seeing the same people for two weeks straight, everyday, all the time, I think “can’t stand ya” is appropriate. Maybe I am just speaking for myself, but enough is enough.. Besides the VSO volunteers being fed up with seeing each other, the training is becoming painful. Some training sessions are borderline useless, so waking up for them doesn’t seem worth it. Personally, I am looking forward to getting to work in my village. Anyways, the training is almost over! Pretty soon, VSO will cut the umbilical cord and I will be free!
Injury
How embarrassing…I fell into something called a ”canivaux”, a sewer on the side of the street. About two and half feet deep and one and half foot wide, these sewage corridors pick up excess water from the rain. Cameroonians also find them convenient for throwing away their garbage. I don’t know if I mentioned earlier, but garbage is everywhere here. In the canivaux, in the streets, in the fields, everywhere. You can imagine how dirty this makes everything seem. Anyways, late at night, I accidentally walked right into one of the sewage corridors. Consequently, I slit open my big toe and cut up my left chin. I am sure you already figure that getting injured in another country is a bad idea. Getting an open wound is probably worse. Dipping a bleeding wound into a sewage corridor filled with brown water and garbage? Now you’re asking for trouble. I walked home, my feet wet with sewage and gashes bleeding, wondering what kind of dirty bacteria was currently entering my body.
When I got back to the mission, I got someone to clean it up. Soap and water, polysporin, alcohol, the whole thing. I had to bite into a towel while they poured alcohol on my toe. Better this pain now than an infection later.
Obviously, I survived the small incident with no significant viral infections.
Big Meeting
Today I met the Mayor and the Inspecteur of Roua-Soulédé, which is the region where I will live. The Inspecteur will be my number 1 man for the next 5 months, so it was an important day. He is an imposing man. He stands about 6-4, and is probably over 230 pounds. He commands respect. He speaks his mind at meetings. He looks like he knows what is going on. Overall, I got a good first impression from him.
After I spoke with the Inspecteur and the Mayor alone, we joined a larger group of all the VSO education development advisors (our job titles). They were accompanied by their respectful Mayors and Inspecteurs. This meeting was pretty chaotic, long, and heated. This is what student politics and the fraternity prepared me for! This is my element. While other volunteers felt intimated and confused about what was going on, I feel like it is Sunday night with the Sammies.
After the meeting, the Inspecteur offered to drive us immediately to our villages. We were not prepared for that, so we opted to leave Saturday morning at 6:45am. We went out at night, as we were kind of celebrating my birthday, so I only got to bed at 3:00am (after packing). The next morning was rough, as we headed out to the bus station very early. We experienced “Africa time” that morning, as the 7:00am bus only left at 9:30am.
More updates to come very soon…
mardi 11 septembre 2007
September 9th: Living in Maroua
September 9th: Living in Maroua
The streets of Maroua
Hard to describe, but they make quite an impression on you. The infrastructure is very different than anything I have ever seen. Take a look at my facebook pictures for an idea. There is a lot of garbage around. A lot. Nothing is clean like back home. The cleanest store here would be one the dirtiest back home. Also, you have to negotiation 80% of the stuff here. The person gives you a price (usually 5 to 10 times the normal price), and you bargain down from there. I find it draining, but I guess I will adjust.
Nasara
I am white! Look at me I am white! Either I am wearing a shirt that says that, or people in Maroua are just not used to seeing white people. I have been told that the latter explanation is more likely. Have you ever felt that you were perceived only by your skin’s color? Well that is how it is here, and people aren’t afraid to tell you! It’s tough enough being in a foreign country for the first time; you are already an outsider. But when people hiss and shout at you everywhere you go, it can be intimidating. And humbling at the same time. Visual minorities in Canada must feel ostracized when they are the only ones amongst a crowd of white people. I think getting yelled at will take some getting used to.
Fufuldé
I got my first lesson in the local language today. Hopefully in a few months I can send some video of me speaking it with someone. It’s pretty cool.
