and the other reason I haven't been posting... I found out that my internet access is WAY more expensive than I have been thinking. The reason? The logon java applet is a bandwidth hog. Almost 300k of data to log on...and 30K per minute to check your status. Nice that I pay by the amount of data used.. and nice that the company gave me any indication of this... other than including its use in the instruction manual... so.. now that I have identified this bugger, and I'm almost over the anurism... I should be getting back to regular posting.
So, part of my quietude lately is that I am going to spend a few weeks in Europe to visit my parents, and my niece. I have a bunch of stuff on my new computer, like video and photography. With unlimited internet access and some free time, I will be able to fill you all in on some of the exciting changes in Lomie...
see you next week, or this weekend, if I feel ambitious.
I went to test my Sat Modem for Geovic on Saturday. This is my first trip to the Geovic site, which is about 40 kilometers away. I was also supposed to go back to Echambord, and get some more footage of the balsa wood car constructions process, and if possible, pick up a truck or two.. then.. walk home… some 20 miles. I was supposed to leave at 8am sharp, as Charly had a board meeting in the afternoon. At 8:30 I was ready… or so I thought. On my equipment check, I found that my video camera batteries were totally drained. I’m not sure what that is about, because I recharged them a week or so ago, and hadn’t used them. I’m wondering if it is possible that the massive thunder and lightning storm we had may have done something. There were a few bolt of lightning that were accompanied by some phenomenally strong thunder. One pretty much knocked my out of my chair. Anyway, by batteries were dead.. so no filming. Which, to be honest, is a bit of a relief. So bright and early.. at about 10:30, we head out. It’s a 45 minute drive (in Charly’s car). As usual, I really enjoy riding in the car, looking at the jungle. This is a part of the forest around here that I don’t know. Every once in a while, I just get hit with where I live. I mean, 45 minutes of mud huts, with thatched roofs, a forest that is as old as the world, and a thin dirt road that links all human endeavor. So, 45 minutes of jungle reverie ends when I see some 30 people gathered around a metal gate. The Geovic compound. Apparently, they are going “on vacation”, and waiting for their last paycheck. Personally, I think that Geovic had some investors coming in, and beefed up payroll to sweeten the deal. Either way. Aside from the about to get paid Geovic employees, there were several improvised stores… a bar which consisted of a few crates of beer and soda. A few people selling other miscellaneous stuff laid out on the road. The Geovic compound itself is bigger than I expected, and a bit more dilapidated on the outside then I expected. A rickety, but tall, wooden fence, with gaps easily large enough for people to squeeze through. A front entrance that was some aluminum siding… that had seen better days. It sagged, and scraped the ground as they opened and closed the door. There was a surly looking guard at the gate, who didn’t really want to be bothered. Charly did the rounds of the employees, a few of whom I recognized. Charly told me that the last time he came (with a white man), they kept him waiting for an hour. I think that Charly is getting used to the idea that I’ve got some pretty good: getting in to places karma. I tell the guard that I am there to check to see if my sat modem will work there, so that they can set one up. He isn’t buying, but I don’t care. I give him my ID card, and he heads down to consult with those who make the rules. About 5 minutes later, one of the guys that runs the place that I had met with Gary Morris (the president? of Geovic) came up the hill quickly, and someone apologetically, to let us in, after I explained what I was there for. I had no written documents, I had no proof that I was telling the truth.. but we got in just fine. The compound is several large wooden buildings that contain bags and bags of samples from all over their site, a few smaller buildings with other facilities. It looks.. well, better than most structures out here, but still pretty dilapidated. I went out back with two of the Anglophone geologists that I have briefly met before, and set up my gear. Oh yeah. The lead and how to swing it. In a few minutes, we were looking at my Yahoo, and sending a short note to Gary. We chatted a bit, I got some more info on Geovic, its health, and Gary’s schedule. We head out… and on to Ngola, village down the road to drop off one of our passengers. Oh, there is no such thing as a car without other passengers. there are always people stuffed in the car. We get to the village, and I get to see what I am pretty sure is illegal pillaging of their community forest. Ngola has a community forest, but they lost their permit recently for some violations, and infighting. They secured permission to ship out the stuff that had already been cut.. but what I saw was roughly two kilometers of planks stacked up by the side of the road, and people carrying planks out of the bush on their heads. I made some comment, and my concerns were validated. I’m not sure what I can or will do about it, other than send off a few emails to people who monitor this stuff. My guess is that in the grand scheme of fraud and theft and pillaging this is less than nothing. We spent an hour chilling out in the village. I sat in a ‘chief chair’.. which is a chair covered in goat skin. It was comfy, and I had the pleasure of being reminded how extreme the bugs in the villages can be. I got mauled. I was also reminded what it is like in the villages with kids. Pretty much every kid in the area came out to see me. They hid behind the car, and proceeded to dare each other to run out, look at me, and run back. This went on the whole time, until I got up, and they scattered like bugs. We picked up a guy to replace the one we dropped off. This guy then picked up his sick baby, who he was taking to the hospital. The baby had a face full of open wounds, an eye that was swollen shut, and a vaguely yellowish. She was quiet only in so much as she had little ability to really cry. I asked what was wrong.. an illness related to malnutrition.
