It has been fun doing this, by this i mean living in Cameroon for six months and experiencing the culture. I have learned so much about Africa, life and humanity that i'm amazed that my old brain has been able to store it all.
I remember being five years old and watching live aid with my sister, Yolanda. It was 1985 and there was a famine in Ethiopia. Between all the music it would cut to shots of malnourished children and people sitting around too tired to wipe the flies away from their eyes. I remember realising for the first time that there were people in the world who had nothing, and they were dying. It was hard for me to get my head around it but i'll cite this time as the moment i realised about Africa and the problems it was facing.
I marched through the streets of Edinburgh with a million other people in support of The Make Poverty History campaign to write off third world debt and increase spending on aid. That was an amazing day and i could feel sparks of something in the air that i couldn't put my finger on. Hope.
I was at the Live 8 gig at Murrayfield stadium in Edinburgh the day before the G8 summit. Nelson Mandela spoke to 90,000 people in a live video link and urged the leaders to embrace change and listen to the voice of the majority. It really was an incredible time and it made me feel proud to be part of the human race that day. We were all united for a common goal and i'd never experienced that before.
Then the bastards bombed London the very next day. Many people were killed and the spotlight shifted to that tragic event. I remember being extremely worried about my pal Phil, who lived in London at the time, he was okay but i felt so f!@#ing angry about the world and the people in it. I felt hopeless and sad for humanity when just the previous day i'd felt the most exhilerated i'd felt about things ever. That night i went on the internet and started searching for an NGO in Africa to volunteer with, now here i am.
I have always wanted to come here and in the future i would like to work for an international aid agency. My time here has opened my eyes and clarified all the preconceptions i held. Of course, it's a big continent and i have only experienced a tiny fraction of it, but now i know how i can help and i now know that i've got it in me to do it. I see practical steps to move forward.
If you've been reading this blog i want to say to you now, you should do it yourself. People say that not everyone can, but more people need to. Please give yourself to this wonderful continenet, your presence and your skills can help in all manner of ways. Please consider it. It'll be frustraing sometimes and you'll feel like you are banging your head against a wall. Time moves at its own pace here, but things are changing and you could (Should?) be part of it.
Meredith and i once discussed if we should write a final post when we get back home, we agreed that we shouldn't do that as this was intended only for my time here. Please check back though as i am going to overload this thing with pictures to all these stories i have told you.
So this is my final post, i don't know what i'm going to do with all the spare time that i'll have when not waiting for the internet to crawl up to speed, maybe i'll write a book, ha ha.
This has been an African blog and this has been an African adventure.
And this is Yer Man in Cameroon
Jason Wringe, signing off.
Mine's a pint mate.
Bye di Bye Bye
xxxxx
Sunday 6 July 2008
Saturday 5 July 2008
Friends like these
Meeting new people is always fun and interesting, and i've met so many people from all over the world in the past six months.
Cameroonians (obviously) Dutch, Danish, Canadian, French, German, Nigerian, Vietnamese, Austrian, Estonian and people from all over the U.S.A. Really it's been a lot of fun and i've felt like a citizen of the world as i've experienced many different cultures and opinions.
I'm going to miss Ines a lot when i leave but i'm confident things are beginning to go her way as she has a new job and a more positive outlook on life. I'm sure she will be fine and i'm positive i'll see her again soon armed with more french phrases.
I'm going to miss Christel and Raul who built their orphanage here. I hope it all works out for them cause what they're planning to do is inspiring.
I'll miss Victor, a Nigerian in Cameroon, himself an ex-UAC volunteer who stayed in the country to open an internet cafe. He's a young guy but already has a fascinating life tale to tell. I'm confident his business will be a success.
I'll miss all the wee kids, who are just so fun and cool and sweet. I'll miss my friend Frederique who has fascilitated my beer consumption for the past six months.
I'll miss Cameroon in general. There is a lot going on here politically and i'll keep a keen eye on what transpires with this Biya character. I hope the new Jamadianle school gets completed by 2011, this is when i'd like to come back.
But i have been missing some of the people who have been reading this blog. My feelings are quite bittersweet at the moment. Ho Hum.
Cameroonians (obviously) Dutch, Danish, Canadian, French, German, Nigerian, Vietnamese, Austrian, Estonian and people from all over the U.S.A. Really it's been a lot of fun and i've felt like a citizen of the world as i've experienced many different cultures and opinions.
I'm going to miss Ines a lot when i leave but i'm confident things are beginning to go her way as she has a new job and a more positive outlook on life. I'm sure she will be fine and i'm positive i'll see her again soon armed with more french phrases.
I'm going to miss Christel and Raul who built their orphanage here. I hope it all works out for them cause what they're planning to do is inspiring.
I'll miss Victor, a Nigerian in Cameroon, himself an ex-UAC volunteer who stayed in the country to open an internet cafe. He's a young guy but already has a fascinating life tale to tell. I'm confident his business will be a success.
I'll miss all the wee kids, who are just so fun and cool and sweet. I'll miss my friend Frederique who has fascilitated my beer consumption for the past six months.
I'll miss Cameroon in general. There is a lot going on here politically and i'll keep a keen eye on what transpires with this Biya character. I hope the new Jamadianle school gets completed by 2011, this is when i'd like to come back.
But i have been missing some of the people who have been reading this blog. My feelings are quite bittersweet at the moment. Ho Hum.
Friday 4 July 2008
Born on the fourth of July
The Americans, who are based in Mamfe, came back to Buea on Tuesday. They stayed for a night then left for Yaounde to go to the American embassy for a fourth of July shindig. They've probably been living it up poolside eating beautiful food and rubbing shoulders with all kinds of bigwigs singing 'God bless America' and slapping each other on the back in a patriotic frenzy.
They come back tomorrow so they will be able to attend the first of my leaving do's with my friends at Abidjan (Where else could i have it but there?) That should be fun and wicked to boot. Then on Sunday it is my second leaving do at the Orock house. Such is the tradition when volunteers leave, there will be food and lots of speeches (What can i say?). Tonight we are going out for a boogie to some live Makossa music. Splendid.
This last week i have been realising all the things that i'm going to do for the last time. The last time i'll buy a six pack of tangui mineral water, the last time i travel up the mountain to go to the bank and most pleasing of all, the last time i scrub my laundry by hand before i return to the land of washing machines. With all these parties coming up, i have no idea when my last Cameroonian beer will be though ha ha.
In other news...I was walking home the other day when i witnessed a taxi crash into a parked car. I looked over and i seen the driver moving but i thought he was just pulling the steering wheel round to reverse out of the smash. Then everybody started panicking as he was actually convulsing. I ran over and dragged him from the car and he was vomiting and this dude in an act of desperation starts giving him chest compressions. I was shouting at him to stop as the guy was still breathing and clearly had a pulse, but the guy wouldn't stop pumping on his chest!! I eventually had to drag him off and shout at the top of my voice "HE'S STILL ALIVE MAN!!!!" It was the closest i'll ever get to being a doctor. I thought he might be having an epileptic fit or he was in aniphilactic shock or something but a friend of his said he doesn't have epilepsy neither is he allergic to anything. Having made my diagnosis, we got the guy in a taxi to the hospital and i told the driver to tell my doctor colleagues that he has been poisoned. I've heard from another taxi driver that he is ok, so all's well that ends well.
Bit of excitement that i had to indulge there.
They come back tomorrow so they will be able to attend the first of my leaving do's with my friends at Abidjan (Where else could i have it but there?) That should be fun and wicked to boot. Then on Sunday it is my second leaving do at the Orock house. Such is the tradition when volunteers leave, there will be food and lots of speeches (What can i say?). Tonight we are going out for a boogie to some live Makossa music. Splendid.
This last week i have been realising all the things that i'm going to do for the last time. The last time i'll buy a six pack of tangui mineral water, the last time i travel up the mountain to go to the bank and most pleasing of all, the last time i scrub my laundry by hand before i return to the land of washing machines. With all these parties coming up, i have no idea when my last Cameroonian beer will be though ha ha.
In other news...I was walking home the other day when i witnessed a taxi crash into a parked car. I looked over and i seen the driver moving but i thought he was just pulling the steering wheel round to reverse out of the smash. Then everybody started panicking as he was actually convulsing. I ran over and dragged him from the car and he was vomiting and this dude in an act of desperation starts giving him chest compressions. I was shouting at him to stop as the guy was still breathing and clearly had a pulse, but the guy wouldn't stop pumping on his chest!! I eventually had to drag him off and shout at the top of my voice "HE'S STILL ALIVE MAN!!!!" It was the closest i'll ever get to being a doctor. I thought he might be having an epileptic fit or he was in aniphilactic shock or something but a friend of his said he doesn't have epilepsy neither is he allergic to anything. Having made my diagnosis, we got the guy in a taxi to the hospital and i told the driver to tell my doctor colleagues that he has been poisoned. I've heard from another taxi driver that he is ok, so all's well that ends well.
Bit of excitement that i had to indulge there.
Thursday 3 July 2008
It's a kind of magic
You just have to read a newspaper or just look at the world to see that people believe in crazy things. Superstion, folklore, beliefs and myths are universal, they vary wildly depending on where you go but they all have one thing in common, they are beliefs without evidence.
A vast majority of Cameroonians that i have met believe in witchcraft, the mammywater (that's mermaids to you and i) Curses, totems, jojo's and black magic.
Ines, her brother Gildas and her friend, Kevin and i often debate all these things. They seem to think that i have trouble believing their rather lavish tales because i haven't seen black magic with my own eyes. But the problem is half the time they haven't seen it either!! They've just heard a story of a story of a guy who sneezed as he walked past a dog who asked him to follow him to a kid down a well who then knew a fascinating tale of a guy who can fly in a matchbox. It's so vague sometimes but they are convinced, and they don't know why my logical mind isn't.
For example, the mammywater, the people of the sea who drag people under when they are in the water.
"Don't people just drown when they can't swim?" says i.
"No, it's the mammywater"
"Has anyone ever seen one?"
"Well yes, but they are all dead"
I don't care how level headed or logical you are, it's hard to argue against that.
They promised to let me meet a guy who can make things dissapear, he can take things out your pocket without you noticing (he must be quite the Derren Brown fan) and he can also make you need a pee by touching you, an odd wee collection of skills to put on yer C.V that. I've not met him yet likes but hopefully i can meet him before i go, he sounds like a laugh.
It's so fascinating and i could talk about much more stuff but i can already feel myself getting frustrated just thinking about them, so i'm not going to.
Hey where's my money gone???
Why do i need another piss? I just went five minutes ago!!
A vast majority of Cameroonians that i have met believe in witchcraft, the mammywater (that's mermaids to you and i) Curses, totems, jojo's and black magic.
Ines, her brother Gildas and her friend, Kevin and i often debate all these things. They seem to think that i have trouble believing their rather lavish tales because i haven't seen black magic with my own eyes. But the problem is half the time they haven't seen it either!! They've just heard a story of a story of a guy who sneezed as he walked past a dog who asked him to follow him to a kid down a well who then knew a fascinating tale of a guy who can fly in a matchbox. It's so vague sometimes but they are convinced, and they don't know why my logical mind isn't.
For example, the mammywater, the people of the sea who drag people under when they are in the water.
"Don't people just drown when they can't swim?" says i.
"No, it's the mammywater"
"Has anyone ever seen one?"
"Well yes, but they are all dead"
I don't care how level headed or logical you are, it's hard to argue against that.
They promised to let me meet a guy who can make things dissapear, he can take things out your pocket without you noticing (he must be quite the Derren Brown fan) and he can also make you need a pee by touching you, an odd wee collection of skills to put on yer C.V that. I've not met him yet likes but hopefully i can meet him before i go, he sounds like a laugh.
It's so fascinating and i could talk about much more stuff but i can already feel myself getting frustrated just thinking about them, so i'm not going to.
Hey where's my money gone???
Why do i need another piss? I just went five minutes ago!!
Wednesday 2 July 2008
Being a minority
For the first time in my life i am a minority, i am a white man.
My friends and i were individuals at school, but we chose to be that way, we chose not to be a walking fashion label and we chose to listen to good music. This seperated us from the crowd on our own vilition.
But here my skin seperates me from the crowd and that is a new experience for me. Everybody and i mean everybody stares at me, not in a nasty way, but in a curious way. People are intrigued by the way i talk (Sometimes they're not even sure if i'm speaking english, but i just need to go to England to expreience that, ha ha) People also think i'm a millionaire because of my skin colour and a white man tax is added to everything i try to buy. These are pre-conceived notions about white people and once they get to know you everybody including me, realises that our differences are far outnumbered by our similarities.
The people of Cameroon are very, very religious, yer man Jesus is the main man round here. This has been my first experience of living in a pious society and it has been endlessly fascinating and it has provided me with many an interesting debate. God knows how many people are praying for me here.
I've made many friends and i've understood what Cameroonians have to face on a day to day basis. I've felt what it's like to be a minority and its opened my eyes to all the privelages i've had in my life. Without wanting to be too melodramatic, i will never take things for granted again and i will see life from a new perspective for the rest of my days.
My friends and i were individuals at school, but we chose to be that way, we chose not to be a walking fashion label and we chose to listen to good music. This seperated us from the crowd on our own vilition.
But here my skin seperates me from the crowd and that is a new experience for me. Everybody and i mean everybody stares at me, not in a nasty way, but in a curious way. People are intrigued by the way i talk (Sometimes they're not even sure if i'm speaking english, but i just need to go to England to expreience that, ha ha) People also think i'm a millionaire because of my skin colour and a white man tax is added to everything i try to buy. These are pre-conceived notions about white people and once they get to know you everybody including me, realises that our differences are far outnumbered by our similarities.
The people of Cameroon are very, very religious, yer man Jesus is the main man round here. This has been my first experience of living in a pious society and it has been endlessly fascinating and it has provided me with many an interesting debate. God knows how many people are praying for me here.
I've made many friends and i've understood what Cameroonians have to face on a day to day basis. I've felt what it's like to be a minority and its opened my eyes to all the privelages i've had in my life. Without wanting to be too melodramatic, i will never take things for granted again and i will see life from a new perspective for the rest of my days.
Tuesday 1 July 2008
Literature list
As i've said in a previous post, once all the work is done through the day there are three options to spend the evening, exercise, drink or read. Here are all the books i have read in past six months.
1.A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon
2.Red Dragon - Thomas Harris
3.Hannibal - Thomas Harris
4.Hannibal Rising - Thomas Harris
5.The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
6.Cather in the Rye - J.D Salinger
7.Angela's Ashes - Frank McCourt
8.A Monk Swimming - Malachy McCourt
9.To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
10.Lady Chatterley's Lover - D.H Lawrence
11.Cry the Beloved Country - Alan Paton
12.Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
13.The Red Pony - John Steinbeck
14.Shampoo Planet - Douglas Coupland
15.Atonement - Ian McEwan
16.De Niro: A biography - John Baxter
17.House of Sand and Fog - Andres Dubus 111
18.The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain
19.The Memory Keeper's Daughter - Kim Edwards
20.Long Walk To Freedom - Nelson Mandela
21.Contact - Carl Sagan
22.Cosmos - Carl Sagan
23.Death Warrant - Will Pearson
24.Our Man In Havana - Graham Greene
25.The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid - Bill Bryson
26.The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell:The Middle Years:1914-1944 - Bertrand Russell
27.Communal Liberalism - Paul Biya
28.Tesla:Man out of time - Margerat Cheyney
29.Paco's Story - Larry Heineman
30.The Brethren - John Grisham
31.20,000 leagues Under the Sea - Jules Verne
32.The Bourne Identity - Robert Ludlum
33.Dear Theo:The Autobiography of Vincent Van Gogh - Irving Stone
34.Tess of The D'urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
35.AIDS and HIV in Perspective - Barry D. Schoub
36.All Quiet on the Western Front - Erich Maria Remarque
That works out at a book every five days, which is pretty good reading for me as i normally read two books a month.
1.A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon
2.Red Dragon - Thomas Harris
3.Hannibal - Thomas Harris
4.Hannibal Rising - Thomas Harris
5.The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
6.Cather in the Rye - J.D Salinger
7.Angela's Ashes - Frank McCourt
8.A Monk Swimming - Malachy McCourt
9.To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
10.Lady Chatterley's Lover - D.H Lawrence
11.Cry the Beloved Country - Alan Paton
12.Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
13.The Red Pony - John Steinbeck
14.Shampoo Planet - Douglas Coupland
15.Atonement - Ian McEwan
16.De Niro: A biography - John Baxter
17.House of Sand and Fog - Andres Dubus 111
18.The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain
19.The Memory Keeper's Daughter - Kim Edwards
20.Long Walk To Freedom - Nelson Mandela
21.Contact - Carl Sagan
22.Cosmos - Carl Sagan
23.Death Warrant - Will Pearson
24.Our Man In Havana - Graham Greene
25.The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid - Bill Bryson
26.The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell:The Middle Years:1914-1944 - Bertrand Russell
27.Communal Liberalism - Paul Biya
28.Tesla:Man out of time - Margerat Cheyney
29.Paco's Story - Larry Heineman
30.The Brethren - John Grisham
31.20,000 leagues Under the Sea - Jules Verne
32.The Bourne Identity - Robert Ludlum
33.Dear Theo:The Autobiography of Vincent Van Gogh - Irving Stone
34.Tess of The D'urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
35.AIDS and HIV in Perspective - Barry D. Schoub
36.All Quiet on the Western Front - Erich Maria Remarque
That works out at a book every five days, which is pretty good reading for me as i normally read two books a month.
Monday 30 June 2008
Images of Africa
So i conducted a wee experiment last night where i shut my eyes and thought about the past six months of my life in Cameroon. Here are the main memories that i scribbled down.
Stepping of a plane in Douala to the blistering heat and a chancer in ripped jeans claiming to be the passport inspector asking to see my passport.....Buying watermelon off a wee girl who had them perched on her bonce in a busy market.....Seeing Mount Cameroon for the first time after it had been shrouded in clouds for three weeks.....Flying through the jungle on a dirt road in a death mobile with eight other people.....Walking with Ines and her son to the house of a Rastafarian.....Meeting Kait for the first time and showing her how to lock the door.....saying something meaningful to a deaf person for the first time in my life.....Valerie and i getting hugged by fifty kids at the Jamadianle nursery school.....Children carrying chickens in bags.....A tarantula climbing up my bathroom wall and a flash of recognition on my behalf that yes, i do have mild arachnophobia.....Seeing a shooting star for the first time ever and making a wish.....Dancing to Makossa in Mamfe.....A red Colobus monkey silhouetted against the sky.....Sitting under an avocado tree in Buea university discussing politics.....Watching the sun set over the Atlantic ocean sipping on a beer.....Staring up at the forest canopy whilst floating on my back.....Hearing gunshots and tear gas and almost pooping my pants.....Chasing baby Clara round a table.....Going to Limbe with Meredith and Ernest and the door to the bus falling off.....Snapping Ines as she had her first ever slice of pizza.....Looking into a witch doctors eyes and wondering if he really believes what he is saying.....Teaching for the first time with thirty confused faces staring back at me.....Driving down a mountain road into Bamenda.....Being humbled by everybody at the Buea school for the deaf when i donated some books.....The kids in Bokova all cheering when we arrived for school on wheels.....Watching the coolest thunderstorm that lit up the entire sky.....
