Bridget, Eileen, Thom and I landed in Yaounde and were met with a real sight for sore eyes... our Brian and Jessie. I can't explain how good it was to actually get my hands on them after nine long months. I threatened not to let go this time! Their good friend Abdul made the trip from Tibati with them and we could see right away why they've become so close; he's a real friendly, upbeat guy who's always happy to help out.
We spent three nights in Yaounde, Cameroon's capitol city. I wanted to acclimate to the changes slowly! While inside the hotel life seemed not that much different to us, venturing out the first morning was like being shot out of a cannon. The heat, the noise and the general clamor were a bit overwhelming. Jessie took the girls and I to an open-air market to look for a soccer ball. It seemed that word got around instantly and every guy in Yaounde with a soccer ball descended on us! For some reason (maybe it was the addled look on our faces) they ignored Bridget, Eileen and I but they surrounded Jessie.
(Time out for a word about Jessie in markets: her French is excellent and it seems she's fluent enough to tell the vendors how absolutely ridiculous they and their prices are! She's tough! It is truly a sight to behold to watch her haggling.) That day, however, we left without a soccer ball. Maybe she gave up when she saw that her mother-in-law was becoming one big sweat stain and needed a fix of air conditioning. Although we didn't see a thermometer, the kids estimated that it was in the high 80s. They are very poor judges of heat. I think it was at least 120. Those of you who know me know that my only worry about visiting Africa was my general heat intolerance. Bugs? Bring 'em on! Wild animals? Please, I've raised four kids. Disease? I know a good doctor. But temperatures above my preferred mid-70s are really a challenge for me.
After our adjustment time in Yaounde, we were in for a real treat when we boarded the legendary Yaounde-Tibati train at 7 o'clock on a Sunday evening. The only train line in Cameroon, the system was started by the Germans in the late 19th Century when they "settled" Cameroon. I think the only thing they settled was the fact that Cameroon indeed had the natural resources Germany wanted. Anyway, the train itself seems to be from about the 1950's and reminded me a lot of the Darjeeling Limited, minus the sweet lime. We had two sleeping compartments, side-by-side, each with two sets of bunks. and they were really pretty comfy. As the train started its slow progress out of town, we all stood at the windows and watched: the amazing greenery, the little shanty villages settled right up to the tracks and their inhabitants, very young to very old, all come out to watch the train go by. Lots of the kids waved as we went by and called out "Nassara!" to us white folks. It was fun waving back and especially waving first to the shy ones whose faces would light up and they'd wave back. We even had "Obama!" called out to us once and we waved back extra hard then. (We decided it's nice to feel proud again!)
(everybody loves him)
At one point I looked at all my kids watching out the window and it reminded me of why I had them in the first place: no matter how old they are its so wonderful to see them discovering new things, and its even more wonderful to share those things with them.
After a few hours, a few visits from the dining car lady bringing us food (mmm... pili-pili, something spicy wrapped in pie crust that had to be made from lard, it was so good!) and a lot of laughing, it was time for lights out. The train makes several stops along the way and at each one, people are waiting to sell things to you. They walk alongside the train with their wares on top of their heads, calling up to the passengers. If you're interested you go to the window, make your selection and pay, all through the window. You can buy fruits and vegetables, sacks to put them in, water, honey and hard-boiled eggs, among other items like shoes! These vendors are at every stop throughout the night, and you hear their calls in your sleep.
(sleeper cars on the train)
The train lived up to its reputation, however, when it stopped at about 4 am and stayed stopped for about two hours. I woke up a few times during those two hours, hearing the same odd bird burbling outside each time. (At least I think it was a bird.) And then it started to rain. Can trains get stuck in the mud? What just buzzed past my ear? Did I remember to take my malaria medicine? You wonder these things in the middle of the night. In the middle of the jungle. The bad thing was the train being delayed for two hours; the good thing was at least it actually stayed on the track.
