Rainy season decided to finally show its face (well, kind of)

                When I last posted, June was at its close and with good reason, people were worried about the rain. July came and passed, and still no rain. Normally it should start raining lightly around May and planting begins in June, when the rains become steadier, but this year the rains have been both late and sporadic. For those who had planted early, lack of rain was a constant worry for their young crops, and for those who had not yet planted, there was much uncertainty as to whether there would be sufficient rain once they finally got a chance to put some seeds in the ground. The lack of rain becomes a financial risk when people have to replant crops that haven’t grown, or retreat their fields when there was insufficient rain to activate the herbicides and fertilizers already used. Furthermore, there is fear the harvest this year could be very weak, which could lead to famine when planting season comes around next year.

Corn and soy (the epitome of america, n'est pas?)

Freshly weeded soy, all done by yours truly.

                Now that the rain has finally become steadier, so has the farm work. I’ve begun work on what we’re calling an “experimental plot” alongside my work counterpart, the MINADER field tech. in Voko. We’ve planted soy, corn, and millet, and to add the “experimental” element, planted alternating rows of red beans, soy, and Bracharia (a nitrogen-fixing grass) associated with the two cereals. Our farm is right on the side of the road so seeing me work has become a slight tourist attraction; people often stop by to greet us or shout out support (“Du courage!”) while passing by. As can be seen in the photos, there's still a lot of work to be done, in terms of weeding.

Millet and red beans (and lots and lots of rocks).

                As I may have mentioned before, Voko is mainly populated by Muslims, with Christians all being people that have moved to the village from elsewhere in Cameroon. Islam is a pretty prominent aspect of village life in Voko, usually noticed by the various blessings being used (e.g. “Salaam Aleichum” being thrown around 24/7) and the five regular prayer times throughout the day. Now more than ever, the prominence of the religion is seen as July 30th marked the first day of Ramadan, commencing the 30 days of fasting, observed only during daylight hours. I was encouraged by my community to try and fast along with them, and since I had already missed out on breakfast when I was informed that Ramadan had begun, I figured I would just keep on fasting and see how it goes. To my surprise, the fasting has not been at all difficult, and doing so alongside the rest of my community definitely adds an aspect of solidarity. For the last week or so, the regimen in village has been to wake up around 4am, eat breakfast, and in my case, drink lots of water. Around 5am, the first call to prayer is heard, signaling the start of fasting. By 6:30am I like to be out on the farm; the work this week being completely devoted to weeding. Around 11am I’m back at home for a while, usually napping or reading, and then the rest of the day is usually spent hanging out with various people around village. By 4 or 5pm, basically everyone has returned from the farm and the village has become repopulated. Girls are out selling food to break the fast with (beignets, manioc prepared in a variety of ways, beans, and most importantly bouille… kind of like porridge) and everyone is anxiously waiting for the 6:30pm call to prayer that will also end the day’s fasting. Once heard, most of the people grab a quick drink of bouille and head to the mosque. I usually wait around for everyone to get back from the mosque and then we drink a boatload of bouille and munch on beignets before the last and longest prayer is at 7:30pm. So that’s what the rest of the month will probably look like. I’ll try and keep updating with pictures of the farm and such.

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.

Life in the Tower of Babel (Written May 01, 2011)

                Ever since my arrival to Cameroon, my mind has been a jumble of language; since moving to the Grand North, jumbled with the addition of Fulfulde and now also a decent amount of Voko, which is a very tonal language, lacking the rules and simplicity of Fulfulde, thus making it much more difficult to pick up on. The more time I have been spending in Voko (soon to be a fairly permanent placement), the better my language(s), since I’m immersed nearly 24/7, and I’m pretty pleased with my progress—I can now carry on basic daily conversation that makes me feel like I’m actually contributing and not just a warm body hanging around. I do get told that I don’t speak enough (a shock to all of you, I’m sure), which I find hilarious—I’ll be sitting with a group of people who are chatting, mostly Fulfulde with intermittent Voko, and then they turn to me and ask, “why are you so silent?! Speak!,” to which I usually answer “mi don nana!” (I’m listening) which actually does significantly help me pick up new words and phrases.

                Another high point of my recent stays in Voko have been my increasing popularity with the children, specifically a baby who was so scared of me he couldn’t even look at me without screaming and crying (yes, I have that mystifying power over children here). To try and win over his love, I bought him a piece of candy, and after accepting with careful consideration, this child sticks to me like glue. He’s taking to me so, that he dances around the concession singing “Shara don don, Shara don don! (because he can’t pronounce Nasara = white person in Fulfulde), and although I don’t like being called Nasara and he’s slowly learning my name, this is still totally adorable.

                In terms of work, right now we’re preparing for cultivation which should begin very soon as the rainy season is just beginning. If I haven’t already noted this, the crops that dominate here are corn (not the sweet corn you know), peanuts, millet, cotton, and rice. A few of the GICs I work with will be planting soy, and throughout the villages we will be planting various types of trees (for consumption, shade, and farm use). The women of these GICs are very interested and motivated in learning about all kinds of IGAs and are constantly asking about all kinds of different things that we can do. I’ve done soap-making sessions with a few groups and built an improved cookstove with another group. Some stuff that we might be doing later on include lotion making, products using soy flour, fruit-drying, canning, juice making, and cloth dying. What’s cool is that we’re constantly coming up with generating ideas; possibilities manipulate local resources and ways to preserve food products. A recent idea that I’m really looking forward to researching is the use of bees wax to make various products… updates to come!