Friends
I have been hanging a lot with the guys here. Out of 15 new volunteers, we are only 3 guys. Hugo is a new volunteer like I am, and we share a room at the mission. He has a dual citizenship with France and Canada. I enjoy his company because he is a “do-er”, and so am I. We are not content just sitting around. We find things to do, people to talk to, projects to undertake, etc. We make the most of the moment. Then there is Ed, a returning volunteer. Ed is from the UK. I like to laugh with Ed and make fun of this whole process. Ed doesn’t take everything as seriously as everyone else, so I have enjoyed making jokes with him and Hugo. Sam, another returning volunteer, is also from the UK, and also joins in on the laughs. If it wasn’t for these guys being here, I would be having a tough time.
Basketball
I brought a basketball and soccer ball with me on my trip. I got my basketball pumped today, so I am pretty excited about playing here. People who see me in the streets yell out “Jordan!”, but only after they yell out “Nasara!”
The streets of Maroua
Hard to describe, but they make quite an impression on you. The infrastructure is very different than anything I have ever seen. Take a look at my facebook pictures for an idea. There is a lot of garbage around. A lot. Nothing is clean like back home. The cleanest store here would be one the dirtiest back home. Also, you have to negotiation 80% of the stuff here. The person gives you a price (usually 5 to 10 times the normal price), and you bargain down from there. I find it draining, but I guess I will adjust.
Nasara
I am white! Look at me I am white! Either I am wearing a shirt that says that, or people in Maroua are just not used to seeing white people. I have been told that the latter explanation is more likely. Have you ever felt that you were perceived only by your skin’s color? Well that is how it is here, and people aren’t afraid to tell you! It’s tough enough being in a foreign country for the first time; you are already an outsider. But when people hiss and shout at you everywhere you go, it can be intimidating. And humbling at the same time. Visual minorities in Canada must feel ostracized when they are the only ones amongst a crowd of white people. I think getting yelled at will take some getting used to.
Fufuldé
I got my first lesson in the local language today. Hopefully in a few months I can send some video of me speaking it with someone. It’s pretty cool.
Friends
I have been hanging a lot with the guys here. Out of 15 new volunteers, we are only 3 guys. Hugo is a new volunteer like I am, and we share a room at the mission. He has a dual citizenship with France and Canada. I enjoy his company because he is a “do-er”, and so am I. We are not content just sitting around. We find things to do, people to talk to, projects to undertake, etc. We make the most of the moment. Then there is Ed, a returning volunteer. Ed is from the UK. I like to laugh with Ed and make fun of this whole process. Ed doesn’t take everything as seriously as everyone else, so I have enjoyed making jokes with him and Hugo. Sam, another returning volunteer, is also from the UK, and also joins in on the laughs. If it wasn’t for these guys being here, I would be having a tough time.
Basketball
I brought a basketball and soccer ball with me on my trip. I got my basketball pumped today, so I am pretty excited about playing here. People who see me in the streets yell out “Jordan!”, but only after they yell out “Nasara!”
September 8th: Road Trip, Cameroon style
September 8th: Road Trip, Cameroon style
Train
It was crazier than I thought it would be. We started our journey at 6pm, and it ended at 9pm the next day. The first step was the train. To get our tickets, we had to send a VSO worker 4 hours early to the station. For some reason, you can’t simply reserve tickets and buy them here. Everything has to be more complicated and chaotic. Once he got us tickets, getting through the train station was difficult too. Everyone shouts “nasara” at us, which means “white person” in fulfuldé, a popular local language. In the station, we saw someone chasing down a kid to hit him. Perhaps it was because the child was trying to steal. Also, many people rush to get your luggage. Some are designated porters; others might run off with it. Once in the train, it wasn’t that bad. We travelled “first class” and had access to a “couchette.” First class means different things in Canada and in Cameroon. We shared a room for four, and its walls were very filthy. The toilet led to a hole at the bottom of train.
To make the 13 hours pass by faster, I watched movies and made some interviews with other volunteers. We stopped about 15 times on our route. When we did, we got a sad glimpse of how poor people in the suburbs. At all hours of the night, dozens of people would run around the stopped train carts trying to sell local produce. I bought some bananas. I can still here some of them desperately calling out: “Banane-Banane” or “Prunet-Prunet.” The kids ran around and yelled for our empty bottles. I gave my bottle, and two kids fought over it. Afterward the selling was over, I chased a bat out of our cabin. That was cool and scary at the same time.