As fun as that all was, it was great to arrive in Tibati, Brian and Jessie's home. We were greeted by Barbe and Zuma, their dogs, who raced alongside the car as we pulled up the road. We soon realized we were being watched as curious neighborhood boys started showing up to see the new nassara. We rarely saw any little girls, though, as they are always at home helping their mothers, and don't get time to play. The boys, like the men, seem to have plenty of time to kill. Our final welcome to Tibati came from Mambo the cat, expectant mother. Mambo is really more like a dog; she comes when she's called, loves to sit on your lap and demands attention. She really took to Thom, who now wants one of her kittens. I'm not sure how Pepper will feel about this though.
(zuma does porch patrol)
Living with Brian and Jessie presents a series of challenges, none of which have to do with them personally. (I've reconciled myself to those challenges by now.) The first challenge is dealing without running water. There's a large barrel outside that catches rain water and is topped off with well water by Mandela, one of their young helpers. When you need to use the toilet (at least there is one, as opposed to a hole in the floor like their home stay during training.) you grab the bucket and fill it from the rain barrel, bring it into the house, through the living room and into the bathroom. Shower time is similar: grab the bucket and head to the bathroom, where there is a drain in the floor. Jessie offered to heat a couple of pans of water to add to the bucket, but here's the deal: being outside in that heat, the water is plenty warm. And, you're so hot that hot water is the last thing you want to be pouring over yourself. The next challenge is the heat. No kidding. The farther north you go, the closer you get to the Sahara desert.
(jessie doing laundry)
(eileen on her way to bathroom)
One of the highlights of visiting Tibati was the audience we were granted with the Lamido. Each district has its own Lamido, local royalty of sorts. Each Lamido is descended from the first Lamido, from the 17th century or thereabouts. In the old days, the Lamido was boss. He made the rules and governed his village, and settled disputes. Now local governments are appointed by the central government, but the Lamido is still supported by the people. They pay him now to settle their disputes and use his influence. But he is still treated as royalty. We were ushered into the Lamidat, the Lamido's compound, after having to remove our shoes (and socks... this is the first time we've seen Thom's feet since he was three.) Abdul accompanied us and wore his traditional Muslim bubu as a sign of respect. (He looked very handsome.) Visitors sit on couches to await the Lamido in his reception "hut," but villagers sit on the floor, and that included Brian and Jessie, because they are considered part of the village now and are well known to the Lamido. We could tell when he was approaching, as the drummers who accompany him got louder and louder. The guy was really pretty regal and very gracious. We gave him a book of pictures of NY State as a gift, which he seemed to appreciate. Jim thought we should have given him a cowboy hat. Maybe next time! After a few minutes of polite chitchat (he spoke a little English) he escorted us out and as soon as he left the hut the drummers started. I felt like we were in a parade, lots of people watching us leave.
(vincent driving and his brother hassan supervising)
The sports jerseys we brought with us for the neighborhood kids were a big hit (see photos in previous post). Thanks to the aunts who sent a bunch with us! Their littlest friend, Vincent, got a Syracuse jersey (I think it was Rob Hillery's!) and he looks adorable. Hiver (who helps with the gardening) picked the LeBron jersey, and I told him, (in bad French and sign language) that LeBron was VERY tall and he said "Michael Jordan?" Close enough. Brian gave Abdul a J.P. Losman jersey which he wore every day after that. Please, if you ever meet Abdul, don't tell him what you know about J.P. Losman.
(pagne mamas)
Our time in Tibati was way too short. I had met a few of the neighbor Moms, who were all very sweet. One gave me a length of special Mothers Day pagne as a gift. Another baked doughnuts for us. It would have been nice to have spent more time with them. We also met Dr. Elizabeth, the Austrian physician who runs the hospital Jessie works at. Dr. Elizabeth has been in Tibati for twenty years and she is really inspirational. Until recently, when two new Cameroonian doctors joined the staff, she was the only doc, working seven days a week. She goes home to Austria for two months a year, and I'm sure she spends most of that time fund-raising. It was hard to tour the hospital and not be moved to tears. Jessie does good work there and Dr. Elizabeth already relies on her.
