kar0ling

Cameroon is often called “Africa in Miniature” because within its borders are found nearly all the major ecosystems of the continent: coast, rainforest, grasslands, and Sahel (pre-Sahara arid zone). I used to chuckle that the name of the northernmost province of Cameroon is “Far North Province” (in French “Extreme Nord”), but having been there I’m no longer laughing. It truly feels like a different country. To get from Bamenda in the west to Maroua in the north, we had to go to Yaoundé in the south to take the train through the night across the Adamawa plain. The night train takes 16 hours to slowly traverse the approximately 300 miles from Yaoundé to N’Gaoundéré. Having slept through the transition zone, as it were, N’Gaoundéré was our gateway to the north, the portal to the new world of “North” opening up before us. Climate & Topography As our bus jounced and jostled even farther north toward Maroua, we could see we were no longer in the familiar rainforests of the south. Not onl...

Being prepared for the worst case scenario turned out well for me: I was prepared for a long and torturous day as a bridesmaid for a woman I don’t even know. It was certainly long—almost 12 hours—but having psyched myself up for one day long of awkwardness, I was *almost* able to enjoy myself. When my alarm went off shortly after 5 in the morning, my sleep-befuddled brain was hard pressed to figure out why there was beeping in the darkness. But in order to be well-fed (in anticipation of eating lunch around 4 p.m.), prettied up, and in the truck, ready to go, at 6:00, I had to rise with the roosters. Actually, it was kind of neat to be awake as the sky lightened. By the time we’d gotten Dan trundled into the truck and were on our way out of the village, it was almost full daylight. The groom had originally wanted both vehicles to come to Kumba at 7:00 in the morning to pick up the wedding party, then process (that’s a verb, with stress on the second syllable, meaning “to move as a proc...

Well, karoling is no longer in Cameroon but she's still got a few stories to tell. Over the next few weeks I hope to finish up all the loose threads of ideas I had floating around for blog posts, so you can expect to hear a bit more about Cameroon, despite my once again Canadian context. I'll apologize now that they'll be more out of order than ever chronologically. Here's something that keeps striking me about life in Canada: It’s a bizarre thing to be so very excited about, I know, but I am very happy that I can now cross my legs with impunity. No looking surreptitiously around to make sure there is no one to offend, no half crossing then catching myself and uncrossing for hours on end as I sit through an interminable event without the relief of stretching different back and butt muscles.

Men in toques, this time. Some of the higher chiefs wear knit caps which appear more distinguished to me, but at the Oroko Language Development Committee’s annual general assembly, I once again noted many people in toques. Chief Esoh and another higher-up wear a thick-woven black one, but I noticed many men in woollen green or red ones; pulling off with great dignity a headpiece that seems grossly out of place to me. This refrain is probably beginning to grow old. The event was supposed to start around 8:30 or 9. It actually started at 11:15 with much preamble before we even got down to business. Joe started by announcing he was “elated to report on….” with the kind of enthusiasm showing in his voice that you’d expect from such an announcement. Initially, the 3 choirs appeared to comprise ¾ of the crowd, but as the day wore on (and it certainly did wear on me), the church in Ekombe Bonji grew fuller and fuller. No event is complete without a screeching sound system. There is constant f...

How would you like to say you graduated from BUST? No joke; the acronym for Bamenda University of Science and Technology is BUST. Another of my favourite acronyms, one which shows great marketing sense, is the First Investment for Financial Assistance bank: FIFFA. In a country obsessed with football (soccer), who wouldn’t want to leave their money with a bank sharing the acronym of the world football association! Many Cameroonian acronyms are not letter for letter, however; many take more letters to make interesting words. Some examples: FuGoSec: Full Gospel Secondary School FINI Hotel: First International Inn SeHeCo: Women’s Self Help Cooperative MoHerb: Modern Herb Pharmacy SOACAM: Societe Alimentaire de Cameroon FINUTRASU: Fako Inter-Urban Transporters Union Cofinest: Communautaire Financier de l’Estuaire And then there’s the abbreviations of missionary life in Cameroon. I suppose they abound in any organization, but it’s fun to see how many you can string together and still be cohe...

I know it’s normal for Cameroonian men to hold hands as a gesture of friendship, so for the most part it’s not jarring when I see it happen. But there’s just something about two men working security, attired in official uniforms…..holding hands. Hard to take them seriously after that.

Waiting at the Chief’s house to give him our greetings and tell him of our presence (for that OLDC meeting that never happened back in April), Lisa and I were able to unobtrusively observe proceedings on the porch as guests moved in and out of the house. It was some kind of cultural gathering featuring a women’s group of some sort of cultural leaders. You could tell which women were part of the deal because they were draped in swaths of cloth—like toga, and knit caps—like toques!

A business in 3 Corners Bekondo: Doctor of Engines: Chainsaw, motorcycle On a truck: Don One [the fun thing about this one is trying to guess what this moniker might mean. Is the truck named “Don Juan”? Is it “done won”, i.e. Pidgin for “I have won”? or is it something else entirely?] On the menu at Handicraft Restaurant in Bamenda: Bonne Appetit Scrabble eggs Marshed potatoes Avocardo bread Roadside sign in Bamenda: Church of Christ Service Center (my question is whether the service centre is part of the church or completely unrelated but sharing the same sign. I suspect the former, but it’s amusing to consider the latter.) Businesses in Bamenda: Never Mind Cold Store Second Hand Tenis Shop [This is a shoe store] World Trade Center [A store selling appliances, as best I could tell] Confidence Man: Provisions/Cold Store Business in Santa: Titanic Photo Business in Yaounde: God’s Bussiness Centre Packaging on small-serving cookie packets: Parle-G: “World’s Largest Selling Biscuit” A bri...

I persevered last night, and opened my first coconut. Dan handed me the nut and a hammer and told me to start in on it. He suggested I toss it up slightly with each blow so as not to end up with a bruised hand at the end, but that was simply not possible given my level of coordination. My hand survived, and even my thumbs escaped the experience unscathed. The coconut, however, did not survive. After much pounding, it eventually yielded to my persistence. The floor was littered with bits of shell and tiny shreds of coconut.

In all fairness, I should admit that most of the goats are tied up, but given how many goats there are in the village, the handful that end up on the loose make an impression. Invariably these fugitive goats drag their tie rope behind them. One day I took a close look at a tied goat and realized why the former exist: he was tied to a tuft of grass. The goat. The grass.

I hate goodbyes. It’s best to pretend I’ll see them all tomorrow again, and in fact, that’s probably why my goodbye to the Scott family was so easy when they drove off today, to remain out of the village until after I leave. It hasn’t sunk in yet that I won’t see them tomorrow, or possibly ever, again.

Or, more accurately, rain in the window. The precipitation was a fine mist, so it did not make the usual racket on the zinc. However, the wind drove it through the window, soaking three feet of floor the width of the window.

Because the small drainage trench is about a foot from the house, the ladder Dan was standing on to reach the roof was nearly vertical. So it’s no big surprise that at some point in the operation, the ladder began to tip backwards. Dan grabbed onto something solid to check his fall: the house. He should have known better. Normally you can’t easily drive nails into concrete walls to hang pictures, but in Cameroon, that is the case. Normally, grabbing onto a concrete wall would be a good choice, but in Cameroon, you may just come away with a hunk of cement in your hand. As Dan discovered. The problem is that sand is much cheaper than cement. Why use all that expensive cement powder when you can make it stretch by adding more sand? (I understand his bewilderment. Normally trees are good things to grab onto to keep from falling, too.) ** No missionaries were hurt in the making of this blog.