Life and AIDS Work in NorthWest Cameroon

Dreams Come True

In the last week, my last in Cameroon I have come full circle.  I now see that many of my dreams have come true during my six months on Cameroon.  I mean dreams in both senses of the word:

::: Dreams, the lofty aspirations you think you may never achieve, such as taking six months off to work in Africa on HIV/AIDS at the grassroots level :::

as well as

::: Dreams, those surreal nocturnal experiences that evoke magic or menace, like the dream of flying, losing all your teeth, or going to work naked, again ::: 

I am lucky to have achieved things I have dreamed about for years:

• Engaging in hands-on development work in Africa with little or no bureaucratic paperwork
• Collaborating with a team of talented individuals whose commitment and communication skills sometimes gave me goosebumps
• Creating a network of Cameroonian friends and colleagues
• Exploring an almost undiscovered paradise and its complex culture
• Adding some new items to my repertoire of exotic languages and anecdotes
• And, last but not least, enjoying the support of a spouse who understands and appreciates my independence and idealistic ambitions   

Yet, on the other hand, I have also encountered difficulties that are so profound that they left me feeling dislocated and doomed.  Indeed a few of my meetings with the Mother Superior/Executive Director were so unpleasant and unpredictable that they felt like a nightmare gone awry.

We usually talked about important problems, such as donations going "missing" and whether or not condoms are an ethical way to prevent HIV/AIDS.  But when the Matron felt that her authority was questioned, she could become hostile and go on the offensive, asserting her control through cut-throat criticism.

In the end, we could not bridge the deep rift between our world views despite common goals and good intentions.   Yes, we both recognized that we are similar in many ways: opinionated, passionate, and committed to what we believe is right. 

But  even after countless conversations, we still had completely different opinions. I believe condoms are an ethical way to prevent HIV/AIDS.  She believes they are an evil device that promotes promiscuity and anyone who uses them will burn in hell. 

But I suppose that is a lesson in and of itself: some differences are irreconcilable and no amount of conversation or cultural relativism can overcome them.  In some cases there is no universally acceptable interpretation of ethics, and efforts to create one may be futile.   I suppose that is what makes my experiences here a gritty reality, and not a dreamy illusion.

The Last Resort

After I completed the last of my medical exams and paperwork in the capitol, Yaounde, I headed out of the city to spend my last weekend in Cameroon at the beach.   

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Kribi is beautiful town, a  fishing village where in the late 1890s the German colonial government set up a port and a few administrative offices. 

You can see one of the German buildings from the fishing docks.

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Kribi has recently opened up to tourism.  About five years ago, the road from Yaounde and Douala was paved, and some oil rigs were put up off the coast to process the oil shipped down the pipeline from Chad. 

Before you could say Copacabana, a beach town sprung up complete with an homage to the icons of all beach bums worldwide, Bob Marley and Che Guevara.

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I stayed at a romantic little place right on the beach.  So romantic, in fact, that I felt really awkward being there by myself while clusters of young expats frolicked and lounged about with their beautiful friends and lovers.

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Still it was a beautiful place to watch the sunset.  I tried to think deep thoughts about my time in Cameroon and what I will do next, but insight evaded me.  So I watched the sun go down and the lights go on on the oil rigs off the coast.

Cosmopolitan Cameroon

Cameroon may be a developing country that has many of the usual problems with establishing a good transportation infrastructure, power grid, and reliable water and sanitation system.

However the people are already amazingly sophisticated and elegant.  Case in point, these two sisters in Garoua.

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Next Top Model

Right now, she is a cashier in Yaounde, but next month she might be on the pages of Vogue or on the runways of Paris or Milan.

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My dentist

She's a calm and composed woman who managed to make the same old lecture about flossing sound elegant and erudite.

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The Prestige bakery in downtown Yaounde.

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My favorite breakfast:  cafe au lait and beignets.  Tastes even better in Yaounde than in New Orleans.

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Shiny supermarket run by Indians/Pakistanis

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Hip internet cafe

It serves the best Greek salad that I have ever had.

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Cafe de Yaounde.  The grounds smell like jasmine, and the dining area has an eclectic collection of masks & modern African art. 

The art displays a surreal twist on the usual tourist souvenir cliches.  Paintings of safari animals and village life have Daliesque distortions and the standard statues of half naked women are in ebony and brass, posing demurely under lampshades. 
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Beautifully carved doors in the Mont Febe Hotel. 

This would be part of the spread for a Gourmet magazine article, should they ever be inspired to describe travel in the real Africa.

 

Grand Finale

Alex and I enjoyed my last week in Njinikom to the fullest.

On Sunday, we went to FPaul's Thanksgiving celebration at the Martyr Baptist Church in Wombong.  Unlike the American version, in Cameroon Thanksgiving is celebrated by giving a portion of your harvest or annual income to the church to express gratitude for a year of good work.  In my case, I was giving thanks was for spending a wonderful five months in Njinikom and for surviving the bus accident unscathed.