I'm sorry if some of that didn't make sense but it was nice for me to remember all those times.
Stepping of a plane in Douala to the blistering heat and a chancer in ripped jeans claiming to be the passport inspector asking to see my passport.....Buying watermelon off a wee girl who had them perched on her bonce in a busy market.....Seeing Mount Cameroon for the first time after it had been shrouded in clouds for three weeks.....Flying through the jungle on a dirt road in a death mobile with eight other people.....Walking with Ines and her son to the house of a Rastafarian.....Meeting Kait for the first time and showing her how to lock the door.....saying something meaningful to a deaf person for the first time in my life.....Valerie and i getting hugged by fifty kids at the Jamadianle nursery school.....Children carrying chickens in bags.....A tarantula climbing up my bathroom wall and a flash of recognition on my behalf that yes, i do have mild arachnophobia.....Seeing a shooting star for the first time ever and making a wish.....Dancing to Makossa in Mamfe.....A red Colobus monkey silhouetted against the sky.....Sitting under an avocado tree in Buea university discussing politics.....Watching the sun set over the Atlantic ocean sipping on a beer.....Staring up at the forest canopy whilst floating on my back.....Hearing gunshots and tear gas and almost pooping my pants.....Chasing baby Clara round a table.....Going to Limbe with Meredith and Ernest and the door to the bus falling off.....Snapping Ines as she had her first ever slice of pizza.....Looking into a witch doctors eyes and wondering if he really believes what he is saying.....Teaching for the first time with thirty confused faces staring back at me.....Driving down a mountain road into Bamenda.....Being humbled by everybody at the Buea school for the deaf when i donated some books.....The kids in Bokova all cheering when we arrived for school on wheels.....Watching the coolest thunderstorm that lit up the entire sky.....
I'm sorry if some of that didn't make sense but it was nice for me to remember all those times.
Friday 27 June 2008
Bye bye Berit
Cameroonians like a shindig, their celebrations are not done by halves. Funerals can last up to a week and if you get married forget about a honeymoon, you've got a million hands to shake.
Yesterday, Berit's leaving do at the Orock house was not the first party we had to attend. Sam, a nice boy in the neighborhood with a promising artistic talent, invited us to his house for his Aunts graduation from teachers training college.
We said our hellos and shook hands with everybody and i impressed them with my Pidgin English. The lady of the hour showed us her prizes she took including 'Best all round student'. I believe i said congratulations about 97 times. They sat us down and gave us popcorn and beer and we watched as the old granny of the house danced about singing a song of praise with the rather humorous line 'Finally, finally, finally the Lord has done it'. Yes well done to Jesus and to the future teacher for all her hard work and study.
We said our goodbyes and congratulations a further 64 times and headed into the night towards the Orock house. The tradition for a volunteers send-off is a good bit of grub and beer then we all give speeches, but this time there was even entertainment in the form of the wee girls putting on a dance and song about that lovely man Jesus, it was all very sweet. Berit was presented with a lovely African dress and it was a nice end to the evening.
We were all partied out and when i was sitting on the porch i thought about all the volunteers who have come and gone and all their leaving parties that i have been to, Well now i was the next volunteer leaving and the next party would be mine, and that prospect scares me a little.
Yesterday, Berit's leaving do at the Orock house was not the first party we had to attend. Sam, a nice boy in the neighborhood with a promising artistic talent, invited us to his house for his Aunts graduation from teachers training college.
We said our hellos and shook hands with everybody and i impressed them with my Pidgin English. The lady of the hour showed us her prizes she took including 'Best all round student'. I believe i said congratulations about 97 times. They sat us down and gave us popcorn and beer and we watched as the old granny of the house danced about singing a song of praise with the rather humorous line 'Finally, finally, finally the Lord has done it'. Yes well done to Jesus and to the future teacher for all her hard work and study.
We said our goodbyes and congratulations a further 64 times and headed into the night towards the Orock house. The tradition for a volunteers send-off is a good bit of grub and beer then we all give speeches, but this time there was even entertainment in the form of the wee girls putting on a dance and song about that lovely man Jesus, it was all very sweet. Berit was presented with a lovely African dress and it was a nice end to the evening.
We were all partied out and when i was sitting on the porch i thought about all the volunteers who have come and gone and all their leaving parties that i have been to, Well now i was the next volunteer leaving and the next party would be mine, and that prospect scares me a little.
Saturday 21 June 2008
I feel free
When i get up every morning under the African sky i never know what's going to happen to me.
Yesterday i got up and did my laundry then i went to the internet. When i came home i started having vicious stomach cramps, so i knew my day would be spent in the company of my porcelin friend. I had really bad sickness and diaorreaha, It was truly awful.
I have been taking some traditional medicine that Ines' Mum made fom me, it is made from Guinness and some herbs, it has a dark mint-green colour and it was supposed to help me with my yeast problem. Maybe it helped me by totally cleansing my system, as i sit in an internet cafe here in Buea, i do feel a lot better if not extremely dehydrated.
Tomorrow i go to Mamfe again and i just don't know what's going to happen. It's exciting living like this, now that i'm not shackled to the toilet and other constraints in life, i feel completely free....
The internet in Mamfe is not what Bill Gates dreamt of, so i will be back in 5 days or so with more news.
Toodle pip
Yesterday i got up and did my laundry then i went to the internet. When i came home i started having vicious stomach cramps, so i knew my day would be spent in the company of my porcelin friend. I had really bad sickness and diaorreaha, It was truly awful.
I have been taking some traditional medicine that Ines' Mum made fom me, it is made from Guinness and some herbs, it has a dark mint-green colour and it was supposed to help me with my yeast problem. Maybe it helped me by totally cleansing my system, as i sit in an internet cafe here in Buea, i do feel a lot better if not extremely dehydrated.
Tomorrow i go to Mamfe again and i just don't know what's going to happen. It's exciting living like this, now that i'm not shackled to the toilet and other constraints in life, i feel completely free....
The internet in Mamfe is not what Bill Gates dreamt of, so i will be back in 5 days or so with more news.
Toodle pip
Friday 20 June 2008
Buea Boy
The Buea boy is back in town. It's always nice to get back to Buea and see everyone again. All the kids at the Orock house greet me warmly and Frederique 'my friend' at Abidjan actually hugged me, just overjoyed to see me again, it's all rather lovely.
This last month has just dissapeared. I've done so much and had so much fun and the time has flown by. Now time is running out.
The thing i have to do now is start thinking about what i have to do before i leave. Mainly buy a few more presents for everyone and print a few hundred photos of people here (a stipulation of snapping someone is you must give them a copy). I want to try and get that done before i go to Mamfe on Sunday. I also have to work on a new fundraising proposal for UAC and send about a million emails to charities and donar organisations. I also have to write a report for Africa Trust about my stay here.
Ahhhh!!! I'm running out of time!!!
Nice story today. I had just finished scrubbing my laundry and i was sitting relaxing listening to me ipod on the porch when Sandra, one of the cute wee kids in the neighbourhood came to say hello. I let her listen to a track of the new Jose Gonzalez album and she listened to the whole track intently. She was fascinated by it and when she had finished she said "He sounds sad, but sad things can be beautiful" Which i thought was incredibly profound for a nine year old girl.
This last month has just dissapeared. I've done so much and had so much fun and the time has flown by. Now time is running out.
The thing i have to do now is start thinking about what i have to do before i leave. Mainly buy a few more presents for everyone and print a few hundred photos of people here (a stipulation of snapping someone is you must give them a copy). I want to try and get that done before i go to Mamfe on Sunday. I also have to work on a new fundraising proposal for UAC and send about a million emails to charities and donar organisations. I also have to write a report for Africa Trust about my stay here.
Ahhhh!!! I'm running out of time!!!
Nice story today. I had just finished scrubbing my laundry and i was sitting relaxing listening to me ipod on the porch when Sandra, one of the cute wee kids in the neighbourhood came to say hello. I let her listen to a track of the new Jose Gonzalez album and she listened to the whole track intently. She was fascinated by it and when she had finished she said "He sounds sad, but sad things can be beautiful" Which i thought was incredibly profound for a nine year old girl.
Wednesday 18 June 2008
Bamenda
Bamenda is cool, i like Bamenda. It is affectionately termed 'Russia' by Cameroonians due to its climate, but the temperature is fine by me as i'm not sweating bullets 24/7. There's been a nice breeze today and a bit of drizzle. Lovely weather.
We went on a wee tour today, we visited the old town and a giant market. Men clicked their fingers at me and blew me kisses to try and get my attention and business.
"Oh White! What do you want, what do you need?"
"Nothing thanks, as you're selling illegal pharmaceutical drugs, good-day to you sir"
I bought some gifts for friends and family (not street paracetamol) and we wandered through the brown streets to an old bar for an afternoon beer.
Bamenda lies in a natural basin surrounded by cliffs and mountains, there are two waterfalls visable from most parts of the city, it's quite a spectacular site. There is only one road into the metropolis and it's a steep one, the hill is at such a deathly gradient that they have built a run-off crash ramp at the bottom of it incase your brakes fail on the way down. Ingenious.
Someone who is of a cynical mindset could look at cities in Cameroon and come to the conclusion they are shabby, tired and dilapidated. Not me though, i like them. The buildings and huts that jut out of the land fill the space in a versatile and oblique way, it's like they are part of the earth, the cities are organic.
The roads are bloody terrible though....
Ines and i were sitting having a beer the other day when we witnessed a car fall into a hole!! People all scrambled round to push it out. Normality. Much of the damage on the roads has been the effect of the fuel strike where crazy boys decided to set alight to tires on the tarmac. It all adds up to a bumpy, perilous ride in a taxi.
Bamenda is also home to the 'Social Democrat Front' (SDF) who are the main opposing party tp Paul Biya's 'Cameroon Peoples Democratic Movement' (CPDM). Ebiebi is the leader of the SDF and we visited his craft shop today. The motto of the party is "Power to the people" and never have John Lennons' words been more meaningful. I bought an old drunk a beer the other night and he gave us his tale of woe about Biya's Cameroon. "That man in Yaounde has given us nothing, we work and work and we have nothing" These sentiments are widely held in places like Bamenda.
So i leave tomorrow back to Buea. I've had fun playing with Ines' sun Paul and her wee two year old cousin Ryan. They think i'm their own personal clown, everything i do is apparently hilarious to them. Ines' mother has been very hospitable and i've ate really well.
I'm going to say goodbye to the place this evening when Ines and i go find a restaurant that sells pizza. I'll see Bamenda by night.
We went on a wee tour today, we visited the old town and a giant market. Men clicked their fingers at me and blew me kisses to try and get my attention and business.
"Oh White! What do you want, what do you need?"
"Nothing thanks, as you're selling illegal pharmaceutical drugs, good-day to you sir"
I bought some gifts for friends and family (not street paracetamol) and we wandered through the brown streets to an old bar for an afternoon beer.
Bamenda lies in a natural basin surrounded by cliffs and mountains, there are two waterfalls visable from most parts of the city, it's quite a spectacular site. There is only one road into the metropolis and it's a steep one, the hill is at such a deathly gradient that they have built a run-off crash ramp at the bottom of it incase your brakes fail on the way down. Ingenious.
Someone who is of a cynical mindset could look at cities in Cameroon and come to the conclusion they are shabby, tired and dilapidated. Not me though, i like them. The buildings and huts that jut out of the land fill the space in a versatile and oblique way, it's like they are part of the earth, the cities are organic.
The roads are bloody terrible though....
Ines and i were sitting having a beer the other day when we witnessed a car fall into a hole!! People all scrambled round to push it out. Normality. Much of the damage on the roads has been the effect of the fuel strike where crazy boys decided to set alight to tires on the tarmac. It all adds up to a bumpy, perilous ride in a taxi.
Bamenda is also home to the 'Social Democrat Front' (SDF) who are the main opposing party tp Paul Biya's 'Cameroon Peoples Democratic Movement' (CPDM). Ebiebi is the leader of the SDF and we visited his craft shop today. The motto of the party is "Power to the people" and never have John Lennons' words been more meaningful. I bought an old drunk a beer the other night and he gave us his tale of woe about Biya's Cameroon. "That man in Yaounde has given us nothing, we work and work and we have nothing" These sentiments are widely held in places like Bamenda.
So i leave tomorrow back to Buea. I've had fun playing with Ines' sun Paul and her wee two year old cousin Ryan. They think i'm their own personal clown, everything i do is apparently hilarious to them. Ines' mother has been very hospitable and i've ate really well.
I'm going to say goodbye to the place this evening when Ines and i go find a restaurant that sells pizza. I'll see Bamenda by night.
Tuesday 17 June 2008
Back to the future
The mist on the mountain was thick, gray and heavy so we lit some candles. Alfred was ready to tell me my future and i was ready to hear it.
I sat in front of him in his traditional mud house. I was asked to sit perfectly straight and to not fold my arms or cross my legs. He brought out a small container holding corries, cola-nut shells and old beer bottle tops. He presented the container to me and asked that i put my hand over it. He then poured the contents and they scattered erratically on the mud floor. He ran his fingers over the pieces then looked me straight in the eye, it was incredibly intimidating but also fascinating at the same time. He looked back at the scattered assortment of flotsam on the floor and exuded an ominous grumbling.
He did not speak English so Ines translated from Pidgin, it was time to ask him some questions. I first of all asked what i was going to do when i left Cameroon. He said what i'm doing is very important here and when i go back i may have to leave again as someone will want me to work for them. I am also going to get a promotion and maybe work for the government.
I asked him will i ever get married? He gave me a wry smile and said 'why do you ask questions that you already know the answer to'. Will i have any kids? Back to the floor studying the chaos, a grumbling sound emitted then he stared at me and said 'yes, you will have a girl then a boy'. I asked him about my family, he said my sister Yolanda will go traveling and when she returns she will have a baby.
This was all pretty specific so i decided to inquire if i will ever get to see the world? A look, a grumble and a stare 'No' was his simple disappointing reply.
'What will happen to my friends?' He asked for a name and the first person i could think of was Phil. He said Phil will do well in life but he will have an accident, it will not be serious, but if he's not careful, it will happen.
As though this wasn't surreal enough a wee baby goat wandered into the room and stared at me, it then walked over to the candle on the floop and i had to stop it from burning its nose.
Now let me say that the universe is a pretty awesome place and all the secrets of why we are here are not yet defined, despite what the good books say. The world is magical and abundant with mystery. However, i don't believe we as humans have magic powers. I don't believe in miracles because they are illogical and have no place in a universe that has stringent laws of nature at its very core. So when a man looks at some shells and bottle tops and claims to see the myriad of possibilities and consequences that occur to shape the future, i'm afraid i become skeptical. This is something Ines and i debate quite frequently and no matter how many stories she has heard will convince me. It's all wish-thinking and we all can dream pretty big when we put our minds to it.
So i have seen an African witch doctor which is pretty cool, something to tell the grandkids sometime in the unwritten future.....
I sat in front of him in his traditional mud house. I was asked to sit perfectly straight and to not fold my arms or cross my legs. He brought out a small container holding corries, cola-nut shells and old beer bottle tops. He presented the container to me and asked that i put my hand over it. He then poured the contents and they scattered erratically on the mud floor. He ran his fingers over the pieces then looked me straight in the eye, it was incredibly intimidating but also fascinating at the same time. He looked back at the scattered assortment of flotsam on the floor and exuded an ominous grumbling.
He did not speak English so Ines translated from Pidgin, it was time to ask him some questions. I first of all asked what i was going to do when i left Cameroon. He said what i'm doing is very important here and when i go back i may have to leave again as someone will want me to work for them. I am also going to get a promotion and maybe work for the government.
I asked him will i ever get married? He gave me a wry smile and said 'why do you ask questions that you already know the answer to'. Will i have any kids? Back to the floor studying the chaos, a grumbling sound emitted then he stared at me and said 'yes, you will have a girl then a boy'. I asked him about my family, he said my sister Yolanda will go traveling and when she returns she will have a baby.
This was all pretty specific so i decided to inquire if i will ever get to see the world? A look, a grumble and a stare 'No' was his simple disappointing reply.
'What will happen to my friends?' He asked for a name and the first person i could think of was Phil. He said Phil will do well in life but he will have an accident, it will not be serious, but if he's not careful, it will happen.
As though this wasn't surreal enough a wee baby goat wandered into the room and stared at me, it then walked over to the candle on the floop and i had to stop it from burning its nose.
Now let me say that the universe is a pretty awesome place and all the secrets of why we are here are not yet defined, despite what the good books say. The world is magical and abundant with mystery. However, i don't believe we as humans have magic powers. I don't believe in miracles because they are illogical and have no place in a universe that has stringent laws of nature at its very core. So when a man looks at some shells and bottle tops and claims to see the myriad of possibilities and consequences that occur to shape the future, i'm afraid i become skeptical. This is something Ines and i debate quite frequently and no matter how many stories she has heard will convince me. It's all wish-thinking and we all can dream pretty big when we put our minds to it.
So i have seen an African witch doctor which is pretty cool, something to tell the grandkids sometime in the unwritten future.....
Monday 16 June 2008
Scotland in Cameroon
So i was awoken yesterday at the rude hour of 5.30A.M to get the bus to go see the witch doctor, Alfred. We took a packed wee bus into the highlands outside Bamenda to a small village named Babongu. We were stopped on the way by police looking for hand-outs. He seen me in the front seat and greeted me 'Bonjour Monsieur le blanc', funny guy, there's yer money pal, lets go.
We drove for about an hour through the most amazing landscape. There were high, jaggy volcanic mountains that seemed out of place amongst the vast, flat planes. I watched the sun climb in the sky as we climbed up picturesque hills and valleys. It reminded me of Scotland with the green mountains, the only things that were different were the trees and the climate.
Our old bus chugged up the bumpy road into Babongu and from there it would be a four hour hike into the mountains to a village called Oku - the residence of the witch doctor, Alfred.
As we got out the bus the old character that was the driver tried to charge 1500CFA per person despite the fact that Ines and her mum always pay 1300CFA, we eventually got him to play fair and drop the white man tax, which he did grudgingly.
Ines, her mother, her sister Emily and me started strolling through Babongu. They said the town was known for the wickedness of its inhabitants so i just smiled and waved at the faces consumed with fixed, fascinated stares at this Scottish white man who had decided to wander into town. It felt like everyone was staring at me, because they were. I have kind of gotten used to people staring at me in Africa, white men are a minority here and to see one is very rare unless you're in a big city. People are usually like 'Oh there's a white man', but here people were like 'HOLY MOTHER OF JESUS, LOOK THERE'S A BLOODY WHITE MAN!!!' It was a pretty strange feeling.
We began the hike up the mountain to Oku. It was a beautiful day and thanks to the altitude, not too hot. We climbed through the most awesome, picturesque scenery, it was the highlands of Scotland with mosquitoes. For a few moments i forgot myself and i was glad to be home. The ascent was pretty tough but we stopped regularly and i dipped my face in a stream from a waterfall that fell from high up above us. We ate delicious sardine sandwiches and some avocado to keep us going. We climbed on.
