Yesterday while running on my road that was, not long ago, a two-track road so muddy it was impassible by anything but moto, and is now a two-lane paved road with an improved bridge, I considered some of the impacts of the National Agro-Pastoral Show (Comice) on my village/Ebolowa. While there is no way to know how things are going to turn out, the political ecologist in me has become increasing good at using the hatchet to break down the problem. Here goes my best effort. Keep in mind this is completely speculative.
Environmental: The most obvious problem to any environmentalist is…. er…. environmental. We are talking about oil spills on the roads that often spill into the rivers, the wetlands, run off onto farms, and get tracked into my house. We are also talking about air pollution. I decided that until this whole thing is over, I can no longer afford to run because it seriously burns the lungs. This is probably compounded because of the fact that the air in the rainforest is relatively stagnant, and the humidity traps the gross stuff until it finally rains. These two compounded with building of permanent roads, of course, have major impacts on wildlife. So long, African Grey Parrot! And who can forget… CEMENT! Cameroonians LOVE cement. Now we aren’t talking about a healthy relationship. We are talking about a refusal to use wood or mud (materials that are a. local, b. readily available, c. quick to use, d. durable) because cement is more expensive and imported. Does this mean that it is better quality? I can tell you from personal experience that cement here is really poor quality. The blocks fall apart easily possibly because they have to dry in the sun (we are now in the rainy season) which isn’t very strong to begin with, as there is lots of tree cover. This is probably also due to the fact that the cement is low grade quality, imported from China. I can’t even begin to discuss the environmental factors there… And finally… the clearing of the land to build houses and other structures. I guess we can’t debate the merits of development, but perhaps we could start to talk about a little something called city planning. Yes, this is a relatively new field of study, but Cameroon is getting fiber optic internet. Maybe someone could have looked this up. Specifically the idea that building up is often times better than building out. Especially in one of the last remaining tropical rainforests of the world.
Jobs: There has been a huge increase in the availability of jobs due to construction of the roads, hotels, houses, anything you can think of. Unfortunately, most of these jobs are going to people from other regions. I guess this can only be blamed on the Bulu people’s far too-often confirmed reputation for laziness. While there are some local people who are benefiting from jobs (we are talking mommas who realize the possibility to sell food, the few men who don’t bitch about manual labor, existing businesses, villagers who can sell bushmeat at exorbitant prices, and, of course, bars and the Brasserie), most of the workers are imported. Also, many of the businesses that existed pre-comice have been razed to make room for “better” structures, classier joints, that will likely never be built. This not only includes formal structures, but things like the fripperie/flea market, the regular food market, and random other stuff that I used to be about to locate. Now, for example, I have no idea where to get my stove fixed. My breakdown of jobs also includes the sale of sex. I feel only slight hesitation to lump this in here, but women of the night… uhhh prostitutes… are certainly getting good business. We are not talking exclusively about formal prostitution because I would say that most of the prostitution I see is rather informal. Ca va dire, women want money, so women accept all sorts of presents and may even become a sort of “copine” for her sugar daddy (likely married) who is here only for a short while. So, as long as they protect themselves, keep up the good work. If not, I will expand this to include STIs and HIV/AIDS. Which I guess could fall into health care work? And then this all will likely be compounded during the weeklong event of the comice. This also means that I get to accuse everybody who asks me for money of being lazy and uncreative. (Is there any question that Cameroon has made me more sympathetic?)
Food security: Where to begin? Baton de manioc, one of the staples of the South, has doubled in price in town. My postmate used to buy a large sack of garlic at 2.000, and she recently reported the cost at 3.500. All kinds of food has become harder to find and much more expensive. This is because more people are buying and many of the food markets have been torn down. I have no way to know what the situation will be in the time leading up to the Comice, but it is certain that many, many people will be coming into Ebolowa from other regions, from Gabon, Eq. Guinea, and probably from European countries to buy food. So anyone who knows the basic rules of economics knows that when the demand increases, the price can, too, if the supply hasn’t. And trust me, it hasn’t. Subsidies were given so tardy to local producers that I am even skeptical that the people who received them will be able to harvest before the Comice. Like, for example, the plantain rejets that were given to the farms surrounding the field for the Comice. A plantain takes 1 year to maturity, which means in approximately 10 months I will be eating lots of cheap plantains. Not into time, clearly, for the Comice. Assuming that people will get fed up with the South, or that the government will start stealing money again and development will come to a screeching halt, this is good news for life post-Comice.