Bus
When the train stopped at its final destination, panic struck again. We had to rush to get on the first bus out of that small city. Again, we had tickets, but you have to hand them to someone who redistributes to a mob of yelling people. In the meantime, people were coming up to us to shake our hands, say nasara, take our bags, sell us something or beg for money. Theft was more an issue here than anywhere. One girl got her passport and 30000CFA (about 60$) stolen out of her pocket. When we got the tickets, we had to argue to get all of our bags put on board of the bus. When we did, we had to push into the crowd to get in. By the time all that stress was over and the bus was moving forward, we had 8 hours on this sauna of a vehicle to look forward too. One of the volunteers, who might have either malaria or a parasite, was white as a ghost on the bus. We got a doctor to take care of her, and luckily she eventually felt well enough to go on with the trip.
At one point, the road was flooded by about 3 feet of water. The bridge to the right of the road was out of order, so the bus decided to go straight through the water. Lucky for us, it worked, and we didn’t get stuck. Our luggage, which was being carried at the bottom of the bus, got drenched. Another option was to “porter” us across, but that would have been pretty sketchy as well. Max, it was exactly like Oregon Trails. You know what I mean.
We got to our Maroua at about 9pm. We have travelled for more than a day straight. We are staying at a Baptist Mission compound for the week. It’s actually pretty nice, I am enjoying it here.
Train
It was crazier than I thought it would be. We started our journey at 6pm, and it ended at 9pm the next day. The first step was the train. To get our tickets, we had to send a VSO worker 4 hours early to the station. For some reason, you can’t simply reserve tickets and buy them here. Everything has to be more complicated and chaotic. Once he got us tickets, getting through the train station was difficult too. Everyone shouts “nasara” at us, which means “white person” in fulfuldé, a popular local language. In the station, we saw someone chasing down a kid to hit him. Perhaps it was because the child was trying to steal. Also, many people rush to get your luggage. Some are designated porters; others might run off with it. Once in the train, it wasn’t that bad. We travelled “first class” and had access to a “couchette.” First class means different things in Canada and in Cameroon. We shared a room for four, and its walls were very filthy. The toilet led to a hole at the bottom of train.
To make the 13 hours pass by faster, I watched movies and made some interviews with other volunteers. We stopped about 15 times on our route. When we did, we got a sad glimpse of how poor people in the suburbs. At all hours of the night, dozens of people would run around the stopped train carts trying to sell local produce. I bought some bananas. I can still here some of them desperately calling out: “Banane-Banane” or “Prunet-Prunet.” The kids ran around and yelled for our empty bottles. I gave my bottle, and two kids fought over it. Afterward the selling was over, I chased a bat out of our cabin. That was cool and scary at the same time.
Bus
When the train stopped at its final destination, panic struck again. We had to rush to get on the first bus out of that small city. Again, we had tickets, but you have to hand them to someone who redistributes to a mob of yelling people. In the meantime, people were coming up to us to shake our hands, say nasara, take our bags, sell us something or beg for money. Theft was more an issue here than anywhere. One girl got her passport and 30000CFA (about 60$) stolen out of her pocket. When we got the tickets, we had to argue to get all of our bags put on board of the bus. When we did, we had to push into the crowd to get in. By the time all that stress was over and the bus was moving forward, we had 8 hours on this sauna of a vehicle to look forward too. One of the volunteers, who might have either malaria or a parasite, was white as a ghost on the bus. We got a doctor to take care of her, and luckily she eventually felt well enough to go on with the trip.
At one point, the road was flooded by about 3 feet of water. The bridge to the right of the road was out of order, so the bus decided to go straight through the water. Lucky for us, it worked, and we didn’t get stuck. Our luggage, which was being carried at the bottom of the bus, got drenched. Another option was to “porter” us across, but that would have been pretty sketchy as well. Max, it was exactly like Oregon Trails. You know what I mean.
We got to our Maroua at about 9pm. We have travelled for more than a day straight. We are staying at a Baptist Mission compound for the week. It’s actually pretty nice, I am enjoying it here.
vendredi 7 septembre 2007
September 7th: Chaos in the streets and leaving for Maroua
September 7th
Government corruption in the streets
Gendarmerie armed with machine guns, bayonettes and riot masks, CAT tractors, bulldozers, large crowds, people crying, women fainting, people screaming. There was a sense of panic and desperation in the air. The gendarmerie came in, with a cold look in their eyes, and cleared the people who had gathered in the streets. Three yellow CAT bulldozers followed, and began to wreck havoc on an old cement building. When the mechanical shovel made its first dent on the front wall, several people cried out. There were about 300 people gathered in the street to watch the event. I happened to walk by as the crowds began to form; I wanted to see what was going on.