After about four hours we reached the tiny village of Oku high in the mountains of Cameroon. News quickly spread that there was a white man in town and people peered and peeped from windows and kids stopped and stared with fixed expressions of wonder as i passed. A wee baby started crying when i looked at her, i was probably the first white person she had ever seen and it was clearly a traumatic experience for her. It all kind of made me feel uneasy to tell you the truth, but we were in a secluded village in the heart of Africa, it's probably not an every day occurrance to see a white man cut into town.
We reached Alfred's traditional mud hut just before it started raining. It was made from a warm deep kind of Martian red earth and there was a steep thatched roof perched on top. He wasn't in when we arrived but he had left the door open, apparently he knew we were coming. it was so unbelievably peaceful and the only sounds around were the tree frogs. Then we heard a rustle in the distance as Alfred bounded through the bush. He seemed like an amiable chap with a funny, infectious laugh and the most piercing dark eyes that i have ever looked into. I asked if there was any beer up here and amazingly there was!! I bought everyone a beer and as i sat to drink i was amazed by humanity and there strong desire for the yeast beast that they would cart it up a bloody mountain. Good on them. It tasted lovely.
We relaxed and Ines and her family caught up with with Alfred. He only spoke Pidgin so i only understood a little. But they told me that two years ago he told Ines that she would bring a white man to his house. Here i was. When he was talking i'd look over and he was just staring at me in the most intense manner. I wondered if he was trying to read my mind.
I tried to have a sleep when food was being prepared and a first happened to me in Cameroon, i was cold!! yes my teeth were chattering and my lips were turning blue and it was amazing. It really was like Scotland in Cameroon, instead of Edinburgh we called the place Okuburgh.
After we ate it was time for Alfred to tell me the future. I asked some personal questions and i also asked about some of you guys. So if you're skeptical like me, please take it with a pinch of salt.
Tomorrow i see the future......
We drove for about an hour through the most amazing landscape. There were high, jaggy volcanic mountains that seemed out of place amongst the vast, flat planes. I watched the sun climb in the sky as we climbed up picturesque hills and valleys. It reminded me of Scotland with the green mountains, the only things that were different were the trees and the climate.
Our old bus chugged up the bumpy road into Babongu and from there it would be a four hour hike into the mountains to a village called Oku - the residence of the witch doctor, Alfred.
As we got out the bus the old character that was the driver tried to charge 1500CFA per person despite the fact that Ines and her mum always pay 1300CFA, we eventually got him to play fair and drop the white man tax, which he did grudgingly.
Ines, her mother, her sister Emily and me started strolling through Babongu. They said the town was known for the wickedness of its inhabitants so i just smiled and waved at the faces consumed with fixed, fascinated stares at this Scottish white man who had decided to wander into town. It felt like everyone was staring at me, because they were. I have kind of gotten used to people staring at me in Africa, white men are a minority here and to see one is very rare unless you're in a big city. People are usually like 'Oh there's a white man', but here people were like 'HOLY MOTHER OF JESUS, LOOK THERE'S A BLOODY WHITE MAN!!!' It was a pretty strange feeling.
We began the hike up the mountain to Oku. It was a beautiful day and thanks to the altitude, not too hot. We climbed through the most awesome, picturesque scenery, it was the highlands of Scotland with mosquitoes. For a few moments i forgot myself and i was glad to be home. The ascent was pretty tough but we stopped regularly and i dipped my face in a stream from a waterfall that fell from high up above us. We ate delicious sardine sandwiches and some avocado to keep us going. We climbed on.
After about four hours we reached the tiny village of Oku high in the mountains of Cameroon. News quickly spread that there was a white man in town and people peered and peeped from windows and kids stopped and stared with fixed expressions of wonder as i passed. A wee baby started crying when i looked at her, i was probably the first white person she had ever seen and it was clearly a traumatic experience for her. It all kind of made me feel uneasy to tell you the truth, but we were in a secluded village in the heart of Africa, it's probably not an every day occurrance to see a white man cut into town.
We reached Alfred's traditional mud hut just before it started raining. It was made from a warm deep kind of Martian red earth and there was a steep thatched roof perched on top. He wasn't in when we arrived but he had left the door open, apparently he knew we were coming. it was so unbelievably peaceful and the only sounds around were the tree frogs. Then we heard a rustle in the distance as Alfred bounded through the bush. He seemed like an amiable chap with a funny, infectious laugh and the most piercing dark eyes that i have ever looked into. I asked if there was any beer up here and amazingly there was!! I bought everyone a beer and as i sat to drink i was amazed by humanity and there strong desire for the yeast beast that they would cart it up a bloody mountain. Good on them. It tasted lovely.
We relaxed and Ines and her family caught up with with Alfred. He only spoke Pidgin so i only understood a little. But they told me that two years ago he told Ines that she would bring a white man to his house. Here i was. When he was talking i'd look over and he was just staring at me in the most intense manner. I wondered if he was trying to read my mind.
I tried to have a sleep when food was being prepared and a first happened to me in Cameroon, i was cold!! yes my teeth were chattering and my lips were turning blue and it was amazing. It really was like Scotland in Cameroon, instead of Edinburgh we called the place Okuburgh.
After we ate it was time for Alfred to tell me the future. I asked some personal questions and i also asked about some of you guys. So if you're skeptical like me, please take it with a pinch of salt.
Tomorrow i see the future......
Saturday 14 June 2008
Travelling man
These last few weeks in Cameroon are slipping away fast. I've been living on a bus to try and see as much of this beautiful country as possible.
I left Mamfe back to Buea on another epic voyage of eight hours, this was mainly due to the 4x4 breaking down and the bus having to pull it at a snails pace. They didn't have any towrope so what did we use?, a seatbelt. It kept becoming undone and in the dark of the dusty night, car horns and people shouting at us really didn't seem to help our progress. I'll say it again though, travelling in Cameroon is a real experience and is never boring.
It was sad to leave all the Americans behind as it was lots of fun having them around, people go on different paths in life and they were destined to do their work in Mamfe, and they certainly have a lot to get on with. Hopefully i will be going back there in a few weeks to help Kait with the school on wheels programme as i have some knowledge of how it works in Buea.
Last night i met Ines for a beer at Adidjan and we discussed going to Bamenda, i want to go before i head to Mamfe so she suggested we leave today. I'm now sitting in an internet cafe in Bamenda in the north-west province overlooking a giant mountain. I love being spontaneous.
We left at 10A.M this morning and we arrived at about 5P.M. It was a pretty cramped drive and i was scared i hadn't eaten enough for breakfast but once you are on the road and you stop at a checkpoint people come running with all kinds of delicious fruits perched on their heads. So i've been snacking quite healthily all the way here. On a side not i've developed a pretty serious watermelon addiction. The fruit is amazing here.
The road into Bamenda was truly spectacular. The city lies in a basin surrounded by sizeable mountains and when we drove down into it on roads that curved like the Monte Carlo grand prix, i was so transfixed i almost forgot to take pictures. The city seems cool, kind of like Yaounde without the tall buildings. We're going to go exploring on Monday as tomorrow i'm going to meet a man who has mastered the art of teleportation. Can't wait.
I left Mamfe back to Buea on another epic voyage of eight hours, this was mainly due to the 4x4 breaking down and the bus having to pull it at a snails pace. They didn't have any towrope so what did we use?, a seatbelt. It kept becoming undone and in the dark of the dusty night, car horns and people shouting at us really didn't seem to help our progress. I'll say it again though, travelling in Cameroon is a real experience and is never boring.
It was sad to leave all the Americans behind as it was lots of fun having them around, people go on different paths in life and they were destined to do their work in Mamfe, and they certainly have a lot to get on with. Hopefully i will be going back there in a few weeks to help Kait with the school on wheels programme as i have some knowledge of how it works in Buea.
Last night i met Ines for a beer at Adidjan and we discussed going to Bamenda, i want to go before i head to Mamfe so she suggested we leave today. I'm now sitting in an internet cafe in Bamenda in the north-west province overlooking a giant mountain. I love being spontaneous.
We left at 10A.M this morning and we arrived at about 5P.M. It was a pretty cramped drive and i was scared i hadn't eaten enough for breakfast but once you are on the road and you stop at a checkpoint people come running with all kinds of delicious fruits perched on their heads. So i've been snacking quite healthily all the way here. On a side not i've developed a pretty serious watermelon addiction. The fruit is amazing here.
The road into Bamenda was truly spectacular. The city lies in a basin surrounded by sizeable mountains and when we drove down into it on roads that curved like the Monte Carlo grand prix, i was so transfixed i almost forgot to take pictures. The city seems cool, kind of like Yaounde without the tall buildings. We're going to go exploring on Monday as tomorrow i'm going to meet a man who has mastered the art of teleportation. Can't wait.
Friday 13 June 2008
You will be afraid
So the sun rose on Mamfe on the 7th of June. We were rested and ready to see the mythical place which we had built up in our minds. When Chance arrived at Douala airport he got chatting to a guy about where he will be staying, when he told him Mamfe the mans ominous reply was 'You will be afraid'. The area is famous for witchcraft and many Cameroonians are weary of the place for that reason. Being a man of logic and reason, i don't believe in such superstitions. I just decided to keep my eyes peeled for giant holes in the road as they are very, very real.
Mr George, a UAC representative in Mamfe took us for a tour of the German bridges and other sites in the ex-German colony. The first bridge was a rather high delapadated suspension bridge spanning the Manu river (that's the second time i've crossed that river on a perilous bridge) I stood with a nervous grin on the high, shaky structure snapping away at the awesome scenary. We then went to a more solid reassuring bridge that crossed the same river and linked Cameroon to Nigeria. This was definately a German bridge as it spanned the river in an efficient linear concrete line. We went underneath it and witnessed the illegal oil trade between Cameroon and Nigeria. There were many shabby looking boats carrying all kinds of goods between the countries. Where i come from you might be a bit weary of customs officials frowning on such practices but not here, they all shouted 'Snap me' and we all documented the fascinating scene like a pack of papparazzi.
Mamfe had a lovely small town atmosphere, the people were friendly and always greeted us wherever we went. We were not afraid. The roads in the centre of town were paved unlike the bumpy dirt tracks we came in on. Strange, beautiful trees lined tidy, chaotic streets and the early German architecture stood out amongst a sea of brown and blue wooden shacks. Motorbikes tooted by us as we walked round taking it all in.
We walked to the market and all the girls bought cool, kitch dresses. Everybody was so welcoming to us and i probably took about 50 photos. Time for a beer.
The heritage inn where we were staying was run by the amiable Stella who cooked delicious meals for us and plied us with the freshest watermelons and pineapples. There was no power or water so we collected water from a little stream at the bottom of the garden and showered before bed.
Next day Sunday was a day of rest. We hung out in the hotel and Kait and I walked round the town. Loads of wee kids kept shouting 'white man, white man' I'm yet to hear them say white woman. It was a beautiful day. We took a tour of the UAC office and the Americans got briefed on what they will be doing during their stay.
There was chat about going to the club as they have a generator and we could have a boogie and shake our bums. Yes let's go clubbing in Mamfe. Splendid idea. The girls all put on their bargain gladrags that they bought yerterday at the market and we all headed into the inky-black darkness towards the club. We sat in the bar and comandeered half the place with our happy gang. Unfortunately the club was closed on Sundays so Hendrieke, Stella and I went to talk to the manager. He was a stange fat-tongued man who was not too understanding about our desire to dance. He wanted 150,000CFA to open the club, which was unrealistic. He said that would cover a barman, oil for the generatot and a DJ, i managed to barter him down to 120,000CFA and we get to keep the money from the door. No one was up for it and we reached a stalemate. Besides, we were happy to stay in the bar and create a makeshift dancefloor where we danced to Makossa all night long. There was a bit of hassle when we left as all these guys came up to the bus and started asking us to stay. I thought they were all desperate because all the white girls were leaving but i found out later that there was a conspiracy to rob us. I was too tipsy to be afraid.
The next morning, a little worse for wear, we were put to work. There was a rumour that we were going to go and plant flowers at the UAC sports complex, this couldn't have been further from the truth. We were actually shifting bricks up a hill to help build the sports complex. We formed an assembly line in the firey sun and begun the strenuous task. I have never experienced such wild, brutal heat and a few people bacame rapidly dehydrated and had to sit down. There was not enough water for us and their was a mad dash to get more. Hard labour and the stifling middday African sun do not go hand in hand. If i never have to carry another brick for the rest of my puff, i will be no less happy.
Later that day we all piled in the van and went to Orocks' friends house for a delicious meal. I ate like i'd never seen food before. It was great with the wild thunderstorm above us dining in candlelight.
We were supposed to leave tomorrow but the Mayor of Mamfe had seen us carting bricks and was inspired to invite us all to lunch at his house. We went the next day and their was a plentiful feast put on for us, it was all very tasty but we all avoided the porcupine soup. There were some formalities like speeches and backslapping but in all it was a fairly relaxed affair and a great one to end our time in Mamfe.
We spent our last night chatting and drinking beer at the hotel. It was a fun five days and for many reasons i would be sad to leave.
Mr George, a UAC representative in Mamfe took us for a tour of the German bridges and other sites in the ex-German colony. The first bridge was a rather high delapadated suspension bridge spanning the Manu river (that's the second time i've crossed that river on a perilous bridge) I stood with a nervous grin on the high, shaky structure snapping away at the awesome scenary. We then went to a more solid reassuring bridge that crossed the same river and linked Cameroon to Nigeria. This was definately a German bridge as it spanned the river in an efficient linear concrete line. We went underneath it and witnessed the illegal oil trade between Cameroon and Nigeria. There were many shabby looking boats carrying all kinds of goods between the countries. Where i come from you might be a bit weary of customs officials frowning on such practices but not here, they all shouted 'Snap me' and we all documented the fascinating scene like a pack of papparazzi.
Mamfe had a lovely small town atmosphere, the people were friendly and always greeted us wherever we went. We were not afraid. The roads in the centre of town were paved unlike the bumpy dirt tracks we came in on. Strange, beautiful trees lined tidy, chaotic streets and the early German architecture stood out amongst a sea of brown and blue wooden shacks. Motorbikes tooted by us as we walked round taking it all in.
We walked to the market and all the girls bought cool, kitch dresses. Everybody was so welcoming to us and i probably took about 50 photos. Time for a beer.
The heritage inn where we were staying was run by the amiable Stella who cooked delicious meals for us and plied us with the freshest watermelons and pineapples. There was no power or water so we collected water from a little stream at the bottom of the garden and showered before bed.
Next day Sunday was a day of rest. We hung out in the hotel and Kait and I walked round the town. Loads of wee kids kept shouting 'white man, white man' I'm yet to hear them say white woman. It was a beautiful day. We took a tour of the UAC office and the Americans got briefed on what they will be doing during their stay.
There was chat about going to the club as they have a generator and we could have a boogie and shake our bums. Yes let's go clubbing in Mamfe. Splendid idea. The girls all put on their bargain gladrags that they bought yerterday at the market and we all headed into the inky-black darkness towards the club. We sat in the bar and comandeered half the place with our happy gang. Unfortunately the club was closed on Sundays so Hendrieke, Stella and I went to talk to the manager. He was a stange fat-tongued man who was not too understanding about our desire to dance. He wanted 150,000CFA to open the club, which was unrealistic. He said that would cover a barman, oil for the generatot and a DJ, i managed to barter him down to 120,000CFA and we get to keep the money from the door. No one was up for it and we reached a stalemate. Besides, we were happy to stay in the bar and create a makeshift dancefloor where we danced to Makossa all night long. There was a bit of hassle when we left as all these guys came up to the bus and started asking us to stay. I thought they were all desperate because all the white girls were leaving but i found out later that there was a conspiracy to rob us. I was too tipsy to be afraid.
The next morning, a little worse for wear, we were put to work. There was a rumour that we were going to go and plant flowers at the UAC sports complex, this couldn't have been further from the truth. We were actually shifting bricks up a hill to help build the sports complex. We formed an assembly line in the firey sun and begun the strenuous task. I have never experienced such wild, brutal heat and a few people bacame rapidly dehydrated and had to sit down. There was not enough water for us and their was a mad dash to get more. Hard labour and the stifling middday African sun do not go hand in hand. If i never have to carry another brick for the rest of my puff, i will be no less happy.
Later that day we all piled in the van and went to Orocks' friends house for a delicious meal. I ate like i'd never seen food before. It was great with the wild thunderstorm above us dining in candlelight.
We were supposed to leave tomorrow but the Mayor of Mamfe had seen us carting bricks and was inspired to invite us all to lunch at his house. We went the next day and their was a plentiful feast put on for us, it was all very tasty but we all avoided the porcupine soup. There were some formalities like speeches and backslapping but in all it was a fairly relaxed affair and a great one to end our time in Mamfe.
We spent our last night chatting and drinking beer at the hotel. It was a fun five days and for many reasons i would be sad to leave.
Thursday 12 June 2008
Going to Mamfe
Hello!! How?
I have just returned from Mamfe in the south-west province. We all left on friday and i just got back to Buea yesterday night. All us volunteers went with the Americans who will be based there doing work for the peacework organisation.
It was quite an international gang that went on the trip, there were the UAC volunteers Sofie and Berit from Denmark, Hendrieke and Wiesje from Holland, Valerie from Canada and me fae Scotland. The peacework team were Kait, Courtney, Chance, James and Hunter from the U.S.A and Loan from Vietnam.
We crammed into one of the UAC buses and all our luggage and the donations that the Americans brought went ahead of us in the 4x4 with Mr Orock and Antoinne, his driver.
We set off in the baking heat of midday, it was a scorcher and i was glad to get a window seat. Kait and i had fun chatting and looking at the endless green scenary rolling out before our eyes. Cries of 'white man' echoed whenever we passed a child on the road. It was fun and i was enjoying myself. Then we started stopping, everywhere. Mr orock is the deputy mayor of Mamfe and i appreciate the fact that he had a lot of business to attend to before going, but it started to become tedious in the blast furnace of the afternoon sun. Luckily we were a happy enough gang and we managed to ward off going stir crazy.
We got to Kumba and stopped for lunch. I had a beer and a fish with no meat on it, like my tattoo. The 4x4 was overheating so it was taken to the garage. We played some frisbee whilst a gathering of curious onlookers watched us. It musn't be a common occurance to have a bus load of white people rock up and chuck around a disc.
With the car fixed we were back on the bumpy meandering road and the green trees weaving our way through the jungle. We thought we were making good progrees when the severity of the bumps took its toll on our old bus and we got a flat tyre. We were in the middle of nowhere, well that's a lie, we were in the jungle somewhere. Travelling in Cameroon is never boring, i promise you. Tyre fixed, we rolled into the inknown towards Mamfe, it was wicked and my ipod provided some amazing backround music to it all.
We crossed these rather perilous looking bridges and i realised after crossing the first one that it was stupid to look down into the void. It was pitch black and all we could see were the beams of light from the cars illuminating the earthy brown bumps. It was getting late and we were all flagging pretty hard. Surely we would get there soon was a general consensus. These hopes were dashed when we became stuck in very thick mud, i tried to open the door to get out and push but the goop was so deep we couldn't even open the door. It was mad but eventually we got out of it, much to the expert driving from sister John.
It was now 10P.M and i was beginning to wonder if Mamfe was a real place. I looked out the window into the dark and then i seen a sign saying 'Mamfe', i choked back tears and waited and dreamed of luxaries like beds and food and showers. We had been in the bus for 13 hours!!