Security and well-being: Everyone knows that when a city doubles in size in a matter of months (or a week), the poor become poorer, people become disillusioned, people see quick opportunities, and crime becomes a major problem. The Bulu tell me that the only crimes committed in Bulu-land are committed by people from other regions, usually the West and the NW. I am not certain of the reliability of that data, but I am going to guess that crime will become an increasing problem, particularly during the Comice itself. This may be rapes, robberies, or break-ins, and it will likely be committed by everyone. Fortunately there are now street lights by my house, so assuming that the electricity is not cut for the week, I should hopefully be good to go. On my early am walk home the other day, however, I realized that some of the houses that were half-torn down to make room for road expansion are still inhabited. That can not be good for city-wide security or well-being.
White people: WOW! There are so many white people here now. I guess this is especially strange because before I knew all of us, and I could count us on two hands. I saw 2 new ones yesterday, and 3 driving around in a fancy SUV the day before. Recently I have been called a tourist, and yesterday some crazy lady accused the Comice of being a white person thing. Ahh… really?
And prison: It is likely that some grands who have been linked to stealing Comice cash for the past 20 years will spend some of their near future in jail. I’m not totally clear on how this will work specifically because of the impending election, but I am guessing that unless the grands are able to buy off a lot of people, they will be forced to watch television and sit on cushy chairs and drink wine from inside the prison walls. At least until the elections are over. Talk about justice.
This is my oh-so-scientific synopsis of some of the major problems/opportunities that are currently happening around me. To take a political ecology lens is always difficult: not because it is hard to use the hatchet (anyone who knows me know I am good at finding the problems), but because it is hard to plant a seed (because I am uncreative maybe?). So, on my next run I hope to process some of this and find the seed amongst all the litter. But likely not.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Cacao
Life changes fast! One minute, you’re waiting for the pavement trucks to come and lay down the pavement, and the next you’re watching technicians setting up street lights to line your street, much like foresters reforest an area with a neat and orderly grid of trees.
This post will not focus on the rapid changes to my village (a hospital, a community well, and did I mention street lights?), but will focus, instead, on my counterpart Serges. Serges works his father’s cacao field every year. This year he bought fungicides for the trees with money he borrowed from his village saving group. He worked the field doing all the necessary preparation work, including cutting down the weeds, applying fungicides, monitoring the cacao pods in their development, and harvesting the pods and cutting them open to ferment the interior. The first harvest/fermenting process occurred 2 Thursdays ago. Since he had the opportunity to come with me to Lolodorf for a seminar, he left home last Sunday, just a few days after the harvest. When he returned home 3 days later, he found out that his dad sold all of the cacao they harvested (which, in his hurry, was not yet even dry) and spent or hid all of the money! This means that the 400 or so dollars that Serges expected to come to him will never come, and on top of it all, he still has to pay back the village saving group the fungicide money.
While I complain about how dishonest some people are here, I can not even imagine what it would mean to have my own father steal from me and lie to me and my whole family about the money that could probably greatly improve life. Serges, who is probably the most honest person in my Cameroonian experience, was completely screwed by the man who gave him life! What desperate fit of binging could have possibly overcome this man that he could spend 900 bucks in 3 days in village! I live on 900 bucks a month in Corvallis, and that is drinking and eating well. But the worst of it is probably the change for Serges. This probably means he will have to live a whole new reality, knowing that at any moment anyone, family, friends, or strangers, can screw him over without blinking.
****** A month later, it seems that some things have been cleared up. Serges and his dad had a meeting with the chef of the village at church (aka with God) and it was decided that his dad was to reimburse him the money that was supposed to be his. It was also decided that they will split their cacao field. This means Serges will get a large portion, perhaps half, of the field to work on his own. He will get the profit from his field, and his dad will have to work his own field/spend his own money on inputs. Follow up on this decision led me to find that Serges has given up on recuperating any of his lost money this year and they are waiting to bring out technicians to divide the field for next year.
