Greetings!
It’s hard to believe that more than a month has passed since my last posting. It has been busy, both on the personal front and on the work front, so there hasn’t been much time to sit on the balcony or to write.
When I last wrote, I had rented a house down the road, and an outside toilet had been (almost) completely built for the sentinels. The toilet is still in the same state, you’ll be glad to know, that is, all is there except the bowl and the small sink. I think the agent hopes that I’ll cave in and buy them, but that would be admitting ownership and no doubt being held liable for the cost of the total. So there it sits. The dear man is unfindable, in spite of repeated phone calls (unanswered) and e-mails (equally unanswered), although he has been sighted by André, the sentinel at the new house. I’m waiting to see what’s going to transpire on that front.
On the electrical front, there was quite a lot to do. I think I promised an amusing account on that score, and I shall not disappoint, even if sometimes events were a tad frustrating.
One Saturday, I was inspecting the house and outside toilet, together with Roger, my helpful friend from the Centre, and André, the ever-smiling sentinel at the house, the bell at the gate rang, and it turned out to be the electrical inspector cum metre reader. He had come to deliver a bill and asked me who I was! It turns out that a) the previous lessee (or the owner) had left without paying bills and that b) to turn on the electricity, this bill had to be paid. I pointed out, gently, that it wasn’t my responsibility to pay off this bill, and the electricity man agreed that it was the house agent’s business to clear things up. The latter (Mr. Olli), of course, had told me that there was no problem, and that all we had to do was to go to the electricity board, the Société nationale de l’électricité (SONEL from now on) and sign a few papers to have the electricity contract switched to my name.
André’s radio was blaring, and from the gate, it was clearly evident that it was plugged into a socket, indicating that we were using electricity. The metre man, Ben by name, expressed surprise, since the electricity had been cut off at least twice since November. So he went over to the metre to see what was going on… Imagine our surprise to find that the metre had been by-passed, and that power was being stolen directly from the grid, with no protection whatsoever. Lordy, lordy! Well, said Ben, this is not only illegal but dangerous. I totally agreed with him, and asked what he suggested. So, it was decided that the SONEL people would come around on Monday morning and cut off the wires, and thus the electricity. Then I could set up my own account with the SONEL.
That evening, Roger and I called Mr. Olli. I asked Roger to do most of the talking, figuring that messages might be clearer if passed between two Cameroonians. Roger had a hard time getting through to Mr. Olli’s head – the latter just blusters on and on and tries to bulldoze his way out of things. Mr. Olli insisted that all was well and that I shouldn’t meddle with things that didn’t concern me. I pointed out that they did concern me, since the lease clearly stated that I was responsible for all electrical bills from the time of the signing of the lease, not before, and I needed bills in my name. Plus, I said to Mr. Olli, at the moment the electricity was being stolen off the grid, and I had no desire to be fined or imprisoned for stealing from the state, and that I had given orders for the electricity to be cut off on the Monday. Dead silence from the other end…
On the Monday, Aurel (one of the night guards, the talkative one), was delegated by Roger to go to the SONEL to see what should be done once the power had been cut off by Mr. Ben. He discovered that I would need to fill out papers, pay for the installation of a metre and all its accoutrements and that a deposit would be required. I duly took out the money that was required, and he went back to make the payments (I’d also filled out the forms) and start the process. A few days later, the new metre was set up, the illegal electric wire taken down, and the legal system put in place. Phew…
No, no, the saga isn’t finished yet! The new metre was set up during the morning of a Friday, and at noon, André came around to the apartment, looking quite woebegone, saying that the power had just been cut off! He said that he’d had power for about an hour, and then a team of electricity workers had shown up with a work order to turn it off. As I had all the papers with me, he couldn’t prove that the power had just been turned on legally, and the team said they were just doing their job and showed him the work order that they had. Poor man! I sent him back to the house, saying that Aurel would be showing up shortly. Once Aurel showed up, the team came back with their boss, Mr. Ben. Mr. Ben, if you remember, had told me that he was going to make sure that the illegal power was cut off, and that was the reason for the work order. It’s just that he hadn’t got around to it on the Monday or Tuesday, as originally promised. So Aurel and Ben went back to the SONEL to see Aurel’s contact there (who happens to be the district manager, fortunately) to see what had happened. The district manager was quite surprised and apologetic, since he had forgotten that he had signed that work order before signing the order to re-install the electricity. Héhé… all was well, however, and he ordered the team back to re-install the electricity, so the power was back on by 3 p.m. I’m sure there’s a TV series to be made of all this!
I suspect that I’ve made a few people in the neighbourhood unhappy, since I’m quite sure that the illegal line was feeding quite a few households… Ah well, I’ll have to live with it! No way am I paying for everyone’s electricity – it’s expensive enough as it is!
Of course, the speed at which all this was accomplished could not have been attained without the help of baksheesh left, right and centre (plus a bottle of whisky for the district manager)! I suppose I shouldn’t be encouraging that type of behaviour, but as Aurel said, if you want to get things done, you need to follow local practices, or else end up waiting for a long time (i.e., months or years) to get your legal connection. Poor Cameroonians… Fortunately, it was Aurel doing the baksheeshing, or the price would have been higher!
Meanwhile, on the apartment front, things have been happening also. I believe that I’ve mentioned the fact that Dahirou, the older day guard, has quite the liking for little sachets of whisky. The younger guard, Mustafa, does also, and this had led to quite a few amusing, if frustrating, moments.
Relations between the various guards seemed to have deteriorated dramatically over a few weeks. I suspect that Aurel’s self-importance together with the fact that he’d been haring back and forth from the apartment to the SONEL to the house hadn’t helped (he does strut with self-importance), plus, of course, the ever present jealousy that seems to be a fact of life in Cameroon. I’m sure Mustafa and Dahirou are wondering why I didn’t ask them to do all haring around. The answer is quite simple, really: Mustafa, nice as he is, is such a wimp and Dahirou is in his cups most of the time (or snoring it off) that neither of them could accomplish much.
Anyway, the latest ruckus started on the Friday evening of the day when the electricity was finally installed, when Dahirou and Aurel had words. As stated up above, Aurel had spent most of the week fixing things up with the SONEL during the day, and still guarding at night, and by Friday, he was pretty bushed, to put it mildly. So, on the Friday afternoon, when he came to confirm that the power was on, at about 3 p.m., I told him to take a few hours to rest and that he didn’t need to report for work until 9 p.m. (he usually starts at 6 p.m.). At 6, I told Dahirou that he could go home, because Aurel would be late, as I’d given him permission to be so. Dahirou said that he’d wait anyway, and I said that it was up to him, but that he was free to go (no way am I getting into paying overtime!). Dahirou finally gave up and went home at 8. At about 8:45, Aurel showed up, in time to start his shift; he put his motorbike in the parking area, locked all the gates behind him, and was about to come up to get his bottle of filtered water, when there was a knock at the gate, and it was Dahirou, almost banging. I happened to be on the balcony and saw Aurel ask who it was (he always does) and then open the gate to say hi to Dahirou and ask what he wanted. I didn’t hear what Dahirou said, but Aurel exploded and said that he had been given permission to arrive late, and what business was it of Dahirou’s to tell him off. Hard words then seem to have been exchanged, with Dahirou wanting to come in to pick up a couple of logs he’d collected during the day (to cook on), so Aurel got them for him, but threw them over the wall! It was from my vantage point fairly obvious that Dahirou had been drinking between 8:00 and 8:45, just from the way he was walking. Aurel was furious (of course, I’m sure he’s blameless in all this, hem, hem), and phoned Roger to tell him about this (they sort of report to Roger, in the sense that he hired them all, and he’s asked to be kept informed of all that happens; a very complicated management system to be sure!). Aurel wanted Roger to go and tell Dahirou off right away, but Roger said that he’d see Dahirou the next day. Roger then spoke to me, and I confirmed just what I’d been able to hear, and of course that I’d given Aurel time to rest before coming in to work. Roger and I agreed to discuss this the next day, or Sunday, when cooler heads might prevail.
Anyway, Aurel fumed around for most of the evening (he really doesn’t like Dahirou!), pointing out that his qualifications and experience and connections were better than anyone else’s around here and rant, rant, rant! I suspect that it’s that kind of talk that gets people’s backs up (doesn’t it always?).
Roger duly came round on the Saturday, and said that we should hold another meeting of the troops to clear the air (you’ll remember that there was one in early February). He doesn’t find it normal that adults should act like children, and of course it looks bad on him, as it were. As zebigboss, I’d have to be there too, and say a few words. Lordy…
Saturday was a normal day, in that Dahirou was at work (and slept a lot!), as was Sunday, and Mustafa came on for night duty, as usual (he works Saturday and Sunday nights, Tuesdays and Thursdays during the day). On the Sunday evening, Mustafa came up at about 7 and asked me if I’d seen the bow and arrows that are usually kept downstairs for the sentinels. No, I replied, the last time I’d seen them had been the night before. He said that they had disappeared. The mystery was (somewhat) cleared up a little bit later, when Dahirou came round to say hello to Mustafa; Dahirou had taken the weapons home, claiming they were his. After Dahirou had left, Mustafa asked me if this was the case. I replied saying that I had assumed that they were mine, in that I had a bill showing that I had bought a bow and arrows back in December, and that anything that I’d bought was for use by all the guards. Mustafa didn’t say anything, just looked quizzical and off he went.
If this is starting to sound like a soap opera, you’re not wrong….
So, Monday night rolled around, and the troops were gathered by 6 p.m., including André and Roger. We congregated downstairs, with me sitting on the steps, and began. I started off first, saying that I’d noticed that there seemed to be some discord at the moment, and I was hoping that things could get resolved, since I want a team to be working for me, not a bunch of individuals (management 101!). I also said that I’d noticed that alcohol was still being consumed, and that this was a final warning – not only were they not to drink on the job, but not to drink during working hours (in case it was interpreted that it was ok to leave and drink outside on the street!). I also added that I expected them to show up for work sober, since they couldn’t be very good sentinels if a bit woozy. All very diplomatic etc.
Then the fireworks started! Roger was sort moderating the meeting, so he asked if anyone had anything to say, and Aurel started up right away – quite the harangue about Dahirou, the fact that he had dared to insult Aurel on the previous Friday, that he had no right to question Aurel’s arrival time, etc. etc, not to mention that he (Aurel) had lots of experience, etc etc. Basically, Aurel was looking for an apology for the insults (which I felt he deserved, I must admit). Of course, Aurel claimed that Dahirou was drunk at the gate, and that on a number of occasions he’d had to bang hard on the gate to be let in, especially during this week when he’d had to consult me about the electricity, etc. Aurel does go on a lot… and doesn’t help his case!
Roger waited until he’d finished, and then asked Dahirou for his side of the story. Dahirou claimed that he had just come around to pick up the bits of wood that he had forgotten, and had just asked out of curiosity why Aurel was late, and then Aurel lit into him. Of course, I couldn’t corroborate that, since I hadn’t heard what Dahirou had said outside the gate… Then Dahirou went on and on about how from the beginning things hadn’t gone well; first there was the story of the radio – I’d given Aurel money to buy a small radio for the sentinels, and within a few days, it had been broken, and couldn’t be fixed (or so I was told). So I bought another one, but the original one disappeared, probably to Aurel’s home, and Dahirou thought that this was not on. Aurel fumed at this, and interrupted (this is a no-no, since the person who has the floor is allowed to complete his piece before someone else starts talking), saying that the radio had been broken because Dahirou had fiddled with it in the first place, instead of just using it normally, and besides what about all the cigarette butts that were always being littered about and that he had to clean up when he came on duty in the evening, not to mention the fact that the cardboard he’d brought, from his own home, to put on the ground so that all the sentinels could use it to lie on when taking a brief rest, and how come Dahirou was forever taking bits of the cardboard on which he “did his doings” and then threw it over the wall, which meant that the cardboard had to be replaced, and the fact that his things are always being gone through and there are never any matches left no matter what size box is there, and on and on and on…. Lordy… He finally calmed down after Roger yelled at him and told him that Dahirou had the floor. So, of course, Dahirou lit in, saying that all these things were lies etc etc, and he had his own litany of woes, the major one being that Aurel was always late by a few minutes even since he’d got his own motorbike.
Meanwhile, I drank my iced tea, wishing it was whisky (there’s an unopened bottle of Lagavulin in the cupboard, but maybe not unopened for much longer!). Roger then asked what had happened to the bow and arrows (Mustafa had gone to tell him of this event), and Dahirou said that as they were his, he had decided to take them home. At this point, I intervened, and said (unknowingly adding fuel to this boiling mix) that I had paid for these weapons, and that I had a bill to prove it, and that I’d give Aurel the money for this purchase at the time that he had presented me with his list of necessities (I think the list is in one of the previous blogs). Well – what a ruckus! Aurel said that when he had gone looking for a bow and arrows, he had been unable to find any, and had come back to say so, while Dahirou was around. Dahirou, according to Aurel, said that he had a set, so why didn’t he sell them to Aurel for 5000 francs (about $12.50), so that’s what happened. Dahirou retorted that that was not what had happened, that he’d only agreed to lend the bow and arrows until such time as new ones could be bought, and that he’d not received any money for them. Woo-hoo… what a fight of he saids you saids etc. Somewhere, of course, there was shifty work – not that a great sum was involved, but…
All this time, Mustafa and André were just spectating, Mustafa unsure what to say, since he’s related to Dahirou, but wanted the bow and arrows back, and André, as the newcomer, just standing there with a huge smile on his face.
Roger finally took command of all this, and started his speech and giving out orders of what should now be happening. First, he summarized what we had all heard, and pointed out that we’d never know the full truth, neither about the bow and arrows, neither about the quarrel on the Friday night, but pointed out that there seemed to have been funny business originally with the bow and arrows. He added that both he and I have more to do with our time than worry about childish behaviour (“I’m ashamed of you”), there are lots of other people looking for work.
Roger then warned the drinkers (Mustafa and Dahirou) that they’d better cease and desist, as this constituted their second formal warning. Mustafa mewed at this point that he’d never been derelict in his duties, at which Roger sneered and said that Mustafa had been quite tipsy the last time that he’d been around, about ten days before, and that M. David had noticed too. Mustafa looked at me at this point, probably for support, but I had to agree with Roger that Mustafa had definitely been under the influence and that I’d even had to go down and let a guest in at the gate because Mustafa had refused to open it. Anyway, a round of dismissals was threatened again.
The meeting finally came to an end, and Dahirou, Mustafa and André all went off, with Aurel staying behind, since he was on duty..
By this time, it was about 8:30, and Roger went off home, and I sat down to finish some work. Well, it didn’t take more than 10 minutes for Aurel to come in, having knocked and then just wandering in as is his habit, to say how angry he was at a) Dahirou and b) at the Roger had mismanaged the meeting. Of course, Aurel didn’t get his way at the meeting, so I assume that’s why he was annoyed. He was most hurt at being accused of stealing (the bow and arrows and false invoice), since he thought he was helping Dahirou out (the latter never having any money) and he knew, since he’s worked with other Canadian projects, that I had to have a receipt for every expense. Anyway, he ranted on and on, I just made hum and hah noises, and looked pointedly at my computer, but nothing was going to get rid of him, so I allowed the steam to flow. He finally left me alone.