We all stayed at the Heritage Inn but there were not enough rooms so we all shared. There was a blackout in the city but there was still water so i had a pitch dark, freezing shower, it was amazing. Tired and in dire need of a beer i walked up to the main hotel and fell in a rather deep hole, i skinned my knee and cursed like a sailor. I thought i now deserved a beer after that so i got one and relaxed.
Tomorrow Mamfe in the daytime when you can see all the holes.
I have just returned from Mamfe in the south-west province. We all left on friday and i just got back to Buea yesterday night. All us volunteers went with the Americans who will be based there doing work for the peacework organisation.
It was quite an international gang that went on the trip, there were the UAC volunteers Sofie and Berit from Denmark, Hendrieke and Wiesje from Holland, Valerie from Canada and me fae Scotland. The peacework team were Kait, Courtney, Chance, James and Hunter from the U.S.A and Loan from Vietnam.
We crammed into one of the UAC buses and all our luggage and the donations that the Americans brought went ahead of us in the 4x4 with Mr Orock and Antoinne, his driver.
We set off in the baking heat of midday, it was a scorcher and i was glad to get a window seat. Kait and i had fun chatting and looking at the endless green scenary rolling out before our eyes. Cries of 'white man' echoed whenever we passed a child on the road. It was fun and i was enjoying myself. Then we started stopping, everywhere. Mr orock is the deputy mayor of Mamfe and i appreciate the fact that he had a lot of business to attend to before going, but it started to become tedious in the blast furnace of the afternoon sun. Luckily we were a happy enough gang and we managed to ward off going stir crazy.
We got to Kumba and stopped for lunch. I had a beer and a fish with no meat on it, like my tattoo. The 4x4 was overheating so it was taken to the garage. We played some frisbee whilst a gathering of curious onlookers watched us. It musn't be a common occurance to have a bus load of white people rock up and chuck around a disc.
With the car fixed we were back on the bumpy meandering road and the green trees weaving our way through the jungle. We thought we were making good progrees when the severity of the bumps took its toll on our old bus and we got a flat tyre. We were in the middle of nowhere, well that's a lie, we were in the jungle somewhere. Travelling in Cameroon is never boring, i promise you. Tyre fixed, we rolled into the inknown towards Mamfe, it was wicked and my ipod provided some amazing backround music to it all.
We crossed these rather perilous looking bridges and i realised after crossing the first one that it was stupid to look down into the void. It was pitch black and all we could see were the beams of light from the cars illuminating the earthy brown bumps. It was getting late and we were all flagging pretty hard. Surely we would get there soon was a general consensus. These hopes were dashed when we became stuck in very thick mud, i tried to open the door to get out and push but the goop was so deep we couldn't even open the door. It was mad but eventually we got out of it, much to the expert driving from sister John.
It was now 10P.M and i was beginning to wonder if Mamfe was a real place. I looked out the window into the dark and then i seen a sign saying 'Mamfe', i choked back tears and waited and dreamed of luxaries like beds and food and showers. We had been in the bus for 13 hours!!
We all stayed at the Heritage Inn but there were not enough rooms so we all shared. There was a blackout in the city but there was still water so i had a pitch dark, freezing shower, it was amazing. Tired and in dire need of a beer i walked up to the main hotel and fell in a rather deep hole, i skinned my knee and cursed like a sailor. I thought i now deserved a beer after that so i got one and relaxed.
Tomorrow Mamfe in the daytime when you can see all the holes.
Wednesday 4 June 2008
Graduation with music
The day has finally arrived, it's graduation day and with it, the musical performance of the century.
We decorated the massive hall yesterday with flowers and balloons and the sparse, vacuous space looked pretty, like a concrete gargoyle with a dress on. The show was meant to start at 9A.M but with Africa time and the logistical nightmare of getting all the parents and their children seated the proceedings rolled to a tardy start at 10.30A.M.
The music class and i had a last minute backstage rehearsal and then we went on stage to the sizeable crowd of proud mothers and fathers and already bored kids. We first sang the Cameroonian National anthem and a song to welcome the parents to the ceremony. Thet went really well and there was no major catastrophes apart from my poor rendition of the anthem. Then we sang 'Cameroon Sun' and i danced about and strummed away maniacally on my unplugged guitar. There was one microphone and it was pushed under one wee girls face, with the others signing their wee hearts out behind her, it sounded pretty good, then the microphone broke but we perserviered and i think won over the audience with our charming performance. They danced off the stage singing a very funky traditional African song.
The gig over i could relax and enjoy the show. All the volunteers were sat in a place of honour to the right of the stage and we watced Stanley Kamga, the head teacher, do his best hosting the chaotic schedule. There was a hilarious game of musical chairs by the class 1's where DJ Dan, Orocks son, pumped out a really innapropriate 50 cent song and stopped it to the dejection of the last kid to fumble and fight to a chair to sit down. I'm sure it probably scarred them emotionally in some way, at least that's the way it looked as they walked off stage withe their head hung to a chorus of raptourous laughter.
The class 5's did a journalistic evaluation of UAC and what it had managed to achieve in the last year. And there were many speeches too. The noise of chatter in the hall was drowned out by a sudden vicious downpour which made all the balloons we'd tied to the windows fly about eractically. It really was organized chaos as water sprayed through the windows and encouraging kids to scream louder as balloons told us where the wind was. I just looked and laughed at it all.
Time was marching on and i was aware that we had not yet gotten onto the not insubstantial task of handing out the hundred prizes. Each class from nursery to the graduating class 5's were in the running for prestigious awards like 'Most improved student', 'Most tidy' and they were ironically given a washing bowl to be even more tidy presumably. 'Most punctual' and 'Best attendance'. Valerie and i presented the awards to the class 2's and my bosom swelled with pride as i seen the wee guys in their mortar boards and over-sizes cloaks come to collect them. I donated a few notebooks and my book 'Images of Scotland' , i don't know which lucky boy or girl won the book, but i'm sure they would take a book on Scotland anyday over an xbox 360or a bike.
So the curtains fell on the show at 2P.M and i was exhausted, i took loads of pictures of the occasion and it really was a brilliant ending to the term.
We decorated the massive hall yesterday with flowers and balloons and the sparse, vacuous space looked pretty, like a concrete gargoyle with a dress on. The show was meant to start at 9A.M but with Africa time and the logistical nightmare of getting all the parents and their children seated the proceedings rolled to a tardy start at 10.30A.M.
The music class and i had a last minute backstage rehearsal and then we went on stage to the sizeable crowd of proud mothers and fathers and already bored kids. We first sang the Cameroonian National anthem and a song to welcome the parents to the ceremony. Thet went really well and there was no major catastrophes apart from my poor rendition of the anthem. Then we sang 'Cameroon Sun' and i danced about and strummed away maniacally on my unplugged guitar. There was one microphone and it was pushed under one wee girls face, with the others signing their wee hearts out behind her, it sounded pretty good, then the microphone broke but we perserviered and i think won over the audience with our charming performance. They danced off the stage singing a very funky traditional African song.
The gig over i could relax and enjoy the show. All the volunteers were sat in a place of honour to the right of the stage and we watced Stanley Kamga, the head teacher, do his best hosting the chaotic schedule. There was a hilarious game of musical chairs by the class 1's where DJ Dan, Orocks son, pumped out a really innapropriate 50 cent song and stopped it to the dejection of the last kid to fumble and fight to a chair to sit down. I'm sure it probably scarred them emotionally in some way, at least that's the way it looked as they walked off stage withe their head hung to a chorus of raptourous laughter.
The class 5's did a journalistic evaluation of UAC and what it had managed to achieve in the last year. And there were many speeches too. The noise of chatter in the hall was drowned out by a sudden vicious downpour which made all the balloons we'd tied to the windows fly about eractically. It really was organized chaos as water sprayed through the windows and encouraging kids to scream louder as balloons told us where the wind was. I just looked and laughed at it all.
Time was marching on and i was aware that we had not yet gotten onto the not insubstantial task of handing out the hundred prizes. Each class from nursery to the graduating class 5's were in the running for prestigious awards like 'Most improved student', 'Most tidy' and they were ironically given a washing bowl to be even more tidy presumably. 'Most punctual' and 'Best attendance'. Valerie and i presented the awards to the class 2's and my bosom swelled with pride as i seen the wee guys in their mortar boards and over-sizes cloaks come to collect them. I donated a few notebooks and my book 'Images of Scotland' , i don't know which lucky boy or girl won the book, but i'm sure they would take a book on Scotland anyday over an xbox 360or a bike.
So the curtains fell on the show at 2P.M and i was exhausted, i took loads of pictures of the occasion and it really was a brilliant ending to the term.
Monday 2 June 2008
I've drank aloe vera!!
Over the past month or so since i recovered from the dastardly duo of malaria and typhoid i've been feeling a little bit rough. Without wanting to go into too much detail and in the interest of human decency, all i shall say is i've not been feeling 100%, and my toilet is my sworn enemy.
Dr Njemba, or the candy doctor as she's commonly known, has prescribed all kinds of drugs to eradicate my ailments. I've also modified my diet so to not include bread and beer (which is about 50% of my diet) but still i feel rough. So enough was enough and when Ines suggested that i drink aloe vera, i agreed out of sheer desperation. She took some of the leaves from the magic plant outside my house and washed them, cut them up and then let them steep in fresh water. She brought the limey-green concoction to me and i drank the bitter potion last night. It was hard not to gag as the bitter taste washed over the back of my throat, i necked it in one and waited for the magic plant to heal me. People swear by it hear as it is regarded as a cure for typhoid and it cleanses your blood of any toxins. But they believe in a lot of other magic cures from plants too. For instance there are many 'doctors' who believe they have the cure for HIV, i ask why they don't release the information to the wider world, a simple answer, they don't want to be killed for their knowledge. Fair enough.
With all that in mind i lay down and read. About two hours after taking it i started to burn up, like literally, i was so hot i stuck my head in a bucket of water!!! Then i began to feel nauseous. I phoned Ines and she told me it was normal. I felt better this morning but i didn't relish having to take more today. So hear is hoping that i get better cause i've tried everything else, what harm can drinking a plant do?
In other news......
The school term has ended and the children graduate on wednesday. Tests have been taken and the stage is set for their graduation onto the next year or in the case of the class 5's, secondary school. All the volunteers have been busy cutting out flowers and making massive, elaborate signs in order to decorate the hall where the ceremony will be held. And of course there shall be other entertainment from the music class and i. Should all be fun.
There are lots of new American volunteers who are here with the Peacework organisation, there are five in all and they're all going to Mamfe to help with the out-reach programmes that UAC conducts there. As there will be no school we will be joining them on their trip to Mamfe on thursday for a visit.
Splendid.
Dr Njemba, or the candy doctor as she's commonly known, has prescribed all kinds of drugs to eradicate my ailments. I've also modified my diet so to not include bread and beer (which is about 50% of my diet) but still i feel rough. So enough was enough and when Ines suggested that i drink aloe vera, i agreed out of sheer desperation. She took some of the leaves from the magic plant outside my house and washed them, cut them up and then let them steep in fresh water. She brought the limey-green concoction to me and i drank the bitter potion last night. It was hard not to gag as the bitter taste washed over the back of my throat, i necked it in one and waited for the magic plant to heal me. People swear by it hear as it is regarded as a cure for typhoid and it cleanses your blood of any toxins. But they believe in a lot of other magic cures from plants too. For instance there are many 'doctors' who believe they have the cure for HIV, i ask why they don't release the information to the wider world, a simple answer, they don't want to be killed for their knowledge. Fair enough.
With all that in mind i lay down and read. About two hours after taking it i started to burn up, like literally, i was so hot i stuck my head in a bucket of water!!! Then i began to feel nauseous. I phoned Ines and she told me it was normal. I felt better this morning but i didn't relish having to take more today. So hear is hoping that i get better cause i've tried everything else, what harm can drinking a plant do?
In other news......
The school term has ended and the children graduate on wednesday. Tests have been taken and the stage is set for their graduation onto the next year or in the case of the class 5's, secondary school. All the volunteers have been busy cutting out flowers and making massive, elaborate signs in order to decorate the hall where the ceremony will be held. And of course there shall be other entertainment from the music class and i. Should all be fun.
There are lots of new American volunteers who are here with the Peacework organisation, there are five in all and they're all going to Mamfe to help with the out-reach programmes that UAC conducts there. As there will be no school we will be joining them on their trip to Mamfe on thursday for a visit.
Splendid.
Thursday 29 May 2008
Pidgin English
In the west of Cameroon the main language spoken is Pidgin, although Cameroonian Pidgin English (CPE) does not have official status like English, it is spoken widely in this part of the country. There is a Pidgin Bible, you'll hear it in the bars, in the taxis and everywhere you go because Pidgin is the language of the street.
It's a strange language in your ears at first, you hear a lot of english words so you feel like you can understand a lot, it's not indesiferable. But they speak it so fast and with such fluidity that the words flow into one so it's easy to lose track, then suddenly a word like 'white man' will pop up and you realise that yes, they have been talking about you. My response to any Pidgin question posed is usually, 'I di speak Pidgin small small'. You don't need to be a hieroglyphics code-breaker like Howard Carter to work out what that means.
Most of the english verbs are used with the adition of 'am' on the end meaning 'it'. So you'll hear things like 'take-am' or 'leave-am'. My favoriye use of the verbs is for the future tense though. If you wanted to say 'i'm going to go' you'd say in Pidgin - 'I di go go'.
Good words like 'Mimbo' meaning drink and 'chop' which means eat will be heard regularly as everyone likes to chop and everyone is partial to a mimbo.
There are also a lot of Portuguese words prevelant in the language from the times of the first settlers to arrive at the ports. Words like 'Piqueno' became 'Pikin' in Pidgin meaning child. My favourite word is 'palava' meaning trouble.
The language gets a bit of bad rap and not everybody accepts the language despite it having its own syntax and grammatical rules. It is blamed for slipping academic standards and the poor level of english pronunciation amongst some people. In Yaounde, a francophone area for example, i encountered a lot of people who regard it with a low self image.
I think it's cool as i realise it gives the people a sense of identity and pride, however it's obviously essential to learn english as it is the link to many other countries. And i can't hate a language which has provided me with one of the funniest prases i've ever heard....
Can i feel your power?
Meaning, Can i feel your muscles, sir?
It's a strange language in your ears at first, you hear a lot of english words so you feel like you can understand a lot, it's not indesiferable. But they speak it so fast and with such fluidity that the words flow into one so it's easy to lose track, then suddenly a word like 'white man' will pop up and you realise that yes, they have been talking about you. My response to any Pidgin question posed is usually, 'I di speak Pidgin small small'. You don't need to be a hieroglyphics code-breaker like Howard Carter to work out what that means.
Most of the english verbs are used with the adition of 'am' on the end meaning 'it'. So you'll hear things like 'take-am' or 'leave-am'. My favoriye use of the verbs is for the future tense though. If you wanted to say 'i'm going to go' you'd say in Pidgin - 'I di go go'.
Good words like 'Mimbo' meaning drink and 'chop' which means eat will be heard regularly as everyone likes to chop and everyone is partial to a mimbo.
There are also a lot of Portuguese words prevelant in the language from the times of the first settlers to arrive at the ports. Words like 'Piqueno' became 'Pikin' in Pidgin meaning child. My favourite word is 'palava' meaning trouble.
The language gets a bit of bad rap and not everybody accepts the language despite it having its own syntax and grammatical rules. It is blamed for slipping academic standards and the poor level of english pronunciation amongst some people. In Yaounde, a francophone area for example, i encountered a lot of people who regard it with a low self image.
I think it's cool as i realise it gives the people a sense of identity and pride, however it's obviously essential to learn english as it is the link to many other countries. And i can't hate a language which has provided me with one of the funniest prases i've ever heard....
Can i feel your power?
Meaning, Can i feel your muscles, sir?
Tuesday 27 May 2008
10 things to bring to Cameroon
Here is a short list of things that are essential for a stay in Cameroon. I've looked at a few guide books on the country and none of these things are on there.
1. Earplugs - You will not believe how loud people listen to music here, it's obtrusively loud, and the sound carries for miles at night.
2. Candles - When it rains they sometimes shut off the power. You may be able to get candles here like i have, but it wouldn't be pleasant to spend your first night in darkness.
3. Hand and face wipes - Handy for when you're out and there is no water source to wash your hands.
4. Swiss army Knife - I've spent a lot of my time fixing things here, srewing this and tightening that. A swiss army knife would have been ideal.
5. Small toys - As i've seen volunteers leave it's clear that you don't just get away with a 'Gooodbye, remember me', a small toy or gift is a quite sought after item for the wee kids around here.
6. Books - Bring so many books. At night there are three choices - drink, exercise or read. I indulge in all three but reading has become a real passion of mine at the moment. Also a book with pictures on your country of origin, people find it fascinating.
7. Torch - I brought a wind-up one that i basically owe my life to as i can read at night. Thanks Dad.
8. Radio - Since i had my ipod nicked i considered buying one. A wind-up one would be wicked though.
9. Musical instrument - If you play one, bring it. My guitar has been a life saver to me at points, the wee dudes love it too.
10. Raincoat - the words 'when it rains it pours' have never rung truer for me
1. Earplugs - You will not believe how loud people listen to music here, it's obtrusively loud, and the sound carries for miles at night.
2. Candles - When it rains they sometimes shut off the power. You may be able to get candles here like i have, but it wouldn't be pleasant to spend your first night in darkness.
3. Hand and face wipes - Handy for when you're out and there is no water source to wash your hands.
4. Swiss army Knife - I've spent a lot of my time fixing things here, srewing this and tightening that. A swiss army knife would have been ideal.
5. Small toys - As i've seen volunteers leave it's clear that you don't just get away with a 'Gooodbye, remember me', a small toy or gift is a quite sought after item for the wee kids around here.
6. Books - Bring so many books. At night there are three choices - drink, exercise or read. I indulge in all three but reading has become a real passion of mine at the moment. Also a book with pictures on your country of origin, people find it fascinating.
7. Torch - I brought a wind-up one that i basically owe my life to as i can read at night. Thanks Dad.
8. Radio - Since i had my ipod nicked i considered buying one. A wind-up one would be wicked though.
9. Musical instrument - If you play one, bring it. My guitar has been a life saver to me at points, the wee dudes love it too.
10. Raincoat - the words 'when it rains it pours' have never rung truer for me
Monday 26 May 2008
There is a first time for everything
This is my first time coming to the African continent, i was a bit scared at first but i jumped in with both feet and managed to keep my head above the water and achieve alot, i did almost drown at one point though.
It's so interesting here and there seems to be no end to nthe surprises, it's quite fantastical.
I've been here through the strike action and without wanting to be too melodramatic, it's the closest i'm going to get to war being a conscientious objector. Everytime i get on a bus it's like being part of a poorly rehearsed slapstick sketch, if it wasn't so funny it'd be bloody terrifying.
My Francophone friend, Ines, had a few firsts while i've been here too. I bought her her first ever burger, and get this, when we all escorted Meredith to the airport, she had her first pizza in Douala!!. She thought it was delicious naturally, but she's probably not going to be too happy about me blabbing about it on the internet. So whilst i'm already in trouble i'll tell you about the first time she heard the Flaming Lips on my ipod, a potentially strange experience for anyone. After careful deliberation, she chose her words carefully 'i've never heard anything like that in my life'. She says she used to listen to the BBC world service and her favourite bands were 'the cranberries' and 'the blur'.