This post will not focus on the rapid changes to my village (a hospital, a community well, and did I mention street lights?), but will focus, instead, on my counterpart Serges. Serges works his father’s cacao field every year. This year he bought fungicides for the trees with money he borrowed from his village saving group. He worked the field doing all the necessary preparation work, including cutting down the weeds, applying fungicides, monitoring the cacao pods in their development, and harvesting the pods and cutting them open to ferment the interior. The first harvest/fermenting process occurred 2 Thursdays ago. Since he had the opportunity to come with me to Lolodorf for a seminar, he left home last Sunday, just a few days after the harvest. When he returned home 3 days later, he found out that his dad sold all of the cacao they harvested (which, in his hurry, was not yet even dry) and spent or hid all of the money! This means that the 400 or so dollars that Serges expected to come to him will never come, and on top of it all, he still has to pay back the village saving group the fungicide money.
While I complain about how dishonest some people are here, I can not even imagine what it would mean to have my own father steal from me and lie to me and my whole family about the money that could probably greatly improve life. Serges, who is probably the most honest person in my Cameroonian experience, was completely screwed by the man who gave him life! What desperate fit of binging could have possibly overcome this man that he could spend 900 bucks in 3 days in village! I live on 900 bucks a month in Corvallis, and that is drinking and eating well. But the worst of it is probably the change for Serges. This probably means he will have to live a whole new reality, knowing that at any moment anyone, family, friends, or strangers, can screw him over without blinking.
****** A month later, it seems that some things have been cleared up. Serges and his dad had a meeting with the chef of the village at church (aka with God) and it was decided that his dad was to reimburse him the money that was supposed to be his. It was also decided that they will split their cacao field. This means Serges will get a large portion, perhaps half, of the field to work on his own. He will get the profit from his field, and his dad will have to work his own field/spend his own money on inputs. Follow up on this decision led me to find that Serges has given up on recuperating any of his lost money this year and they are waiting to bring out technicians to divide the field for next year.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
What era do I live in?
I now live in pre-woman’s liberation movement times. When I was working on my masters, I really delved into the feminist literature and started to put a finger on what it is, exactly, that I believe is right and just and, of course, what is not. I now find myself living in a world that has not even had that discussion yet. It seems, in fact, that they thought they could skip right over the conversation of women’s rights and arrive in a world that is better, more equal, “plus comme les blanchs” or a world that is more like the whites (as we live in not a black world, we are all, regardless of skin color, “the whites”). For all the parading that Chantal Biya does in her Woman’s Day pagne and magazine (which is, effectively, a magazine devoted to all that is Chantal Biya), Cameroon lives in an ancient reality.
Here’s the problem: Women are highly educated (sometimes). Women are some of the most important members of society. But it is still a good ol’ boys club at the top and if you, as a woman, do anything that even questions their authority, you are, pardon the French, f*cked.
Here’s how I found out: A woman I work with went to see someone very important in our field. She needed him to sign some papers. After making her wait for what she reported as “all day” (and trust me, Cameroonians are patient to wait for a long time, so if she said it took a while, it did), he finally signed the papers. From an American’s perspective, this is normal behavior, though not at all time efficient. As she is getting ready to leave and mind you with no provoking on her behalf AT ALL, he proceeds to pinch her nipples and asks her to spend the night. (Here’s what you’re saying: WHAT? PINCH HER NIPPLES?!?!?!) So, to stroke his ego, she says, “You are a very pretty man, and I like you a lot, and we will sleep together all the time the moment you are through with your government position.” (What she says to me is, “How do I know when he will be through with his title? I probably won’t even be around.”) When she refuses, he says, “All the other women sleep with me but you refuse.” When she told me this story, it becomes clear that this is something he does on a regular basis. This story was recounted to me about a month earlier, and I didn’t realize why at the moment.