We were about 30 feet from the entrance of my hotel.
I have learned that the government is doing ‘renovations’ on the streets of Yaounde. The owners of the buildings, usually small businesses, are lucky; they get a ‘warning.’ Two days before the business with which they feed their family is bulldozed, a government official spray-paints a large 48 HEURES sign outside.
I had heard that this happens, but I never thought I would see it.
I wanted to get some footage of the calamity, but I knew that it was probably illegal to film government officials while they were working. Especially while they were doing something as controversial as destroying people’s businesses. Also, I didn’t think it was a good time to challenge their unwritten rules while they were carrying machine guns. A French friend of mine, another volunteer from VSO, discreetly held his digital camera at his waist and tried to get a video. We were both too nervous so we switched to plan B. Since my hotel was so close, I went up to my room on the 4th floor. I got out my video camera, hid around the curtains, knelt down and filmed from afar. Even though I was well hidden, I was still afraid of getting caught. I got some good footage, but I am not sure we will be able to use it in the documentary.
Messages
Thank you to all those who have been sending me messages while I am here. It is really encouraging! Even though I don’t have as much time to write, it is nice to check my emails and to see that people back home still care.
Traditional dancing
We went out last night, and got to live something really different. I can’t describe what this place looked like… I will try to post a video! We got to see some traditional dancing which was amazing. A great cultural experience.
The road ahead
Later today, I am taking the train that will take me to Maroua in the North of Cameroon. I have heard so many stories about how this is a crazy trip. The ride is about 24 hours, but only 600 km long. Sometimes, the trail derails, especially during the rainy season (which is now). I think we will be fine, but this type of travel is draining!
Talk to you soon,
JP
Government corruption in the streets
Gendarmerie armed with machine guns, bayonettes and riot masks, CAT tractors, bulldozers, large crowds, people crying, women fainting, people screaming. There was a sense of panic and desperation in the air. The gendarmerie came in, with a cold look in their eyes, and cleared the people who had gathered in the streets. Three yellow CAT bulldozers followed, and began to wreck havoc on an old cement building. When the mechanical shovel made its first dent on the front wall, several people cried out. There were about 300 people gathered in the street to watch the event. I happened to walk by as the crowds began to form; I wanted to see what was going on.
We were about 30 feet from the entrance of my hotel.
I have learned that the government is doing ‘renovations’ on the streets of Yaounde. The owners of the buildings, usually small businesses, are lucky; they get a ‘warning.’ Two days before the business with which they feed their family is bulldozed, a government official spray-paints a large 48 HEURES sign outside.
I had heard that this happens, but I never thought I would see it.
I wanted to get some footage of the calamity, but I knew that it was probably illegal to film government officials while they were working. Especially while they were doing something as controversial as destroying people’s businesses. Also, I didn’t think it was a good time to challenge their unwritten rules while they were carrying machine guns. A French friend of mine, another volunteer from VSO, discreetly held his digital camera at his waist and tried to get a video. We were both too nervous so we switched to plan B. Since my hotel was so close, I went up to my room on the 4th floor. I got out my video camera, hid around the curtains, knelt down and filmed from afar. Even though I was well hidden, I was still afraid of getting caught. I got some good footage, but I am not sure we will be able to use it in the documentary.
Messages
Thank you to all those who have been sending me messages while I am here. It is really encouraging! Even though I don’t have as much time to write, it is nice to check my emails and to see that people back home still care.
Traditional dancing
We went out last night, and got to live something really different. I can’t describe what this place looked like… I will try to post a video! We got to see some traditional dancing which was amazing. A great cultural experience.
The road ahead
Later today, I am taking the train that will take me to Maroua in the North of Cameroon. I have heard so many stories about how this is a crazy trip. The ride is about 24 hours, but only 600 km long. Sometimes, the trail derails, especially during the rainy season (which is now). I think we will be fine, but this type of travel is draining!