We also went clubbing for Wishas birthday on friday and it was her first time in a club. We all had a wicked time and i got a little bit tipsy.
There is a first time for everything.
It's so interesting here and there seems to be no end to nthe surprises, it's quite fantastical.
I've been here through the strike action and without wanting to be too melodramatic, it's the closest i'm going to get to war being a conscientious objector. Everytime i get on a bus it's like being part of a poorly rehearsed slapstick sketch, if it wasn't so funny it'd be bloody terrifying.
My Francophone friend, Ines, had a few firsts while i've been here too. I bought her her first ever burger, and get this, when we all escorted Meredith to the airport, she had her first pizza in Douala!!. She thought it was delicious naturally, but she's probably not going to be too happy about me blabbing about it on the internet. So whilst i'm already in trouble i'll tell you about the first time she heard the Flaming Lips on my ipod, a potentially strange experience for anyone. After careful deliberation, she chose her words carefully 'i've never heard anything like that in my life'. She says she used to listen to the BBC world service and her favourite bands were 'the cranberries' and 'the blur'.
We also went clubbing for Wishas birthday on friday and it was her first time in a club. We all had a wicked time and i got a little bit tipsy.
There is a first time for everything.
Thursday 22 May 2008
One child - one chicken
UAC and the Jamadianale school has had a lot of attention from people in Cameroon due to its holistic approach to education, small class sizes and innovative programmes.
Today the one child - one chicken and the one child - one tree programmes were launched at the school, the baking sun above us showed zero mercy, but the big ceremony was a great success despite the prolific heat. The class 5's were presented with a live chick and the class 4's were given seeds to plant a tree.
I watched as these wee chicks were handed out in plastic bags to the kids, i couldn't decide whether it was a good idea or a really bad one. The thinking behind it was these kids take these chicks away to rear them over the summer holidays and thus instilling in them the importance of living things and the hardships that are synonymous with caring for them. When they come back to school they are going to sell the fully grown chickens in an auction arranged by UAC, this will give them the values of making a sustainable income from the land. Good ideas in principle, but when you've got 60 kids carrying chickens in a bag, it's hard for your mind to make up its mind. Some were carrying them at arms length in fear of their cute, fluffy, adorable faces. Some were curiously and shamelessly inspecting the birds' genitalia. I thought to myself, this is madness, but it's just crazy enough to work. I'm not sure how the wee chicks felt about it though.
The class 4's were given tree seeds and a bag to plant them in, not quite as ceremonious as a live fowl granted, but the important message was still there. They are going to plant the saplings at home and bring them to the new school site in the new term to be planted in the compound. Again these wee kids will learn the importance of living things and maybe in the future they will be less inclined to cut down are leafy friends, for if it wasn't for them we wouldn't be here at all. I presented the first girl with 6 seeds for planting, she smiled at me like she didn't have a clue what was going on, i said in her ear, 'here is some magic beans, plant them and they will grow taller than you'. She looked at me even more confused but she smiled emphatically. Some dude with a video camera filmed it all so maybe i'll be on Cameroonian T.V.
There was a carnival atmosphere in the school and Mr. Orock was giving interviews to different people and presenting the show. Kids were walking about with little bemused chicks peering out of bags with abject fear in their eyes. It was all rather surreal and i got a bit snap-happy with the old camera because it seemed wherever i looked there was a photo opportunity. It's days like when i realise i'm in Cameroon. It hits my face like a wet slap of water and suddenly i'm looking at a sea of kids holding petrified chickens aloft wrapped in crude plastic bags, I wish i could explain it better to you and to myself, but i do have photographic evidence, so i know it definately happened.
Today the one child - one chicken and the one child - one tree programmes were launched at the school, the baking sun above us showed zero mercy, but the big ceremony was a great success despite the prolific heat. The class 5's were presented with a live chick and the class 4's were given seeds to plant a tree.
I watched as these wee chicks were handed out in plastic bags to the kids, i couldn't decide whether it was a good idea or a really bad one. The thinking behind it was these kids take these chicks away to rear them over the summer holidays and thus instilling in them the importance of living things and the hardships that are synonymous with caring for them. When they come back to school they are going to sell the fully grown chickens in an auction arranged by UAC, this will give them the values of making a sustainable income from the land. Good ideas in principle, but when you've got 60 kids carrying chickens in a bag, it's hard for your mind to make up its mind. Some were carrying them at arms length in fear of their cute, fluffy, adorable faces. Some were curiously and shamelessly inspecting the birds' genitalia. I thought to myself, this is madness, but it's just crazy enough to work. I'm not sure how the wee chicks felt about it though.
The class 4's were given tree seeds and a bag to plant them in, not quite as ceremonious as a live fowl granted, but the important message was still there. They are going to plant the saplings at home and bring them to the new school site in the new term to be planted in the compound. Again these wee kids will learn the importance of living things and maybe in the future they will be less inclined to cut down are leafy friends, for if it wasn't for them we wouldn't be here at all. I presented the first girl with 6 seeds for planting, she smiled at me like she didn't have a clue what was going on, i said in her ear, 'here is some magic beans, plant them and they will grow taller than you'. She looked at me even more confused but she smiled emphatically. Some dude with a video camera filmed it all so maybe i'll be on Cameroonian T.V.
There was a carnival atmosphere in the school and Mr. Orock was giving interviews to different people and presenting the show. Kids were walking about with little bemused chicks peering out of bags with abject fear in their eyes. It was all rather surreal and i got a bit snap-happy with the old camera because it seemed wherever i looked there was a photo opportunity. It's days like when i realise i'm in Cameroon. It hits my face like a wet slap of water and suddenly i'm looking at a sea of kids holding petrified chickens aloft wrapped in crude plastic bags, I wish i could explain it better to you and to myself, but i do have photographic evidence, so i know it definately happened.
Tuesday 20 May 2008
National day
On May 20th 1972 the Anglophone and Francophone regions of Cameroon came together and formed the 'Unified Republic of Cameroon' That day is now celebrated with a public holiday and a giant march pass in its honour. We attended it today.
And when i say march pass, i mean march pass. Everyone and their mother joined the cue today to march in the baking sun. We were hanging out with Jamadianle kids before it started and it was power-sappingly hot and ram-jammed with school kids in their best uniforms. It was the kind of heat that makes you feel what bread goes through before being done, i couldn't think, my body was to busy sweating for me. All the wee kids were gagging on water as well. One funny wee dude reached such heights of desperation that he actually came up and just demanded money off me. Enough was enough.
We watched all the schools of Buea march past the governor at bongo square and we snapped like crazy, it's a real photo opportunity, as the uniforms are so retro and brightly coloured. The wee dudes swinging their arms in a mock comedy fashion is also a sight to behold.
Unlike national youth day in february which only celebrated the kids in the area, this march promised a whole lot more. The military with their tanks and guns and mean stoical mugs marched past us and we dared not snap them for fear of getting our camera confiscated or a nuke up our jacksies. Along with the goons of fear and war, there were less threatning social groups that wanted to show their pride on this fine day, like the tailors of Buea - all your fabric needs met under one roof.
It was all very fun and we rounded off the afternoon with a drink at Abidjan with the teachers of Jamadianle.
Happy National day Cameroon.
And when i say march pass, i mean march pass. Everyone and their mother joined the cue today to march in the baking sun. We were hanging out with Jamadianle kids before it started and it was power-sappingly hot and ram-jammed with school kids in their best uniforms. It was the kind of heat that makes you feel what bread goes through before being done, i couldn't think, my body was to busy sweating for me. All the wee kids were gagging on water as well. One funny wee dude reached such heights of desperation that he actually came up and just demanded money off me. Enough was enough.
We watched all the schools of Buea march past the governor at bongo square and we snapped like crazy, it's a real photo opportunity, as the uniforms are so retro and brightly coloured. The wee dudes swinging their arms in a mock comedy fashion is also a sight to behold.
Unlike national youth day in february which only celebrated the kids in the area, this march promised a whole lot more. The military with their tanks and guns and mean stoical mugs marched past us and we dared not snap them for fear of getting our camera confiscated or a nuke up our jacksies. Along with the goons of fear and war, there were less threatning social groups that wanted to show their pride on this fine day, like the tailors of Buea - all your fabric needs met under one roof.
It was all very fun and we rounded off the afternoon with a drink at Abidjan with the teachers of Jamadianle.
Happy National day Cameroon.
Sunday 18 May 2008
Limbé and the lake
After breakfast yesterday, Valerie, Wisha and I headed to mile 17 to get a bus to Limbé. To any future volunteers coming to Buea you should know that Limbé is about 40 minutes away by bus and it is absolutely beautiful, it has the warm Atlantic ocean and spectacular black volcanic beaches.
We chose Atlantic beach and had some beer with the sand beneath our feet and the ocean and the islands streching out before us. As much as i love Portobello beach in Edinburgh it is made to look like a gravel-pit in my mind compared to this place. The water here is of a deep-blue hue and it both contrasts and harmonises with the browny-black sand of the beach. Fishing boats bob up and down in an organic rhythm with the tide. It's wicked.
The sun was scorchio though so we opted for some shade and some fish. It had probably been swimming in the ocean about an hour ago and it was so fresh it melted in my mouth, strangely enough, it went very, very well with some cold beer. I'm fond of a wee fish supper back home but i'm a bit worried as to how it's going to taste when i return home, enough brown sauce can make anything taste delicious when used liberally though.
As we dined we paroused the Bradt travel guide for Cameroon and it had suggestions on where to go from Limbé. We impulsively decided to go to the Boana Falls and Lake Debundscha. The book said we should head to the Botanic Gardens to acquire a guide. Two motorbikes were commandeered and we were there in no time. After a few inquiries we quickly met our guide Paul who arranged a car that would take us there and wait for us, all at quite a reasonable rate. He told us that it would not be visable to go to Boana Falls as the treck was pretty long and it was too late in the day for it, but the treck to Debundscha lake could be achieved in an hour. Okay, lets go.
We headed west of Limbé and seen the lava trail of the eruption from Mount Cameroon in 1997 and on through a massive palm oil plantation. We stopped by the beach and the driver went to pay the village chiefs of Debundscha for the privilage of visiting the lake.
We strolled along a beautiful beach with the strong waves lapping up on our legs. My flip-flop got washed off my foot and i thought our expedition was gonna finish before it started, but luckily the tide gave it back to me. We left the beach and into the thick coastal forest that climbed up and fell down through some specatcular scenery. The trail was pretty over-grown in places but was very accessible, it was only made difficult by the fact we all had flip-flops on. My feet took a battering.
We straddled the coast for a few kilometres with the relentless roaring of the tide on our left and the tremor of thunder to our right. We were on our way to the wettest places on Earth. We came to a flight of stairs that looked like the inspration for the temple of Doom and i relished my adventure as i felt like Indiana Jones. We climbed the chaotic stairs and reached an old abandoned German lighthouse and a new modern metal one that wasn't quite as aesthetically pleasing. Paul, our friendly guide, said we could climb the structure when we get back, but now he wanted to push on to the lake as he feared the weather was changing for the worse, as if on cue the sky rumbled in ominous aggreement.
The final treck was tough but we were spurred on by our anticipation of seeing the lake. One last push up a big knotted tree root and there it was - a perfectly spherical expanse of limey-green water surrounded by exotic trees. I gawped and gasped at the beauty of it and i sat in my own perspiration and basked in the tranquility of the place. As i took in the marvellous scene i thought to myself, 'it's good to be impulsive sometimes' We came to Limbé for a few beers, a bit of sun and a fish, but here we were, looking at an ancient, volcanic crater lake.
After a short while we began our treck back. We got to the lighthouse and Wisha and I climbed up the 40ft beacon. At the top we seen the jagged coast and the lush rolling green mountains in all their splendour and i got very trigger-happy with the old camera. The lighthouse began swaying quite a bit which was worrying enough to make us stay for only a few minutes. Then it was back to the deep waves crashing on the spectacular secluded beach.
A little shoal of tiny fish had been washed onto the beach and we ran to save them before they suffocated. We threw the wee tiddlers back in and i felt a deep sense of karma for having eat their big delicious Dad earlier.
We met the car and got back to Limbé and went for a pizza hunt and more beer. Pizza was sold out but a little thing like that didn't frustrate me after having experienced such a beautiful part of the world.
We chose Atlantic beach and had some beer with the sand beneath our feet and the ocean and the islands streching out before us. As much as i love Portobello beach in Edinburgh it is made to look like a gravel-pit in my mind compared to this place. The water here is of a deep-blue hue and it both contrasts and harmonises with the browny-black sand of the beach. Fishing boats bob up and down in an organic rhythm with the tide. It's wicked.
The sun was scorchio though so we opted for some shade and some fish. It had probably been swimming in the ocean about an hour ago and it was so fresh it melted in my mouth, strangely enough, it went very, very well with some cold beer. I'm fond of a wee fish supper back home but i'm a bit worried as to how it's going to taste when i return home, enough brown sauce can make anything taste delicious when used liberally though.
As we dined we paroused the Bradt travel guide for Cameroon and it had suggestions on where to go from Limbé. We impulsively decided to go to the Boana Falls and Lake Debundscha. The book said we should head to the Botanic Gardens to acquire a guide. Two motorbikes were commandeered and we were there in no time. After a few inquiries we quickly met our guide Paul who arranged a car that would take us there and wait for us, all at quite a reasonable rate. He told us that it would not be visable to go to Boana Falls as the treck was pretty long and it was too late in the day for it, but the treck to Debundscha lake could be achieved in an hour. Okay, lets go.
We headed west of Limbé and seen the lava trail of the eruption from Mount Cameroon in 1997 and on through a massive palm oil plantation. We stopped by the beach and the driver went to pay the village chiefs of Debundscha for the privilage of visiting the lake.
We strolled along a beautiful beach with the strong waves lapping up on our legs. My flip-flop got washed off my foot and i thought our expedition was gonna finish before it started, but luckily the tide gave it back to me. We left the beach and into the thick coastal forest that climbed up and fell down through some specatcular scenery. The trail was pretty over-grown in places but was very accessible, it was only made difficult by the fact we all had flip-flops on. My feet took a battering.
We straddled the coast for a few kilometres with the relentless roaring of the tide on our left and the tremor of thunder to our right. We were on our way to the wettest places on Earth. We came to a flight of stairs that looked like the inspration for the temple of Doom and i relished my adventure as i felt like Indiana Jones. We climbed the chaotic stairs and reached an old abandoned German lighthouse and a new modern metal one that wasn't quite as aesthetically pleasing. Paul, our friendly guide, said we could climb the structure when we get back, but now he wanted to push on to the lake as he feared the weather was changing for the worse, as if on cue the sky rumbled in ominous aggreement.
The final treck was tough but we were spurred on by our anticipation of seeing the lake. One last push up a big knotted tree root and there it was - a perfectly spherical expanse of limey-green water surrounded by exotic trees. I gawped and gasped at the beauty of it and i sat in my own perspiration and basked in the tranquility of the place. As i took in the marvellous scene i thought to myself, 'it's good to be impulsive sometimes' We came to Limbé for a few beers, a bit of sun and a fish, but here we were, looking at an ancient, volcanic crater lake.
After a short while we began our treck back. We got to the lighthouse and Wisha and I climbed up the 40ft beacon. At the top we seen the jagged coast and the lush rolling green mountains in all their splendour and i got very trigger-happy with the old camera. The lighthouse began swaying quite a bit which was worrying enough to make us stay for only a few minutes. Then it was back to the deep waves crashing on the spectacular secluded beach.
A little shoal of tiny fish had been washed onto the beach and we ran to save them before they suffocated. We threw the wee tiddlers back in and i felt a deep sense of karma for having eat their big delicious Dad earlier.
We met the car and got back to Limbé and went for a pizza hunt and more beer. Pizza was sold out but a little thing like that didn't frustrate me after having experienced such a beautiful part of the world.
Wednesday 14 May 2008
The Cameroon sun
Wednesday is music class and today there was music. It's a fun time. We are rehearsing for music day at the end of term (which is drwawing even nearer) and we are now fine-tuning our performance. All the wee kids are fascinated by my guitar so new people keep joining the class. They really love it and enjoy singing their wee hearts out.
Today Steven had a new song about welcoming the parents of Jamadianle to graduation day. Quite a nice wee ditty once we finally got to sing it. Steven is a really good teacher but today i began to question his methods when he made them repeat the first line close to one hundred times. I thought man, this guy is a real perfectionist like Phil Spector or someone, i half expected him to pull a gun out he was being so persistent. The line 'our dear parents' began to sound strange after hearing it like a broken record. But i realised it was not just perfection he strived for, but it was the repetition to help the wee dudes remember.
My song 'Cameroon Sun' is fast becoming a classic by the way. Kids even sing it to me on the street. One wee guy even said to me that 'it was the greatest song he had ever heard' Bold praise indeed and i think he deserves an ice-cream. I'll let you judge by the quality of the lyrics. Dylan read on..
"The Cameroon sun rises in the morning,
And with it another day is dawning,
And another day begins in my life today,
Feeling happy because the sun is shining,
And it's beautiful, beautiful, beautiful x3
The Cameroon sun is beautful today,"
Showtime is marching ever nearer and we've got about a 10 minute gig together, complete with the national anthem, homemade shakers, drums and tamborines made by me.
The kids really enjoy it and so do i. Hope it goes well.
Today Steven had a new song about welcoming the parents of Jamadianle to graduation day. Quite a nice wee ditty once we finally got to sing it. Steven is a really good teacher but today i began to question his methods when he made them repeat the first line close to one hundred times. I thought man, this guy is a real perfectionist like Phil Spector or someone, i half expected him to pull a gun out he was being so persistent. The line 'our dear parents' began to sound strange after hearing it like a broken record. But i realised it was not just perfection he strived for, but it was the repetition to help the wee dudes remember.
My song 'Cameroon Sun' is fast becoming a classic by the way. Kids even sing it to me on the street. One wee guy even said to me that 'it was the greatest song he had ever heard' Bold praise indeed and i think he deserves an ice-cream. I'll let you judge by the quality of the lyrics. Dylan read on..
"The Cameroon sun rises in the morning,
And with it another day is dawning,
And another day begins in my life today,
Feeling happy because the sun is shining,
And it's beautiful, beautiful, beautiful x3
The Cameroon sun is beautful today,"
Showtime is marching ever nearer and we've got about a 10 minute gig together, complete with the national anthem, homemade shakers, drums and tamborines made by me.
The kids really enjoy it and so do i. Hope it goes well.
Tuesday 13 May 2008
Lightning girl
Another new girl has arrived, a Dutch girl named Wisha, she's a good laugh and she likes beer. She is alright in my book. So there's now 5 girls and me and there's another two volunteers coming by the end of the month, both female. Not bad from living alone for a month to estrogen island. I'm quite happy thank you.
It's been pretty hot here recently and it hasn't rained for close to a week so consequently there is a drought. Bucket showers become tedious exercises in agility when you're bathing with a cup full of water. When things get really bad we have been getting water from the Orock house, so toilets have been getting flushed and that (i'll spare you the details)
I think it may be just Buea that is experiencing this lack of precipitation because we watched an amazing thunderstorm far away over Douala last night. It was pretty awesome, the sky seems so big in Africa, you can see for miles. The whole sky was popping white with brilliant intensity and burning flashes of electricity but it was so high and so far away we didn't even hear the noise of the bolts tearing apart the sky. We just sat back and enjoyed the show.