Lo and behold, ten minutes later, the bell rang, so I went out to the balcony, to see Dahirou’s smiling face looking up at me from the street, to say that Mustafa would be along with the bow and arrows in a few minutes. Off he went. Off I went, back to my papers. Ten minutes later, the bell went again, and it was Mustafa, with bow and arrows, but he refused to give them to Aurel, and insisted on coming up to the balcony, made a little speech saying that these were the bow and arrows brought back for the time being until replacements were bought, handed them to me solemnly and off he went.
At this point, I must confess I’d had enough, and told Aurel that I really had to finish this work before I went to bed, and shut the door behind him.
The next day, I had to face Mustafa, who came to work promptly at 7 a.m. (instead of around 7:15), and he too told me what he thought – he too hadn’t liked the way Roger had run the meeting. Mustafa said that Dahirou claimed that he hadn’t received any money for the bow and arrows but that they would stay here until replacements were found. Plus, he added, he (Mustafa) didn’t want to be involved in this type of disagreement, because he always took his duties seriously and showed up for work even if he’d had a few too many (!!!). I pointed out gently that I appreciated this, but that if he were tipsy, he couldn’t be an effective sentinel – and repeated that I’d had to let someone in the previous week because he wouldn’t open the gate. Of course, he swore it wouldn’t happen again, and I said I hoped not, because his contract wouldn’t be renewed if it did happen again (he has a 6-month contract). And off he went…
And so, I thought, things would remain calm… Alas, it was not to be! If you need a pause from reading, this is a good place to take a break. Maybe have a glass of whisky?
As luck would have it, on the Friday following the meeting I had one of my sleepless nights – thankfully, they are very few here – and I woke up at about 2:45. At 3, I got up, since it was obvious that I wasn’t going to sleep again unless I had a cup of mint tea or something, and while waiting for the water to boil, I thought I’d ask Aurel if he’d like some water or a cup of coffee, or something. So, I opened up the doors (this is like unlocking Fort Knox), and called down to him. No answer. A bit concerned, I must admit, I went downstairs to see if he was ok or just sleeping (which no doubt happens a lot, although Aurel will never admit to sleeping on the job!). Imagine my surprise to find that he wasn’t there and neither was his motorbike. This type of absence had happened at least once before, so I wasn’t too pleased, obviously! So much for the paragon of sentinels! And another warning coming up…
Saturday was thus spent in a bit of a haze, of course, although I had a couple of naps to recoup. I’d gone back to bed at about 5, and was awakened by the doorbell announcing Dahirou’s arrival shortly before 7. He doesn’t usually ring the bell, but he announced with a big grin that Mustafa was there also. Being rather dozy, I didn’t register (it meant that Mustafa had come for money), and just smiled, shut the door and went back in! Anyway, when I went out shopping (the highlight of the week) with Njikam, the taximan, Mustafa was nowhere to be seen, and Dahirou was snoring it off as usual – he didn’t hear me clang open the bar, unlock the door and lock it again behind me. I supposed that he’d been drinking all night, ho hum…
Dahirou was awake when I came back a couple of hours later and the rest of the day passed quietly. At about 3:30 or so, the bell rang, and it was Mustafa. He had asked me, on the Thursday, if I could give him an advance on his salary (they don’t get paid until the end of the month), since he and his family didn’t have anything to eat, and at the time, I told him I couldn’t because I didn’t have any money on me (quite true) and that I wouldn’t have any until Saturday. Hence his visit… So, I gave him all of 5000 francs, which is all I could afford, and off he went. Dahirou, who never misses a chance to get an advance, told me he had to attend a funeral and could he have an advance too, so he got his 5000 francs also. Dahirou then went rushing off (to pay something, he said, truthfully, héhé) and no doubt bought himself a couple of little bags of whisky. Anyway, he came back, and left at 6, at which time Mustafa was to come on duty for the night.
As it happened, I was on the balcony and saw Mustafa carefully approaching the apartment, from the direction of the bar, of course (I mean, it’s in the same building). He was watching his steps carefully, and talking to himself and pointing at something. I’ve seen him like this before and know that it is an indication that he is tipsy. Well…. I wasn’t only disappointed, , I was bloody mad! Apart from the fact that he’d been warned again, it meant that the 5000 francs I’d given him a couple of hours earlier, theoretically to feed his family, had gone to booze.
You’ll remember that Mustafa says he can work even if a bit tipsy. So I watched him fumble at the gate, stumble up the stairs to get the bottle of water needed to make coffee, swaying as he made the request, admired him while he looked at the box in which the coffee accoutrements live (kettle, coffee, cups, sugar, little bags of milk, mosquito coils, matches) and finally decided that he should make two trips of it (and watched him negotiate the stairs twice, almost in the hopes that he would trip!). I wasn’t quite sure what to do, to be honest; although I was fuming, I didn’t dare say anything in case I lost control and because although he’s pretty skinny, he’s also pretty strong, and I didn’t want to get into a fight. Nor did I want to hurt him, accidentally. So, coward that I am, and also wanting a witness, I called Roger (who had asked to be informed of any transgression, of course), and invited him around for a brief visit. So, a few minutes later, Roger rang at the gate. Mustafa stumbled to the gate, looked at it in perplexity, hunted for the key in his pockets (he locks the gate as well as bars it) and stumbled back to his chair, without having opened the gate. Roger rang again, and this time, I came down and let him in, with Mustafa sort of hanging over us – I’d managed to get to the gate before Mustafa stumbled back. Roger didn’t say anything, just came upstairs and said – he’s drunk again!!! Yup, I said, that’s what I wanted you to see.
Of course, a few days before at the big meeting, we had just given notice that drunkenness would lead to automatic dismissal. Roger, however, pleaded for one more chance for Mustafa, and also pointed out that we needed to follow legal procedures, which include a written warning that had not yet been written. So, we decided that Roger would go and get André and bring him in from the other house, so that he could be the sentinel at the apartment, and that we’d send Mustafa home so he could “rest”. No sooner said than done, and Roger was back with André within 20 minutes. Mustafa, befuddled as he was, wondered why André was here, and I said that I thought Mustafa should go home to rest, because he didn’t look too well, and that, as a consequence, I’d asked André to come and keep the guard. Oh no, said Mustafa, I’m not tired, I’m ok, things are fine, André can go back to the other house. Roger then lit in and said that a) it was obvious that Mustafa was tipsy and b) he was refusing a direct order from his boss. I wish I’d been able to record the ensuing conversation, with Mustafa slurring his words, saying that he wasn’t tired, that he wasn’t tipsy, that the boss was just an old man who liked him, and anyway it was up to the boss what to do – all this while the boss kept on repeating that he should go home. I have a contract, said Mustafa, who must have realized that he was in danger of losing his job. Yes, I said, but your contract says that you have to be sober when you are at work. I am sober, he said, and I’m not tired and I must do my work. And so on, and so on…
This continued in the same vein for a good twenty minutes, with André trying to talk sense into Mustafa, but without any luck. Finally, I’m not sure quite how it happened, Roger just reached out and took Mustafa by the shoulders and pushed him out of the gate, and locked it behind him. Quite dramatic, I must admit. Roger then said that Mustafa should be suspended without pay for at least a week (for gross insubordination and for showing up drunk at work), a ruling with which I agreed.
So, Mustafa had a week off, without pay, and he wasn’t too chirpy about it, especially when pay day rolled around. Everyone gets paid on the last day of the month, and in March, this was on the Monday, and everyone was paid by 5 p.m. The next day, Tuesday is a day on which Mustapha works, and he duly showed up at 7 a.m., looking a bit worse for wear – I suspect that he’d been drinking on Monday night. Anyway… I came home at noon, as usual, for my lunch break, and, also as usual, Mustafa went off for his lunch. The guards are only supposed to be away for about 20 minutes when they go to get their lunch – I’ve asked them to bring it back to eat here, since they are on duty, and when Judith (the lady who “does” for me) is here, one feels a responsibility. Anyway, I left shortly before 1 and he hadn’t returned. Judith told me later on that he did come back shortly after 1, and that she then sent him out on an errand, to buy some pineapple. I guess he went off happily, but took quite a while to come back, telling Judith that he’d stopped off to have lunch (!). Judith said that she wasn’t sure what he’d had for lunch, but anyway…
I was due at the Hilton for a meeting with colleagues at about 4:00, and had a couple of errands I wanted to run in town before getting there, so I came back to the house at about 2:30 to drop off some stuff that I might need for the evening work. I knocked on the gate as usual, since the guards always pull the bar across the gate (quite right too!). No reply – I peeked through the crack between the wall and the gatepost, and all I could see were Mustafa’s feet, sticking out from under the stairs. When Dahirou is sleeping, he lounges in the guard chair, so I can see all of him (as it were), but this was a bit worrying. Anyway, I banged louder and louder, with no reaction from the man at all. I could see that Judith was still there (fortunately! She sometimes leaves at about 2, when she’s finished her work, with my permission), so I finally rang the doorbell. Judith came to the balcony, and I shouted up at her that Mustafa was sleeping (the whole street could hear, I’m sure!), so she came down to open the gate, making sure that she made lots of noise doing so. I came into the yard, and banged the gate shut, clanged the bar across it – absolutely no movement from Mustafa. I mean, absolutely none. A bit concerned, I came up closer to him, and called his name, but to no avail. I shook him a bit, and still no reaction. There was a definite whiff of alcohol and a couple of empty beer bottles (but of course, no proof that he’d actually been doing the drinking). Since it was impossible to wake him up, I left him there (too kind, really – I should have called someone and had him hauled out, but I didn’t have time), and went upstairs to fritter around the office. When I left, about 20 minutes later, there had been no movement, and I noticed that Mustafa had left his keys in full view. So, I pocketed them, and asked Judith a) to lock the gate behind me and b) to lock the gate behind her when she left. This is what she did – I phoned her later to ask if there had been any change, and she said that when she left, at four thirty, he was still in the same position, with no movement as she clanged the gate.
The meeting turned into a supper meeting, and I got back at about 9 p.m., and Aurel greeted me like a long-lost brother, and lit into his narrative about Mustafa and Dahirou. It turns out that the keys I’d picked up were actually Dahirou’s set of keys (no idea where Mustafa’s were), and he’d come to pick them up so that he could get into his shack! So, there they were conferring through the gate when Aurel arrived, Mustafa wondering where he’d dropped his keys (maybe when I had lunch, he said, showing how befuddled he was, since he couldn’t have got back in without his keys!). Dahirou, of course, was not pleased, since it now meant that he had to break the padlock to get into the shack and he also had the keys to a neighbour’s house… The final conclusion that these fine people arrived at (naturally, I suppose), was that Judith must have taken the keys! I disabused Aurel of this notion, saying that I’d picked them up for security reasons
The next morning (Wednesday), Dahirou came up to complain that his keys had been taken and was wondering if “la dame” had taken them. I said that she hadn’t taken them, but that I had, and that I didn’t know that they were his keys. I pointed out that Mustafa was sleeping so hard that anyone could have come in to take them (etc. etc). When I came home at noon, Dahirou handed me a note that Mustafa had delivered as an apology. I just grunted, and said that I would have a letter for Mustafa at the end of the day. In the letter, I gave a last warning, and added that any transgression, no matter how small, to the rules and regulations and responsibilities would be cause for immediate dismissal. I really wanted to fire him right away, but not being able to prove he’d been drinking on Tuesday, I felt that I should give him his second written warning, as required by the law.
On the Friday, Mustafa spent most of the day here, with Dahirou, although it’s not a Mustafa day. I’m quite sure he was drinking, as Mustafa has a strange way of talking when he’s under the influence. I did ask them to be a bit quieter, a couple of times, since I was working at home with a colleague. At about 2:30, the colleague and I went off downtown – she to her hotel (she was in town from Canada for a couple of weeks) and I to the bank. When I got back, Dahirou was nowhere to be seen (neither was Mustafa), and the gate was unlocked! Before I could get in, Dahirou came rushing up saying that he’d just gone out to buy a couple of cigarettes. I told him off for a) leaving without permission and b) leaving the gate unlocked! Lordy, lordy, but patience (even mine) was wearing thin…
And it goes on! On Sunday, Dahirou asked to go out for lunch at about 11:30 (permission granted) and he was back in about 20 minutes (probably just enough time for a couple of nips; how uncharitable of me). Anyway, at about 1:15, I went out on the balcony and noticed that the bar across the gate was down, a sign that the guards are outside on the street. Curious, because I couldn’t see anyone, I went down to open the gate and peeked out. No one around and THE GATE HAD BEEN LEFT UNLOCKED AGAIN. I was furious, to put it mildly! I was just about to pull the gate to, when Mustafa came rushing up saying that Dahirou was having a discussion with a man at the bar (yeah, right) and that he, Mustafa, was coming to take Dahirou’s place. I showed my annoyance by shouting at him, saying that I was paying Dahirou to guard during the day, and what business did Dahirou have to leave and leave the gate unlocked? I stormed upstairs, clanging various gates and doors shut behind me. What I should have done, of course, was lock Mustafa out and tell him to come back at his working time, and just left Dahirou to stew, but it was too late by the time I came out – Mustafa had gone to get Dahirou and they were both there. So I just banged doors shut. And wrote a letter for Dahirou too…
On Monday (nearly done, my friends!), I announced that there would be a meeting on the Thursday evening, with all guards. I wrote out all the rules and regulations (they are included in their contracts), invited Roger to be present, and read the riot act. I read out the rules, made sure that they said they had understood them, repeated again that this was the final warning for all of them, got them to sign the sheet of paper on which the rules had been printed, gave them each a copy of the rules and sent them away.
We’ll see now what happens…
While all this was going on, the work side was quite busy. My two colleagues from Canada were here, as it is the time of year to prepare the annual report and to plan next year’s activities, so it was a busy time, to put it mildly!
This has been quite long, but I hope not too boring! Looking back on it, it’s been quite amusing, but also frustrating. I think, however, I’ll leave you for now so you can all recuperate, and will add more in a few days’ time… Life in Cameroon is anything but boring!
Cheers!
David
Monday, April 14, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Yaoundé, March 14, 2008
Greetings all!
Well, life has certainly been fun over the last few weeks, so this may be a bit long – just a warning. I suppose I could keep some of it for another time, but anyway!
In my last instalment, I mentioned that a general strike had started. As it turned out, it lasted for most of a week. As mentioned, in Douala, the economic centre of the country, about 250 km away, things got a bit rough, with a fair amount of vandalism and looting. This spread to other towns and cities in the country, with the result that a number of public buildings were burned, as well as a number of shops – and many shops that didn’t get burned got thoroughly looted. A number of people died also, 16 is the official number, and over a hundred according to the Cameroon Human Rights Watch organization. The police and other security forces were out in full strength, with a special battalion called in as well – unsmiling young men that you don’t want to mess with. Here in Yaoundé, things were calm, in the sense that there was very little looting, although there was a fair amount of marching, and the taxis stayed off the road, as did most other transport. The president finally spoke to the nation on the Thursday evening, basically saying calm down or else… and that all legal means would be taken to quell the uprising. He didn’t sound very friendly, to put it mildly. So, on the Friday, Yaoundé was back to vaguely normal, and an unsettled calm reigned everywhere. There were round-ups of hooligans (and anyone else caught in the net) and summary justice has been carried out all week – prison terms being handed out left, right and centre, and hundreds of people being processed per day, with no chance of raising a defence. Some of them are innocent, we are told, but too bad for them! According to the local radio, over 1600 people have been arrested across the country, most of them youths.