Her intention in telling me became clear when the same man, who I had gone to see about something (and who, mind you, made me and Serges wait an hour longer than everyone else who he saw immediately) answered my question in French, and then switched to English so he could ask me to spend the night with him without Serges being able to intervene. In my head, I am reliving all my professional jobs in the States where I had to watch all of those seemingly redundant and annoying videos on sexual discrimination and sexual harassment, and back in reality, when I refuse, the man asks me for a reason why. Why on earth do I need a reason why? Do you need a list of them? I can give you my top 20 if you want. So, my dog, my stupid, stupid dog becomes my reason. “Nope, I can’t. I gotta get home to my dog.” But all I really want to do is curse him off for making me feel so little and unimportant and for being such a wuss that he asks in English to intentionally leave Serges out of the conversation, and finally to push us out the door when I refuse. At the moment, I can’t really comprehend what is happening but I do recognize and unbelievable sense of anger and disbelief. On our way out, I tell Serges what happened, and Serges gets a little upset, but he can’t really understand.
For the whole next day I let the weight of the visit sink in and I finally tell Judith. She says that the worst part of it all is that he will now blacklist people I work with, probably most significantly Serges. This means that all of those months of visiting the man, giving him our dossiers, asking how far along they are, to try to get his help will have all been for nothing. And everybody praises him. “Oh, he’s good.” “Oh, he’s a humble man.” Well in reality that is just another fat man who sits in a fat person chair collecting his too-large salary by being a member of a fat man’s club and sleeping with lots of women because they are too powerless (uneducated or poor) to be able to say no.
There it is… probably the most painful thing that has happened to me so far in this country. Is this what Peace Corps about? Does it make you grateful for what might seem so stupid and pointless and designed for the idiots who can’t drink their hot coffee without suing because it was too hot? It certainly makes me grateful that I didn’t have to fight that fight in America because I imagine it wasn’t too much different from here, and it reminds me to appreciate those who fought it. And since there remains so much time in my stay, maybe it reminds me that even if I can’t do anything, just my presence as a vocal witness to all that is different between Cameroon and America can put the idea in one person’s head that the world does not have to look like this.
Here’s the problem: Women are highly educated (sometimes). Women are some of the most important members of society. But it is still a good ol’ boys club at the top and if you, as a woman, do anything that even questions their authority, you are, pardon the French, f*cked.
Here’s how I found out: A woman I work with went to see someone very important in our field. She needed him to sign some papers. After making her wait for what she reported as “all day” (and trust me, Cameroonians are patient to wait for a long time, so if she said it took a while, it did), he finally signed the papers. From an American’s perspective, this is normal behavior, though not at all time efficient. As she is getting ready to leave and mind you with no provoking on her behalf AT ALL, he proceeds to pinch her nipples and asks her to spend the night. (Here’s what you’re saying: WHAT? PINCH HER NIPPLES?!?!?!) So, to stroke his ego, she says, “You are a very pretty man, and I like you a lot, and we will sleep together all the time the moment you are through with your government position.” (What she says to me is, “How do I know when he will be through with his title? I probably won’t even be around.”) When she refuses, he says, “All the other women sleep with me but you refuse.” When she told me this story, it becomes clear that this is something he does on a regular basis. This story was recounted to me about a month earlier, and I didn’t realize why at the moment.
Her intention in telling me became clear when the same man, who I had gone to see about something (and who, mind you, made me and Serges wait an hour longer than everyone else who he saw immediately) answered my question in French, and then switched to English so he could ask me to spend the night with him without Serges being able to intervene. In my head, I am reliving all my professional jobs in the States where I had to watch all of those seemingly redundant and annoying videos on sexual discrimination and sexual harassment, and back in reality, when I refuse, the man asks me for a reason why. Why on earth do I need a reason why? Do you need a list of them? I can give you my top 20 if you want. So, my dog, my stupid, stupid dog becomes my reason. “Nope, I can’t. I gotta get home to my dog.” But all I really want to do is curse him off for making me feel so little and unimportant and for being such a wuss that he asks in English to intentionally leave Serges out of the conversation, and finally to push us out the door when I refuse. At the moment, I can’t really comprehend what is happening but I do recognize and unbelievable sense of anger and disbelief. On our way out, I tell Serges what happened, and Serges gets a little upset, but he can’t really understand.
For the whole next day I let the weight of the visit sink in and I finally tell Judith. She says that the worst part of it all is that he will now blacklist people I work with, probably most significantly Serges. This means that all of those months of visiting the man, giving him our dossiers, asking how far along they are, to try to get his help will have all been for nothing. And everybody praises him. “Oh, he’s good.” “Oh, he’s a humble man.” Well in reality that is just another fat man who sits in a fat person chair collecting his too-large salary by being a member of a fat man’s club and sleeping with lots of women because they are too powerless (uneducated or poor) to be able to say no.
