evangelical

i went to my first ever evangelical church.

on the way, we passed several catholic churches and i was caught for the first time thinking:

"there is a place i understand. please let these evangelicals change their minds and become catholic right now i dont know what is going to happen here willihavetodrinkpoisonandspeekintonguesohmygod."

i was out of sorts. however, my sisters angel, sarah, and cinderella (in an unbelievable turn of events, she is the niece of my host dad and she has to do all of the work at home. she gets yelled at everyday harder than the other kids. she loves watching hannah montana and laughs quietely the entire time the jonas brothers are on tv. on our way to school she once bought me ice cream because she is unusually kind. i ate it despite my promise to avoid such gastronomic disasters and paid for it later. only a monster would not eat ice cream from cinderella.)seemed to think that everything would be fine.

we arrived a bit late and the kids had to go to sunday school. thus, my peer laura and i entered the upstairs portion of the church to find a non-descript seat. it was very crowded but there were big windows all over the place and a nice dschong breeze. as usual, i couldnt understand what the preacher was saying. however, i saw several other americans in the front of the church. horribly, i knew them. then they stood. everyone clapped. i didnt understand what was happening.

then laura, my peer, told me to stand up while she herself was in the process of exiting our perfectly unobtrusive seating. everyone looked at us.

no.

i stood up because it would have been horrible not to. then, somehow, it was decided that we needed to be seated up front. we walked all the way down and everyone started singing what was, i think, a shockingly wonderful song. many stopped to say bonjour, ca va, etc. then i was in front with the other americans and the preacher was saying something to the effect of "welcome newcomers. this is a church. please do sit down." i sat.

then, as i suppose any evangelical could say, things went very fine. i didnt understand anything the preacher was saying. perhaps he noted that the bible has many stories. he also may have said that it was a nice day and, yes, thats gods doing. hard to say. there were many choirs and they were all better than any church choir i have ever heard. when the service was over, the evangelical preacher shook all of our hands (he was not holding any snakes or poisons as one might expect) and said (in french; not in tongues)thanks for coming. and then in english "thanks for coming"


it went so well that i carried my tiny sisters all the way home.

but dust

there are two seasons in cameroon: wet and dry. it is currently situated in the dry season until mid-month next. thusly, i am constantly covered with reddish dust. there are few lawns around here so its really all over the place. i clean my shoes twice weekly! IMAGINE! despite my efforts, i am clearly considered a bum due to my sweaty face and dusty body. Cameroonians, on the other hand, are quite well put together. they always have clean fashionable shoes, nice shirts, and dress pants. every day. i, on the other hand, brought three t shirts (all of which are old) two cowboy shirts (they feel somehow inappropriate i dont know why) and two dress shirts. i have come to rely on these shirts heavily...which means they are the ones that get covered in dust. in fact, when i leave this cybercafe i just may purchase a cameroonian dress shirt. perhaps one with a lion on it.

all goes well here. i am rarely afraid and rarely bored. i certainly miss home, but i think i will make it fine. i have been in this francophone keyboard town for a week now and have 5 or 6 days to go until i visit AN ANGLOPHONE PORTION OF THE COUNTRY. there, i plan to speak exclusively in the queen's.

i have met several big deals, if you will. first, i met a famous cameroonian anti corruption politician (due to his anti corruption tendancies, he is no longer a minister) who said that there is "only one kind of democracy, and it is essential for development". much discussion followed this assertion. next i met a traditional chief of the bamileke people(the largest single ethnicity in cameroon). he was described as a kind and sophisticated intellectual. he lived up to that description and could also be described as smooth talking and gigantic. he had a deep soft voice and talked about his history as chief while he led us around his village. apparently, when he became chief he had to be isolated in a certain building until his wives had a boy and a girl. meanwhile, no one could farm, party, or have a funeral.

this took three years.

after that, i met the sous-prefet of dschang cameroon. he is like a mayor sent by the central government to work on managing the town. prefets in cameroon have an awful reputation of being corrupt and innefective. this man may possibly have been that, but was nonetheless awesome. he gave the visiting students a huge dinner as well as cameroonian beer. he talked about voter independance and the great hopes he has of a clean election next year. he, like the chief, had an image of himself shaking hands with a photoshopped obama.