Talk to you soon,
JP
mercredi 5 septembre 2007
September 5th
Canadian Embassy
I met the high commissioner who represents Canada in Cameroon. It was kind of exciting; I got to sign in a registry that has existed since 1991. There are very few signatures! It could be because not many Canadians have visited Cameroon, or because not many people bothered coming to sign the book. In the case of political conflict, civil unrest or other dangerous circumstances, this office is responsible for getting me back home.
Comfort
I am starting to become more comfortable in the city. I don’t care as much that everyone stares at me wherever I go. These are not the people that I will form relationships with anyways. Bargaining with street vendors is not as much of pain anymore.
Contribution
Throughout the training, I have had highs and lows in relation to how I feel about my potential contribution during my placement. Sometimes I feel that corruption in the government is the real issue, and that my work will only make a small ripple on the ocean of problems that plague Cameroon. At other times, I feel like I have the potential to really improve the education system in my village.
Electricity
Electrical outlets are different here than in North America. I have had to buy converters and adapters, and it has been very complicated. For example, some electronics need a certain voltage range. Also, some adapters only work in certain outlets. Because of these complications, I have not been able to recharge the batteries for my camera yet. This is why I haven’t sent too many pictures!
Team
The VSO volunteers have started to bond more and more. We hang out, have dinner, share some laughs. It will be tough to say goodbye to everyone when I leave alone for my isolated village up north.
Motivation
The word motivation here also means financial compensation for work! It is a funny interpretation of the word that says a lot about the power of money.
In general, I am doing fine, and am happier that I was when we first got here. I am starting to get grounded, but that will change once we leave on Friday for Maroua.
Canadian Embassy
I met the high commissioner who represents Canada in Cameroon. It was kind of exciting; I got to sign in a registry that has existed since 1991. There are very few signatures! It could be because not many Canadians have visited Cameroon, or because not many people bothered coming to sign the book. In the case of political conflict, civil unrest or other dangerous circumstances, this office is responsible for getting me back home.
Comfort
I am starting to become more comfortable in the city. I don’t care as much that everyone stares at me wherever I go. These are not the people that I will form relationships with anyways. Bargaining with street vendors is not as much of pain anymore.
Contribution
Throughout the training, I have had highs and lows in relation to how I feel about my potential contribution during my placement. Sometimes I feel that corruption in the government is the real issue, and that my work will only make a small ripple on the ocean of problems that plague Cameroon. At other times, I feel like I have the potential to really improve the education system in my village.
Electricity
Electrical outlets are different here than in North America. I have had to buy converters and adapters, and it has been very complicated. For example, some electronics need a certain voltage range. Also, some adapters only work in certain outlets. Because of these complications, I have not been able to recharge the batteries for my camera yet. This is why I haven’t sent too many pictures!
Team
The VSO volunteers have started to bond more and more. We hang out, have dinner, share some laughs. It will be tough to say goodbye to everyone when I leave alone for my isolated village up north.
Motivation
The word motivation here also means financial compensation for work! It is a funny interpretation of the word that says a lot about the power of money.
In general, I am doing fine, and am happier that I was when we first got here. I am starting to get grounded, but that will change once we leave on Friday for Maroua.
lundi 3 septembre 2007
September 3rd: Getting adjusted (?)
September 3rd
Getting adjusted (?)
Coworkers
I have met almost all of the VSO staff today. VSO hires both Cameroonian staff and staff from outside the country. They have been great at helping us get adjusted.
Cell phone
I bought a cell phone today for about 50$ CAN. I had to negotiate with a street vendor to get that price. Here, most prices are negotiated.
If you want to call me, you should buy an international calling card at a corner store. Make sure Cameroon is on it. I bet you can buy it at different increments (5$, 10$ or 20$). I am not sure how many minutes that will give you.
Here is what you have to dial (you can do this from a home phone too, but it might be expensive):
1. Dial 0 11 (to make an international call)
2. Dial 237 (that is the country code for Cameroon)
3. Dial 77 40 39 27 (that is my cell phone number for now)
In summary, dial the following number: 0 11 237 77 40 39 27.
By the way, if you call me, the call is free for me!
I think I can also do text messages. Those are cheap for me, and I assume they are just as cheap for you.
Money
One Canadian dollar equals roughly 500 CFA (the current unit here in Cameroon).