It's been pretty hot here recently and it hasn't rained for close to a week so consequently there is a drought. Bucket showers become tedious exercises in agility when you're bathing with a cup full of water. When things get really bad we have been getting water from the Orock house, so toilets have been getting flushed and that (i'll spare you the details)
I think it may be just Buea that is experiencing this lack of precipitation because we watched an amazing thunderstorm far away over Douala last night. It was pretty awesome, the sky seems so big in Africa, you can see for miles. The whole sky was popping white with brilliant intensity and burning flashes of electricity but it was so high and so far away we didn't even hear the noise of the bolts tearing apart the sky. We just sat back and enjoyed the show.
Friday 9 May 2008
Kribi in the rain
So after another delicious breakfast of real toast and butter and coffee and milk, we said our thankyou's to Auntie Planey and the family for their generous hospitality, and once it again it was off into the scorching sun for another day off travelling. We were heading back to Buea via Kribi, which is a popular coastal destination in the south province. The sun was shining and i was really up for it, but i knew that anything can happen on a bus journey in Cameroon.
Like a woman vomits on the bus, you see your first dead body by the roadside (both of which happened on the way to Yaounde) or you're driving along and the door falls off, and like now a tomato falls on your head when they're putting the luggage on top of the bus. Anything can happen.
We waited some time for the bus to fill up and eventually we were off. About an hour in the grey monochromatic face of a thundercloud started pouring rain on us. Nice day for the beach. I was reading at one point when i felt my arm getting wet, i found to my pleasure the window was leaking, after corking the flow of precipitation i sat back and waited for something else to happen but the next eventful thing i seen was a sign saying 'Bienvenue a Kribi'.
As i got off the bus i struck my bonce quite sharply on the door and consequently barked at the poor sap trying to give me a taxi. It was raining heavily, i was hungry and my bonce and bum hurt equally. We headed to a nice restaurant that Aloys knew. It had a pool table and it couldn't have been more beach-front without being under water. We ordered the fish and i challenged Aloys to a game of pool. I almost got a splinter when getting the balls out of the table and the cues didn't have any tips (i'm not giving excuses for my defeat) We played our game which could be called anything but a classic, and i got one free lesson in pool. Our fish arrived and it was lovely eating it while taking in the amazing view of the Atlantic.
We were alreday behind schedule so it was off to Buea via Douala, i could feel my bed getting nearer. Another packed bus to Douala where my bum only enjoyed half a seat, it got so bad that i had to stand up most of the way. We rolled into Douala at night and we were delayed further because no one was there to take our bags from the top of the bus. So good old Ernest just hopped up and passed them down to me. I love Cameroon. We got a taxi and it was destined to be the last vehicle between me and bed.
Good night.
Like a woman vomits on the bus, you see your first dead body by the roadside (both of which happened on the way to Yaounde) or you're driving along and the door falls off, and like now a tomato falls on your head when they're putting the luggage on top of the bus. Anything can happen.
We waited some time for the bus to fill up and eventually we were off. About an hour in the grey monochromatic face of a thundercloud started pouring rain on us. Nice day for the beach. I was reading at one point when i felt my arm getting wet, i found to my pleasure the window was leaking, after corking the flow of precipitation i sat back and waited for something else to happen but the next eventful thing i seen was a sign saying 'Bienvenue a Kribi'.
As i got off the bus i struck my bonce quite sharply on the door and consequently barked at the poor sap trying to give me a taxi. It was raining heavily, i was hungry and my bonce and bum hurt equally. We headed to a nice restaurant that Aloys knew. It had a pool table and it couldn't have been more beach-front without being under water. We ordered the fish and i challenged Aloys to a game of pool. I almost got a splinter when getting the balls out of the table and the cues didn't have any tips (i'm not giving excuses for my defeat) We played our game which could be called anything but a classic, and i got one free lesson in pool. Our fish arrived and it was lovely eating it while taking in the amazing view of the Atlantic.
We were alreday behind schedule so it was off to Buea via Douala, i could feel my bed getting nearer. Another packed bus to Douala where my bum only enjoyed half a seat, it got so bad that i had to stand up most of the way. We rolled into Douala at night and we were delayed further because no one was there to take our bags from the top of the bus. So good old Ernest just hopped up and passed them down to me. I love Cameroon. We got a taxi and it was destined to be the last vehicle between me and bed.
Good night.
Thursday 8 May 2008
Yaoundé and nights
We rolled into Yaoundé and met a stubborn traffic jam that refused to budge for no car; it was made all the more frustrating because we were 20 yards from the bus station. We waited and sweated. Car horns and the French language were in my ears and crazy-faced men demanded I take their taxi to wherever I wanted to go.
The city redeemed itself once we got on the open road, a road that curves and wriggles through modern buildings and shacks, rolling hills that evoked the sensation of being on a rollercoaster. It had a lovely, charming atmosphere as trees lined the streets and the roads seemed to have a semblance of order (how wrong first appearances can be.)
We arrived at Aloys uncle’s house and had a beer, which is up there with one of the best beers of my life; it fell down my parched throat as rain pelted the roof of our rather sumptuous temporary new abode. I was happy to be in Yaoundé. Ernest came over with his two wee girls and we headed out to his mothers bar and had a few more deserved drinks whilst trying to keep the girls entertained with a bit of table football with a bottle-top. We left to walk back to town up quite a muddy path and I continued to entertain the girls by falling on my bum. Did I mention I was happy to be in Yaoundé?
I was until a silly, ugly pug of a man wearing a red nipple hat stopped our happy gang and demanded to see our passports. His mouth was flapping French at me and I did my best to keep up, but the long and short of it was he wasn’t happy with neither Meredith’s I.D nor mine. The whole group were francophone who didn’t speak English, Aloys and Ernest are deaf but do speak French, but I didn’t think that this guy had the patience nor the intelligence to communicate through writing, Meredith can say ‘bonjour’ and ‘oui’, neither of which applied to this annoying exchange, and I am no French poet. So after an hour it all got pretty heated until another cop showed up and sent us on our way. It was pretty stressful and Meredith and I managed to really piss each other off. I was no longer happy to be in Yaoundé.
After sorting out our earlier troubles and with new tasks at hand we quickly forgot about yer man on the bribe tip, it was a new day and it was to business. After a delicious breakfast of croissants and coffee with real milk, we set of for our first of many taxis around the city to the ministry of social affairs, it was raining pretty hard and unfortunately we couldn’t see the minister today but Aloys managed to get a booking for tomorrow.
We set off in another taxi and traversed roads that made Piccadilly Circus seem like a gentle left turn. The imaginary break pedal beneath my foot took a hammering.We drove through what i thought was a river but it was just a massive flood in the middle of the city We arrived at the American embassy for Cameroon and I had to stop Meredith singing her national anthem. You know how patriotic these Americans get. After she had called ahead and been told that she could just pop in at any time I assumed it would be a nip and tuck past the old security guards. But no we were denied entry and Meredith would have to wait to get back onto American soil.
Another taxi, another death ride to the Peace Corps headquarters, and again more static from the security guards. They thought we were fluent in French or something and refused to speak a word of English until eventually one wee guy piped up and said in broken English that Meredith being the only American should go in. She was a bit flustered as it was Aloys who wanted to go in and see about getting a Peace Corps volunteer for the deaf school. She explained all this to the secretary and passes were issued and we were granted entry into fort knox. The meeting was very successful and by sheer coincidence a Peace Corps volunteer that Aloys had been in e-mail contact with just happened to be in the building. So hopefully in the future B.S.D will get some assistance from Peace Corps. Then we went for pizza, yes we had pizza, pizza with ham and cheese, from an oven. It was pizza and it was good.
TAXI!! The deaf school please, and can you drive like there is a bomb on board?
We arrived at the first deaf school in Cameroon and we were greeted warmly. We were given a tour and I was very impressed. It was huge and it had a positive atmosphere. So then it was another taxi driver who drove like he had a death wish and a pair of cement boots on for a beer then home for the sleep of a drunken zombie.
The next morning another splendid continental breakfast was presented to us, I cannot describe the quality of grub we received at Auntie Planeys house so I’m not going to. I was chatting to her about the school she built and I asked her if she has any foreign volunteers? She had one Danish guy. Is his name Chris? Yes. It was the very same Chris ho came to Buea with the girls and came to the jungle with us. A crazy coincidence that was hard to believe, we were going for a tour of her two schools today so I would meet him later. The schools were amazing and the children polite and attentive, they were absolutely transfixed by Meredith signing to Aloys and Ernest; it was very sweet, they hadn’t seen anything like it and it certainly did no harm in highlighting the deaf community in Cameroon. I arranged to meet Chris later for a beer but now it was back to business.
TAXI!! Your engine is on fire, can you get us there before it explodes?
We arrived at the Air France building so Meredith could check on her ticket. I was about to buy a cool book on Cameroon but Aloys assured me he was ripping me off (white man tax)
TAXI!! I wish to die in a taxi, will you be my executioner?
We visited Ernest’s sister at her work then we walked to the ministry to meet the minister for the meeting. I stayed out of this one as Aloys, Ernest and Meredith were wearing their Sunday best and I looked like a weary Scot with the complexion of a cooked lobster. I walked through Yaoundé solo like I knew what I was doing and headed to the high court.
Ines had told me there was a specific court that dealt solely in cases of black magic; the court of mysticism if you will. I don’t know about you readers but that sounds pretty fascinating to me. I got there and was delighted to see lawyers wearing the same ridiculous white frilly wigs they wear back home. I inquired in my best franglais about the court but to my disappointment I was told there were no cases today. I texted Ernest but their meeting was taking a long time to start as the whole city closes down for ‘lunch’ from 12 till 3.30PM, the minister included. I strolled along like I knew where I was going and found a supermarket with a bakery that sold fresh pizza, it wasn’t a patch on yesterday but it was pizza, and it was good. I bumbled along craning my neck and taking in the great city whilst munching on my Italian delicacy. It really was a beautiful place. The architecture was quite 70’s with some new structures showing their steely glass faces. The architects weren’t afraid to use vibrant colours in their buildings too, greens, reds yellows; it was very pleasing to the eyeball.
As I sat under a line of trees to shade my epidermis I looked out at the hills and shacks and thought to myself I will definitely return to Yaoundé, but next time I will be armed with the fluent French on my tongue. It’s cool, you should go. I met up with others and the meeting had gone well with some promising news for B.S.D. I think a beer is in order, don’t you?
TAXI!!
The city redeemed itself once we got on the open road, a road that curves and wriggles through modern buildings and shacks, rolling hills that evoked the sensation of being on a rollercoaster. It had a lovely, charming atmosphere as trees lined the streets and the roads seemed to have a semblance of order (how wrong first appearances can be.)
We arrived at Aloys uncle’s house and had a beer, which is up there with one of the best beers of my life; it fell down my parched throat as rain pelted the roof of our rather sumptuous temporary new abode. I was happy to be in Yaoundé. Ernest came over with his two wee girls and we headed out to his mothers bar and had a few more deserved drinks whilst trying to keep the girls entertained with a bit of table football with a bottle-top. We left to walk back to town up quite a muddy path and I continued to entertain the girls by falling on my bum. Did I mention I was happy to be in Yaoundé?
I was until a silly, ugly pug of a man wearing a red nipple hat stopped our happy gang and demanded to see our passports. His mouth was flapping French at me and I did my best to keep up, but the long and short of it was he wasn’t happy with neither Meredith’s I.D nor mine. The whole group were francophone who didn’t speak English, Aloys and Ernest are deaf but do speak French, but I didn’t think that this guy had the patience nor the intelligence to communicate through writing, Meredith can say ‘bonjour’ and ‘oui’, neither of which applied to this annoying exchange, and I am no French poet. So after an hour it all got pretty heated until another cop showed up and sent us on our way. It was pretty stressful and Meredith and I managed to really piss each other off. I was no longer happy to be in Yaoundé.
After sorting out our earlier troubles and with new tasks at hand we quickly forgot about yer man on the bribe tip, it was a new day and it was to business. After a delicious breakfast of croissants and coffee with real milk, we set of for our first of many taxis around the city to the ministry of social affairs, it was raining pretty hard and unfortunately we couldn’t see the minister today but Aloys managed to get a booking for tomorrow.
We set off in another taxi and traversed roads that made Piccadilly Circus seem like a gentle left turn. The imaginary break pedal beneath my foot took a hammering.We drove through what i thought was a river but it was just a massive flood in the middle of the city We arrived at the American embassy for Cameroon and I had to stop Meredith singing her national anthem. You know how patriotic these Americans get. After she had called ahead and been told that she could just pop in at any time I assumed it would be a nip and tuck past the old security guards. But no we were denied entry and Meredith would have to wait to get back onto American soil.
Another taxi, another death ride to the Peace Corps headquarters, and again more static from the security guards. They thought we were fluent in French or something and refused to speak a word of English until eventually one wee guy piped up and said in broken English that Meredith being the only American should go in. She was a bit flustered as it was Aloys who wanted to go in and see about getting a Peace Corps volunteer for the deaf school. She explained all this to the secretary and passes were issued and we were granted entry into fort knox. The meeting was very successful and by sheer coincidence a Peace Corps volunteer that Aloys had been in e-mail contact with just happened to be in the building. So hopefully in the future B.S.D will get some assistance from Peace Corps. Then we went for pizza, yes we had pizza, pizza with ham and cheese, from an oven. It was pizza and it was good.
TAXI!! The deaf school please, and can you drive like there is a bomb on board?
We arrived at the first deaf school in Cameroon and we were greeted warmly. We were given a tour and I was very impressed. It was huge and it had a positive atmosphere. So then it was another taxi driver who drove like he had a death wish and a pair of cement boots on for a beer then home for the sleep of a drunken zombie.
The next morning another splendid continental breakfast was presented to us, I cannot describe the quality of grub we received at Auntie Planeys house so I’m not going to. I was chatting to her about the school she built and I asked her if she has any foreign volunteers? She had one Danish guy. Is his name Chris? Yes. It was the very same Chris ho came to Buea with the girls and came to the jungle with us. A crazy coincidence that was hard to believe, we were going for a tour of her two schools today so I would meet him later. The schools were amazing and the children polite and attentive, they were absolutely transfixed by Meredith signing to Aloys and Ernest; it was very sweet, they hadn’t seen anything like it and it certainly did no harm in highlighting the deaf community in Cameroon. I arranged to meet Chris later for a beer but now it was back to business.
TAXI!! Your engine is on fire, can you get us there before it explodes?
We arrived at the Air France building so Meredith could check on her ticket. I was about to buy a cool book on Cameroon but Aloys assured me he was ripping me off (white man tax)
TAXI!! I wish to die in a taxi, will you be my executioner?
We visited Ernest’s sister at her work then we walked to the ministry to meet the minister for the meeting. I stayed out of this one as Aloys, Ernest and Meredith were wearing their Sunday best and I looked like a weary Scot with the complexion of a cooked lobster. I walked through Yaoundé solo like I knew what I was doing and headed to the high court.
Ines had told me there was a specific court that dealt solely in cases of black magic; the court of mysticism if you will. I don’t know about you readers but that sounds pretty fascinating to me. I got there and was delighted to see lawyers wearing the same ridiculous white frilly wigs they wear back home. I inquired in my best franglais about the court but to my disappointment I was told there were no cases today. I texted Ernest but their meeting was taking a long time to start as the whole city closes down for ‘lunch’ from 12 till 3.30PM, the minister included. I strolled along like I knew where I was going and found a supermarket with a bakery that sold fresh pizza, it wasn’t a patch on yesterday but it was pizza, and it was good. I bumbled along craning my neck and taking in the great city whilst munching on my Italian delicacy. It really was a beautiful place. The architecture was quite 70’s with some new structures showing their steely glass faces. The architects weren’t afraid to use vibrant colours in their buildings too, greens, reds yellows; it was very pleasing to the eyeball.
As I sat under a line of trees to shade my epidermis I looked out at the hills and shacks and thought to myself I will definitely return to Yaoundé, but next time I will be armed with the fluent French on my tongue. It’s cool, you should go. I met up with others and the meeting had gone well with some promising news for B.S.D. I think a beer is in order, don’t you?
TAXI!!
Monday 5 May 2008
Bon voyage Meredith
Well Meredith jetted off for the U.S of A via France last night, her time in Cameroon has come to an end. We had a conversation a while ago about how bittersweet it was to be leaving, happy to see family and friends, but sad to be leaving great friends behind. I think she made up her mind that one day she'll return to Cameroon.
I feel the same way. Whenever i speak to my Dad on the phone he always asks me "is your heart still in Cameroon?" Yes it is. You could say that Meredith and I have caught the Cameroon bug, and i don't just mean malaria.
We had a wee party for her departure at small Buea by night on Saturday. Two tables were required for the throng of thirsty well-wishers. Last night we all drove to Doulala to have some pizza (good) and took her to her scheduled destination where the big metal bird awaited to fly away from this fascinating place.
Good Bye Meredith x
I feel the same way. Whenever i speak to my Dad on the phone he always asks me "is your heart still in Cameroon?" Yes it is. You could say that Meredith and I have caught the Cameroon bug, and i don't just mean malaria.
We had a wee party for her departure at small Buea by night on Saturday. Two tables were required for the throng of thirsty well-wishers. Last night we all drove to Doulala to have some pizza (good) and took her to her scheduled destination where the big metal bird awaited to fly away from this fascinating place.
Good Bye Meredith x
Saturday 3 May 2008
Waiting for it to send
There are even more new people, they are Zara from the U.S.A who was actually born in Perth, Scotland and Valerie from Canada. Valerie is here to help with the school and Zara is leaving for Mamfe in a few weeks when the rest of her American team arrive to help with out-reach programmes UAC are working on there.
Sofie, Berit and I invited them for a drink last night but they were properly tired as they hadn't really slept in two days. It's cool having new people and it's nice to not live alone anymore. Great.
I'm feeling a lot better but i do have a bit of a dicky stomach after taking so many pills, the candy doctors cure? sort it out with more pills. mmmm. I'm going to start tomorrow though as Meredith's leaving party is today and i think it would be both irresponsible and rude not to indulge in a wee tipple. So from tomorrow no beer for 10 days!!!!
I didn't really plan to write a blog today but i'm sitting in the cyber trying to send a UAC newsletter to David at Africa Trust, i've waited about 20 minutes so far and i'm going to have to buy more net time i think. The internet here is a pain in the bum, if you go in the morning it's sometimes OK but in the afternoon it's about as fast as morse code.
Byes
Sofie, Berit and I invited them for a drink last night but they were properly tired as they hadn't really slept in two days. It's cool having new people and it's nice to not live alone anymore. Great.
I'm feeling a lot better but i do have a bit of a dicky stomach after taking so many pills, the candy doctors cure? sort it out with more pills. mmmm. I'm going to start tomorrow though as Meredith's leaving party is today and i think it would be both irresponsible and rude not to indulge in a wee tipple. So from tomorrow no beer for 10 days!!!!