every ten people are wearing an obama shirt of some sort. strangers come up to me and ask how my father obama is doing. big scary men will yell out their windows "obama americain!"

thank you mr.president

francophone

french is the silliest language that has ever existed. one can prove this simply by observing a francophone keyboard (which is entirely out of order and non sensical in its use of punctuation and vowel placement.) reading the language in no way correlates to speaking it and the only regularity is the abundance of irregularity.

mwah.

anyway, at least it sounds nice most of the time.

i am in a new town now with the delightful name "dschang" (chong for the laymens). the temperature is perfect, the smell is nice and the level of business is low. sadly, dschang is entirely devoid of anglophone keyboards (see above) yet its positive traits more than compensate for this unfortunate lapse.

i have for the moment a new host family. they are a wonderfully sweet evangelical couple with seven young children. since the kids are practically babies, it is rather difficult to understand their words. thus, i ask for clarification all the time. after these awkward discussions, the young ones go to their parents and tell them about how i cant speak french. i take this is an entirely wonderful event because i can clearly uynderstand each word of that particular sentance.

though i am being rather negative about the french, i am happy to say that it is improving quickly now and i can at least understand the main themes of most utterances.

since travel is so very condusive to generalizations, i would like to say a few things now regarding cameroon

-cameroonians are, i think, much kinder to the average stranger than are americans. they are totally willing to deal with a poor sap who doesnt speak their language and go out of their way to help you with a problem. however, by and large they are not as superficially polite as are americans and particularly minnesotans.

-its ok for goats to walk around all over the place. even downtown and the university.

-dogs are for barking and protection...not playing

-coffee is not consumed black

-picking the nose is ok

-francophone keyboards are ok

bye bye everybody...out of time!

shock cycle

I was given a paper written by some social scientist called "culture shock" a few days ago. Apparently, every traveller experiences distinct levels of euphoria, rejection, improvement, and normalization in relation to new environs. its supposed to be a gradual change over about a four month period (normalization comes at the four month period, which means that my heart will still belong to minnesota, having failed to reach Cameroonian normalization). However, I seem to be experiencing these cycles every day. I wake up to either the neighbor's call to prayer or my host family's catholic singing and praying. That is a not bad way to wake up. then i take a really cold shower that makes me say aaahaaaaughhhhhahhh really softly as i splash myself with icy water. this is also just fine.

I walk to school smoking cigarettes because i think its a bit rude to smoke in front of all the babies at my host family house. these morning cigarette constitutionals are peerless. when i get to school i generally talk to my peers. these encounters with the other students are generally free of anything terrible and sometimes mildly pleasant. class happens at this point of the day: french, CMR history, CMR development, and research methods. lunch is also a regular occurence. i usually go to a boulangerie that sells really inexpensive fancy bread foods. i also buy juice on account of the lack of vitamin c. i also take this oppurtunity to read the newspapers. they often talk about the corrupt government and what Biya is currently doing about it. on a side note, Biya has an unknown number of homes, actively changes laws to his and his cadres benifit, is usually out of the country and has been called africa's most corrupt politician. he is the one in charge of rooting out corruption. a good deal of french has been spoken (badly by me) at this point in the day. after lunch, i at times start feeling bitter about my experience. the water is cut most of the time in the day (supplied by an IMF restructuring agreement) and the sun is really hot. my peers, i think, follow a similar daily pattern. so, they start talking about this and that cultural difference and this or that terrible assignment. the culture shock cycle is at a low point.
In the afternoon, we either take a tour of some sort in town or we are visited by a politician or teacher. we learn about gender differences and colonial history. if we are in town, we experience alternatives to western urbanism, education, and bartering. these things make me think again. it is different here, and that is something that Ive only ever thought about before rather than experienced. for example, when i encounter something strange/new, is that a unique occurence or is it a cultural phenomenon? i go home and talk to tons of strangers along the way. That is different and not at all bad. when i get home, everyone runs up and asks familiar questions and shares a meal. (my current favorite is called Okok with bobolo.)