The president stated that the transporters’ strike was legal, and that hadn’t been the problem. The problem was unscrupulous opposition parties (any excuse for a thrust at them) who wanted to exploit the situation and also vandals and hooligans who took advantage of the strike to loot. Of course, the opposition parties have denied this, claiming that the government is using any excuse to blacken their reputations. Nothing was said in the president’s speech about the main underlying cause, the rise in the cost of living which is making it hard for all Cameroonian households to make ends meet. The price of basic necessities has risen astronomically, as had the price of gasoline. The president did grant a decrease in the price of gasoline by lowering it by 2.5 cents a litre (after having raised it to by 12.5 cent a litre!) and that was it. Some foodstuffs have increased by 140% over the last year, and in one instance by 400%, and, of course, salaries haven’t kept pace.
The following week was a bit tense – people aren’t sure what may happen once the president submits his proposal for a Constitutional amendment, allowing him to run for as many seven-year terms as he wishes (at the moment, the limit is two terms, and Paul Biya is nearing the end of his mandate, which runs out in 2011). Of course, the man was also president before the last Constitutional amendment, back in 1993; Biya first took over in a peaceful coup in 1982, after having served the previous and first president as prime minister since 1962. Only two presidents since independence… Mr. Biya, who is 75 this year, like many other presidents around the world (at least in many countries) would like to carry on until he’s in his grave – after all, who else could possibly do the job?
On Friday of last week (March 7), the president announced a couple of measures designed to make Cameroonians happier (and to ensure that his amendment goes through). First, he raised public servants’ salaries by 15%, as well as the military’s and then announced a series of reductions in excise taxes on various foods, to take effect on April 1 (April Fool’s?). Those who are not public servants or soldiers, of course, don’t get a salary raise, and are wondering why there’s enough money now to do all this… So we’ll see…
In my area of town, things are always calm, as we are way out in the suburbs, so nothing much happens. One just stays put… and stocks up on food and other essentials in case things go awry again.
The fun bit about the whole week (well, sort of!) was that a Canadian colleague of mine was here for meetings. She managed to make it from the hotel to the Centre on the first day of the strike, using a hotel taxi (they use unmarked cars, so were thought to be private vehicles). The next day, I went to fetch her at the hotel, with my taxi man Njikam, because taxis ran from 7 a.m. until 10 a.m. At noon, she went back to the hotel with the Centre’s driver. On the Wednesday, she took the hotel taxi again, and then, in the evening, I accompanied her back in the taxi, posing as her husband, and the taximan as our driver, in case we were stopped. On the Thursday, Liane stayed at the hotel but managed to get out again on the Friday, since taxis were back on the road. All fun!
The strike and its consequences added quite a bit of spice to life, since I had, a few days before, found a house that I decided to rent. A very nice villa, with three bedrooms, a huge sitting room, a dining room and a totally paved courtyard (to lessen the impact of the dust)! Very nicely finished, and not far away at all, just what I was looking for (a bit bigger than I need, actually, but as I have LOTS of furniture, I need a big place, if only for storage purposes!). Actually, I found it about two weeks before the strike, but it took a while to get things sorted out. There was a lease to be negotiated (I consulted a lawyer, at my employers’ suggestion, which was a good idea) and papers to be signed etc. etc. There were still a few things to be done to the house, nothing major, and I was assured that it would all be taken care of within a few days. Since I wasn’t and am not in a hurry to move (I can’t break the 6-month lease on the apartment; I did try…), I was quite agreeable to this scenario. In addition, there are a some things that I want to have done to the house before I move in, such as having mosquito netting installed at all the windows and doors, a hot water heater put in (alas, they don’t come automatically with houses) and an outside toilet for the sentinels. Here, at the apartment, they have access to a field next door which serves well, although Aurel, the night sentinel, tends to want to use the facilities indoors. This, I think, is because he is immensely curious and wonders what on earth I could be doing instead of talking to him!
Anyway, it took a few days to negotiate the lease to everyone’s satisfaction, but finally the papers were signed. The agent, Mr. Olli, had agreed that an outside toilet was a fine idea, and I told him that I would look after this, since it was my wish to have it. I also told him that I didn’t have the money to start the work right away, and that I’d have to get at least three quotes before I could start doing anything. This didn’t cause any problems with him (obviously), and, after walking around the outside of the house, we agreed on the spot where the said toilet would be placed. The strike intervened, so of course nothing could get done, but last week, I went around to the house to measure a few things and met Mr. Olli who was there. He asked if it would be ok to build a little room at the back of the yard, as the landlady thought that this would be a good idea for the future – a sort of shed, if you like, where sentinels could keep their stuff (and sleep, no doubt!). I said I had no trouble with the idea at all, providing, of course, that this was at the owner’s expense, since I didn’t need nor want a shed. No problem…
So, a couple of days later, I went around to the house again, and lo and behold, the shed was almost done. What was most surprising, though, was that the wall of the toilet was half-finished! I called Mr. Olli, who said that there had been some cement blocks left over (there were still some) and he thought he’d be helpful. I said that it was very kind of him to offer me the blocks, since I couldn’t pay for them. There was silence at the other end of the phone line. I reminded him that I’d told him that I had to get three quotes and that I couldn’t pay for anything anyway as I didn’t have the money. There was a bit of bluster at the other end – and I also reminded him that the toilet was my responsibility and that he really shouldn’t be doing anything about it.
In the meantime, the house had been unguarded. Mr. Olli had assured me that he had a guard in place, and one evening, I thought I’d stroll over to the house to meet the man, since I was going to be paying him for a few weeks. No one there… I went back the next evening, at a different time, still no one there. I tried in the middle of the day – no one there; I sent Mustafa, one of my sentinels, two evenings in a row, at about 9 and 10 o’clock, still no one there. Mustafa reported that a neighbour had said that there was no one around… So, the next day, I wrote to Mr. Olli (he reads his e-mail, fortunately) saying that I was a bit concerned and that I would hire a guard forthwith. I called Roger, the friend who works at the Centre and who has been very helpful, and, a couple of days later, he came up with a young man from a village somewhere, André, a brawny young man, whom I hired as a temporary guard.. So, we strolled over to the house and what did we find there… another sentinel!!!!
Together with the toilet episode, the finding of the sentinel sent vibes through the brain. The latter still functions every so often… It was very clear that I was going to end up paying for the shed! So, I asked Roger to deal with Mr. Olli, because I was starting to think that the man didn’t understand me (or didn’t want to, as the case may be). Not only was it surprising to suddenly find this second guard there, what was unsettling was that the guard had all the keys to the house, inside and out. I had understood that I had all the sets of keys, except for the one to the front gate, so that Mr. Olli could let the workers in. Of course, having hired André, I had to let the unknown sentinel go…
Anyway, to cut a long story short, we have had a few tiffs with Mr. Olli – the toilet wall has been built up to height, in spite of Mr. Olli being told to cease and desist, and the plumbing has also been put in. Roger is insistent that I don’t pay a cent for this work, because it shouldn’t have been done, so it’s quite nice to have a toilet built for nothing. Not sure how Olli is going to take it! However, he has been warned! Now, I just have to change all the locks to the outside doors… something that I was hoping to avoid!
There is still electricity to be set up – there is some at the moment, but I’ll need to have the contract changed over to my name, so that will no doubt be fodder for another blog! The various quotes for mosquito netting are in the works; these things take time, as one can’t have the various carpenters around at the same time, so it’s one per day… that should take up most of this week, then the decision as to who gets the work, and then we’ll see how long it takes to get it done – then the move!
On that note, I’ll leave you for now. In case you’re wondering, I still manage to get my work done around all this! It certainly makes life full!
Cheers!
David
Well, life has certainly been fun over the last few weeks, so this may be a bit long – just a warning. I suppose I could keep some of it for another time, but anyway!
In my last instalment, I mentioned that a general strike had started. As it turned out, it lasted for most of a week. As mentioned, in Douala, the economic centre of the country, about 250 km away, things got a bit rough, with a fair amount of vandalism and looting. This spread to other towns and cities in the country, with the result that a number of public buildings were burned, as well as a number of shops – and many shops that didn’t get burned got thoroughly looted. A number of people died also, 16 is the official number, and over a hundred according to the Cameroon Human Rights Watch organization. The police and other security forces were out in full strength, with a special battalion called in as well – unsmiling young men that you don’t want to mess with. Here in Yaoundé, things were calm, in the sense that there was very little looting, although there was a fair amount of marching, and the taxis stayed off the road, as did most other transport. The president finally spoke to the nation on the Thursday evening, basically saying calm down or else… and that all legal means would be taken to quell the uprising. He didn’t sound very friendly, to put it mildly. So, on the Friday, Yaoundé was back to vaguely normal, and an unsettled calm reigned everywhere. There were round-ups of hooligans (and anyone else caught in the net) and summary justice has been carried out all week – prison terms being handed out left, right and centre, and hundreds of people being processed per day, with no chance of raising a defence. Some of them are innocent, we are told, but too bad for them! According to the local radio, over 1600 people have been arrested across the country, most of them youths.
The president stated that the transporters’ strike was legal, and that hadn’t been the problem. The problem was unscrupulous opposition parties (any excuse for a thrust at them) who wanted to exploit the situation and also vandals and hooligans who took advantage of the strike to loot. Of course, the opposition parties have denied this, claiming that the government is using any excuse to blacken their reputations. Nothing was said in the president’s speech about the main underlying cause, the rise in the cost of living which is making it hard for all Cameroonian households to make ends meet. The price of basic necessities has risen astronomically, as had the price of gasoline. The president did grant a decrease in the price of gasoline by lowering it by 2.5 cents a litre (after having raised it to by 12.5 cent a litre!) and that was it. Some foodstuffs have increased by 140% over the last year, and in one instance by 400%, and, of course, salaries haven’t kept pace.
The following week was a bit tense – people aren’t sure what may happen once the president submits his proposal for a Constitutional amendment, allowing him to run for as many seven-year terms as he wishes (at the moment, the limit is two terms, and Paul Biya is nearing the end of his mandate, which runs out in 2011). Of course, the man was also president before the last Constitutional amendment, back in 1993; Biya first took over in a peaceful coup in 1982, after having served the previous and first president as prime minister since 1962. Only two presidents since independence… Mr. Biya, who is 75 this year, like many other presidents around the world (at least in many countries) would like to carry on until he’s in his grave – after all, who else could possibly do the job?
On Friday of last week (March 7), the president announced a couple of measures designed to make Cameroonians happier (and to ensure that his amendment goes through). First, he raised public servants’ salaries by 15%, as well as the military’s and then announced a series of reductions in excise taxes on various foods, to take effect on April 1 (April Fool’s?). Those who are not public servants or soldiers, of course, don’t get a salary raise, and are wondering why there’s enough money now to do all this… So we’ll see…
In my area of town, things are always calm, as we are way out in the suburbs, so nothing much happens. One just stays put… and stocks up on food and other essentials in case things go awry again.
The fun bit about the whole week (well, sort of!) was that a Canadian colleague of mine was here for meetings. She managed to make it from the hotel to the Centre on the first day of the strike, using a hotel taxi (they use unmarked cars, so were thought to be private vehicles). The next day, I went to fetch her at the hotel, with my taxi man Njikam, because taxis ran from 7 a.m. until 10 a.m. At noon, she went back to the hotel with the Centre’s driver. On the Wednesday, she took the hotel taxi again, and then, in the evening, I accompanied her back in the taxi, posing as her husband, and the taximan as our driver, in case we were stopped. On the Thursday, Liane stayed at the hotel but managed to get out again on the Friday, since taxis were back on the road. All fun!
The strike and its consequences added quite a bit of spice to life, since I had, a few days before, found a house that I decided to rent. A very nice villa, with three bedrooms, a huge sitting room, a dining room and a totally paved courtyard (to lessen the impact of the dust)! Very nicely finished, and not far away at all, just what I was looking for (a bit bigger than I need, actually, but as I have LOTS of furniture, I need a big place, if only for storage purposes!). Actually, I found it about two weeks before the strike, but it took a while to get things sorted out. There was a lease to be negotiated (I consulted a lawyer, at my employers’ suggestion, which was a good idea) and papers to be signed etc. etc. There were still a few things to be done to the house, nothing major, and I was assured that it would all be taken care of within a few days. Since I wasn’t and am not in a hurry to move (I can’t break the 6-month lease on the apartment; I did try…), I was quite agreeable to this scenario. In addition, there are a some things that I want to have done to the house before I move in, such as having mosquito netting installed at all the windows and doors, a hot water heater put in (alas, they don’t come automatically with houses) and an outside toilet for the sentinels. Here, at the apartment, they have access to a field next door which serves well, although Aurel, the night sentinel, tends to want to use the facilities indoors. This, I think, is because he is immensely curious and wonders what on earth I could be doing instead of talking to him!
Anyway, it took a few days to negotiate the lease to everyone’s satisfaction, but finally the papers were signed. The agent, Mr. Olli, had agreed that an outside toilet was a fine idea, and I told him that I would look after this, since it was my wish to have it. I also told him that I didn’t have the money to start the work right away, and that I’d have to get at least three quotes before I could start doing anything. This didn’t cause any problems with him (obviously), and, after walking around the outside of the house, we agreed on the spot where the said toilet would be placed. The strike intervened, so of course nothing could get done, but last week, I went around to the house to measure a few things and met Mr. Olli who was there. He asked if it would be ok to build a little room at the back of the yard, as the landlady thought that this would be a good idea for the future – a sort of shed, if you like, where sentinels could keep their stuff (and sleep, no doubt!). I said I had no trouble with the idea at all, providing, of course, that this was at the owner’s expense, since I didn’t need nor want a shed. No problem…
So, a couple of days later, I went around to the house again, and lo and behold, the shed was almost done. What was most surprising, though, was that the wall of the toilet was half-finished! I called Mr. Olli, who said that there had been some cement blocks left over (there were still some) and he thought he’d be helpful. I said that it was very kind of him to offer me the blocks, since I couldn’t pay for them. There was silence at the other end of the phone line. I reminded him that I’d told him that I had to get three quotes and that I couldn’t pay for anything anyway as I didn’t have the money. There was a bit of bluster at the other end – and I also reminded him that the toilet was my responsibility and that he really shouldn’t be doing anything about it.
In the meantime, the house had been unguarded. Mr. Olli had assured me that he had a guard in place, and one evening, I thought I’d stroll over to the house to meet the man, since I was going to be paying him for a few weeks. No one there… I went back the next evening, at a different time, still no one there. I tried in the middle of the day – no one there; I sent Mustafa, one of my sentinels, two evenings in a row, at about 9 and 10 o’clock, still no one there. Mustafa reported that a neighbour had said that there was no one around… So, the next day, I wrote to Mr. Olli (he reads his e-mail, fortunately) saying that I was a bit concerned and that I would hire a guard forthwith. I called Roger, the friend who works at the Centre and who has been very helpful, and, a couple of days later, he came up with a young man from a village somewhere, André, a brawny young man, whom I hired as a temporary guard.. So, we strolled over to the house and what did we find there… another sentinel!!!!