After bidding a fond farewell to our new friends in Tibati, we boarded our two rented cars. (80's vintage toyota Tercels, neither of which would have passed inspection at home.) We were headed 250 kms farther north to Ngaoundere. This was, really, the only time in Africa that I considered killing myself, or the person who suggested this trip. Dante could have used this trip as a ring in hell. It was six hours of the worst road (I use "road" metaphorically here) ever. Potholes? No, craters. Pavement? Not exactly. To top it off, the driver wouldn't open the windows because of the dust. Why didn't he turn on the AC? Yeah, right. I considered opening the window anyway, hoping I would choke myself. At one point I looked at Eileen and I couldn't tell if she was asleep or passed out. It could have been worse, though. This is the trip that Brian and Jessie usually make on the prison bus loaded with people, parcels and livestock. There's always a bright side!
(the car we used in Tibati-'thanks to god')
(luxury van with rules such as no vomiting and no talking to the driver)
Ngaoundere is Brian and Jessie's favorite town and they know it well. This is the Peace Corps "headquarters" of their district and where they come to get their mail and do their banking. In Ngaoundere we availed ourselves of the local means of public transportation, the small motorcycle taxis called motos. You hail one, hop on with a friend or loved one, and tell the driver where you want to go. And the ride cools you off, too! All this for the equivalent of twenty cents. In Ngaoundere we got a taste of the local version of our chicken wing: Street Meat! Street meat is some kind of seasoned meat threaded on skewers and grilled over a wood fire. They do this on almost every street corner. You go to the patisserie and buy some bread, then get your street meat and put it on the bread. Voila! A pretty tasty snack.
I'm happy to report that our trip to Maroa, our final destination and the most northerly point of our trip, was much more comfortable. We were driven in a 12-passenger touring van that, blessedly, had air conditioning. There were warnings painted inside, however, which counseled us against spitting or vomiting in the vehicle. We were also forbidden to touch the driver. Thankfully, we all behaved and arrived at our hotel in about eight hours. There was a large fenced in wildlife area on the grounds, which housed ostrich and peacocks and monkeys. A short time after we arrived we heard a loud crash and saw the ostrich running full tilt, away from an extremely large tree which had fallen and landed on the monkey cage. Fortunately they weren't hurt, but they did escape, and we saw them wandering around the grounds, not wanting to get too far away. They were apprehended and taken back into custody when they made a visit to the restaurant's kitchen.
One of the places we visited was the was the local artisinal market (craft market) where we watched Jessie ply her haggling skills, at which she was quite successful. There was a small museum there which we toured. It housed a collection of artifacts from the area. Some of them were from the 12th century, and all just laying around on dusty tables. There were weapons, pottery, even some beaded textiles which we were encouraged to handle. The climate control consisted of a fan in the corner of the room. Needless to say it was quite different from what we experience in museums at home.
(shopping in the Maroua craft market)
A memorable moment in Maroa: walking down a street and turning a corner, coming face to face with a street-full of Muslim men, on their knees praying to Mecca. For a second there it seemed like they were really glad we were there. We also drove outside of town to see one of the many huge rock formations dotting this part of Cameroon. While there we picked up an entourage of boys, about ten of them, maybe ages 8-12. They just wanted to hang out with us I guess, and climbed part way up the rock mountain along with Brian and Jess. When the mother of one of them began hollering for him, it was followed by what must be universal among little boys: the rest of them started hooting and laughing at him! We asked them if they knew any of the women in the area who are known for their weaving. They did, and took us to their village where we got to meet the very nice weaver. She took us to the lean-to which houses her loom and demonstrated her craft for us. We bought a few of her beautiful creations and no, Jessie did not haggle!
Our trip back down south for our departure for Paris from Yaounde was accomplished in a much more efficient manner: we flew! But it definitely wasn't as much fun!
I have to mention something which happened at every town on our Cameroon trip: we met wonderful Peace Corps friends of Brian and Jessie. They all came to see us and spend time. Most of them had gone through training with Brian and Jess and I think they all enjoy visits from anybody's family. Interestingly, most of their families had already visited or had definite plans for doing so in the near future. One good thing is the bond that they all have, and the support they give one another. A really nice group of kids.
If you've actually read this far, thank you for your attention. And if you have a couple weeks vacation coming up with nothing much to do, I know a nice couple in Tibati who would love some company!
1 comment:
love it!
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