Yaoundé, November 10, 2008

Greetings!

A year exactly since I arrived in Cameroon! Time flies, especially when one is having fun!

The last six weeks have been fairly quiet, which is no doubt a good thing, but offering little fodder for amusing incidents. But I’ll do my best to make a humdrum existence sound fascinating.

When I last wrote a piece for this blog, I was in the throes of a fairly intense time, since two Canadian consultants were here to contribute to the activities of the project for which I work. One of them, Cyrille Simard, was here for a week, working on the development of the new Web site for the Centre as well as on the Strategic Plan that we are developing for the Centre’s future. The second consultant, Lorio Roy, spent a total of three weeks here. His basic objective is to set up an administrative system that works better than the one that is now in existence. Given that there isn’t really a system at the moment, this is no mean challenge! Basically, Père Natalino rules.

However, Père Natalino has expressed what we think is a sincere wish to have things work differently. He’s set up a Comité directeur (last May), and his hope is that, ultimately, this committee will be empowered (how I hate that word, but nothing else really fits in this case) to make decisions on the general running of the Centre as well as its orientations. Natalino admits that he himself has a lot to learn, since he is an autocratic by nature and knows that he has to learn to delegate. I think he knows himself quite well and is aware that he will have great difficulty in letting go and accepting that others may make decisions that he’s not keen on. What we don’t know yet, and Lorio is trying to find out, is how much of a free hand le père has been given by the Salesians, the Catholic congregation which set up the Centre, to shape things up. The problem with the Catholic Church and its various congregations is that everything is very hierarchical, the boss always being right, right up to the top (papal infallibility), so we’re not sure yet to what extent we can “modernize” the administration. It’s all quite fun, I must admit, and as part of my role is also to provide “institutional reinforcement”, my work with Lorio has been very rewarding and a great learning experience. Not to mention the fact that he’s great fun to be around! We went from meeting to meeting (either groups, or people on their own), making notes, making plans on how we can start to institute the various changes that we feel are necessary, starting with the way the Comité directeur works (basic things like how to run a meeting, sending the agenda around prior to the meeting, etc.) so that it can ultimately learn how to make decisions. His big plan, and a necessary one, is to get Père Natalino to understand how to set up a budget that makes sense, and, at the same time, ensure that all the heads of department have a hand in setting the budgets for their own departments. It will no doubt take a couple of years to reach this goal.

As if I weren’t busy enough, one of my colleagues, Jean-Philippe, who teaches graphics, asked me if I would be kind enough to translate a little booklet that he had been given, from English to French. I almost refused, I must say, as I really don’t enjoy translating, but finally said that I’d do it, but that it would take a while. It’s not a very big booklet, fortunately, in terms of number of words, but fairly technical and so is proving to be fairly slow work. I suppose it keeps me out of mischief, and gives me something to do in the evenings (I do a bit every day).

Hmm, what else has happened? I led yet another one-day workshop in mid-October, and I’ve sat in a number of classes, observing both students and teachers (this is to give me fodder for the said workshops!). I bought a new mattress – this is exciting news, I tell you! The mattress that came with the bed (you’ll remember that I inherited a houseful of furniture from my predecessor) was pretty well dead; it was a foam mattress that had obviously suffered from spending nearly two years in a closed container, and my back was having a hard time with it. There are three beds, hence three mattresses, and I spent a few weeks trying them all, to no avail. So, the hunt for a mattress began. Ah, the hunt! Shopping in Cameroon is very much a hunt (makes one feel like Man, I tell you, when one succeeds!). There are innumerable places that sell mattresses, that isn’t the problem; the problem is finding a hard mattress! These are fairly expensive items and most Cameroonians, therefore, don’t buy them and it is thus very difficult to find them. Daily forays took place over four or five days (with Njikam) before, at last, we found a little shop, a hole in the wall, really, which had what I was looking for. Then, a couple of hours were needed to bargain the price down to a reasonable amount. It wouldn’t have done to let the man know that, by this point, I was willing to pay any price to get a good mattress! Matters were finally concluded to mutual satisfaction. Having tied the mattress to the roof of the taxi, Njikam took us back to the house by various very bumpy back roads, all to avoid any police checkpoints. It seems that taxis are not supposed to carry things on their roofs (you could have fooled me!), so policemen take great pleasure in stopping taxis doing so and exacting a little “present” from the driver so that the latter can avoid receiving a fine. We made it home without a problem, and I’ve been sleeping extremely well since, thank you very much, with nary a back ache, for which I’m truly grateful!