Together with the toilet episode, the finding of the sentinel sent vibes through the brain. The latter still functions every so often… It was very clear that I was going to end up paying for the shed! So, I asked Roger to deal with Mr. Olli, because I was starting to think that the man didn’t understand me (or didn’t want to, as the case may be). Not only was it surprising to suddenly find this second guard there, what was unsettling was that the guard had all the keys to the house, inside and out. I had understood that I had all the sets of keys, except for the one to the front gate, so that Mr. Olli could let the workers in. Of course, having hired André, I had to let the unknown sentinel go…
Anyway, to cut a long story short, we have had a few tiffs with Mr. Olli – the toilet wall has been built up to height, in spite of Mr. Olli being told to cease and desist, and the plumbing has also been put in. Roger is insistent that I don’t pay a cent for this work, because it shouldn’t have been done, so it’s quite nice to have a toilet built for nothing. Not sure how Olli is going to take it! However, he has been warned! Now, I just have to change all the locks to the outside doors… something that I was hoping to avoid!
There is still electricity to be set up – there is some at the moment, but I’ll need to have the contract changed over to my name, so that will no doubt be fodder for another blog! The various quotes for mosquito netting are in the works; these things take time, as one can’t have the various carpenters around at the same time, so it’s one per day… that should take up most of this week, then the decision as to who gets the work, and then we’ll see how long it takes to get it done – then the move!
On that note, I’ll leave you for now. In case you’re wondering, I still manage to get my work done around all this! It certainly makes life full!
Cheers!
David
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Yaoundé, February 26, 2008
Greetings!
Life continues to be good here in Cameroon, in spite of a few upheavals in the last few days – getting all the news about the weather in Canada continues to make me feel very smug, to be honest.
You may have heard about the recent troubles here in Cameroon, over the last weekend, and here’s a brief summary. There are two strands, one economic and one political, which seem to have joined forces.
In Yaoundé, the taxi drivers decided to join all the taxi drivers in the country for a day-long strike to take place on Monday, February 25. Basically, the reason is that the price of gasoline has climbed quite high (it’s now 600 FCFA a litre, about $1.50), and of course, the price of a taxi drive is set by the government and it hasn’t risen for quite a while. In addition to these costs is the fact that the price of basic necessities has increased, since transportation costs have increased for everything. Even the moto-taxis were off the road, and the ones who tried to cash in on the day were stopped. As hundreds of thousands of people depend on this form of public transport, the strike meant that most people were reduced to walking to work or school, and most of them supported the strike, in spite of the inconvenience they suffered. There was not much rampaging, if any.
The story in Douala is very different, although the radio has just announced that calm has returned to the economic capital. I’m not too sure of the details, but a political demonstration had been planned for late Saturday afternoon, to protest against a move to change the Constitution (specifically, the article that limits presidential terms). It seems that the demonstration was banned at the last minute, and although the demonstrators started leaving quietly, the police charged anyway (of course, the official story is the reverse, and who knows which is the correct version?). As often happens, I guess, bands of “wild youths” went on the rampage, and two young bystanders were killed, setting off more riots! Sunday, it seems, was fairly calm, but the rampage started again today, with “wild youths” taking advantage of the lack of taxis to attack a lot of places. It seems that there is a lot of damage to a number of state buildings, as well as a lot of breaking into stores and making off with useful items. We are now waiting for a pronouncement from four government ministers about solutions being offered (you’d think they’d have thought of this before raising the price of gasoline!).
At the time of writing, things seem to have calmed down everywhere, and life is due to go back to normal today.
In the last installment, you’ll remember, I was full of woe with respect to my toe-nails, and I’m sure that you’re all very concerned about them. You’ll be glad to know that less than an hour after I had posted the blog, my brother Neil, who lives in Ghana (practically next door, a mere 2000 km and four countries away) and suffers from the same problem, gave me the solution to my problem: using wire cutters! So life is good and I’m sure that you will all be delighted to know that the separation of over-long toe-nails from top of toes has been successfully accomplished.
Speaking of separations, after much thinking, many ruminations, cogitations, reflections, consultations and exchanges of e-mails, Marion and I have reached a decision that may surprise some of you. Hé, hé, don’t worry – I just couldn’t resist writing that! As you know, Marion had planned to join me here in Yaoundé, but it has turned out that her employers were not willing to give her a leave-of-absence for such a long period – they might have accepted one year, but certainly not two or three. As a consequence, and Marion being much more sensible than I am, we have decided that Marion should keep her job, and we will yo-yo between the two continents for the next little while. This is a sort of insurance – should I not have a job immediately after this one ends, then we can survive and should something happen to me (like being run over by an elephant) while I’m here, Marion won’t end up being husbandless and jobless (I didn’t dare ask her which would be worse!). The added advantages are that we keep the house in Fredericton, and I manage to avoid Canadian winters! We’ll see how this works out and then, perhaps, revisit the decision at a later date. At the moment, it looks like Marion will be able to come out to Yaoundé once a year, and I will be able to get to Canada once a year as well. Who knows, we may manage more than that!
There hasn’t been much of note happening lately. I mean, the sun rises and sets at almost exactly the same time each day, and the weather has been quite steady – warm and dry, although, by Cameroonian standards, the last few mornings have been quite chilly, with a heavy mist, sometimes lasting until early afternoon.
I had to give a sermon to the sentinels the other day, as a certain laxity had set in. People arriving late for work, leaving early, and, quite often, leaving in the middle of the day for quite a long time. So, I called an early morning meeting of the troops and instructed them in my expectations: arrive on time, leave on time, and no leaving without permission during the day. And no drinking alcohol during working hours, which was still happening. As I pointed out (in private, not during the sermon) to the one sentinel who really loves his little bags of Scotch, once he’s had his little nip, he falls asleep, in such a deep sleep that he doesn’t hear people knocking at the gate (ie me). In fact, it was this behaviour that got me riled up enough to set up the sermon meeting. One Sunday morning, I left the apartment to go and buy a loaf of bread at the bakery up the road. The sentinel was sleeping very heavily (and it wasn’t 6 a.m. and they’re not supposed to sleep on the job) that he didn’t hear me come down, unlock the gate and pull the bar open – all very noisy operations! I don’t think he realized that I’d gone, because when I came back, he’d woken up and gone to the snack bar next door to buy his little bag of Scotch. He didn’t see me coming back, so he was caught in the act, so to speak. Anyway, I’m hoping that the little sermon will do some good, very naïve of me, no doubt!. I did tell them that if I caught any of them in flagrante delicto that they would lose their job immediately. And yes, I had a witness for all this. Fortunately, as the apartment is next door to the Centre, I am able taken to coming home at odd hours to see what’s happening!
You’ll no doubt remember the fun I had with opening my bank account back in December? Well, I’ve been having fun with the bank ever since. I’m not sure that they’re having fun with me, however!
The bank that I’m with is known for being very careful in its financial transactions, which is a very good thing, but it does occasionally slow things down a bit. I think I told you that one of my duties is to administer some of the project funds, in particular funds needed to reimburse the Centre where I work for certain expenses. Once I’d opened my bank account, and some funds had been transferred from Canada, I’d paid a few bills. One day, I got a call from the bank asking me to come in and see the Head of Client Services. A bit bemused, I did so. Of course, you have to understand that going to the bank takes a while – first, call the taxi; second, wait for the taxi; third, go through incredible traffic (see blog on driving!) before arriving at the bank; fourth, wait at the bank until the person who called is free. Anyway, I duly showed up, did my mandatory waiting, and was finally invited into the office of the Head of Client Services. He looked at me very seriously, pulled a sheet of paper out from a folder and handed it to me. I was starting to think that I’d inadvertently done something wrong! The sheet of paper had a photocopy of a cheque that I’d made out about ten days earlier. “Did you write that cheque?” I was asked. “Yes,” I confessed. “Why?” “You’re sure that it’s your cheque?” “Absolutely sure. In fact, let me show you the cheque book stub.” Finally, satisfied that I was telling the truth, Mr. Moukoury explained that the reason they were double-checking (pardon the pun) was that the bank in which the cheque had been deposited had a history of doubtful dealings, and my bank wanted to make sure that it was ok to pay out the money. I expressed gratitude at such careful work and went back to the office. It was a surprising sort of visit, but I must admit that it certainly increased my respect for the bank’s administration (even if one is sometimes frustrated by the length of time it takes to get things done!).
This is a good time to take a break, my friends, as the banking story continues…
You have to understand that the local currency is expressed in francs, whose value is very small. For example, one thousand francs is equivalent to about $2.25, so purchases are often in the tens of thousands of francs (and many items are quite expensive). Those of you who have had the misfortune to try to decipher my handwriting also know that it is illegible at best. So, I try very hard to make the cheques that I write out very legible, which entails a lot of time practising on a piece of paper, since the sums have to be written out in full in a fairly constricted space. When one writes a cheque for three million, nine hundred thousand and four hundred and thirty francs, it has to fit in the space provided and not go over the edge. So, having practised, I then write out the amount, put in the amount in figures, identify to whom the cheque is made out and then sign and date it. None of this is very surprising, of course!
A few weeks ago (I have to tell you that I keep my stories for a while before sharing them, otherwise the blogs would be even longer than they are now!), I wrote a cheque out for the Centre. We’ll assume that it was for the sum I mentioned above, three million, nine hundred thousand and four hundred and thirty franc. This was the first cheque I’d written out for the Centre, so I felt very noble and proud at finally being able to embark upon one of my responsibilities. I duly gave the cheque to Laurentine, the secretary-bookkeeper, who verified that the information was correct, and off she went, at some point, to deposit the cheque (the Centre uses the same bank as I do). You need to know that it takes at least two days for a cheque to be processed (even within the same bank) and sometimes three days. So, it was a slightly agitated Laurentine who came to see me in my office a few days later, to say that the cheque had been bounced, with no reason given, and would I go and see what it was all about. To say that I was flabbergasted would be putting it mildly. Not to say embarrassed! Off I went to the bank (same steps as before!), and waited until the clerk who looks after bounced cheques was a) at her desk and b) ready to receive clients. I courteously explained who I was, and expressed surprise at the fact that the cheque had not been accepted. The clerk took the cheque out, looked at it, looked at me, looked at the cheque, and said, very gravely,: “There’s a mistake on the cheque.” I looked at the cheque and didn’t see it right away - and I, a French teacher and proof-reader! Yes, my friends, I’d forgotten the “s” at the end of the word “franc” (so it wasn’t a typo up above, héhé), and for that reason, the cheque bounced. Lordy…
Back I went to the office, made out another cheque, making sure that the “s” was visible and legible (lots of practice!), and gave the cheque to Laurentine, who verified it (she was highly amused at the reason for the bounce), and off she went to deposit the cheque. A few days later, she was back in the office, much more agitated, wig a bit askew (a lot of ladies wear wigs, some of them architectural wonders), to say that the new cheque had been bounced, and would I please go and see what had happened now? The first time, it had been funny, this time it was a bit more serious, especially as the Centre needed the money that kept on being bounced. So, this time, I went with Laurentine to the bank. Same story, in the sense of waiting times, but this time the reason for the bounce was the signature. “Your signature seems to have evolved” said the clerk, with nary a smile, “and it doesn’t look like the signature that we have on file” (scanned). I looked at the signature and said that yes, it was mine, and yes, it was probably slightly different from the one on file. I also pointed out that I had warned the bank that my signature varied (unheard of, I guess), depending on the pen I was using, the position I was in when writing the cheque and perhaps my mood. However, the clerk was not going to be amused, as this was serious business! Slightly impatient, I wrote out a third cheque, there and then, with the clerk as a witness, and gave it to Laurentine, who was standing next to me. The clerk looked at the cheque carefully, looked at me sorrowfully (at last, an expression on her face), shook her head slowly and said that the signature wasn’t quite right (one line extra, difficult to explain the difference).
Well, what to do? I thought, well, this can’t go on, so I suggested to Laurentine that I take out the money in cash, and then she could deposit it right away. This seemed to be a sensible solution to the predicament, although probably not to the liking of accountants the world over. Ah well… so I wrote a cheque out to myself (there are no withdrawal slips here, one has to use cheques), in front of the same clerk, who again refused the cheque, because the signature was different again. This was getting serious, to put it mildly! So, I went to see the Head of Client Services, Mr. Moukoury, and explained what was happening. Much cogitation and consultations with various bodies, shaking of heads, rolling of eyes and other dramatic elements. Finally, it was decided that I should fill out new signature forms. I pointed out that this did not guarantee that my signature would remain stable. I also pointed out that this was the first time I’d had this trouble in any country that I’d been in. Anyway, a final solution was found. First, I sign the cheque, then, under my signature, I write my name. I pointed out that my writing varied a lot also, but that I always made my “f” the same way. So, on the card, it is noted that the “f” is the only stable element of my signature, that if there are any questions, to refer them to Mr. Moukoury or to phone me. Once all this was done, I wrote out another cheque, which was then initialed by at least three people, so that I could withdraw the money owed to the Centre, so that I could give it to Laurentine.
The largest bill is the ten-thousand franc note, so after a few minutes (cheque having magically been accepted by the unsmiling clerk), I was handed a huge pile of bills, a large number of ten thousand franc notes, a large number of five-thousand franc notes, and some two-thousand franc notes. Actually getting the money also took time, since the clerk had to count it all, and then I had to count it all. Then I staggered over to Laurentine with this huge whack of notes, and gave them to her. She then filled out her deposit slip, counted the notes, and went to the teller, who had just given me the notes, who then proceeded to count them all again and deposit the money in the Centre’s account.
The whole operation, from beginning to end, took five hours!
You may be sure that I’m very careful about how I fill out the cheques now, and, fortunately, there have been no more bounced cheques! I must say, though, that it was quite pleasant going around with more than three million in one’s hands!
On that note (groan!), I shall leave you for now! Hope all is going well for you all!
Cheers!
David
Life continues to be good here in Cameroon, in spite of a few upheavals in the last few days – getting all the news about the weather in Canada continues to make me feel very smug, to be honest.
You may have heard about the recent troubles here in Cameroon, over the last weekend, and here’s a brief summary. There are two strands, one economic and one political, which seem to have joined forces.
In Yaoundé, the taxi drivers decided to join all the taxi drivers in the country for a day-long strike to take place on Monday, February 25. Basically, the reason is that the price of gasoline has climbed quite high (it’s now 600 FCFA a litre, about $1.50), and of course, the price of a taxi drive is set by the government and it hasn’t risen for quite a while. In addition to these costs is the fact that the price of basic necessities has increased, since transportation costs have increased for everything. Even the moto-taxis were off the road, and the ones who tried to cash in on the day were stopped. As hundreds of thousands of people depend on this form of public transport, the strike meant that most people were reduced to walking to work or school, and most of them supported the strike, in spite of the inconvenience they suffered. There was not much rampaging, if any.