There it is… probably the most painful thing that has happened to me so far in this country. Is this what Peace Corps about? Does it make you grateful for what might seem so stupid and pointless and designed for the idiots who can’t drink their hot coffee without suing because it was too hot? It certainly makes me grateful that I didn’t have to fight that fight in America because I imagine it wasn’t too much different from here, and it reminds me to appreciate those who fought it. And since there remains so much time in my stay, maybe it reminds me that even if I can’t do anything, just my presence as a vocal witness to all that is different between Cameroon and America can put the idea in one person’s head that the world does not have to look like this.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Can't touch this.
Mark my year
Ca fait un an au Cameroun. That’s right, it’s my one year anniversary in Cameroon. Wow, one year, although technically less if you count my vacation for 3 weeks in America in July. Technical schmemical… But one year is about 7 months more than I have ever lived abroad in my life. So, whatever I am doing, it is at least not not working, right? And this means I just have another 15 months left until my return to the USA. But at a year, I feel like I should get “it” more than I do. That is to say there is always something that throws me off guard.
Perhaps it is worthwhile to mention the significant role of sorcery. Around here we say it like, “sore celery” as if your celery had a hard run the day before. I talk about sorcery because it plays a significant role in society. Whenever anything unexplainable happens, it is always socery’s fault. I wrote a blog about this earlier, but it continues to amaze me how frequently I hear the word. For example, today this car drove crazily through the center of town, almost killing 3 people on a moto and several pedestrians. I blamed it on “les etrangers.” Those damn strangers. This place is just crawling with them because of all the construction. And they don’t know up from down when they are out here. Or they are mislead by sorcery.
I talked about “le chantier” or construction zone I currently live in. The rainy season has arrived a month late, meaning that the whole region risks famine if the rain does not continue to fall because 2 big rains just does not substitute a whole season of consistent rain. The reason for this irregular rain? Le sorcelery, of course. What else could it possibly be? The elaborate plan in this way is that the construction company hired sorcerers to block the rain (bloque la pluie) so they could finish paving the roads before the rain comes. This gets ever more complicated because we will welcome the agropastoral show, and we will have no produce to showcase because we don’t even know when the show will happen. Additionally, the rains aren’t really here, so we can’t actually grow produce anyway. Major bummer. To make the whole situation more complex, the government is supposed to give out subsidies to encourage farmers to produce. These have yet to be distributed, announced, or even decided. So what will we, the South region, showcase? Will our tomatoes rot waiting for the show to happen? Perhaps that is also the sorcery.
What do I think? I think Westerners, specifically our consumption of all things of the world, are the reason to blame for the changing seasons. Or was it Al Gore who thought that? Either way, we are witnessing a changing climate in one of the most important rainforests of the world. If we can’t do improved agriculture, we will need to further search in the forest for our livelihoods. This might mean we will give our forests to the logging companies in trade for frozen, cheap, imported fish.
I also think that the higher ups are so rarely good in this country. The one fat man I could possibly have had hope for also turned out to be an a-hole. When I refused to spend the night with him, says Judith, I also killed all possibility of helping Serges get a subsidy for his farming. Awesome. In the Good Ol’ U S of A, we call that sexual harassment. Does a law like that even exist here? And why isn’t the holy goddess Chantal Biya doing anything to stop it, instead of running around in her wig praising her good work for the women of the nation? Maybe we can get those mandatory cheesy video sessions for all federal employees? Sexual discrimination, sexual harassment, OCHA, driving safety, and computer policy movies. All the good ones.
So maybe it is true that I am here for curiosity reasons. I keep tally of how many people accuse me of being a spy (Spy for what, I demand? The layout of Cameroonian houses?), how many times personal or public problems become the fate of sorcery, and how many times I have to explain to someone that poverty does exist in the USA. Will this ever get old? I sure hope not, as I still have over a year of it.
Ca fait un an au Cameroun. That’s right, it’s my one year anniversary in Cameroon. Wow, one year, although technically less if you count my vacation for 3 weeks in America in July. Technical schmemical… But one year is about 7 months more than I have ever lived abroad in my life. So, whatever I am doing, it is at least not not working, right? And this means I just have another 15 months left until my return to the USA. But at a year, I feel like I should get “it” more than I do. That is to say there is always something that throws me off guard.