I didn't really plan to write a blog today but i'm sitting in the cyber trying to send a UAC newsletter to David at Africa Trust, i've waited about 20 minutes so far and i'm going to have to buy more net time i think. The internet here is a pain in the bum, if you go in the morning it's sometimes OK but in the afternoon it's about as fast as morse code.
Byes
Tuesday 29 April 2008
Bonjour Yaoundé
Hello!. I'm writing this from Yaoundé (ya-oon-day) the capital of Cameroon. it's a very lovely and mysterious place, evrybody speaks french, and the keyboard i'm typing this on is french too with all the keys in the wrong positions (Inès would be so proud of me for the amount of franglais i've been speaking.)
Aloys, Ernest and Meredith from the Buea school for the deaf came here on Sunday on a mission to meet ministers and delegates and other important people, and i tagged along with them. We've been staying with Aloys' uncle and wife and their hospitality towards us would be adequate for royalty.
We leave today for a visit to Kribi on the coast qnd then back to Buea (boy-ah) by night. I hope the journey going back isn't as eventful as the one coming here, we drove past the scene of a horrendous accident, i don't really want to talk too much about it here, all i'll say is it was the most gruesome thing i have ever seen.
Enough about that i'm having a wonderful time in Yaoundé and we've met a lot of the right people who may be able to help with the deaf school. I shall write about my adventures when i return to Buea.
Au revoir.
Aloys, Ernest and Meredith from the Buea school for the deaf came here on Sunday on a mission to meet ministers and delegates and other important people, and i tagged along with them. We've been staying with Aloys' uncle and wife and their hospitality towards us would be adequate for royalty.
We leave today for a visit to Kribi on the coast qnd then back to Buea (boy-ah) by night. I hope the journey going back isn't as eventful as the one coming here, we drove past the scene of a horrendous accident, i don't really want to talk too much about it here, all i'll say is it was the most gruesome thing i have ever seen.
Enough about that i'm having a wonderful time in Yaoundé and we've met a lot of the right people who may be able to help with the deaf school. I shall write about my adventures when i return to Buea.
Au revoir.
Saturday 26 April 2008
Fascinating facts about Cameroon
- The name Cameroon comes from the Portuguese word for prawns; cameroes, which were found in abundance in the Wouri river when the first European explorers arrived.
- Cameroon covers an area of 183,638 square miles, some of which is water, so it is roughly twice the size of the U.K.
- In a 1999 census of the country there was an estimated to be 15.5 million poeple, of which 50% live in rural areas.
- Cameroon is one of only two countries in the entire world to have two official languages; English and French. The other bi-lingual country is Canada.
- There are 275 ethnic groups in Cameroon, other than the official languages there are 167 different dialects spoken.
- Mount Cameroon is the tallest mountain in West Africa at 4095m.
- Cameroon is home to the Goliath frog which at 0.3m (0.6m with legs outstretched) is the largest frog in the world
- Cameroon encompasses many geographical lanscapes that are similar to the whole continent, lush rainforest in the south to scorched desert in the far north, great volcanic lakes and vast savanna planes. It is for this reason it is sometimes dubbed 'Africa in miniture'.
- Debundscha, at the base of Mt. Cameroon, has an average annual rainfall of 405 inches. It is the wettest place on earth.
Here are some cool websites i've found that give a flavour of the country and the continent.
www.cameroonnews.com
www.camnet.cm
www.wwfcameroon.org
www.cameroon-tribune.cm
www.misscameroon.org
www.africa-geographic.com
www.ethnologue.com
www.southerncameroons.org
www.irinnews.org
www.africanews.org
www.allafrica.com
www.bakwerilands.org
www.africaonline.com
www.usafricaonline.com
- Cameroon covers an area of 183,638 square miles, some of which is water, so it is roughly twice the size of the U.K.
- In a 1999 census of the country there was an estimated to be 15.5 million poeple, of which 50% live in rural areas.
- Cameroon is one of only two countries in the entire world to have two official languages; English and French. The other bi-lingual country is Canada.
- There are 275 ethnic groups in Cameroon, other than the official languages there are 167 different dialects spoken.
- Mount Cameroon is the tallest mountain in West Africa at 4095m.
- Cameroon is home to the Goliath frog which at 0.3m (0.6m with legs outstretched) is the largest frog in the world
- Cameroon encompasses many geographical lanscapes that are similar to the whole continent, lush rainforest in the south to scorched desert in the far north, great volcanic lakes and vast savanna planes. It is for this reason it is sometimes dubbed 'Africa in miniture'.
- Debundscha, at the base of Mt. Cameroon, has an average annual rainfall of 405 inches. It is the wettest place on earth.
Here are some cool websites i've found that give a flavour of the country and the continent.
www.cameroonnews.com
www.camnet.cm
www.wwfcameroon.org
www.cameroon-tribune.cm
www.misscameroon.org
www.africa-geographic.com
www.ethnologue.com
www.southerncameroons.org
www.irinnews.org
www.africanews.org
www.allafrica.com
www.bakwerilands.org
www.africaonline.com
www.usafricaonline.com
Thursday 24 April 2008
Newsletter blues
So i'm feeling a lot better. The malaria and typhoid have vacated my system like a couple of unwelcome gate-crashers. I'm sorry if my descriptions of the nasty wee diseases were quite vivid and graphic, but i'm telling the exact truth in this blog, i'm not a fan of censorship in life, so i'm certainly not going to pull any punches here. I do have to censor my expletives though as my granny and grandad are reading this, hypocrite. I am sorry if you're condsidering coming here and it has scared you though, but there are precautions you can take,and not everyone is unlucky enough to contract these illnesses.
I'm back at school and i've been busy drawing up worksheets and tests for the vocational department, and i've started drawing up their final english and maths exams that i will hold at the end of May.
Remedial reading has been a bit of a false start as its been off for holidays then i got sick, so three weeks have elapsed and that's enough time to make the wee dudes think that classes have finished. So on monday past one kid showed up (well he was playing in the school yard and i nabbed him) i said the classes were still on and if he spreads the word and gets a minimum of 10 kids here on wednesday, i will buy him an ice-cream, essentially bribery i'll admit, but yesterday sofie,berit and i turned up and there were 10 children waiting. The wee dude got his ice-cream.
Music class has been going well and with the help of Steven we're going to put on a performence on music day at the end of term. I've written my first childrens song, which is called 'Cameroon sun' and the children love to sing it. They've got incredible rhythm too, so hopefully the performence will be a success.
I've also been busy typing up a UAC newsletter at the request of David at Africa Trust. I did it by interviewing Mr Orock then i padded it out in my best english. It's been an absolute nightmare typing it up though, i was typing as fast as i could on Dan's computer at the Orock house, i'm not the slowest typer in the world but i'm not the fastest either. After two hours i was almost finished when the power cut off, my brain nearly exploded with fury!!. Luckily microsoft word retrieves documents and this was the case, unfortuneately it only saved half of it, so i began re-typing.I finished it when the power cut off again!! I actually started inventing new expletives, i was raging. When the power came back on it again only save half of it. I gave up and stuck in my USB stick to save what i had, but dan's computer would not recognise it. If i had had a gun i don't know what i would have done to that computer, i hated its digital guts!!. Anyway after turning it off and on again 300 times and doing the classic of blowing into the USB port, it finally saved it and i typed the rest of it at the UAC computer room. Meredith has a cool programme and all my photos on her laptop, so she has helped me draw it up. The only problem now will be sending it...
Went out for some delicious fish with Ines, Meredith, Sofie and Berit the other night, i had my first beer in 17 days!!!!!!!!!!!! I must be on the road to recovery.
I'm back at school and i've been busy drawing up worksheets and tests for the vocational department, and i've started drawing up their final english and maths exams that i will hold at the end of May.
Remedial reading has been a bit of a false start as its been off for holidays then i got sick, so three weeks have elapsed and that's enough time to make the wee dudes think that classes have finished. So on monday past one kid showed up (well he was playing in the school yard and i nabbed him) i said the classes were still on and if he spreads the word and gets a minimum of 10 kids here on wednesday, i will buy him an ice-cream, essentially bribery i'll admit, but yesterday sofie,berit and i turned up and there were 10 children waiting. The wee dude got his ice-cream.
Music class has been going well and with the help of Steven we're going to put on a performence on music day at the end of term. I've written my first childrens song, which is called 'Cameroon sun' and the children love to sing it. They've got incredible rhythm too, so hopefully the performence will be a success.
I've also been busy typing up a UAC newsletter at the request of David at Africa Trust. I did it by interviewing Mr Orock then i padded it out in my best english. It's been an absolute nightmare typing it up though, i was typing as fast as i could on Dan's computer at the Orock house, i'm not the slowest typer in the world but i'm not the fastest either. After two hours i was almost finished when the power cut off, my brain nearly exploded with fury!!. Luckily microsoft word retrieves documents and this was the case, unfortuneately it only saved half of it, so i began re-typing.I finished it when the power cut off again!! I actually started inventing new expletives, i was raging. When the power came back on it again only save half of it. I gave up and stuck in my USB stick to save what i had, but dan's computer would not recognise it. If i had had a gun i don't know what i would have done to that computer, i hated its digital guts!!. Anyway after turning it off and on again 300 times and doing the classic of blowing into the USB port, it finally saved it and i typed the rest of it at the UAC computer room. Meredith has a cool programme and all my photos on her laptop, so she has helped me draw it up. The only problem now will be sending it...
Went out for some delicious fish with Ines, Meredith, Sofie and Berit the other night, i had my first beer in 17 days!!!!!!!!!!!! I must be on the road to recovery.
Monday 21 April 2008
Jungle fever
9th of April 2008.
A parrot woke me up this morning; the shrillness of it seemed to demand that I get up.
We began walking along another path that would hopefully take us to some monkeys. Straight away I felt tired after the strange nights sleep I had had on what was effectively a block of wood. I had jungle fever too, man the sweat was just pouring off me, pretty uncomfortable and to tell you the truth I wasn’t enjoying myself.
Then suddenly we stopped as Joseph was craning his neck skywards, we looked up in vague interest as this was the twentieth time he had done this, then we heard the loud call of monkeys and rustling in the canopy above. I fumbled for my camera and looked and looked, the noise was surprisingly loud considering how high above us they were, and then I seen the unmistakable shape of a monkey silhouetted against the pale-blue sky, its tail curled as it leapt from branch to branch. It was a Red Colobus Monkey which are highly endangered so Joseph was pleased to see them, not as pleased as me, I was ecstatic. Unfortunately I didn’t manage to get a photo but I had a new found respect for these people who film Attenborough documentaries.
We walked along the path and I felt somewhat invigorated by my simian sighting, but this feeling of elation was quickly quashed by the many empty shotgun shells we found strewn along the way. The illegal bush-meat trade coupled with rangers who get paid very poorly, so poorly in fact they accept bribes from poachers they catch, has resulted in a drastic depletion of many rare species in the park. I found myself cursing humanity as I stumbled along wondering what it would be like if I, nor any other human had ever walked this path.
So tired, I wanted to lie down and drink cold water until my stomach burst, my eyes were stinging from sweat and it felt like my breath was only reaching my skin “how much further Joseph?.” We eventually made it out after seeing countless more butterflies, but alas, no forest elephants. We crossed the Manu suspension bridge for a second time and I felt a deep, pleasurable relief to be stationary.
We got back to the Boseme Café and had a much deserved beer and some more delicious food prepared by our chef Tobias. I had an interesting chat with him about the bush-meat trade and he said it was awful in Mundemba, he could take me to the market or any restaurant near-by and I would see bush-meat being sold in abundance. I agreed that while I’m here I’ll write to WWF who are based in Limbe and send as many e-mails as possible to the right people. He said this would be good as all the park needs is a small constant supply of money to keep good rangers on a salary. I think though there needs to be more education on the dangers of hunting rare animals for bush-meat. I understand that a family must eat but I didn’t see any chickens, goats or pigs in Mundemba, attitudes must change as well as practices.
A thunderstorm rolled in gray and heavy and I watched the rain and sipped on my icy-cold beer. Some German botanists and marine life experts showed up and we chatted to them about the park. They were on a mission to collect fish from all the countries on the 13th degree line of latitude. There was also an Estonian guy visiting the park for his PHD, he was collecting rare mushrooms that grow on the roots of trees, he chatted away in a stoical manner about mushrooms and I feigned interest, he was a nice guy but there’s only so long you can talk about mushrooms in my opinion. I sat back and listened to the group chatting in English with accents and I felt very European. I went to bed feeling rinsed.
Now in my previous blog I told you of the road to Mundemba and the death mobile, well we had to do it again, but this time we were all in the back and there was no rotund lady taking up a lot of space. I rode the whole journey with my head out the window and I felt totally free as children shouted ‘white man’ at me, the pitch changing with the Doppler Effect as we zoomed by. We were stopped at every check-point by strange men looking for handouts. I’m afraid you’re not getting a bribe off me pal, here is my passport and here is my yellow fever certificate, I’ll be on my way shall I?, thanks……..
A parrot woke me up this morning; the shrillness of it seemed to demand that I get up.
We began walking along another path that would hopefully take us to some monkeys. Straight away I felt tired after the strange nights sleep I had had on what was effectively a block of wood. I had jungle fever too, man the sweat was just pouring off me, pretty uncomfortable and to tell you the truth I wasn’t enjoying myself.
Then suddenly we stopped as Joseph was craning his neck skywards, we looked up in vague interest as this was the twentieth time he had done this, then we heard the loud call of monkeys and rustling in the canopy above. I fumbled for my camera and looked and looked, the noise was surprisingly loud considering how high above us they were, and then I seen the unmistakable shape of a monkey silhouetted against the pale-blue sky, its tail curled as it leapt from branch to branch. It was a Red Colobus Monkey which are highly endangered so Joseph was pleased to see them, not as pleased as me, I was ecstatic. Unfortunately I didn’t manage to get a photo but I had a new found respect for these people who film Attenborough documentaries.
We walked along the path and I felt somewhat invigorated by my simian sighting, but this feeling of elation was quickly quashed by the many empty shotgun shells we found strewn along the way. The illegal bush-meat trade coupled with rangers who get paid very poorly, so poorly in fact they accept bribes from poachers they catch, has resulted in a drastic depletion of many rare species in the park. I found myself cursing humanity as I stumbled along wondering what it would be like if I, nor any other human had ever walked this path.
So tired, I wanted to lie down and drink cold water until my stomach burst, my eyes were stinging from sweat and it felt like my breath was only reaching my skin “how much further Joseph?.” We eventually made it out after seeing countless more butterflies, but alas, no forest elephants. We crossed the Manu suspension bridge for a second time and I felt a deep, pleasurable relief to be stationary.
We got back to the Boseme Café and had a much deserved beer and some more delicious food prepared by our chef Tobias. I had an interesting chat with him about the bush-meat trade and he said it was awful in Mundemba, he could take me to the market or any restaurant near-by and I would see bush-meat being sold in abundance. I agreed that while I’m here I’ll write to WWF who are based in Limbe and send as many e-mails as possible to the right people. He said this would be good as all the park needs is a small constant supply of money to keep good rangers on a salary. I think though there needs to be more education on the dangers of hunting rare animals for bush-meat. I understand that a family must eat but I didn’t see any chickens, goats or pigs in Mundemba, attitudes must change as well as practices.
A thunderstorm rolled in gray and heavy and I watched the rain and sipped on my icy-cold beer. Some German botanists and marine life experts showed up and we chatted to them about the park. They were on a mission to collect fish from all the countries on the 13th degree line of latitude. There was also an Estonian guy visiting the park for his PHD, he was collecting rare mushrooms that grow on the roots of trees, he chatted away in a stoical manner about mushrooms and I feigned interest, he was a nice guy but there’s only so long you can talk about mushrooms in my opinion. I sat back and listened to the group chatting in English with accents and I felt very European. I went to bed feeling rinsed.
Now in my previous blog I told you of the road to Mundemba and the death mobile, well we had to do it again, but this time we were all in the back and there was no rotund lady taking up a lot of space. I rode the whole journey with my head out the window and I felt totally free as children shouted ‘white man’ at me, the pitch changing with the Doppler Effect as we zoomed by. We were stopped at every check-point by strange men looking for handouts. I’m afraid you’re not getting a bribe off me pal, here is my passport and here is my yellow fever certificate, I’ll be on my way shall I?, thanks……..
Saturday 19 April 2008
Jason in the jungle
8th of April 2008.
This was the first morning of my life where i woke up and thought to myself, 'i'm going to the jungle today' but it was certainly so, it was a fact.
We drove to the visitors centre and chief Adolf waved us off. It was about 8km away through a massive palm oil plantation and i was very excited. In my giddyness i tried to remember everything Ray Mears had taught me.
Joseph, our guide, pointed to a rickety suspension bridge spanning a wide river and informed us that was the entrance. My stomach did a dance like a butterfly. As we crossed the shaky constuction over the Manu river, vertigo tickled my mind in a sadistic way. It seemed sturdy enough but the length of the bridge coupled with the space in between the slats revealing the jaggy, coarse rocks below were enough to make my mind jitter.
Ww made it across and we were now in Korup National Park, a primary rainforest that has stood far longer than the time us crazy humans have been on the Earth. It's big at 1260km2 and it straddles the border between Cameroon and Nigeria. Its many endemic species and rich bio-diversity persuaded WWF to lobby for its establishment as a national park in 1986.
After growing up hooked on David Attenborough documentaries i was so excited to be in a place such as this, Joseph told us that Attenborough himself had been here filming in the past, which i thought was very cool. He has not been the only celebrity to grace the forest, we came across a plack that told us 'Prince Charles trecked this far in 1989' We were 200m in for gods sake! I wonder if he got someone to carry him back.
The track was a well-beaten one so there was no need for machetes to chop vines from our path, knotted tree roots and meandering streams were our only obstacles. It was so humid and i felt like i was evolving gills as we trunched along the forest floor. Grand, humungous trees were everywhere and small, spindly ones climbed them in an advantagous way in the search for light, there were mushrooms of vibrant colour on every piece of rotting wood, a thin slice of light shone on an exotic butterfly and high above birds called to eachother in a beautifully melodic manner. I was in the jungle. But then the sweats came, wow we were all drenched within an hour, it was crazy.
Our destination for the evening was Chimapnazee camp, it was 9.7km through the jungle and at times i thought unreachable, as i felt i may evaporate at any moment. We came across the aptly named 'Big Boulder' which was the remnants of a billion years of volcanic activity and erosian, it was an absolute monster!! We climbed up on top of it and there were trees growing all over it, which really confused my sense of reality.
We reached chimpanzee camp in just under four hours, i felt like we'd stumbled onto the set of lost, there were other people living here from the smithsonian society researching rare, endemic flowers (there have been many plants found here that have been used for promising malaria and HIV/AIDS treatment). We walked into the deserted camp of wooden huts perched on conctrete pillars. The feeling of fatigue was on me and there was Edith Piaf playing on a tinny radio, it was without doubt the most surreal moment of my life.
There was a beautiful little bathing spot in a little stream next to the camp. I stripped from my sweaty clothes and left them to dry in the baking hot sun and went down and floated in the cool water. There were echoes of birds and crickets all around me as i floated on my back amongst the tiny wee fish and gazed up at the canopy, i could've fallen asleep, i've never felt such a strong sense of peace as i did at that moment, it was perfect.