However, on the health side, I managed to catch a cold. I’m sure you feel very sorry for me; it was quite a major one and it was a good two weeks before it finally gave up and moved on. The other minor health problem was an “attack” of eczema in both my ears. Actually, this has been going on for a few years and, while a bit of a pain, hadn’t been too bothersome, although I’d been scratching my ears regularly for a while (starting to feel a bit canine!). Anyway, the itching became worse and worse here, so I consulted a doctor (yes, I had done so in Canada also!) who prescribed a cream that I’ve been dutifully putting on daily for a few weeks. The itching has disappeared and the eczema nearly so as I write. One of the ears (the half-deaf one, the right) also developed a sort of fungus (visions of mushrooms for supper?) due, the doctor thinks, to the high humidity of the moment and also because I’d had to put cream on to kill the eczema, thus causing the ear not being able to breathe, as it were. Anyway, all is under control as I continue to lather creams on my ears (different potions for each ear) and nothing itches! Again, I’m sure you’re fascinated by all these details…

You may remember that I mentioned, in my last posting, that a number of teachers from our “competition” had attended the workshop that I offered back in July. One of them, Jacques Jude, the Director of studies for the said organization, called PowerBache, whom I’d met in the course of my work with the Ministry (the development of curriculum documents), called me, one Friday, inviting me to a celebration in honour of his birthday, which is how he put it, and made a point of mentioning that his mother, aged 70, was coming up for the occasion.

Well, it’s not as if I lead a hectic social life (one night a month at a reception at the Canadian High Commission hardly counts as a social life!), so of course I said that I’d be delighted to go. I’d been invited for 5 p.m., but figured I should arrive late. Jacques Jude had suggested that I call when I had reached a certain spot, near the University, and he would come and meet us. Simplice, the “other” taxi driver, duly came to pick me up at 5, and it was about 5:30 when we reached the outskirts of the University. Jacques Jude duly came to meet us twenty minutes after we arrived, got in the taxi, with a couple of other guests, and proceeded to guide Simplice through a maze of little dirt alley-ways behind the University. Basically, I gather, this is an area where a lot of students live (surprise!) and there were lots of little boutiques selling all kinds of things, as well as little bars etc. I’m sure it wasn’t a long distance, but it felt like we were burrowing into the depths of Yaoundé, and it was getting dark… So I said to Simplice that I was hiring him for the rest of the evening, because I wanted him to be around when it was time to go. I didn’t fancy having to call and then having to wait half-an-hour before he could show up later on, and also not being sure whether he would be able to find his way again in the dark. Not that one should worry overly about these things, since taxi drivers have phenomenal memories, but one never knows…

Anyway, we arrived at the place where the celebration was taking place, an open hall, covered with a tin roof. People were dancing and I thought, quite surprised, that the party had started quite early… Usually, things don’t get going until 10 or so. Anyway, Jacques Jude bade us welcome and in we walked… people were indeed dancing, but it turned out that we were in a chapel. Those not dancing and singing were standing and clapping, so I did the same. Simplice had locked up the car and was with me – I think he feels that I need to be protected occasionally (in my wild forays!) and assumes that role when he considers it necessary, which is terribly nice of him. The evening carried on – basically, the celebration was a church service, and there were lots of songs of praise, and prayers, and the preacher preached. And yes, it was very much fire and brimstone, with lots of “intriguing” interpretations of a couple of sections of the Bible and lots of invectives against lying, thieving, fornicating, etc. Nothing bad in that, but it was amusing that during the preaching the local iniquitous bars were roaring out their music! The fun bit was that there was instant interpretation – obviously these churches take the bilingual nature of the country seriously and the preacher was a dab hand at keeping his utterances short enough that the interpreters could do their thing (there were two). I have to say they did a very good job of it, with some peculiar English (to be expected, like using “abide” and “dwell” which are words that we don’t use much in the sense of “living” in a place; obviously a biblical influence). There was only one spot where the interpreter made a monumental error, and it was such that I almost burst out laughing, which would have been a no-no. At one point the preacher said something about “il avait le coeur de pierre” and the interpreter rendered it as “Peter’s heart” when the context clearly referred to “heart of stone”. Needless to say, and this was stated a number of times during the preaching, women are the fount of all evil (he went on about women “having” too many men, never a word about a man and his many mistresses!) and, of course, at the end, informed everyone that to be allowed into the kingdom of heaven, one had to abandon all riches. At the end of the service, the preacher asked if anyone had been moved but no one put up their hand… Poor man, he tried so hard!