so i guess that is my daily cycle.

also, some random stuff:
-the shift key is smaller here so its hard to capitalize
-there is no spell check
-coke (coca) is much better tasting
-gender roles are distinct but changing in observable ways in almost every sphere
-there is a pink beer called tango that tastes like strawberries and beer.
-80 percent of employment in CMR is informal
-bad romance is a very popular song
-celine dion is very popular with the youngsters

bastos

i am living in the Bastos neighborhood of Yaounde, Cameroon. Yaounde is the capital of Cameroon though is smaller in size than the economic capital: Douala. The former is called the city that sleeps (with people going to bed on average rather early, and the latter the city that never sleeps. Yaounde has thousands of stalls along most streets with people selling anything from tissue paper to phone credit to cigarettes (they cost between one and two dollars a pack.) to food. Cameroonian food, by the way, is just fine and rather similar to Indian restaurant food. When not buying food from reputable food vendors, I go to a boulangerie for delicious bread products and juice. Meat, rice, and bread are the most commonly consumed food items in my household and apparently in the households of my peers as well. fresh fruit, aside from bananas, plantains, and pineapples are not commonly eaten.

anyway, Bastos is the upper class neighborhood in Yaounde. this is where many of the government ministers live, as well as foreigners and wealthy hommes d'affaire. that said, it is a bit different from wealthy neighborhoods in the US. In Bastos, there are many of the stalls populated by informal sector entrepeneurs and salespeople running along the sidewalks. The roads still require great attention by the driver to avoid potholes. Some of the homes are very small and built of found materials while others are truly huge and made of fancy stones. There is apparently hot water in some homes, but this is considered an incredible luxury. However, for a sunburnt red man from the US, a cold shower is great. On a somewhat similar note, I have learned how to handwash my clothes which apparently is a skill not acquired by the former students living with my host family. so, to "josh" from massachusets: looks like minnesota wins again.
Due to the large number of embassies in Bastos, there are also many private and public security forces around town. They, of all people, have been among the most friendly people I randomly talk to.

Today as I was walking to a cybercafe, one of the security men, Ernest, stopped me to ask for my phone number so that he might show me the fine bars of Yaounde. going to a bar in a new town while being very much an outsider is rather intimidating, so being accompanied by a big friendly giant on my trip sounds just fine.

cameroon the (fifth?) of february

mm hi.

i have been in Cameroon for a bit over two weeks now. so far so good. Things are starting to get a bit more normal now so i figured i had best start blogging before everything starts feeling boring.

so far this what is still strange:

1.foreign travellers often talk about how scary roads are in non-US countries. but really, they are. i closed my eyes most of the time when i first starting taking cabs around town (which by the way is a publicly financed institution...a typical cab ride costs in the neighborhood of a quarter.) Anyway, lines on the road must be from some former administration that thought it might be a good idea to have lanes but then thought better of it, as driving in the middle of the road all the time is so much more exciting. honking is constant but it seems to be totally without malice, just a way of saying "hey i'm behind you and let us not forget that there are no lines or speed limits here so whatchout". the drivers have amazing skills in weaving about people, carts, traffic, potholes, and signless streets. i am sure that an american driver would last about 30 seconds.

2.guiness and potatoes are very popular here.

3.though the median income of an american traveller is often much higher than that of an average cameroonian, caution should not prevent one from appreciating the kindness, sociability, and humor of a stranger in cameroon. i don't much like generalizations (though to be sure that seems to be changing while abraod) BUT the idea of a communal identity is much stronger here, to the point that total strangers seem to reflexively offer help with no strings attached.

4.I am twenty seven years old and I am staying with a host family. I have 4 brothers and three sisters ranging in age from 7 - 20. I once again ask if I can go out to town. I have a curfew. I fight with my siblings. Every day I am torn between loving this return to youth and really really hating it.

5. crossing your legs in front of older folks is considered rude even though crossing your legs is the most comfortable thing to do when sitting.

6.white people can easily become shiny red people.

bonjour!