Set your John Deere on fire… I just “moved my lawn” with a garden hoe

                I’m not kidding with that title. Throughout the month of May there was enough rain to turn my concession wild, but not enough to start planting. Yet, in anticipation of my future garden (and for fear of not being able to find my house among the tall grass and weeds), I decided to manicure my yard, garden hoe in hand. I groomed about half the concession (WAY easier said than done!) and then turned the work over to some neighborhood kids looking for some work. This will be the second time I “hire” kids to work in my yard—the first time was kind of a hot mess, but turned out to be a pretty funny afternoon… I was working in my yard, turning the soil to make beds for planting, when I notice a group of 5 kids standing at the entrance to my concession, staring at me in a kind of awe that I am capable of “laboring” (general term here for field work). Anyway, since I’m not fond of being gawked at I told the kids that instead of staring, they should go look for their own garden hoes and come help me. After about an hour and a half of work, we were a spectacle for passing neighbors, but did an okay job, and the kids won a round of sodas.

My friend, Djamila, and I, in full traditional pagne during the Voko committee fete.

                Besides keeping busy with yard work, there have also a bunch of different celebrations lately. May 20^th marked Cameroon’s Unification Day, which brought in people from villages all around the division (including people from “my village,” Voko!), as usual, included a whole lot of people marching across Poli’s stadium, and was marked with a general festive feeling around town all day.

June was opened with a large celebration in Voko—the village’s annual development committee meeting. This meeting brought in the representative for Poli’s souspréfé, Poli’s mayor, Voko’s lamido (traditional chief), and a large number of “elites” (business owners, various ministry delegates, people of standing who are from Voko). The reason for celebration (among many) was that the committee would be giving out a gift (snazzy new backpacks) to the top three girls of each primary school (which is totally awesome) and collecting money to work with for the next year.

Between those two “fêtes,” I managed to find time to cross the Faro River to attend the wedding of a friend’s brother in a village called Tchamba. While this village is still in Cameroon, it sits a few kilometers from the Nigerian border, and as I walked through the market and saw nothing but Nigerian Nairas, I started wondering if I should have brought my passport. After taking in the market, I went back to the wedding family’s concession and spent the rest of the afternoon watching all the wedding preparations while getting henna done on my feet and both sides of my hands. It was kind of a tedious process, but totally worth it and when I later showed up to Voko in head to toe pagne and henna, I was received as la femme africaine, la femme du nord, and ironically enough, Hadja.

The wedding ceremony began the day before I got there, with the groom’s family traveling to the bride’s village (Wangai, also across the Faro) to watch her complete her reading of the Koran (and likely some other praying and traditions I missed) and to bring her to the groom’s village to continue the rest of the wedding ceremony. The second day was focused around the evening when the groom’s mother formally sees the bride in front of everyone, and the bride and groom are separately showered with money from their family and friends. The evening is concluded when the bride and groom take their first meal together with everyone (generally the first time men and women come together and often the first time the now husband and wife see each other). It was interesting to witness the whole ceremony and I was flattered to be invited; I definitely look forward to attending more traditional events.