Other than the preacher, Jacques Jude also made a little speech, all about the choices he had made before his final conversion, and a couple of other people did so as well. Then the meal was served, and it was over, to my relief (the church benches were awfully hard on one’s now less padded seat). I was introduced to the mother, who speaks neither English nor French, which meant that I didn’t spend long with her, was introduced to a couple of other people, including the preacher, and Simplice and I then left. I got back home at about 9, so it wasn’t too long an evening.

So, there you have Jacque Jude’s 30th birthday celebration. On re-reading the above paragraphs, they sound as if I’m mocking the whole thing. I don’t think I am, though… I have no problems with people who have faith and who keep the faith, I guess I just have a hard time with the “begging” nature of that type of sect. You know, the Jerry Falwells of this world who amass huge riches at the expense of the poor. Here too, there is a lot of that, and it is known that many people ruin themselves by donating what they have to these churches and their pastors, who live very well.

Speaking of celebrations, I decided a while back that it was time to have a party at the house, and decided that I should hold a “welcome to Yaoundé” party for Njikam’s new wife. I invited a few people from my entourage who knew Njikam, and duly set about planning this party. I make it sound like it was a big deal, a mere fifteen people, but Judith certainly thought that this was a momentous occasion, and started planning a couple of weeks ahead of time. She was delighted, because it finally meant that I had to buy some extra plates, all matching, as well as a couple of serving platters and a few other bits and pieces that she’d been angling for. Poor woman, I think I give her cause for concern. She devised the menu, told me to stay out of the kitchen (this, I must admit, I found very difficult to do), and spent at least two days before the party cooking up a storm. My role, just like when I moved in here, was to sit in a corner and not do anything, except fork out money when necessary! She dragooned André and his wife into helping clean the house and with the cooking, and I was allowed to buy the drinks and put them in the fridge, which had a hard time keeping things cool (it’s dying, I’m quite sure). Such a flurry of activity had not been seen in this household since I moved in!

The party was held on Saturday, November 8, and during the day, Manga, one of my colleagues from the Centre (a carpenter, he built the mosquito netting frames for my windows) showed up with a sound system. Everyone knows that I don’t have a TV, or a CD player, or a DVD viewer, and Manga, as one of the guests, figured that I couldn’t have a party without music. The young man (he’s 26, I believe) set up the system in the living-room (where else), watched by his solemn 6-year old son, tested it and decided it would do. He left a pile of CDs too, and went off home to change. I’d invited everyone for 7 p.m., assuming that no one would show up until 8, but the first guests arrived “on time” at 7:15, much to their embarrassment (no one wants to be first!). By 8, everyone had arrived, Njikam resplendent in a suit, his very young wife (I don’t think she’s 18 yet) in a superb light green, gauzy outfit, and others in all kinds dress, from very casual to fairly stiff. Everyone sat around making polite conversation – the seating had been set up in African style, that is, all along the walls, so that no one faced anyone (but also no one has his/her back to anyone). Manga, who had elected himself DJ, chose some fairly light music while the meal was served. At the end of the meal, the table was cleared and moved out into the garage, and Manga announced that the dancing was now going to start, and the wedding couple had to start things. So he played a Nana Mouskouri song, and Njikam and Alima dutifully opened “the ball” – or should I say “set the ball rolling”? After the opener, the dancing became quite lively, with André proving to be quite the “rubber” dancer, and his son, Cyrille, aged 5, looks like he’ll follow his father’s dancing footsteps. The evening went well, I think – at least, I enjoyed it a lot, while marvelling at the volume of drink that these people put back. Not all alcoholic, just huge quantities of the stuff, as if it were necessary to empty all the cases of drink that I’d bought! Some extraordinary concoctions too – one chappie drank a mixture of red wine and Coca Cola… not sure if I’ll try that one! By 10:30, Njikam and his wife left, which was the signal for others to leave, and shortly after 11:15, the house was quiet again – a mess, but quiet!

And that, my friends, brings you up to date! Hope all is well with you and that winter hasn’t yet announced itself! Here too it is “cold” in the mornings…

Cheers!

David