The story in Douala is very different, although the radio has just announced that calm has returned to the economic capital. I’m not too sure of the details, but a political demonstration had been planned for late Saturday afternoon, to protest against a move to change the Constitution (specifically, the article that limits presidential terms). It seems that the demonstration was banned at the last minute, and although the demonstrators started leaving quietly, the police charged anyway (of course, the official story is the reverse, and who knows which is the correct version?). As often happens, I guess, bands of “wild youths” went on the rampage, and two young bystanders were killed, setting off more riots! Sunday, it seems, was fairly calm, but the rampage started again today, with “wild youths” taking advantage of the lack of taxis to attack a lot of places. It seems that there is a lot of damage to a number of state buildings, as well as a lot of breaking into stores and making off with useful items. We are now waiting for a pronouncement from four government ministers about solutions being offered (you’d think they’d have thought of this before raising the price of gasoline!).
At the time of writing, things seem to have calmed down everywhere, and life is due to go back to normal today.
In the last installment, you’ll remember, I was full of woe with respect to my toe-nails, and I’m sure that you’re all very concerned about them. You’ll be glad to know that less than an hour after I had posted the blog, my brother Neil, who lives in Ghana (practically next door, a mere 2000 km and four countries away) and suffers from the same problem, gave me the solution to my problem: using wire cutters! So life is good and I’m sure that you will all be delighted to know that the separation of over-long toe-nails from top of toes has been successfully accomplished.
Speaking of separations, after much thinking, many ruminations, cogitations, reflections, consultations and exchanges of e-mails, Marion and I have reached a decision that may surprise some of you. Hé, hé, don’t worry – I just couldn’t resist writing that! As you know, Marion had planned to join me here in Yaoundé, but it has turned out that her employers were not willing to give her a leave-of-absence for such a long period – they might have accepted one year, but certainly not two or three. As a consequence, and Marion being much more sensible than I am, we have decided that Marion should keep her job, and we will yo-yo between the two continents for the next little while. This is a sort of insurance – should I not have a job immediately after this one ends, then we can survive and should something happen to me (like being run over by an elephant) while I’m here, Marion won’t end up being husbandless and jobless (I didn’t dare ask her which would be worse!). The added advantages are that we keep the house in Fredericton, and I manage to avoid Canadian winters! We’ll see how this works out and then, perhaps, revisit the decision at a later date. At the moment, it looks like Marion will be able to come out to Yaoundé once a year, and I will be able to get to Canada once a year as well. Who knows, we may manage more than that!
There hasn’t been much of note happening lately. I mean, the sun rises and sets at almost exactly the same time each day, and the weather has been quite steady – warm and dry, although, by Cameroonian standards, the last few mornings have been quite chilly, with a heavy mist, sometimes lasting until early afternoon.
I had to give a sermon to the sentinels the other day, as a certain laxity had set in. People arriving late for work, leaving early, and, quite often, leaving in the middle of the day for quite a long time. So, I called an early morning meeting of the troops and instructed them in my expectations: arrive on time, leave on time, and no leaving without permission during the day. And no drinking alcohol during working hours, which was still happening. As I pointed out (in private, not during the sermon) to the one sentinel who really loves his little bags of Scotch, once he’s had his little nip, he falls asleep, in such a deep sleep that he doesn’t hear people knocking at the gate (ie me). In fact, it was this behaviour that got me riled up enough to set up the sermon meeting. One Sunday morning, I left the apartment to go and buy a loaf of bread at the bakery up the road. The sentinel was sleeping very heavily (and it wasn’t 6 a.m. and they’re not supposed to sleep on the job) that he didn’t hear me come down, unlock the gate and pull the bar open – all very noisy operations! I don’t think he realized that I’d gone, because when I came back, he’d woken up and gone to the snack bar next door to buy his little bag of Scotch. He didn’t see me coming back, so he was caught in the act, so to speak. Anyway, I’m hoping that the little sermon will do some good, very naïve of me, no doubt!. I did tell them that if I caught any of them in flagrante delicto that they would lose their job immediately. And yes, I had a witness for all this. Fortunately, as the apartment is next door to the Centre, I am able taken to coming home at odd hours to see what’s happening!
You’ll no doubt remember the fun I had with opening my bank account back in December? Well, I’ve been having fun with the bank ever since. I’m not sure that they’re having fun with me, however!
The bank that I’m with is known for being very careful in its financial transactions, which is a very good thing, but it does occasionally slow things down a bit. I think I told you that one of my duties is to administer some of the project funds, in particular funds needed to reimburse the Centre where I work for certain expenses. Once I’d opened my bank account, and some funds had been transferred from Canada, I’d paid a few bills. One day, I got a call from the bank asking me to come in and see the Head of Client Services. A bit bemused, I did so. Of course, you have to understand that going to the bank takes a while – first, call the taxi; second, wait for the taxi; third, go through incredible traffic (see blog on driving!) before arriving at the bank; fourth, wait at the bank until the person who called is free. Anyway, I duly showed up, did my mandatory waiting, and was finally invited into the office of the Head of Client Services. He looked at me very seriously, pulled a sheet of paper out from a folder and handed it to me. I was starting to think that I’d inadvertently done something wrong! The sheet of paper had a photocopy of a cheque that I’d made out about ten days earlier. “Did you write that cheque?” I was asked. “Yes,” I confessed. “Why?” “You’re sure that it’s your cheque?” “Absolutely sure. In fact, let me show you the cheque book stub.” Finally, satisfied that I was telling the truth, Mr. Moukoury explained that the reason they were double-checking (pardon the pun) was that the bank in which the cheque had been deposited had a history of doubtful dealings, and my bank wanted to make sure that it was ok to pay out the money. I expressed gratitude at such careful work and went back to the office. It was a surprising sort of visit, but I must admit that it certainly increased my respect for the bank’s administration (even if one is sometimes frustrated by the length of time it takes to get things done!).
This is a good time to take a break, my friends, as the banking story continues…
You have to understand that the local currency is expressed in francs, whose value is very small. For example, one thousand francs is equivalent to about $2.25, so purchases are often in the tens of thousands of francs (and many items are quite expensive). Those of you who have had the misfortune to try to decipher my handwriting also know that it is illegible at best. So, I try very hard to make the cheques that I write out very legible, which entails a lot of time practising on a piece of paper, since the sums have to be written out in full in a fairly constricted space. When one writes a cheque for three million, nine hundred thousand and four hundred and thirty francs, it has to fit in the space provided and not go over the edge. So, having practised, I then write out the amount, put in the amount in figures, identify to whom the cheque is made out and then sign and date it. None of this is very surprising, of course!
A few weeks ago (I have to tell you that I keep my stories for a while before sharing them, otherwise the blogs would be even longer than they are now!), I wrote a cheque out for the Centre. We’ll assume that it was for the sum I mentioned above, three million, nine hundred thousand and four hundred and thirty franc. This was the first cheque I’d written out for the Centre, so I felt very noble and proud at finally being able to embark upon one of my responsibilities. I duly gave the cheque to Laurentine, the secretary-bookkeeper, who verified that the information was correct, and off she went, at some point, to deposit the cheque (the Centre uses the same bank as I do). You need to know that it takes at least two days for a cheque to be processed (even within the same bank) and sometimes three days. So, it was a slightly agitated Laurentine who came to see me in my office a few days later, to say that the cheque had been bounced, with no reason given, and would I go and see what it was all about. To say that I was flabbergasted would be putting it mildly. Not to say embarrassed! Off I went to the bank (same steps as before!), and waited until the clerk who looks after bounced cheques was a) at her desk and b) ready to receive clients. I courteously explained who I was, and expressed surprise at the fact that the cheque had not been accepted. The clerk took the cheque out, looked at it, looked at me, looked at the cheque, and said, very gravely,: “There’s a mistake on the cheque.” I looked at the cheque and didn’t see it right away - and I, a French teacher and proof-reader! Yes, my friends, I’d forgotten the “s” at the end of the word “franc” (so it wasn’t a typo up above, héhé), and for that reason, the cheque bounced. Lordy…
Back I went to the office, made out another cheque, making sure that the “s” was visible and legible (lots of practice!), and gave the cheque to Laurentine, who verified it (she was highly amused at the reason for the bounce), and off she went to deposit the cheque. A few days later, she was back in the office, much more agitated, wig a bit askew (a lot of ladies wear wigs, some of them architectural wonders), to say that the new cheque had been bounced, and would I please go and see what had happened now? The first time, it had been funny, this time it was a bit more serious, especially as the Centre needed the money that kept on being bounced. So, this time, I went with Laurentine to the bank. Same story, in the sense of waiting times, but this time the reason for the bounce was the signature. “Your signature seems to have evolved” said the clerk, with nary a smile, “and it doesn’t look like the signature that we have on file” (scanned). I looked at the signature and said that yes, it was mine, and yes, it was probably slightly different from the one on file. I also pointed out that I had warned the bank that my signature varied (unheard of, I guess), depending on the pen I was using, the position I was in when writing the cheque and perhaps my mood. However, the clerk was not going to be amused, as this was serious business! Slightly impatient, I wrote out a third cheque, there and then, with the clerk as a witness, and gave it to Laurentine, who was standing next to me. The clerk looked at the cheque carefully, looked at me sorrowfully (at last, an expression on her face), shook her head slowly and said that the signature wasn’t quite right (one line extra, difficult to explain the difference).
Well, what to do? I thought, well, this can’t go on, so I suggested to Laurentine that I take out the money in cash, and then she could deposit it right away. This seemed to be a sensible solution to the predicament, although probably not to the liking of accountants the world over. Ah well… so I wrote a cheque out to myself (there are no withdrawal slips here, one has to use cheques), in front of the same clerk, who again refused the cheque, because the signature was different again. This was getting serious, to put it mildly! So, I went to see the Head of Client Services, Mr. Moukoury, and explained what was happening. Much cogitation and consultations with various bodies, shaking of heads, rolling of eyes and other dramatic elements. Finally, it was decided that I should fill out new signature forms. I pointed out that this did not guarantee that my signature would remain stable. I also pointed out that this was the first time I’d had this trouble in any country that I’d been in. Anyway, a final solution was found. First, I sign the cheque, then, under my signature, I write my name. I pointed out that my writing varied a lot also, but that I always made my “f” the same way. So, on the card, it is noted that the “f” is the only stable element of my signature, that if there are any questions, to refer them to Mr. Moukoury or to phone me. Once all this was done, I wrote out another cheque, which was then initialed by at least three people, so that I could withdraw the money owed to the Centre, so that I could give it to Laurentine.
The largest bill is the ten-thousand franc note, so after a few minutes (cheque having magically been accepted by the unsmiling clerk), I was handed a huge pile of bills, a large number of ten thousand franc notes, a large number of five-thousand franc notes, and some two-thousand franc notes. Actually getting the money also took time, since the clerk had to count it all, and then I had to count it all. Then I staggered over to Laurentine with this huge whack of notes, and gave them to her. She then filled out her deposit slip, counted the notes, and went to the teller, who had just given me the notes, who then proceeded to count them all again and deposit the money in the Centre’s account.
The whole operation, from beginning to end, took five hours!
You may be sure that I’m very careful about how I fill out the cheques now, and, fortunately, there have been no more bounced cheques! I must say, though, that it was quite pleasant going around with more than three million in one’s hands!
On that note (groan!), I shall leave you for now! Hope all is going well for you all!
Cheers!
David
Monday, February 4, 2008
Pictures
David, Laurence (our secretary) and her husband
Members of the executive, staff association - the two white guys are honorary advisors! The other white guy is Père Natalino, the director.
David dancing with Mme Calvin, wife of the do it all man.Greetings again!
I tried to incorporate these pictures in my text earlier, but I haven't got the hang of it... ah well!
Yaoundé, Sunday, February 3, 2008
Greetings all!
Well, I thought that it was probably time to add something to the blog, although I’m not sure that I have many exciting tales to relate – very sad, I’m sure!
First, let me gloat about the weather! It continues to be very pleasant, thank you very much, as the sun shines most days, and the temperature remains in the balmy twenties. The mornings are quite misty, to be expected, I suppose, since we are 700 metres above sea level, and the nights are cool. It is, after all, winter, and temperatures drop to about 19 or 20 at night. I’ve been told that they can drop to as low as 14, but that hasn’t happened yet. Anyway, the mist clears up by about 8 a.m., and then the sun comes out, unless there happens to be a dust cloud in the area. Still no very hot days yet – I can tell, because I haven’t felt the need to change shirts during the day.
Speaking of dust, it’s all over the place. The roads are dusty, and the cars of course raise great clouds of the stuff as they pass by, even on the major paved roads. One is constantly having to brush down one’s trousers so that one appears somewhat respectable. The travails, I tell you! So, just for your excitement, you need to know that I keep a little sponge at the office just for that purpose.
I think that in my last posting, I spoke of the little hitch that had thrown up its head (as it were) with respect to the development of a number of documents. As I write this, nothing has been resolved – of course there are two governments involved and, as I can well attest, things take time to go through government. And here, it’s slower than at home, so… No doubt everything will be resolved in due course.
The weekend of January 25th was a very sociable one. It started on the Thursday actually, when I invited one of my colleagues for supper – a young man of 30, Christian is one of the technicians who fixes things to do with computers, a very nice man and good at his job – he must be, because he explains things to me in a way that I can understand! Anyway, the reason for the invitation was that I had neglected to invite him to the housewarming party in December, and I felt a bit guilty about this, to put it mildly. I also invited his younger brother, Hermann, who is in the final stages of his training at the Centre. I hadn’t realized until early in the week that Christian and Hermann were brothers, and it would have been “off” to invite one but not the other. It was only over supper that I learned that Christian is also a trainee, and he is doing his work term at the Centre (where he also took his course). Most amusing, since there had actually been no reason for guilt! Still, it was a pleasant evening, as Christian has the gift of keeping a conversation going. I fed them a sort of tomato sauce with beef, served on rice, and they were most impressed at the fact that I could cook, and moreover, that it was edible (“Mmmm, just like African food!). I also met their mother (this gets complicated – only in Africa!), who was attending a wake at the chapel up the hill. The young men don’t live with their mother (too far away, I gather), but of course, since she was in the area, she wanted to see them. Christian wasn’t too sure what to do, so I told him to bring his mother along (she called while they were at the house), so that’s what he did. She didn’t stay long, just enough to glug down a bottle of Schweppes tonic, and then was off to visit a sister in hospital before returning to the wake. Very nice lady.
Anyway, there was food left over, and I couldn’t see myself eating the quantities that were left, so on the Friday, I invited the young men to come and finish up the meal at lunch. Christian couldn’t come, but Hermann did and nobly wolfed down half of the remains, saying he might come back in the evening to finish it off, if that was ok with me. Most amusing. He’s a nice young man (I can’t think of another adjective).
Friday being the last day of the month, I decided that the colleagues and I should repair to a bar for a round of drinks. I’ll probably do that every month (going out with the guys plus one lady), as it’s rather fun. My, but they drink! Still, all worth it in the long run. I just about manage to glug down one bottle (they’re big ones) while they down about three each. I think I come over as a very sober person, not sure if that’s a good thing. I just tell them that it’s not warm enough yet for me! Anyway, I’d brought a torch with me so that I could walk back home (we weren’t that far away), but it seems that there was no question that I should go unaccompanied, so Christian (who joins in these things, which is what made me think he was a member of the staff) was delegated to return me home, since it was on his way home also. So, of course, I invited him in and offered him the rest of the meal that his brother hadn’t finished (the latter having called to say that he couldn’t make it after all). By the time Christian left, it was 10 o’clock, and definitely time for the old man to go to bed, even on a Friday night! What one beer does to me…
Saturday morning was the usual round of shops, stocking up on quite a few things, with Njikam, who you remember is my favourite taximan, very apologetic for being 15 minutes late, having been held up by an accident – he wasn’t involved, just stuck in the traffic. Normally, he calls to say if he’s going to be late, but his phone wasn’t charged. Poor man! He takes pride in being right on time when coming to get me, as long as I’ve arrange a time with him. It’s quite delightful to see him pulling up at precisely the right minute, just like I do! Anyway, a pleasant time was had, as always, going round the various shops, and, as always, visiting different parts of town.