This means that I paid 25 000 CFA for my cell phone (50$CAN), 100 CFA for my bread this morning (0,20$CAN), etc.
VSO has given us some money for meals and communications.
Taxi
Getting a taxi in Yaounde is very different that in North America. Basically, you stand on the side of the street and shout out your destination to taxis passing by. If he is heading that way, he will pick you up. Taxis pick up several different people on their trips. We took taxis a few times, and had to shout from the side of the street. It was pretty cool.
Poverty
Even though I knew what I was getting into because of research and training, I didn’t expect the capital city of Cameroon to be this poor. I thought I mostly see this in my village in the North. Unfortunately, a lot of people here live on very little. The disparity between the handful of huge government buildings and the homes, shacks and stores down the street is difficult to stomach. I included some pictures, but they do not explain the sheer amount of people living like this. It is incredible. I do not have many comments to make about it as of yet. I am really trying to absorb my surroundings for the moment.
Thank you
Thanks to those who helped me fundraise almost 500$ at my going away party. It was great to see you all, and we managed to collect funds that will help in my placement. Thank you to all of those who sent good wishes by email and through Facebook. I appreciate it! Also, for those who asked about online donations, I should be able to up an online function on the VSO website soon. Thank you in advance!
A bientôt, JP
Getting adjusted (?)
Coworkers
I have met almost all of the VSO staff today. VSO hires both Cameroonian staff and staff from outside the country. They have been great at helping us get adjusted.
Cell phone
I bought a cell phone today for about 50$ CAN. I had to negotiate with a street vendor to get that price. Here, most prices are negotiated.
If you want to call me, you should buy an international calling card at a corner store. Make sure Cameroon is on it. I bet you can buy it at different increments (5$, 10$ or 20$). I am not sure how many minutes that will give you.
Here is what you have to dial (you can do this from a home phone too, but it might be expensive):
1. Dial 0 11 (to make an international call)
2. Dial 237 (that is the country code for Cameroon)
3. Dial 77 40 39 27 (that is my cell phone number for now)
In summary, dial the following number: 0 11 237 77 40 39 27.
By the way, if you call me, the call is free for me!
I think I can also do text messages. Those are cheap for me, and I assume they are just as cheap for you.
Money
One Canadian dollar equals roughly 500 CFA (the current unit here in Cameroon).
This means that I paid 25 000 CFA for my cell phone (50$CAN), 100 CFA for my bread this morning (0,20$CAN), etc.
VSO has given us some money for meals and communications.
Taxi
Getting a taxi in Yaounde is very different that in North America. Basically, you stand on the side of the street and shout out your destination to taxis passing by. If he is heading that way, he will pick you up. Taxis pick up several different people on their trips. We took taxis a few times, and had to shout from the side of the street. It was pretty cool.
Poverty
Even though I knew what I was getting into because of research and training, I didn’t expect the capital city of Cameroon to be this poor. I thought I mostly see this in my village in the North. Unfortunately, a lot of people here live on very little. The disparity between the handful of huge government buildings and the homes, shacks and stores down the street is difficult to stomach. I included some pictures, but they do not explain the sheer amount of people living like this. It is incredible. I do not have many comments to make about it as of yet. I am really trying to absorb my surroundings for the moment.
Thank you
Thanks to those who helped me fundraise almost 500$ at my going away party. It was great to see you all, and we managed to collect funds that will help in my placement. Thank you to all of those who sent good wishes by email and through Facebook. I appreciate it! Also, for those who asked about online donations, I should be able to up an online function on the VSO website soon. Thank you in advance!
A bientôt, JP
September 1st: The adventure beings
September 1st
The adventure begins…
I am doing one week of training in Yaounde, the capital of Cameroon. Later in September, I will be heading to Maroua, one of the bigger towns in the Far North Province. At the end of the month, I should be settled in my village, Soulédé, which you won’t find on a map.
For now, I am using an internet café on a busy street of Yaounde.
Packing
I started packing for my trip about an hour before I had to leave for the airport. It was a little ridiculous. As some of you know, I had two classes to finish before I left. I took my last exam on Wednesday, and left on Friday. My studying left me little time for preparations and packing. Good thing I got a lot of help from my sister. Sarah taped the whole ordeal. Imagine packing for 6 months in about 45 minutes!