We drove back, and as I had asked Charly about stopping off at Echambord beforehand, we stopped. He was very interested in the cars, and what I was doing there. He offered to take me down the next time I was going to film stuff. We got there, and the father was sitting outside. The kids were out back finishing up a tractor. We did the hello’s, and I gave my excuses for not being able to spend more time there with my camera. The father is going to be a problem. I just know it. He smells money… and I’m waiting for the strong arm. I am ready for it, and I have also almost gotten more trucks than I think I can sell for a while. We had a short meal, and headed out. I am lucky that Charly was there, as he can just walk off with far less problems than I can. I came back with 4 or 5 new cars, trucks, and a motorcycle.
After a hard week, this was a good, if tiring, day. I really need a few days off.
Sunday, I set up my flood light (I was really suffering from lack of lighting equipment, so I bought a halogen floodlight last time in Yaounde), and build a sort of lazy Susan… set up my camera, and took some product shots. Its looks pretty good. Mostly, I have turn-arounds. I have some ideas of what I can do with this to help show-off the trucks. I’ll be up in Yaoundé in a week or so, to pick up my…. FIXED computer. Actually, they didn’t fix it. They replaced it with a newer and faster machine. I knew there was a reason I put up with Apple. With that, and a broadband connection, I can finally put up a few months worth of photos.. and some video I still have lying around.
Sunday is also the day that Ange (my Alex replacement) moved in. She is Jen’s friend, and we struck a deal that she can stay here until Jen leaves… in the hopes of earning enough money for school. If she handles the pressure well (working for the white people is a real hassle), and Gwinn is comfortable with her staying, she might stay longer. She’s nice, and seems to be pretty excited to be staying here (with her year old baby). We’ll see how it goes.
The weekend ended with a visit from Carey (Peace Corps) and a great rainstorm. All in all, good end to a hard and draining week.
I didn’t have to throw Alex in jail. Alex returned this moring with the radio. The Chief saw it, and complained it was pretty much in the same state it was in months ago before it was supposedly fixed. The chief tried to blame Alex, but I called bullshit on that. It was broken before. I told the chief that I would go to the repair guys place, and we would chat about what the problem was. Alex and I headed up to the repair-man’s place.. and when I say repair man... I mean a guy who has a room with a few old stereo parts.. and a screwdriver. He doesn’t really know a whole lot more than I do about electronics. So, we open it up, and he says: “It’s the chip”. There is a little chip in the radio. He says they go all the time. Yeah. Whatever. He basically says that when there is lightning, it causes the batteries to send a power charge through the chip and blow it. I think the problem is that it is a cheap pirated piece of shit, and the chief has been using it for a year or two, and he dropped it.