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Thanksgiving offering

Little girl and congregation

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On Monday, I got caught up on work: teaching staff how to complete the design and content of the new website, while Alex stayed at home and got caught up on his own work for MOTU.

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On Tuesday, we went to a raucous potluck dinner at MacDonald's (also known as the bad boy Snoop MacYeng.)   The food was excellent as usual and spirits were high.  Alex ended up drinking far too much Guinness.

Here we are with Gloria from the pharmacy.  She likes to joke she will be the future Minister of Health, so we need to be nice to her now.

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Wednesday night, Alex and I were invited to the convent for prayers and dinner.  Alex's head nearly blew off when in the midst of the high pitched singing the nuns whipped out their drums and pounded out an uplifting beat.

Thursday was spent on more work, revising budgets, completing reports, and conducting my last program management training session.

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On Friday, Project Hope organized a large send-off party for me, complete with traditional dancers, a present of matching traditional outfits, a plate of delicious ginger scented fried chicken, and many quintessentially complex Cameroonian speeches.   "Who is Fiona Smith?" intoned T.Paul.  "That is what we are here to discover and discuss."

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Saturday, we went with Fpaul and his fiancee, Victorine, to visit the two most powerful traditional leaders in our region:  The Fon of the Kom people, and the Ado, who leads the Fulani herders that live high up on the plateau.

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Here Alex arrives at the Fon's with FPaul.  Alex must not have made the right sacrifices to the Saint Cristopher the protector of travelers, because on this trip the motorcycle he was originally riding on broke its chain, and he needed to get a ride on FPaul's motorcycle.

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The Fon.  He is an old man of about 80 with about 60 wives.  He was very interested in FPaul's fiancee, Victorine, asking her name, address, and father's name.   Both of them were freaked out by the experience and were dreading the red X that appears at the doorway of the intended's house.  No one knows what happens to the women who turn him down.

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The heads of certain neighborhoods are required to donate carvings to the Fon.  Here I am standing in one of the most elaborately carved doorways with two of the Fon's more than 100 children.

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We continued hiking until we got on top of the plateau where the Fulanis live and herd their cattle.

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The Ado.  He is very laid back and approachable in comparison to the Fon.  The Fon required a donation of $30, but the Ado was happy to receive 4 blocks of soap worth about 80 cents.

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The hike back was equally spectacular with views of volcanic hills in the mist.

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Victorine and FPaul.

One of the highlights of the hike was watching the two of them joke around and entertain each other.  At first, Victorine was very shy around me, barely saying five five words (yes, no, I don't know) in my presence.  So I was pleased and relieved to see her open up and actively engage in conversation. 

It is great that they can now be more open about their relationship.  Up to recently, they hid it because pre-marital relationships, though common, are not really approved of in the culture.  Furthermore it is expensive and intimidating to get engaged because of the number of hoops you have to jump through to get the families' formal approval and save money for the wedding.

Tourism in the Extreme North: Intriguing, Annoying, Hazardous

Tourism in Cameroon is tough. Although this country has many spectacular sights and is far more developed than other African countries, the decrepit transportation infrastructure makes travel grueling and dangerous.  Furthermore, the lodging and food can be quite expensive for what it is. 

I wanted to go to the Extreme North Province of Cameroon to satisfy my curiousity and wanderlust, but in the end, it did not feel like it was worth it.  Fortunately, Alex is a lot more laid back about the experience.  Having never been to Africa before he expected the difficulties and was willing to roll with the punches.  I just got annoyed. 

I realize now that what I like most about being here is living and working in a small village where I know people in the context of their daily life and community.  Being a tourist is not at all fulfilling in comparison.  After dealing with all the delays, discomforts, and potential dangers, what you get to see of the destination is quite shallow and superficial.

Here are some of the highlights.

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Mosques and Mobil stations are ubiquitous.

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Alex in an elephant's footprint.  We did not get to see any elephants but did see their guerilla tactics to keeps the annoying tourists at bay:  stomp up the road so that the land rovers can not get past.

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What is faster:  a land rover or a herd of giraffes?

Giraffes!   Here a herd of giraffes races past.  When they run it looks like they are in slow motion, but they can cover a lot of ground with their gangly limbs.
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The beautiful Porte Mayo hotel, a relaxing oasis in the hot and dusty town of Maroua. 

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View of the volcanic mountains surrounding Rhumsiki.

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The similarities between Cameroon and Mali are remarkable.  As in Mali, it is hot, dry, the people are predominantly Muslim, and the lingua franca is Fulani.  The main food is millet paste and sauce made of peanut butter or various green leaves.

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Alex playing with a cat in Rhumsiki.

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A woman sits next to her house, two granaries and kitchen.  She is one of 46 wives of a chief.
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Bus accident.   Our bus hit a pothole, lost control, and toppled over into a culvert on our way back.  We were not hurt at all, but one man died and a woman severely broke her leg. 

The only good thing to come out of it was that we had a long talk with an Iman from Chad in the shade of a thorn bush, while waiting for our luggage.  Then, some nuns from a nearby town took pity on us and fed us delicious food and put us up in their calm sanctuary, without even asking for a marriage certificate.