After a bit of rest Joseph said he'd take us up to the look-out point, it was only 1.8km away but it was a pretty vertical climb and absolutely exhausting to reach. So worth it though as the boulder was at quite a high point of elevation and it presented us with an awe-inspiring view of the lush, green canopy. I stared at it for an hour and felt the tranquility of a man in deep meditation. It was heart-breakingly beautiful, i coul've stayed there forever.
We returned back to camp somewhat refreshed and we cooked our spaghetti and munched our apples. The food was delicious and i felt very happy. Hopefully we would be lucky enough to see forest elephants and monkeys tomorrow, a very nice thought to go to sleep on.
This was the first morning of my life where i woke up and thought to myself, 'i'm going to the jungle today' but it was certainly so, it was a fact.
We drove to the visitors centre and chief Adolf waved us off. It was about 8km away through a massive palm oil plantation and i was very excited. In my giddyness i tried to remember everything Ray Mears had taught me.
Joseph, our guide, pointed to a rickety suspension bridge spanning a wide river and informed us that was the entrance. My stomach did a dance like a butterfly. As we crossed the shaky constuction over the Manu river, vertigo tickled my mind in a sadistic way. It seemed sturdy enough but the length of the bridge coupled with the space in between the slats revealing the jaggy, coarse rocks below were enough to make my mind jitter.
Ww made it across and we were now in Korup National Park, a primary rainforest that has stood far longer than the time us crazy humans have been on the Earth. It's big at 1260km2 and it straddles the border between Cameroon and Nigeria. Its many endemic species and rich bio-diversity persuaded WWF to lobby for its establishment as a national park in 1986.
After growing up hooked on David Attenborough documentaries i was so excited to be in a place such as this, Joseph told us that Attenborough himself had been here filming in the past, which i thought was very cool. He has not been the only celebrity to grace the forest, we came across a plack that told us 'Prince Charles trecked this far in 1989' We were 200m in for gods sake! I wonder if he got someone to carry him back.
The track was a well-beaten one so there was no need for machetes to chop vines from our path, knotted tree roots and meandering streams were our only obstacles. It was so humid and i felt like i was evolving gills as we trunched along the forest floor. Grand, humungous trees were everywhere and small, spindly ones climbed them in an advantagous way in the search for light, there were mushrooms of vibrant colour on every piece of rotting wood, a thin slice of light shone on an exotic butterfly and high above birds called to eachother in a beautifully melodic manner. I was in the jungle. But then the sweats came, wow we were all drenched within an hour, it was crazy.
Our destination for the evening was Chimapnazee camp, it was 9.7km through the jungle and at times i thought unreachable, as i felt i may evaporate at any moment. We came across the aptly named 'Big Boulder' which was the remnants of a billion years of volcanic activity and erosian, it was an absolute monster!! We climbed up on top of it and there were trees growing all over it, which really confused my sense of reality.
We reached chimpanzee camp in just under four hours, i felt like we'd stumbled onto the set of lost, there were other people living here from the smithsonian society researching rare, endemic flowers (there have been many plants found here that have been used for promising malaria and HIV/AIDS treatment). We walked into the deserted camp of wooden huts perched on conctrete pillars. The feeling of fatigue was on me and there was Edith Piaf playing on a tinny radio, it was without doubt the most surreal moment of my life.
There was a beautiful little bathing spot in a little stream next to the camp. I stripped from my sweaty clothes and left them to dry in the baking hot sun and went down and floated in the cool water. There were echoes of birds and crickets all around me as i floated on my back amongst the tiny wee fish and gazed up at the canopy, i could've fallen asleep, i've never felt such a strong sense of peace as i did at that moment, it was perfect.
After a bit of rest Joseph said he'd take us up to the look-out point, it was only 1.8km away but it was a pretty vertical climb and absolutely exhausting to reach. So worth it though as the boulder was at quite a high point of elevation and it presented us with an awe-inspiring view of the lush, green canopy. I stared at it for an hour and felt the tranquility of a man in deep meditation. It was heart-breakingly beautiful, i coul've stayed there forever.
We returned back to camp somewhat refreshed and we cooked our spaghetti and munched our apples. The food was delicious and i felt very happy. Hopefully we would be lucky enough to see forest elephants and monkeys tomorrow, a very nice thought to go to sleep on.
Thursday 17 April 2008
The road to Mundemba
7th of April 2008.
To get to Korup National park you must first travel to Mundemba via Kumba. We set off for Kumba at 10a.m along a road which straddled round mount Cameroon to the north, it is due for completion in 2011 (it is being funded by the E.U). We sped along in the land cruiser and made it to Kumba in one hour, Mr Orock assures me it used to take four. Kumba seemed like a tranquil little place with dirt roads harbouring the biggest pot-holes i've ever seen in my life. We traversed through them and stopped at a supermarket to get esssential provisions, apples, buscuits, water, sweets, snickers, more buscuits and one heinekin and a cigarettes (jungle food). I was very excited when we headed to the bus station to get a car to go to Mundemba, the mouth of the jungle.
The bus station was a frenzy of mad-faced men shouting place names in my face, people dangerously over-loading the boots of their cars, music pumping from a distorted speaker and little girls selling pineapples perched on their heads. I felt pretty alive. We quickly found an old toyota to take us there for 6000CFA and soon our belongings were being stuffed into the boot of the car with what seemed like a lot of extra luggage. Chris, Sofie, Berit and I tried to alll get in the back but our friendly driver Eric had other ideas. It was Chris and Berit, another man and his boy and shall we say, a large lady in the back. In the front there was Sofie and i, a woman who had the audacity to fall asleep on my already cramped arm and our driver Eric. 9 people!! Shocking, but that's the way it's done here.
We rolled out for the four hour drive and i immediately became claustrophobic, i eased this tension in my by cracking hilarious jokes like "are we there yet?" Now i've been in a car with nine people before but only for five minutes on the short ride up to the Buitingi school. After one hour in the death machine i actually began to fear getting deep vein thrombosis, it was an absolute nightmare. Only three hours to go.
We rolled into a small village amusingly named Ekockdu Titi and stopped for fuel. We fell out of the car feeling like the victims of some heartless people trafficing cartel and i did one of the least dangerous things i did that day; had a cigarette in a garage. We stood around desperately trying to massage a sembelance of life back into our bums. Eric assured us cheerfully that were was just one hour to go. I though to myself, this jungle better be beautiful.
The road to Mundemba is a sorry, pitiful dirt track aspiring to be a road. Cars drive along it but i wouldn't grant it road status. It's a charlatan pretending to be a road. A lorry learnt this all too well when it had become stuck in a massive mud-hole. We jumped at the chance to fall out the death mobile and massage our bums once more. We watched as the poor sap toiled to become liberated from the thick, golden goop. I felt pretty far from home until i seen a guy wearing a soundgarden t-shirt! That snapped me back into reality.
Once again we were off and it started to rain quite heavily so the road became even more treacherous. We finally rolled into Mundemba in just under four hours and went straight to the Korup vistors centre. We were told to wait for the chief who would be with us shortly.
Chief Adolf, yes, that's right, seemed an officious man who'd seen the likes of us before, "these white people are always rubbing there bums" he probably thinks to himself. We went through costs and he gave us his much rehearsed speech about the many endemic bird, simian and tree species in the park. We arranged for one porter and the mandatory guide. I noticed he kept eyeing me suspiciously as we chatted, i realised later that i had sun-burn on half my face and i had bad truck drivers arm, the final indignity of a tortorous drive. We'd stay one night in the boseme cafe in Mundemba, head to the jungle which was 8KM away early in the morning and stay one night there, then return the next day and stay in Mundemba one more night. OK let's do that then. Eric said he'd pick us up in the death mobile when we were ready, he was to make the journey back to Kumba a furher six times before he seen us. A thought i couldn't even entertain, my bum feeling the way it was.
We were dropped off at our hotel which was very clean but the barhroom smelt of nightmares. Our guide Joseph came to meet us and we chatted about what we can aim to see in two days and one night in the jungle. He then took us for some more provisions of pasta and onions and sauce. He said he'd bring the pots. Before bed we were prepared a delicious feast of rice, chips and a hot tomato sauce by our chef Tobias.
Tomorrow i go to the jungle.....
To get to Korup National park you must first travel to Mundemba via Kumba. We set off for Kumba at 10a.m along a road which straddled round mount Cameroon to the north, it is due for completion in 2011 (it is being funded by the E.U). We sped along in the land cruiser and made it to Kumba in one hour, Mr Orock assures me it used to take four. Kumba seemed like a tranquil little place with dirt roads harbouring the biggest pot-holes i've ever seen in my life. We traversed through them and stopped at a supermarket to get esssential provisions, apples, buscuits, water, sweets, snickers, more buscuits and one heinekin and a cigarettes (jungle food). I was very excited when we headed to the bus station to get a car to go to Mundemba, the mouth of the jungle.
The bus station was a frenzy of mad-faced men shouting place names in my face, people dangerously over-loading the boots of their cars, music pumping from a distorted speaker and little girls selling pineapples perched on their heads. I felt pretty alive. We quickly found an old toyota to take us there for 6000CFA and soon our belongings were being stuffed into the boot of the car with what seemed like a lot of extra luggage. Chris, Sofie, Berit and I tried to alll get in the back but our friendly driver Eric had other ideas. It was Chris and Berit, another man and his boy and shall we say, a large lady in the back. In the front there was Sofie and i, a woman who had the audacity to fall asleep on my already cramped arm and our driver Eric. 9 people!! Shocking, but that's the way it's done here.
We rolled out for the four hour drive and i immediately became claustrophobic, i eased this tension in my by cracking hilarious jokes like "are we there yet?" Now i've been in a car with nine people before but only for five minutes on the short ride up to the Buitingi school. After one hour in the death machine i actually began to fear getting deep vein thrombosis, it was an absolute nightmare. Only three hours to go.
We rolled into a small village amusingly named Ekockdu Titi and stopped for fuel. We fell out of the car feeling like the victims of some heartless people trafficing cartel and i did one of the least dangerous things i did that day; had a cigarette in a garage. We stood around desperately trying to massage a sembelance of life back into our bums. Eric assured us cheerfully that were was just one hour to go. I though to myself, this jungle better be beautiful.
The road to Mundemba is a sorry, pitiful dirt track aspiring to be a road. Cars drive along it but i wouldn't grant it road status. It's a charlatan pretending to be a road. A lorry learnt this all too well when it had become stuck in a massive mud-hole. We jumped at the chance to fall out the death mobile and massage our bums once more. We watched as the poor sap toiled to become liberated from the thick, golden goop. I felt pretty far from home until i seen a guy wearing a soundgarden t-shirt! That snapped me back into reality.
Once again we were off and it started to rain quite heavily so the road became even more treacherous. We finally rolled into Mundemba in just under four hours and went straight to the Korup vistors centre. We were told to wait for the chief who would be with us shortly.
Chief Adolf, yes, that's right, seemed an officious man who'd seen the likes of us before, "these white people are always rubbing there bums" he probably thinks to himself. We went through costs and he gave us his much rehearsed speech about the many endemic bird, simian and tree species in the park. We arranged for one porter and the mandatory guide. I noticed he kept eyeing me suspiciously as we chatted, i realised later that i had sun-burn on half my face and i had bad truck drivers arm, the final indignity of a tortorous drive. We'd stay one night in the boseme cafe in Mundemba, head to the jungle which was 8KM away early in the morning and stay one night there, then return the next day and stay in Mundemba one more night. OK let's do that then. Eric said he'd pick us up in the death mobile when we were ready, he was to make the journey back to Kumba a furher six times before he seen us. A thought i couldn't even entertain, my bum feeling the way it was.
We were dropped off at our hotel which was very clean but the barhroom smelt of nightmares. Our guide Joseph came to meet us and we chatted about what we can aim to see in two days and one night in the jungle. He then took us for some more provisions of pasta and onions and sauce. He said he'd bring the pots. Before bed we were prepared a delicious feast of rice, chips and a hot tomato sauce by our chef Tobias.
Tomorrow i go to the jungle.....
Tuesday 15 April 2008
Typhoid
So i woke up yesterday and my whole body creaked like a shoody deck-chair. When i got out of bed i actually thought i had dislocated my patella as my knees cracked like a whip when i straightened them.
I went up to the doctors and she took more blood for testing. When i got the results back i was informed that the malaria had gone but now the typhoid was having a wee go. She had been treating for the typhoid as well as the malaria but it managed to slip by like a silent, dangerous hitch-hiker that you'd forgotten you'd picked up along the road.
I came back and resumed reading an amazing Bertrand Russell autobiography, at one point my attention was roused when i seen a tiny black frog jumping about my room. Startled, i leapt out of bed to find something to butcher the beast with, but when i turned round, he had vanished. I entered a dreamless void of a sleep and when i awoke there was a giant millipede lying by my face. I actually screamed until i had a closer inspection of what it was; my black beaded bracelet had broken off and shed its beads like millioins of millipede eggs. So i've been hallucinating quite wildly, which is nice.
Throughout all this i have been lucky enough to have an insatiable appetite and unquenchable thirst, if i didn't i'm sure i would be a lot sicker than i am. Now the Doctor is giving me butt-shots for the typhoid, i'm off for one now, bye.
I went up to the doctors and she took more blood for testing. When i got the results back i was informed that the malaria had gone but now the typhoid was having a wee go. She had been treating for the typhoid as well as the malaria but it managed to slip by like a silent, dangerous hitch-hiker that you'd forgotten you'd picked up along the road.
I came back and resumed reading an amazing Bertrand Russell autobiography, at one point my attention was roused when i seen a tiny black frog jumping about my room. Startled, i leapt out of bed to find something to butcher the beast with, but when i turned round, he had vanished. I entered a dreamless void of a sleep and when i awoke there was a giant millipede lying by my face. I actually screamed until i had a closer inspection of what it was; my black beaded bracelet had broken off and shed its beads like millioins of millipede eggs. So i've been hallucinating quite wildly, which is nice.
Throughout all this i have been lucky enough to have an insatiable appetite and unquenchable thirst, if i didn't i'm sure i would be a lot sicker than i am. Now the Doctor is giving me butt-shots for the typhoid, i'm off for one now, bye.
Sunday 13 April 2008
Malaria
Let me tell you about malaria. It's a bastard (pardon my french Granny and Grandad).
I thought i had suffered headaches before now but those were just petty, sappy love-taps from a baby compared to these mosquito-induced bad boys. I felt like i had one of those industrial-sized elastic bands fitted snugly round my brain and every so often like some sadistic, adavistic torture it was pulled back for the inevitable snap onto my cranium. My skin felt like wet leather and to touch it was to evoke the sensation of peeling yourself unstuck from a block of ice. My eyes felt like foreign bodies in my skull, begging to be scratched from their ocular prisons. My tongue felt like a squatter-slug unnatuarally dry within my mouth. And the fever was hotter than Douala in the daytime. And to top it all off i had typhoid too, which made my digestive system march to a sick, sardonic beat with the toilet being my metronome master.
To tell you the truth i didn't get it half as bad as Meredith, but she's from Texas, the land of George Dubya, so she's tough - like a cowboy.
Before you travel to a malaria hot-zones you must seek medical advice on which anti-malarial prophylactic to take. Although none of them are 100% effective, doxycyclin has failed me personally, and if it were to stand up in court, i would sue them (oops, that's some bitterness creeping in there). There are other preventive measures you can take against contracting malaria. Don't wear bright colours as mosquitos are attracted to them. Cover as much skin as possible (impossible actually, it's far to hot for that). I choose to douse myself in insect repellent (apparently not that effective either). I have screens on my windows and i sleep under a mosquito net, so indoors i think i'm safe, it's outside where the danger lies (or should i say flies?).
The terrible terrorists love the puddles that sporadically decorate the road. The brown, mirky water is perfect for the blood-thirsty bleeders to breed. They attack at dusk or dawn like tiny vampires and you don't feel a sting or a thing till after (wow i'm bitter right now, i've noticed when i'm angry and i write, i use a lot of alliteration and rhyming for effect) There are deadly strains of the disease here in Cameroon, which if left untreated can be fatal, the sad thing is not everyone can afford the medicine.
Dr Njemba, the volunteers doctor, has been my saviour, she really has. As i write this on Sunday afternoon i'm feeling a lot better than i was. I've had two infusion cocktails passed through my bloodstream and they had the jaundiced colour of urine, they made me look as sick as i was. They scared me too as i had never had one before, much to the amusement of Dr Njemba, she said she will never forget me, so many questions. She's prescribed all the relative drugs to kill the intruding parasites within me, and all in the comfort of my own room. Thanks doc.
When i've been tethered to my bed Meredith has brought me coca-cola and sympathy, Sofie has been bringing me my dinner and wee Cynthia has been fetching me bananas like i was an invalid. So it's not all doom and gloom being sick (note to self, try and end on a positive note).
I thought i had suffered headaches before now but those were just petty, sappy love-taps from a baby compared to these mosquito-induced bad boys. I felt like i had one of those industrial-sized elastic bands fitted snugly round my brain and every so often like some sadistic, adavistic torture it was pulled back for the inevitable snap onto my cranium. My skin felt like wet leather and to touch it was to evoke the sensation of peeling yourself unstuck from a block of ice. My eyes felt like foreign bodies in my skull, begging to be scratched from their ocular prisons. My tongue felt like a squatter-slug unnatuarally dry within my mouth. And the fever was hotter than Douala in the daytime. And to top it all off i had typhoid too, which made my digestive system march to a sick, sardonic beat with the toilet being my metronome master.
To tell you the truth i didn't get it half as bad as Meredith, but she's from Texas, the land of George Dubya, so she's tough - like a cowboy.
Before you travel to a malaria hot-zones you must seek medical advice on which anti-malarial prophylactic to take. Although none of them are 100% effective, doxycyclin has failed me personally, and if it were to stand up in court, i would sue them (oops, that's some bitterness creeping in there). There are other preventive measures you can take against contracting malaria. Don't wear bright colours as mosquitos are attracted to them. Cover as much skin as possible (impossible actually, it's far to hot for that). I choose to douse myself in insect repellent (apparently not that effective either). I have screens on my windows and i sleep under a mosquito net, so indoors i think i'm safe, it's outside where the danger lies (or should i say flies?).
The terrible terrorists love the puddles that sporadically decorate the road. The brown, mirky water is perfect for the blood-thirsty bleeders to breed. They attack at dusk or dawn like tiny vampires and you don't feel a sting or a thing till after (wow i'm bitter right now, i've noticed when i'm angry and i write, i use a lot of alliteration and rhyming for effect) There are deadly strains of the disease here in Cameroon, which if left untreated can be fatal, the sad thing is not everyone can afford the medicine.
Dr Njemba, the volunteers doctor, has been my saviour, she really has. As i write this on Sunday afternoon i'm feeling a lot better than i was. I've had two infusion cocktails passed through my bloodstream and they had the jaundiced colour of urine, they made me look as sick as i was. They scared me too as i had never had one before, much to the amusement of Dr Njemba, she said she will never forget me, so many questions. She's prescribed all the relative drugs to kill the intruding parasites within me, and all in the comfort of my own room. Thanks doc.
When i've been tethered to my bed Meredith has brought me coca-cola and sympathy, Sofie has been bringing me my dinner and wee Cynthia has been fetching me bananas like i was an invalid. So it's not all doom and gloom being sick (note to self, try and end on a positive note).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)