Perhaps it is worthwhile to mention the significant role of sorcery. Around here we say it like, “sore celery” as if your celery had a hard run the day before. I talk about sorcery because it plays a significant role in society. Whenever anything unexplainable happens, it is always socery’s fault. I wrote a blog about this earlier, but it continues to amaze me how frequently I hear the word. For example, today this car drove crazily through the center of town, almost killing 3 people on a moto and several pedestrians. I blamed it on “les etrangers.” Those damn strangers. This place is just crawling with them because of all the construction. And they don’t know up from down when they are out here. Or they are mislead by sorcery.
I talked about “le chantier” or construction zone I currently live in. The rainy season has arrived a month late, meaning that the whole region risks famine if the rain does not continue to fall because 2 big rains just does not substitute a whole season of consistent rain. The reason for this irregular rain? Le sorcelery, of course. What else could it possibly be? The elaborate plan in this way is that the construction company hired sorcerers to block the rain (bloque la pluie) so they could finish paving the roads before the rain comes. This gets ever more complicated because we will welcome the agropastoral show, and we will have no produce to showcase because we don’t even know when the show will happen. Additionally, the rains aren’t really here, so we can’t actually grow produce anyway. Major bummer. To make the whole situation more complex, the government is supposed to give out subsidies to encourage farmers to produce. These have yet to be distributed, announced, or even decided. So what will we, the South region, showcase? Will our tomatoes rot waiting for the show to happen? Perhaps that is also the sorcery.
What do I think? I think Westerners, specifically our consumption of all things of the world, are the reason to blame for the changing seasons. Or was it Al Gore who thought that? Either way, we are witnessing a changing climate in one of the most important rainforests of the world. If we can’t do improved agriculture, we will need to further search in the forest for our livelihoods. This might mean we will give our forests to the logging companies in trade for frozen, cheap, imported fish.
I also think that the higher ups are so rarely good in this country. The one fat man I could possibly have had hope for also turned out to be an a-hole. When I refused to spend the night with him, says Judith, I also killed all possibility of helping Serges get a subsidy for his farming. Awesome. In the Good Ol’ U S of A, we call that sexual harassment. Does a law like that even exist here? And why isn’t the holy goddess Chantal Biya doing anything to stop it, instead of running around in her wig praising her good work for the women of the nation? Maybe we can get those mandatory cheesy video sessions for all federal employees? Sexual discrimination, sexual harassment, OCHA, driving safety, and computer policy movies. All the good ones.
So maybe it is true that I am here for curiosity reasons. I keep tally of how many people accuse me of being a spy (Spy for what, I demand? The layout of Cameroonian houses?), how many times personal or public problems become the fate of sorcery, and how many times I have to explain to someone that poverty does exist in the USA. Will this ever get old? I sure hope not, as I still have over a year of it.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
An anniversary.
Here is a post I started a week ago. I will publish this to appease the masses, and potentially a more considerate post if I don't get to the bottom of this box o wine before...:
Wow. Here I am at almost a year. In 9 days, I will have reached my one year anniversary in Cameroon. One year! So to celebrate, I want to spend this post reflecting on what I have learned.
1) When traveling, always pack your clothes in plastic bags because it is likely that a chicken will be packed in the back. If you don't, your clothes will likely smell like chicken crap.
2) I am the dirtiest person in my village. Everyone else bathes 2 to 3 times a day. I usually scrub my feet once a day. This both limits how much water I use (good when my water is cut), and who wants to talk to me (good always).
3) Preparing food is hard. This is especially true when you have to go to the field, cultivate, harvest, actually plan what you will eat, make your own oil, clean everything, kill your own chicken, etc. Mommas should get paid for all that they do. Instead, their husbands generally deny that they do any work at all.
4) Raising a puppy like an American is really hard work.
5) Being bi-lingual is pretty awesome.
6) Power. Ah, the endless power structures that exist and the ways in which they manifest in reality. And poverty, which is both created by and creates power. In this way, it seems like both power and poverty are unavoidable.
