December 2007

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. :-)