Then, on Saturday afternoon, I went off to see the tailor to whom I’d been introduced earlier in the week by one of my colleagues. You’ll be delighted to know that I’m losing weight – on purpose, may I add. As my trousers are just about falling off the hips (yay, the diet is working), I figured I needed new trousers, tighter, to encourage me to continue. I brought along one pair that I have with me as the model to follow, and made arrangements to have the two pairs made, as well as two pairs of shorts (I change into them on arrival at home, so that I can dust off the trousers!), and another dressing gown, with some nice material that I picked up a while back, a mere $12 for 6 yards. I do have a dressing gown with me, but it does need washing once in a while. Very complicated life I lead: first thing in the morning, out of night clothes, into dressing gown, and, while I have tea on the porch, the water heater does its thing; then it’s shower time and the ballet, then I get dressed. My, such a busy life! When I get back in the afternoon, and then, after my evening shower and ballet, back into the dressing gown. One has to fill one’s life with some activity!
On Saturday evening (we’re now on January 26th), the Centre was having its annual staff party, to which I’d been invited. I guess I should say that it’s the “Amicale de Don Bosco” that was holding the bash. This is sort of the staff association and I don’t think that all members of staff have to belong to it. However, once I discovered this, I asked if I couldn’t contribute, although I’m not officially a member of the Centre’s staff. It was quickly decided that I could become an honorary member and this was toasted all evening. Very nice, I must say. The invitation – an official one – had said that the bash was starting at precisely 6 p.m., so I duly showed up, along with about 4 others at the appointed time. I know better, but I was impressed by the “precisely at 6 p.m. on the invitation! A TV had been set up, since Cameroun was playing against Zambia (African Cup of Nations), and it was soon obvious that nothing was going to happen until this match was over. It was considered an important match, since in their first game, Cameroun had lost ignominiously to Egypt, 5 to 1. Most insulting for the Lions, known as one of the stronger teams on the continent. Anyway, fortunately, Cameroun won, 5 to 1 (yup!) against Zambia, to great cries of joy, honking of cars etc. Just to close off the football saga (soccer), Cameroon also won its next match and qualified for the quarter finals. The next two weeks are going to be crazy: if the Cameroonian team keeps on winning, the country will be partying non-stop, and if they lose somewhere along the line, mourning will be the order of the day. If I sound like I know what I’m talking about, it’s because it’s catching!
By the time the match was over on the Saturday evening, most people had arrived. There had been a trickle all the way through, but we were finally about 60 people, including the père Natalino, the director, with long beard suitably groomed. Speeches were made, new officers introduced, including yours truly, who, to his surprise, was nominated “special advisor”, along with the père. A picture was taken, to be found here, along with two others – one of me dancing with Mme Calvin, wife of the general maintenance man, and one kneeling next to Laurence (one of the Lauries!), our secretary and her husband. A good meal was provided, although I begged off the tapioca, and good chats all around. Then there was a round of present giving (not quite sure why, but anyway) and then the dancing started. All lots of fun, but I left early, at about midnight.
Such a wild life I lead! Sunday was more relaxing, although my two young men showed up unexpectedly (I’d told them that they would always be welcome, so…), at about 4:30. I took this to be a hint that they wouldn’t mind being fed again! They live with another brother, sharing an apartment (well, probably just a room, but I haven’t enquired!) and I imagine that funds can be tight. Anyway, it was quite fun to see them again, and they were quite happy reading old copies of Jeune Afrique and a couple of other magazines that I had around, while I got supper ready. I made a couscous, fortunately having bought some merguez (Algerian lamb sausage) the day before. This time, I sent them home with the left-overs, in a tub. The tub was duly returned a few days later, along with two pineapples – a thank you gift, I suppose. I must have told them that it was my favourite fruit, and it is in plentiful supply, as are oranges, grapefruit, mandarin oranges and various other fruit of tropical nature.
Well, all that excitement! It certainly made a change from the great issues of the day, one of which concerns toe-nails. I’m sure you’re really interested in this, and I’ll bore you anyway! You need to know (do you really?) that my toe-nails are very, very hard, and it is very difficult to trim them. Unfortunately, I do not have a strong pair of toe-nail scissors, nor clipper for that matter. I do have a clipper for my fingernails, you’ll be relieved to know, but they don’t work on my toe-nails, which need to be soaked for half an hour or more just to make them relatively hard, as opposed to granite-hard. And no, I can’t find toe-nail scissors in Yaoundé – I’ve looked and looked. There are nail scissors to be found, of course, but only little things and they usually come in a little kit, together with all sorts of manicuring implements, and cost the earth. I’m now waiting for scissors to arrive from Canada, sent by my loving wife (no doubt carefully wrapped), through the good offices of a colleague who is coming to do some consultancy work for the project. I can hardly wait…. Meanwhile, my toe-nails grow – fortunately, I wear sandals and it’s the dry season – I’m not sure that my feet will fit in my shoes at the moment. Not quite Guinness Book of Records, but getting there!
How’s that for an exciting life?
Cheers all!
David
Well, I thought that it was probably time to add something to the blog, although I’m not sure that I have many exciting tales to relate – very sad, I’m sure!
First, let me gloat about the weather! It continues to be very pleasant, thank you very much, as the sun shines most days, and the temperature remains in the balmy twenties. The mornings are quite misty, to be expected, I suppose, since we are 700 metres above sea level, and the nights are cool. It is, after all, winter, and temperatures drop to about 19 or 20 at night. I’ve been told that they can drop to as low as 14, but that hasn’t happened yet. Anyway, the mist clears up by about 8 a.m., and then the sun comes out, unless there happens to be a dust cloud in the area. Still no very hot days yet – I can tell, because I haven’t felt the need to change shirts during the day.
Speaking of dust, it’s all over the place. The roads are dusty, and the cars of course raise great clouds of the stuff as they pass by, even on the major paved roads. One is constantly having to brush down one’s trousers so that one appears somewhat respectable. The travails, I tell you! So, just for your excitement, you need to know that I keep a little sponge at the office just for that purpose.
I think that in my last posting, I spoke of the little hitch that had thrown up its head (as it were) with respect to the development of a number of documents. As I write this, nothing has been resolved – of course there are two governments involved and, as I can well attest, things take time to go through government. And here, it’s slower than at home, so… No doubt everything will be resolved in due course.
The weekend of January 25th was a very sociable one. It started on the Thursday actually, when I invited one of my colleagues for supper – a young man of 30, Christian is one of the technicians who fixes things to do with computers, a very nice man and good at his job – he must be, because he explains things to me in a way that I can understand! Anyway, the reason for the invitation was that I had neglected to invite him to the housewarming party in December, and I felt a bit guilty about this, to put it mildly. I also invited his younger brother, Hermann, who is in the final stages of his training at the Centre. I hadn’t realized until early in the week that Christian and Hermann were brothers, and it would have been “off” to invite one but not the other. It was only over supper that I learned that Christian is also a trainee, and he is doing his work term at the Centre (where he also took his course). Most amusing, since there had actually been no reason for guilt! Still, it was a pleasant evening, as Christian has the gift of keeping a conversation going. I fed them a sort of tomato sauce with beef, served on rice, and they were most impressed at the fact that I could cook, and moreover, that it was edible (“Mmmm, just like African food!). I also met their mother (this gets complicated – only in Africa!), who was attending a wake at the chapel up the hill. The young men don’t live with their mother (too far away, I gather), but of course, since she was in the area, she wanted to see them. Christian wasn’t too sure what to do, so I told him to bring his mother along (she called while they were at the house), so that’s what he did. She didn’t stay long, just enough to glug down a bottle of Schweppes tonic, and then was off to visit a sister in hospital before returning to the wake. Very nice lady.
Anyway, there was food left over, and I couldn’t see myself eating the quantities that were left, so on the Friday, I invited the young men to come and finish up the meal at lunch. Christian couldn’t come, but Hermann did and nobly wolfed down half of the remains, saying he might come back in the evening to finish it off, if that was ok with me. Most amusing. He’s a nice young man (I can’t think of another adjective).
Friday being the last day of the month, I decided that the colleagues and I should repair to a bar for a round of drinks. I’ll probably do that every month (going out with the guys plus one lady), as it’s rather fun. My, but they drink! Still, all worth it in the long run. I just about manage to glug down one bottle (they’re big ones) while they down about three each. I think I come over as a very sober person, not sure if that’s a good thing. I just tell them that it’s not warm enough yet for me! Anyway, I’d brought a torch with me so that I could walk back home (we weren’t that far away), but it seems that there was no question that I should go unaccompanied, so Christian (who joins in these things, which is what made me think he was a member of the staff) was delegated to return me home, since it was on his way home also. So, of course, I invited him in and offered him the rest of the meal that his brother hadn’t finished (the latter having called to say that he couldn’t make it after all). By the time Christian left, it was 10 o’clock, and definitely time for the old man to go to bed, even on a Friday night! What one beer does to me…
Saturday morning was the usual round of shops, stocking up on quite a few things, with Njikam, who you remember is my favourite taximan, very apologetic for being 15 minutes late, having been held up by an accident – he wasn’t involved, just stuck in the traffic. Normally, he calls to say if he’s going to be late, but his phone wasn’t charged. Poor man! He takes pride in being right on time when coming to get me, as long as I’ve arrange a time with him. It’s quite delightful to see him pulling up at precisely the right minute, just like I do! Anyway, a pleasant time was had, as always, going round the various shops, and, as always, visiting different parts of town.
Then, on Saturday afternoon, I went off to see the tailor to whom I’d been introduced earlier in the week by one of my colleagues. You’ll be delighted to know that I’m losing weight – on purpose, may I add. As my trousers are just about falling off the hips (yay, the diet is working), I figured I needed new trousers, tighter, to encourage me to continue. I brought along one pair that I have with me as the model to follow, and made arrangements to have the two pairs made, as well as two pairs of shorts (I change into them on arrival at home, so that I can dust off the trousers!), and another dressing gown, with some nice material that I picked up a while back, a mere $12 for 6 yards. I do have a dressing gown with me, but it does need washing once in a while. Very complicated life I lead: first thing in the morning, out of night clothes, into dressing gown, and, while I have tea on the porch, the water heater does its thing; then it’s shower time and the ballet, then I get dressed. My, such a busy life! When I get back in the afternoon, and then, after my evening shower and ballet, back into the dressing gown. One has to fill one’s life with some activity!
On Saturday evening (we’re now on January 26th), the Centre was having its annual staff party, to which I’d been invited. I guess I should say that it’s the “Amicale de Don Bosco” that was holding the bash. This is sort of the staff association and I don’t think that all members of staff have to belong to it. However, once I discovered this, I asked if I couldn’t contribute, although I’m not officially a member of the Centre’s staff. It was quickly decided that I could become an honorary member and this was toasted all evening. Very nice, I must say. The invitation – an official one – had said that the bash was starting at precisely 6 p.m., so I duly showed up, along with about 4 others at the appointed time. I know better, but I was impressed by the “precisely at 6 p.m. on the invitation! A TV had been set up, since Cameroun was playing against Zambia (African Cup of Nations), and it was soon obvious that nothing was going to happen until this match was over. It was considered an important match, since in their first game, Cameroun had lost ignominiously to Egypt, 5 to 1. Most insulting for the Lions, known as one of the stronger teams on the continent. Anyway, fortunately, Cameroun won, 5 to 1 (yup!) against Zambia, to great cries of joy, honking of cars etc. Just to close off the football saga (soccer), Cameroon also won its next match and qualified for the quarter finals. The next two weeks are going to be crazy: if the Cameroonian team keeps on winning, the country will be partying non-stop, and if they lose somewhere along the line, mourning will be the order of the day. If I sound like I know what I’m talking about, it’s because it’s catching!
By the time the match was over on the Saturday evening, most people had arrived. There had been a trickle all the way through, but we were finally about 60 people, including the père Natalino, the director, with long beard suitably groomed. Speeches were made, new officers introduced, including yours truly, who, to his surprise, was nominated “special advisor”, along with the père. A picture was taken, to be found here, along with two others – one of me dancing with Mme Calvin, wife of the general maintenance man, and one kneeling next to Laurence (one of the Lauries!), our secretary and her husband. A good meal was provided, although I begged off the tapioca, and good chats all around. Then there was a round of present giving (not quite sure why, but anyway) and then the dancing started. All lots of fun, but I left early, at about midnight.
Such a wild life I lead! Sunday was more relaxing, although my two young men showed up unexpectedly (I’d told them that they would always be welcome, so…), at about 4:30. I took this to be a hint that they wouldn’t mind being fed again! They live with another brother, sharing an apartment (well, probably just a room, but I haven’t enquired!) and I imagine that funds can be tight. Anyway, it was quite fun to see them again, and they were quite happy reading old copies of Jeune Afrique and a couple of other magazines that I had around, while I got supper ready. I made a couscous, fortunately having bought some merguez (Algerian lamb sausage) the day before. This time, I sent them home with the left-overs, in a tub. The tub was duly returned a few days later, along with two pineapples – a thank you gift, I suppose. I must have told them that it was my favourite fruit, and it is in plentiful supply, as are oranges, grapefruit, mandarin oranges and various other fruit of tropical nature.
Well, all that excitement! It certainly made a change from the great issues of the day, one of which concerns toe-nails. I’m sure you’re really interested in this, and I’ll bore you anyway! You need to know (do you really?) that my toe-nails are very, very hard, and it is very difficult to trim them. Unfortunately, I do not have a strong pair of toe-nail scissors, nor clipper for that matter. I do have a clipper for my fingernails, you’ll be relieved to know, but they don’t work on my toe-nails, which need to be soaked for half an hour or more just to make them relatively hard, as opposed to granite-hard. And no, I can’t find toe-nail scissors in Yaoundé – I’ve looked and looked. There are nail scissors to be found, of course, but only little things and they usually come in a little kit, together with all sorts of manicuring implements, and cost the earth. I’m now waiting for scissors to arrive from Canada, sent by my loving wife (no doubt carefully wrapped), through the good offices of a colleague who is coming to do some consultancy work for the project. I can hardly wait…. Meanwhile, my toe-nails grow – fortunately, I wear sandals and it’s the dry season – I’m not sure that my feet will fit in my shoes at the moment. Not quite Guinness Book of Records, but getting there!
How’s that for an exciting life?
Cheers all!
David
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Photos
Here are a few photos, taken with the digital camera owned by the office. Unfortunately, no photos of Yaoundé itself - the ones I took with the throw-away camera didn't turn out at all. I'll try again!
Cheers!
David
Bedroom
Kitchen
Kitchen
Living room
Living room.
Hallway (isn't it fascinating?).
Study
Colleagues at my housewarming party.