7) You never know who will have something really poignant to say. Sometimes the most thoughtful comments or observations come from the most unexpected places.
8) Slogans are hilarious and totally meaningless: Especially the Maggi Cube slogans. This one is my favorite: "Every woman is a star." What it doesn't say is "Every woman is a star in the kitchen, which is exactly where she belongs." Also, everyone has a slogan. Here's Nido's (powdered milk): "For a strong and healthy growth." I buy Top Milk brand to avoid cysts and goiters.
9) Humor is socially constructed. Something American's find funny:
Me: It is hot!
Cameroonian: We are in Africa.
Me: Oh, yeah? We're in Africa? I had no idea! I thought we were in America! [All the while looking around in awe as I am surrounded by tropical forest and Africans.]
Cameroonian: Yes, we are [dead pan].
Something Cameroonians find funny:
Cameroonian: Wat (Pidgin for 'white')! [Calling out to me.]
Me: Yes, my name is Wat.
Cameroonian: Haha. You're name is Wat. That means 'White' in our patoi.
Scheez!
10) Development has really done a number on Africa. There is such a mental dependence on outsiders, and most people lack what I love about America- our 'Can-do' attitudes and our problem solving skills. Even perfectly capable, normal, relatively educated people are constantly seeking outside funding. I also just find it weird that people think I have any power at all here or in the states. Or money. So, as a PCV in the world of non-traditional development, I really like to focus my work on encouraging people. Unfortunately that does not come through in reports...
So those are just some random thoughts. I will try to write something more substantial, hopefully less cynical (sorry, Susan, I really hope I am not too cynical nowadays....).
Wow. Here I am at almost a year. In 9 days, I will have reached my one year anniversary in Cameroon. One year! So to celebrate, I want to spend this post reflecting on what I have learned.
1) When traveling, always pack your clothes in plastic bags because it is likely that a chicken will be packed in the back. If you don't, your clothes will likely smell like chicken crap.
2) I am the dirtiest person in my village. Everyone else bathes 2 to 3 times a day. I usually scrub my feet once a day. This both limits how much water I use (good when my water is cut), and who wants to talk to me (good always).
3) Preparing food is hard. This is especially true when you have to go to the field, cultivate, harvest, actually plan what you will eat, make your own oil, clean everything, kill your own chicken, etc. Mommas should get paid for all that they do. Instead, their husbands generally deny that they do any work at all.
4) Raising a puppy like an American is really hard work.
5) Being bi-lingual is pretty awesome.
6) Power. Ah, the endless power structures that exist and the ways in which they manifest in reality. And poverty, which is both created by and creates power. In this way, it seems like both power and poverty are unavoidable.
7) You never know who will have something really poignant to say. Sometimes the most thoughtful comments or observations come from the most unexpected places.
8) Slogans are hilarious and totally meaningless: Especially the Maggi Cube slogans. This one is my favorite: "Every woman is a star." What it doesn't say is "Every woman is a star in the kitchen, which is exactly where she belongs." Also, everyone has a slogan. Here's Nido's (powdered milk): "For a strong and healthy growth." I buy Top Milk brand to avoid cysts and goiters.
9) Humor is socially constructed. Something American's find funny:
Me: It is hot!
Cameroonian: We are in Africa.
Me: Oh, yeah? We're in Africa? I had no idea! I thought we were in America! [All the while looking around in awe as I am surrounded by tropical forest and Africans.]
Cameroonian: Yes, we are [dead pan].
Something Cameroonians find funny:
Cameroonian: Wat (Pidgin for 'white')! [Calling out to me.]
Me: Yes, my name is Wat.
Cameroonian: Haha. You're name is Wat. That means 'White' in our patoi.
Scheez!
10) Development has really done a number on Africa. There is such a mental dependence on outsiders, and most people lack what I love about America- our 'Can-do' attitudes and our problem solving skills. Even perfectly capable, normal, relatively educated people are constantly seeking outside funding. I also just find it weird that people think I have any power at all here or in the states. Or money. So, as a PCV in the world of non-traditional development, I really like to focus my work on encouraging people. Unfortunately that does not come through in reports...
So those are just some random thoughts. I will try to write something more substantial, hopefully less cynical (sorry, Susan, I really hope I am not too cynical nowadays....).