The Trip
I decided Sarah would come to the airport with me after all. I gave her going away presents in the van on the way over. It was really hard to say goodbye to her.
I had quite the trip today. If you count the travel time from my house to this hotel, I have been travelling for 24 hours.
Leg 1: Ottawa to Montreal (35 mins)
Wait 3 hours
Leg 2: Montreal to Paris (6 hours)
Wait 5 hours
Leg 3: Paris to Yaounde (8 hours)
Drive to Hotel, 1 hour
On the first flight I felt sad and missed home a lot. I felt like leaving for 6 months was something pretty serious… Air France fed us well though, and we got to watch movies on a personalized screen (my last dose of luxury!). On the second flight I started to look forward to seeing the country.
Arrival in Cameroon
By the time we got to Cameroon, we were all exhausted. We landed in Yaounde (the capital of Cameroon). VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas) staff came to pick us up at the airport. We were swarmed with other people offering “help” with our bags, but they really wanted money. They were persistent.
The drive from the airport was interesting. I saw a lot of run-down houses and little shops that would qualify as “sketchy” by Canadian standards. I would like to send more pictures, but you can imagine that it is rude to take pictures of strangers.
There were a lot of people walking the side of the roads (not many sidewalks), and I found that they were dressed pretty nice. I saw a woman and several men peeing in the tall grass on the side of the road.
Driving
The driving here makes people in Montreal look like angels. It was out of control! I saw a motorcycle drive head on towards a car and then swerve in a ditch, nearly missing the people on the side of the road. There are no traffic lights, or stop signs. There are no lanes. People honk before passing. That is about the only “rule.”
Hotel
I am very happy with the hotel we got; it is nice. I included a picture of my bed. However, if this hotel existed in Canada, it would not be very busy! We are all grateful to have it here, though.
A bientôt,
JP
The adventure begins…
I am doing one week of training in Yaounde, the capital of Cameroon. Later in September, I will be heading to Maroua, one of the bigger towns in the Far North Province. At the end of the month, I should be settled in my village, Soulédé, which you won’t find on a map.
For now, I am using an internet café on a busy street of Yaounde.
Packing
I started packing for my trip about an hour before I had to leave for the airport. It was a little ridiculous. As some of you know, I had two classes to finish before I left. I took my last exam on Wednesday, and left on Friday. My studying left me little time for preparations and packing. Good thing I got a lot of help from my sister. Sarah taped the whole ordeal. Imagine packing for 6 months in about 45 minutes!
The Trip
I decided Sarah would come to the airport with me after all. I gave her going away presents in the van on the way over. It was really hard to say goodbye to her.
I had quite the trip today. If you count the travel time from my house to this hotel, I have been travelling for 24 hours.
Leg 1: Ottawa to Montreal (35 mins)
Wait 3 hours
Leg 2: Montreal to Paris (6 hours)
Wait 5 hours
Leg 3: Paris to Yaounde (8 hours)
Drive to Hotel, 1 hour
On the first flight I felt sad and missed home a lot. I felt like leaving for 6 months was something pretty serious… Air France fed us well though, and we got to watch movies on a personalized screen (my last dose of luxury!). On the second flight I started to look forward to seeing the country.
Arrival in Cameroon
By the time we got to Cameroon, we were all exhausted. We landed in Yaounde (the capital of Cameroon). VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas) staff came to pick us up at the airport. We were swarmed with other people offering “help” with our bags, but they really wanted money. They were persistent.
The drive from the airport was interesting. I saw a lot of run-down houses and little shops that would qualify as “sketchy” by Canadian standards. I would like to send more pictures, but you can imagine that it is rude to take pictures of strangers.
There were a lot of people walking the side of the roads (not many sidewalks), and I found that they were dressed pretty nice. I saw a woman and several men peeing in the tall grass on the side of the road.
Driving
The driving here makes people in Montreal look like angels. It was out of control! I saw a motorcycle drive head on towards a car and then swerve in a ditch, nearly missing the people on the side of the road. There are no traffic lights, or stop signs. There are no lanes. People honk before passing. That is about the only “rule.”
Hotel
I am very happy with the hotel we got; it is nice. I included a picture of my bed. However, if this hotel existed in Canada, it would not be very busy! We are all grateful to have it here, though.
A bientôt,
JP
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