Colleagues at my housewarming party.
Before midnight, December 24.
After midnight, December 25.
Yum - Christmas dinner!
View from the balcony.
My building - the apartement is the one behind the long balcony.
View of my building - with the office building in the background!
Cheers!
David
Bedroom
Kitchen
Kitchen
Living room
Living room.
Hallway (isn't it fascinating?).
Study
Colleagues at my housewarming party.
Colleagues at my housewarming party.
Before midnight, December 24.
After midnight, December 25.
Yum - Christmas dinner!
View from the balcony.
My building - the apartement is the one behind the long balcony.
View of my building - with the office building in the background!Cheers!
David
David
Friday, January 11, 2008
Yaoundé, Friday, January 11, 2008
Happy New Year to you all! Sorry about the delay in adding to this blog – it has been fairly busy, and, as I announced before Christmas, I didn’t have access to Internet for a while. And, of course, I’ve been enjoying myself relaxing!
Life has been fairly quiet here, I must admit, which was to be expected. Once a routine is set up, things do carry on same-old, same-old, and that is fine. The Centre closed on Friday afternoon, December 21, and I didn’t do much at all over the Christmas week. I did go into town on the Saturday before Christmas to visit a couple of supermarkets and get the food I needed for my Christmas dinner, and also to pick up some reading matter from the two libraries that I’ve found (one French, one English).
On Christmas Eve, I went to midnight mass, at the chapel (rather large for a chapel, but that’s what they call it!) up the road. It’s run by the Salesian order (the same order that runs the Centre where I work) and serves as the parish church until the new church is finished (half-built across the street). The mass started at 8 and finished at 10:15 – quite the ceremony! It was a high mass (everything being chanted) interspersed with hymns and various songs in the local dialect, sung by a very energetic choir. There was a bit of a theatrical set-up, the complete significance of which escaped me, which consisted of members of the choir entering the chapel from the back, leaning over towards the floor, chanting something in the local language and bursting out with “Hallelujah” every so often while waving what looked like mops in the air. Most amusing! There was quite a crowd there, of course, including a couple of my colleagues, who explained that the mass was held early so that the priests could then attend the midnight mass being celebrated at the Basilica by the papal nuncio. There was also a splendid crèche that had been made by a local sculptor.
I stayed up until just after midnight, chatting with Aurel, the night guard on duty (Lordy, how he talks!) and then opened my gifts – books, a 2008 calendar and the most exciting one which was the tub that held all my favourite candies: Mars bars (not soggy, fortunately!), Kraft caramels and jelly beans. Yum! I think the tub was the most appreciated! A good size and just the kind of thing that is needed. Tubs can be found here and are not too expensive, but there is not much variation in the size. I can’t find little jars (great crisis, of course!) in which to put the few spices that I’ve purchased, so I’ve been using the tubs for storing that kind of thing!
Christmas Day was spent doing nothing much – although I have to confess to doing a bit of work every day, since, although the Centre was closed, December 24, 26, 27 and 28 were not official holidays. I spent a lot of the time cleaning up documents that have to be ready for the end of February (and still lots to do), as well as revising a report whose first draft I’d submitted in June. You may remember that I went to Wales last spring for a week, and I had submitted the first draft soon after my return to Canada last June, but hadn’t heard anything back until a couple of days before leaving for here. So it had been sitting around looking at me with woebegone pages, while I wondered if I could still remember what I had meant by the various recommendations made in it! Life as a second language consultant seems so far removed now, that I think I’m forgetting everything that I knew on the subject of language teaching. I wish I could say that the brain content is being replaced by masses of technical knowledge, but I fear that that is not the case – yet! I’ve only just managed to figure out how to zip photo files!
Christmas dinner was quite a success, although I ate it alone. I managed to cook my leg of lamb – the oven will take some getting used to, as it has no indication of temperature (just hot and various gradations down to low), so I had to guess a bit about the temperature. I still have to buy some baking dishes, but managed to place the leg of lamb on the tray that comes with the oven – no grill, to my surprise, but I’ll see if I can find one somewhere. Most inconvenient not to have a grill, as it means that there is only one level that can be used in the oven. And no, no turkey story this year. Perhaps there will be one next year, but I was unable to find even a part of the said fowl. How sad!
Judith, the housekeeper who had been recommended by a former colleague here was away until after New Year’s. She moved from Douala, the economic centre of Cameroon, in order to start work with me and had decided that her children should remain in there until the end of the school year, so I gave her the week off, rather than put her to the expense of paying for two trips to Douala. She had suggested that she would come back for the Thursday and Friday between Christmas and New Year’s, but I thought that was a bit excessive. Amazing how these people feel that one can’t survive without help!
Speaking of help, we now have a third sentinel (I’ve decided that that is a great word!) – I’d given the thought some matter, since the two hired so far, Dahirou (I finally learned to spell his name!) and Aurel were each working seven days a week, a fact that caused me some discomfort, to put it mildly. Anyway, Aurel, who has decided that he’s the sentinel-in-chief, duly found a young man willing to be the replacement guard. Mustafa will be working two nights a week (replacing Aurel) and two days a week (replacing Dahirou) and a fifth day in order to get the washing done. No, I don’t have a washing machine, and Judith has a slightly handicapped left hand which makes it difficult to wash by hand. Plus, I imagine it’s not much fun, either! Anyway, Mustafa started work just before Christmas Eve, and I must that he’s a very conscientious fellow – in addition to doing the washing, while Judith’s been away he’s insisted on cleaning the house. No complaints from me, that’s for sure! He’s a very quiet young man, in his late twenties, with two children, one of whom, a daughter, lives with him. Aouah is just over four years old and an absolute sweetheart and has become an adoptive grand-daughter. Mustafa had been jobless for a while, so he’s delighted at having found work.
Aurel continues to be a live-wire, with dire warnings about security problems, and an incessant stream of demands – or perhaps I should say requests – he’s still angling for his TV (three mentions during the course of every evening that we chat). The TV is garnering even more importance as a great soccer tournament is about to start in Ghana on January 20 – The Africa Cup of Nations (I think). Obviously he doesn’t want to miss any of this, although I pointed out that he could listen to the matches on the radio. He doesn’t have a very high opinion of this, I must admit, although I have told him many times that I would find it difficult to purchase a TV for people who work for me, since I don’t own one and never watch it even if there’s one in the room. I also said that I’d been enquiring around and I haven’t heard of any sentinels who have TV provided by their employer. Dear, dear, what shall I do? Aurel also thinks that I should buy a phone for the sentinels so that they can call me if something happens during the day, etc. I told him that I wasn’t going for that, because then I’d be responsible for the bills. He’s also mentioned the fact that he’d like to have a digital camera, one that takes videos as well and can be recharged at the wall. Asked why, he explained that this would allow photography to become a source of income. He asked how much these cameras cost in Canada, and I said I would ask my wife to enquire and let him know. He wants me to purchase it and take out the price of his monthly income. Of course, he no doubts hope that I will be kind and offer it to him as a gift. And so on, and so on…. I tend to escape into my study shortly after his arrival, which means that my balcony time during the evenings is sorely curtailed. Sad, isn’t it?
The third sentinel, Dahirou, who was actually the first to be hired, had to be spoken to. He’s a very nice man, a tad obsequious mind you, but, alas, addicted to drink and to taking off at all times of the day when he’s supposed to be working. I caught him drinking on the job one day (I think he thinks I didn’t see the glass), and noticed that he was spending a lot of time at the snack bar (with a bottle of beer in front of him) during the day. The snack bar is in the same building as the apartment, and I can see it from the office (a fact of which Dahirou was unaware!). Difficult to be guarding the premises when one isn’t there and knocking back the beer elsewhere! Anyway, one morning I spoke to him, explaining that I realized that this might be the first time that he was being a sentinel, but that I expected him to stay put (the odd short excursion to get food being allowed), since that’s what I’m paying him for. I can understand that it can be a bit boring, as there is no garden to work over, but still… So far, it seems to have worked, but I did tell him that he was under observation – especially since I found empty sachets of whisky lying around one afternoon. Yes, my friends, whisky can be bought in little bags, about the size of those that contain towellettes, and there were quite a few bags around one day. It’s hard not to feel sorry for Dahirou, though, as he lives in a wooden shack just behind the Centre – it seems that he has another job (no idea how much it pays, but obviously not much!) looking after a half-completed house. The shack is more of a lean-to, actually, a bit depressing, and seems to be full of little children. I’m not sure if they’re his children or grandchildren, but anyway, as I said, it’s hard not to feel sorry for him – but nonetheless, I need him to do the work for which he’s being paid.
New Year’s was equally quiet, although I treated myself to some beer with my meal – one whole bottle. When I say quiet, I mean here in the apartment, where I saw the New Year in with Aurel and Mustafa. It was decided that two sentinels were needed on New Year’s Eve, with dire warnings from Aurel about young hoodlums coming home after the fireworks downtown. The snack bar (really, just a bar!) downstairs was doing roaring business, and I got a couple of loud invitations to come and join the festivities. Very kind, but no thanks, since I knew that I would end up paying for the whole night – and not my kind of scene anyway! It was fun to sit on the balcony (being pressed for a TV, etc) while watching dressed-up people on their way downtown, where there was a big party going on. Ladies are to be admired – teetering on extremely high heels over the rutted roads takes quite a lot of balance! The three of us listened to the President’s speech, who said that things had gone fairly well during 2007, not as well as he had hoped. He put out a call for action in 2008, putting his ministers on notice to get things done, as well as announcing that the fight over corruption was going to continue (Cameroon is in first place in Africa with respect to corruption, not a glorious record!). He also announced that, due to popular pressure, another look was going to be given to the Constitution in order to allow presidents to offer for more than two successive terms. Biya will be 77 when the next election comes around, and, of course, there is “popular pressure” to have him remain. They never learn… ah well. Biya is one of the “young” ones, he’s only been around for twenty-five years…
Hmm, what else has happened? Nothing exciting, really, except that I managed to get a hair-cut. Phew… I was starting to look very shaggy. In fact, I was starting to look a lot like Father Natalino, the director of the Centre, who boasts of a very shaggy head and long, long beard. This was no doubt why I was being called “Mon père” by people, so I wrote to a contact at the High Commission and asked the helpful lady if there was a salon that she could recommend for bald men. I was given directions and went there one morning, driven, as always, by the ever faithful Njikam. Very pleasant experience, thank you (the hair-cut, I mean). One is greeted by a charming lady, who gently leads one to the washing chair and then proceeds to wash the hair (the scalp, I suppose I should say!). Then, she gently escorts you to the coiffeuse’s chair, and sets you up with all kinds of do-dads around the neck. The coiffeuse then came over, with her tray of instruments – an equally charming lady, but older, with nicely streaked grey hair. I didn’t dare ask her if the grey was natural or not… Anyway, she asked me if I wanted it short, and I said yes. Mon Dieu…. Short it is! Basically, I got a buzz cut, nothing left to brush, in fact! I look even more like a père, I think! However, it was a relief to get shorn, and it wasn’t a bad price – about what I paid at home.
After the hair-cut, off I went to the various supermarkets and also to the libraries to exchange books. On the way to one of the libraries, I had a mishap, alas… I guess I wasn’t watching where I was putting my foot, trying to avoid passers-by and taxis etc, and I lost my balance and fell. My greatest fear, as I was falling, was that my glasses would break! Anyway, just a few scratches, and a bit of blood – two scrapes on my right hand (they looked rather ugly, I must admit, and a couple on my right knee – fortunately, I didn’t tear my trousers. Anyway, I nobly carried on to the library, got my new books, dropped in to a supermarket next door to the library, to pick up my weekly Jeune Afrique (a magazine like TIME, focusing on Africa) and a bit of food, all the while dripping blood from my right hand, and then got Njikam to take me to a pharmacy. There I got some rubbing alcohol and some iodine, as well as advice from the pharmacist about leaving the sores open to the air. Needless to say, it was a sore business cleaning up, but I got the dirt out, which was my main concern. I did this three times over the next twenty-four hours. Of course, I felt terribly sorry for myself as I hobbled around for a couple of days, but everything cleared up quickly. That will teach me to try to walk quickly!
And to top it all off, my favourite supermarket stocked maple syrup over Christmas – at a price, but I allowed myself to get some – yum! Far more expensive than wine, though….
The Centre re-opened on January 2, and I spent that day preparing for workshops that I ran on the Thursday and Friday. Part of my role is to offer pedagogical support, and, as the students were not returning until January 7, it seemed like a good occasion to offer a workshop, based on themes requested by my colleagues. This basically kept me busy – it was quite fun to lead a workshop after a few months of not doing so!
It’s been quite busy on the work front. As I mentioned briefly above, I’ve been working on these documents called “référentiels”, which are like curriculum guide outlines, and “documents d’accompagnement”, which are like the curriculum guides themselves. Quite a slog, although I have a lot of experience in the type of thing, but the subject matter is not in the least in my frame of reference! This is a sort of sub-project done to please the local Ministry of Employment and Vocational Training, and the documents that we are working on are to be the template for myriad others that will be developed over the years. Basically, the Ministry gets all the work done by others and then validates it. The référentiels then become the master documents, I guess you could call it that, for any training establishment that wants to offer courses that meet Ministry guidelines. The Ministry will also offer national exams once in a while, so there is a “national interest” to all this.
In order to accomplish part of this task, the services of a local consultant were retained. The man has quite the pedigree, with a couple of Masters’ degrees (Université du Québec à Montréal and Université de Montréal, as well as a PhD from the University of Ottawa. He’s done a lot of consulting work for various Canadian firms as well as for the UN, and LearnSphere (the consulting firm that has hired me) asked him to carry out the work, as it was then understood to be: ie, consult the industry (employers) to see what it is that they are looking for in terms of technological employees (ie, secretaries, systems maintenance, etc.). Basically, the idea was to make a list of necessary skills, and then consult with trainers to see how these skills could be acquired (training modules). The referential lists the skills, if you like, and the document d’accompagnement lists the ways of getting the skills. It’s a bit more complicated than that, of course, but that’s basically it…
One of the minor problems with this whole mini project is that the demands of the Ministry changed from the time of awarding the contract to the time when the first documents appeared. I liked what I saw of the documents, and felt that, basically, all that was needed was some proof-reading (what else is new?), some formatting and then have someone who knows about the various technical courses go through it for consistency. After that, it would be a case of having the Ministry look things over and give it the final go-ahead. The idea also is that there would be some Canadian input and visible Canadian content. However, the new demands by the Ministry mean that there will be a bit more work to be done.
Other than proof-reading, I spent some time reformatting the documents to meet the ministry’s guidelines (new). There is a fairly short timeline for this part of the project, as everything has to be completed by the end of March, so the next few weeks will be quite busy with meetings and, no doubt, rewriting bits of the various documents, eighteen in all.
Other than that, life continues in its very relaxed way. It may sound as if I’ve been doing nothing but work, but there have been many hours spent sitting on the balcony, doing some reading. I think I’m reading more slowly, because I haven’t started a number of the books that I brought with me, nor the books that I received at Christmas. It is wonderful to have a job where most of the work can be accomplished within working hours – and no snow!!!