Friday, August 27, 2010
What does development have to do with eggs?
I live in a construction zone. When I first moved in, it was so beautiful and peaceful here on the outskirts of town. Now, it is anything but. It is noisy, dusty when it isn't completely muddy, there are construction workers everywhere, and there is no road or side of the road that is safe to walk on. C'est grave.
But what does this have to do with eggs? In all my bitching about how horrible my life is here in Ebolowa since construction (or, let me start with the destruction that is on-going) started, my neighbor reminded me that you have to crack eggs to get omelets. So, assuming that omelets are better than eggs (which they are if you are talking about a spinach and cheddar cheese omelet), I will just have to be patient to have something better. But will Ebolowa post-construction be better than Ebolowa pre-construction? Are omelets always better than eggs? Do you not loose a little egg when you try to make omelets?
Most of city preparation has been in destroying temporary structures. This means I no longer know where to find things like clothes and other random household items. This also means people are being kicked out of their homes that are next to the road. Walls, houses, and stores are being torn down. It looks like a war zone. The x's being spray painted on structures are like the death sentences for trees in a thinning operation in a forest. People, including children, are spending time breaking rock that is being quarried out into gravel. Sometimes they use hammers, sometimes they use bigger rocks. Wetlands where people used to fish are being controlled with manipulation of clay, earth, and tunnels. It seems like this work will never finish.
And what will we have after all of this is over? A road that is wider and smoother than the road to Yaounde, more urban sprawl caused by increasing populations and displaced people, more expensive stores because they are in permanent structures, probably more wealth, but definitely more pronounced poverty. Do I really need these omelets? All I really need is my water to be working again, because I am tired of fetching water, and some peace and quiet.
But what does this have to do with eggs? In all my bitching about how horrible my life is here in Ebolowa since construction (or, let me start with the destruction that is on-going) started, my neighbor reminded me that you have to crack eggs to get omelets. So, assuming that omelets are better than eggs (which they are if you are talking about a spinach and cheddar cheese omelet), I will just have to be patient to have something better. But will Ebolowa post-construction be better than Ebolowa pre-construction? Are omelets always better than eggs? Do you not loose a little egg when you try to make omelets?
Most of city preparation has been in destroying temporary structures. This means I no longer know where to find things like clothes and other random household items. This also means people are being kicked out of their homes that are next to the road. Walls, houses, and stores are being torn down. It looks like a war zone. The x's being spray painted on structures are like the death sentences for trees in a thinning operation in a forest. People, including children, are spending time breaking rock that is being quarried out into gravel. Sometimes they use hammers, sometimes they use bigger rocks. Wetlands where people used to fish are being controlled with manipulation of clay, earth, and tunnels. It seems like this work will never finish.
And what will we have after all of this is over? A road that is wider and smoother than the road to Yaounde, more urban sprawl caused by increasing populations and displaced people, more expensive stores because they are in permanent structures, probably more wealth, but definitely more pronounced poverty. Do I really need these omelets? All I really need is my water to be working again, because I am tired of fetching water, and some peace and quiet.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
NDE
I guess maybe it wouldn't technically count as Near Death Experience, but karma, luck, God, something had a hand in my fate. I decided to take the VIP bus to Yaounde yesterday. I kept bitching in my head about having to pay 5000 CFA, 10 bucks, for a round trip ticket that doesn't really leave on time and isn't really all that comfortable. So, leaving 15 minutes late, we are off. About 30 minutes later, we get a killer flat tire. I watch as the driver expertly changes the tires. During this time a car passes us, going oh so slowly on the main highway. Another bus, the one I would have taken had I been feeling cheap, passes, and soon enough we are on the road again. About 2 minutes later, we slam on our brakes (very dramatically, mind you), as we come very near what was a head on collision between the bus I could have been on trying to pass the little slow car, and another bus returning to Ebolowa. MERDE. Could that have been the VIP if our flat tire came 2 minutes earlier? Could that have been me if I had taken than bus? And in the traditional Cameroonian way, everyone under reacted to a situation that would have made me empty the folks out from all of the stopped vehicles, and fill them with all of the people who could have been injured, rushing them to the hospital. And then we continued on our way once the rain got hard enough and it was decided, "Eh, they're fine!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