Updates... (Wednesday, April 13, 2011)

                After my last blog post I realized that I forgot to tell my most recent achievement (or probably most recent obsession would be more correct). I’ve already mentioned that here in Cameroon, as is common across the continent, people carry many things on their heads—especially water. Since arriving at post I’ve often shared my interest in carrying water this way and have even been encouraged to do so by a friend or two who all told me that it is indeed easier to carry water on one’s head than to do so by hand… turns out, they’re absolutely right! It’s easier and virtually no water is lost en route. So now I’ve taken to carrying water (a bucket of filled to 17 liters) from the deep water well by my house a few times a day. I honestly thought that the first time the bucket was placed on my head I would just collapse under the weight (and I didn’t think to start small), but it wasn’t so bad and now I’m getting pretty good at it, it’s just a question of positioning and balance of the bucket, as well as the rolled up bandana underneath. I’ve been so excited about this recent development that not only have I been telling everyone and anyone, but I also like to take chances to practice, ex: carrying a case of beer on my head down a few blocks while in Ngoundéré.

Climbing Mt. Ngoundere

                Speaking of recent achievement, the other day while reaching the end of my morning run, just as I reached my neighborhood, I noticed a decent sized group of people singing and dancing under a few trees just behind the neighborhood. As I was nearing my neighborhood I could hear the chant-like singing growing in volume and once I had arrived, I stood and watched the group along with some neighbors. I later found out that this group of people, who are from the Toupouri tribe (generally living in the eastern part of the Extreme North region, but also decently populating my neighborhood), were celebrating a coming of age tradition, common among many (Northern) Cameroonian tribes. In short, these young boys had just spent a couple days en brousse (I later found out that these days that just means under some trees outside the neighborhood), are now returning as young men, and will each receive a new name, generally an evolved version of their old name.

I just got back from a spending a few days at the base camp of the park, which is about a few kilometers south of the last village (Mayo Djarendi) in the canton (Voko) and takes crossing the vast, but currently near-empty Faro River. One of the coolest parts of each day was walking down the empty river bed in search of a pool of water deep enough to swim in for a while (sans hippos, mind you!). Right now, the deepest water is usually knee-high and in fairly rare, sporadic pools, but once we’re well into the rainy season, the water should be a few hundred meters long and at a tree-topping depth (sorry, estimation isn’t my forte). Anyway, it was really awesome to walk along all kinds of fresh tracks from animals (hippos, various types of antelopes and birds) all doing the same thing as me—looking for water! One of the more unfortunate parts of being in the park base is again, witnessing the number of poachers and gold diggers arrested on a daily basis. It’s regrettable to see so many people risking prison and fines, and that animals (some already threatened) put at risk.  One man was brought in for poaching—a warthog, several lizards, a few antelope, and a monkey known as “the magistrate” because of its black and white fur resemblance to courtroom judge with a wig (a few of which I later saw hopping between trees!). On the note of gold digging, on any given day of the week, a majority of the people who live Voko (generally those living farther south, closer to the river) are not to be found because they have all gone down to the river to look for gold (think California gold-rush style). The other day my counterpart, the MINADER rep in Voko, asked a few women who regularly go down to the river to show us their findings; they promptly produced a dime-sized pile of gold “pebbles” which they said is easily worth 10.000 FCFA (about $20) and can take weeks to find.

Fulfude word of the day: Poli = pigeons

It’s hard to believe that I’ve already been in Cameroon for over half a year… crazy! The month of March was a fairly busy one. I did a round of meetings with the same GICs I had met with in January, to give them a better understanding of what A/F is, my role as a PCV, and how we can work together. Some of the groups responded with specific interests and high motivation to learn and try new things, for example conservation techniques at home (composting, improved cookstoves) or introducing improved techniques and plants to their farms. A lot of the farm techniques are in the planning and explaining phase right now, and will only be implemented in June/July during planting (when the rainy season has set in). One really cool meeting I had was with a group of women where I taught them how to make tofu and soy milk. It was A LOT of work (grinding soy beans by hand for about 3-4 hours), but it was a huge success.

            March 8 was International Women’s Day, which was celebrated in style here. All the women, including myself, donned the celebratory pagne.

            I just got back from a week in Ngoundéré, the capital of the Adamawa, the region just south of me. My reason for being there was IST (In-Service Training), a week of sessions for all new PCVs and our “counterparts”—someone we have been working with at post who knows about A/F and agricultural work and can work closely with the PCV and the community. On top of the PC sessions, this past week was a great chance to reunite with my stage-mates and hear about life at post for the last 4 months. It was especially interesting to hear from the PCVs in the Grand South and to hear their reactions upon their arrival to the Grand North—it’s a huge transition from the humid tropics, to the dry, Muslim and Fulfulde-dominated Sahel.

            Oh also, wildlife update: This morning while driving into Garoua (while crossing the bridge over the Benoue River), I saw EIGHT hippos all hanging out in the water, a few with their heads above the water. Hippos must be a regular occuurance during dry season… my friends and I spotted one several feet away from us a few days ago while swimming in Lake Lagdo (the reservoir here in the North that powers a large part of the country via a large hydraulic dam).

            As a closer, here’s an update on my integration abilities. Even though I still get dranged (franglish for to bother) a lot and am uncomfortably aware that I stand out like a sore thumb, the other day I had a total win. I was in Ngong, a large town just north of me, and this kid was trying to sell me water, which I was not interested in (for my own enjoyment I decided to tell him that I only drink bil-bil, millet wine, and have no interest in water). After explaining this to him in Fulfulde and rejecting him enough times, he kept trying to get me to buy water, but began addressing me as nassara-balejum (black, white person) which I took as a total compliment and have been using as a bragging point since.