I’m not sure how often I will add to the blog in the next little while – not that I won’t want to, but I’m not sure to what extent you will all want to hear about the hum drum of daily life. Of course, if anything wildly amusing were to happen, I will add to the journal! In case you’re wondering, I’m consuming loads and loads of pineapples, tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, and drinking lots of iced tea (hot tea in the mornings, though). Still having fun with the shower in the mornings!
Well, my friends, that about sums it up! Hope it hasn’t taken you too long to go through this, and also hope that things are going well with all of you. I do try to reply to e-mails, but until I get Internet at home, replies will be sporadic…
Cheers!
David
Life has been fairly quiet here, I must admit, which was to be expected. Once a routine is set up, things do carry on same-old, same-old, and that is fine. The Centre closed on Friday afternoon, December 21, and I didn’t do much at all over the Christmas week. I did go into town on the Saturday before Christmas to visit a couple of supermarkets and get the food I needed for my Christmas dinner, and also to pick up some reading matter from the two libraries that I’ve found (one French, one English).
On Christmas Eve, I went to midnight mass, at the chapel (rather large for a chapel, but that’s what they call it!) up the road. It’s run by the Salesian order (the same order that runs the Centre where I work) and serves as the parish church until the new church is finished (half-built across the street). The mass started at 8 and finished at 10:15 – quite the ceremony! It was a high mass (everything being chanted) interspersed with hymns and various songs in the local dialect, sung by a very energetic choir. There was a bit of a theatrical set-up, the complete significance of which escaped me, which consisted of members of the choir entering the chapel from the back, leaning over towards the floor, chanting something in the local language and bursting out with “Hallelujah” every so often while waving what looked like mops in the air. Most amusing! There was quite a crowd there, of course, including a couple of my colleagues, who explained that the mass was held early so that the priests could then attend the midnight mass being celebrated at the Basilica by the papal nuncio. There was also a splendid crèche that had been made by a local sculptor.
I stayed up until just after midnight, chatting with Aurel, the night guard on duty (Lordy, how he talks!) and then opened my gifts – books, a 2008 calendar and the most exciting one which was the tub that held all my favourite candies: Mars bars (not soggy, fortunately!), Kraft caramels and jelly beans. Yum! I think the tub was the most appreciated! A good size and just the kind of thing that is needed. Tubs can be found here and are not too expensive, but there is not much variation in the size. I can’t find little jars (great crisis, of course!) in which to put the few spices that I’ve purchased, so I’ve been using the tubs for storing that kind of thing!
Christmas Day was spent doing nothing much – although I have to confess to doing a bit of work every day, since, although the Centre was closed, December 24, 26, 27 and 28 were not official holidays. I spent a lot of the time cleaning up documents that have to be ready for the end of February (and still lots to do), as well as revising a report whose first draft I’d submitted in June. You may remember that I went to Wales last spring for a week, and I had submitted the first draft soon after my return to Canada last June, but hadn’t heard anything back until a couple of days before leaving for here. So it had been sitting around looking at me with woebegone pages, while I wondered if I could still remember what I had meant by the various recommendations made in it! Life as a second language consultant seems so far removed now, that I think I’m forgetting everything that I knew on the subject of language teaching. I wish I could say that the brain content is being replaced by masses of technical knowledge, but I fear that that is not the case – yet! I’ve only just managed to figure out how to zip photo files!
Christmas dinner was quite a success, although I ate it alone. I managed to cook my leg of lamb – the oven will take some getting used to, as it has no indication of temperature (just hot and various gradations down to low), so I had to guess a bit about the temperature. I still have to buy some baking dishes, but managed to place the leg of lamb on the tray that comes with the oven – no grill, to my surprise, but I’ll see if I can find one somewhere. Most inconvenient not to have a grill, as it means that there is only one level that can be used in the oven. And no, no turkey story this year. Perhaps there will be one next year, but I was unable to find even a part of the said fowl. How sad!
Judith, the housekeeper who had been recommended by a former colleague here was away until after New Year’s. She moved from Douala, the economic centre of Cameroon, in order to start work with me and had decided that her children should remain in there until the end of the school year, so I gave her the week off, rather than put her to the expense of paying for two trips to Douala. She had suggested that she would come back for the Thursday and Friday between Christmas and New Year’s, but I thought that was a bit excessive. Amazing how these people feel that one can’t survive without help!
Speaking of help, we now have a third sentinel (I’ve decided that that is a great word!) – I’d given the thought some matter, since the two hired so far, Dahirou (I finally learned to spell his name!) and Aurel were each working seven days a week, a fact that caused me some discomfort, to put it mildly. Anyway, Aurel, who has decided that he’s the sentinel-in-chief, duly found a young man willing to be the replacement guard. Mustafa will be working two nights a week (replacing Aurel) and two days a week (replacing Dahirou) and a fifth day in order to get the washing done. No, I don’t have a washing machine, and Judith has a slightly handicapped left hand which makes it difficult to wash by hand. Plus, I imagine it’s not much fun, either! Anyway, Mustafa started work just before Christmas Eve, and I must that he’s a very conscientious fellow – in addition to doing the washing, while Judith’s been away he’s insisted on cleaning the house. No complaints from me, that’s for sure! He’s a very quiet young man, in his late twenties, with two children, one of whom, a daughter, lives with him. Aouah is just over four years old and an absolute sweetheart and has become an adoptive grand-daughter. Mustafa had been jobless for a while, so he’s delighted at having found work.
Aurel continues to be a live-wire, with dire warnings about security problems, and an incessant stream of demands – or perhaps I should say requests – he’s still angling for his TV (three mentions during the course of every evening that we chat). The TV is garnering even more importance as a great soccer tournament is about to start in Ghana on January 20 – The Africa Cup of Nations (I think). Obviously he doesn’t want to miss any of this, although I pointed out that he could listen to the matches on the radio. He doesn’t have a very high opinion of this, I must admit, although I have told him many times that I would find it difficult to purchase a TV for people who work for me, since I don’t own one and never watch it even if there’s one in the room. I also said that I’d been enquiring around and I haven’t heard of any sentinels who have TV provided by their employer. Dear, dear, what shall I do? Aurel also thinks that I should buy a phone for the sentinels so that they can call me if something happens during the day, etc. I told him that I wasn’t going for that, because then I’d be responsible for the bills. He’s also mentioned the fact that he’d like to have a digital camera, one that takes videos as well and can be recharged at the wall. Asked why, he explained that this would allow photography to become a source of income. He asked how much these cameras cost in Canada, and I said I would ask my wife to enquire and let him know. He wants me to purchase it and take out the price of his monthly income. Of course, he no doubts hope that I will be kind and offer it to him as a gift. And so on, and so on…. I tend to escape into my study shortly after his arrival, which means that my balcony time during the evenings is sorely curtailed. Sad, isn’t it?
The third sentinel, Dahirou, who was actually the first to be hired, had to be spoken to. He’s a very nice man, a tad obsequious mind you, but, alas, addicted to drink and to taking off at all times of the day when he’s supposed to be working. I caught him drinking on the job one day (I think he thinks I didn’t see the glass), and noticed that he was spending a lot of time at the snack bar (with a bottle of beer in front of him) during the day. The snack bar is in the same building as the apartment, and I can see it from the office (a fact of which Dahirou was unaware!). Difficult to be guarding the premises when one isn’t there and knocking back the beer elsewhere! Anyway, one morning I spoke to him, explaining that I realized that this might be the first time that he was being a sentinel, but that I expected him to stay put (the odd short excursion to get food being allowed), since that’s what I’m paying him for. I can understand that it can be a bit boring, as there is no garden to work over, but still… So far, it seems to have worked, but I did tell him that he was under observation – especially since I found empty sachets of whisky lying around one afternoon. Yes, my friends, whisky can be bought in little bags, about the size of those that contain towellettes, and there were quite a few bags around one day. It’s hard not to feel sorry for Dahirou, though, as he lives in a wooden shack just behind the Centre – it seems that he has another job (no idea how much it pays, but obviously not much!) looking after a half-completed house. The shack is more of a lean-to, actually, a bit depressing, and seems to be full of little children. I’m not sure if they’re his children or grandchildren, but anyway, as I said, it’s hard not to feel sorry for him – but nonetheless, I need him to do the work for which he’s being paid.
New Year’s was equally quiet, although I treated myself to some beer with my meal – one whole bottle. When I say quiet, I mean here in the apartment, where I saw the New Year in with Aurel and Mustafa. It was decided that two sentinels were needed on New Year’s Eve, with dire warnings from Aurel about young hoodlums coming home after the fireworks downtown. The snack bar (really, just a bar!) downstairs was doing roaring business, and I got a couple of loud invitations to come and join the festivities. Very kind, but no thanks, since I knew that I would end up paying for the whole night – and not my kind of scene anyway! It was fun to sit on the balcony (being pressed for a TV, etc) while watching dressed-up people on their way downtown, where there was a big party going on. Ladies are to be admired – teetering on extremely high heels over the rutted roads takes quite a lot of balance! The three of us listened to the President’s speech, who said that things had gone fairly well during 2007, not as well as he had hoped. He put out a call for action in 2008, putting his ministers on notice to get things done, as well as announcing that the fight over corruption was going to continue (Cameroon is in first place in Africa with respect to corruption, not a glorious record!). He also announced that, due to popular pressure, another look was going to be given to the Constitution in order to allow presidents to offer for more than two successive terms. Biya will be 77 when the next election comes around, and, of course, there is “popular pressure” to have him remain. They never learn… ah well. Biya is one of the “young” ones, he’s only been around for twenty-five years…
Hmm, what else has happened? Nothing exciting, really, except that I managed to get a hair-cut. Phew… I was starting to look very shaggy. In fact, I was starting to look a lot like Father Natalino, the director of the Centre, who boasts of a very shaggy head and long, long beard. This was no doubt why I was being called “Mon père” by people, so I wrote to a contact at the High Commission and asked the helpful lady if there was a salon that she could recommend for bald men. I was given directions and went there one morning, driven, as always, by the ever faithful Njikam. Very pleasant experience, thank you (the hair-cut, I mean). One is greeted by a charming lady, who gently leads one to the washing chair and then proceeds to wash the hair (the scalp, I suppose I should say!). Then, she gently escorts you to the coiffeuse’s chair, and sets you up with all kinds of do-dads around the neck. The coiffeuse then came over, with her tray of instruments – an equally charming lady, but older, with nicely streaked grey hair. I didn’t dare ask her if the grey was natural or not… Anyway, she asked me if I wanted it short, and I said yes. Mon Dieu…. Short it is! Basically, I got a buzz cut, nothing left to brush, in fact! I look even more like a père, I think! However, it was a relief to get shorn, and it wasn’t a bad price – about what I paid at home.
After the hair-cut, off I went to the various supermarkets and also to the libraries to exchange books. On the way to one of the libraries, I had a mishap, alas… I guess I wasn’t watching where I was putting my foot, trying to avoid passers-by and taxis etc, and I lost my balance and fell. My greatest fear, as I was falling, was that my glasses would break! Anyway, just a few scratches, and a bit of blood – two scrapes on my right hand (they looked rather ugly, I must admit, and a couple on my right knee – fortunately, I didn’t tear my trousers. Anyway, I nobly carried on to the library, got my new books, dropped in to a supermarket next door to the library, to pick up my weekly Jeune Afrique (a magazine like TIME, focusing on Africa) and a bit of food, all the while dripping blood from my right hand, and then got Njikam to take me to a pharmacy. There I got some rubbing alcohol and some iodine, as well as advice from the pharmacist about leaving the sores open to the air. Needless to say, it was a sore business cleaning up, but I got the dirt out, which was my main concern. I did this three times over the next twenty-four hours. Of course, I felt terribly sorry for myself as I hobbled around for a couple of days, but everything cleared up quickly. That will teach me to try to walk quickly!
And to top it all off, my favourite supermarket stocked maple syrup over Christmas – at a price, but I allowed myself to get some – yum! Far more expensive than wine, though….
The Centre re-opened on January 2, and I spent that day preparing for workshops that I ran on the Thursday and Friday. Part of my role is to offer pedagogical support, and, as the students were not returning until January 7, it seemed like a good occasion to offer a workshop, based on themes requested by my colleagues. This basically kept me busy – it was quite fun to lead a workshop after a few months of not doing so!
It’s been quite busy on the work front. As I mentioned briefly above, I’ve been working on these documents called “référentiels”, which are like curriculum guide outlines, and “documents d’accompagnement”, which are like the curriculum guides themselves. Quite a slog, although I have a lot of experience in the type of thing, but the subject matter is not in the least in my frame of reference! This is a sort of sub-project done to please the local Ministry of Employment and Vocational Training, and the documents that we are working on are to be the template for myriad others that will be developed over the years. Basically, the Ministry gets all the work done by others and then validates it. The référentiels then become the master documents, I guess you could call it that, for any training establishment that wants to offer courses that meet Ministry guidelines. The Ministry will also offer national exams once in a while, so there is a “national interest” to all this.
In order to accomplish part of this task, the services of a local consultant were retained. The man has quite the pedigree, with a couple of Masters’ degrees (Université du Québec à Montréal and Université de Montréal, as well as a PhD from the University of Ottawa. He’s done a lot of consulting work for various Canadian firms as well as for the UN, and LearnSphere (the consulting firm that has hired me) asked him to carry out the work, as it was then understood to be: ie, consult the industry (employers) to see what it is that they are looking for in terms of technological employees (ie, secretaries, systems maintenance, etc.). Basically, the idea was to make a list of necessary skills, and then consult with trainers to see how these skills could be acquired (training modules). The referential lists the skills, if you like, and the document d’accompagnement lists the ways of getting the skills. It’s a bit more complicated than that, of course, but that’s basically it…
One of the minor problems with this whole mini project is that the demands of the Ministry changed from the time of awarding the contract to the time when the first documents appeared. I liked what I saw of the documents, and felt that, basically, all that was needed was some proof-reading (what else is new?), some formatting and then have someone who knows about the various technical courses go through it for consistency. After that, it would be a case of having the Ministry look things over and give it the final go-ahead. The idea also is that there would be some Canadian input and visible Canadian content. However, the new demands by the Ministry mean that there will be a bit more work to be done.
Other than proof-reading, I spent some time reformatting the documents to meet the ministry’s guidelines (new). There is a fairly short timeline for this part of the project, as everything has to be completed by the end of March, so the next few weeks will be quite busy with meetings and, no doubt, rewriting bits of the various documents, eighteen in all.
Other than that, life continues in its very relaxed way. It may sound as if I’ve been doing nothing but work, but there have been many hours spent sitting on the balcony, doing some reading. I think I’m reading more slowly, because I haven’t started a number of the books that I brought with me, nor the books that I received at Christmas. It is wonderful to have a job where most of the work can be accomplished within working hours – and no snow!!!
I’m not sure how often I will add to the blog in the next little while – not that I won’t want to, but I’m not sure to what extent you will all want to hear about the hum drum of daily life. Of course, if anything wildly amusing were to happen, I will add to the journal! In case you’re wondering, I’m consuming loads and loads of pineapples, tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, and drinking lots of iced tea (hot tea in the mornings, though). Still having fun with the shower in the mornings!
Well, my friends, that about sums it up! Hope it hasn’t taken you too long to go through this, and also hope that things are going well with all of you. I do try to reply to e-mails, but until I get Internet at home, replies will be sporadic…
Cheers!
David
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