I ask him a few more questions, and we leave… or at least I pretend to. We get a few steps away, and I say: “Alex, can you wait a second?”and head back. I noticed during our conversation that he said something about the radio having been there for a while. So, I asked the repair man how long it had been there.. to which he said: Depuis.. which roughly translates as: a while. I asked again, and he said: Depuis depius… a long time. Basically, confirming my belief that Alex had put it in hawk (the repairman is also runs a pawn shop). Alex lies like a rug, but its not my problem anymore. I have the chief’s radio. So, we head back, and Alex starts to plead… he was terrified I was going to throw him in jail. I told him no. I have the radio, and that is all. He kept insisting that he didn’t leave it in hawk… I tell him to go find a cheap radio for me, as I don’t have one. One that is like the Chief’s. He finds the exact (almost.. paint job is different) radio. My plan is to give the new one to the Chief while I get the old one fixed in Yaoundé.
The chief has to take that deal. See, what has been going on here is that the Chief has been trying to get me to buy him a new radio. a real one. He has been telling me all about his high quality radio that comes from Japan that he left me. Insurance scam style. I’m not going to spend time telling him that Panasonic doesn’t label their radios: Pansoanic. I’m just not going to play ball. So, he’s been trying to play me for a sap, and I’m going to let him hang in is own shit as well. I will fix his old one for a dollar or two, and take the other one back (which I have wanted for the house), which is new. He gets to keep his pride, or the better radio. I get a radio for cheap which I wanted, and I get to have this whole thing end. Alex gets, well, nothing. I told him today I wasn’t punishing him.. I would only punish him if I wanted him to change, and since I want nothing from him, why would I bother punishing him.
I had a little breakthrough today. First of all, I am, and have been in a foul mood these past few days. Between Alex and the Chief, and everyone else in town trying to fuck me over on a daily basis, its starting to wear thin. Seriously, I don’t think there is one person in town who hasn’t lied to me since I’ve been here. I don’t think there has been one person in town who hasn’t tried to get something off of me since I’ve been here. Even the kids. I have a high tolerance for this, and am pretty good at setting boundaries that I can live with. I say no a lot. I argue, and negotiate with relish. I understand that ruthless opportunism is a pretty fundamental part of the culture. None of that even really bothers me. My breakthrough?
Oh yeah. I realized that I would be much less annoyed if I could play the same game that they play. I mean, if I could use all the techniques and tactics that I want to, it would be much easier. If I start to play hardball, they all get shocked, and start to cry foul. If I could just say to the Chief: you are lying, and you are trying con me out of money because you think all white people are made of money and stupid, and that is insulting and racist, so fucking stop it, or get out of my house. I say that shit to people I don’t know all the time, and while it is never pleasant, it works. Its part of why many people here are scared of me. The problem is when you know the person, or they are supposed to be someone I should be paying respect to, I can’t. Or at least not without serious consequences. What happenend with Jen was exactly that. Sorel didn’t like getting what she was giving, so she tried to get Jen thrown out of town.
I’m just going to have to keep shutting people down in my own special way: hoisting people in their own petards, patiently wearing them down, making people do work before I do anything, keeping everyone at an arms length, and watching every person who comes in my house, and saying no a lot. The problem is that it takes a lot of energy to do that all the time. Sometimes a good old fashioned ass kicking would be much more satisfying.
I lost my internet connection this weekend. The modem was working fine, but for some reason, it wasn’t able to send and receive data past the satellite. My paranoid self thought that it might be getting blocked, my reasonable self thought that something happened with the subscription. The truth will not be known. It just started again after a break of almost a week. So, it felt a bit strange not being connected. Part of it was liberating. Part of it was frustrating, as it usually is when I find myself without internet. The difference here is that the gap between not having it, and having it is big. I had to write Gwinn an email with instructions to contact the service provider to try to solve the problem remotely, and send that email on a disc with someone up to Yaoundé, have them send it from their account, and wait. I’ve known this for a while, but, I wouldn’t want to be here for so long without being able to connect. I don’t think I would have come here if I didn’t think that I would be able to have some contact with the rest of the world. Not having that connection for a few days, while it didn’t really bother me, reminded me of why.
So, what happened during those ‘lost days’. Oh you know, the Lomié regular rhythm of life. To start with, CIAD (Jen and George’s NGO) had their general assembly. It was a major act of rebellion. They went against the hierarchy. They elected a new board of directors, and started to really clamp down on Elias, the former director who stole all the money. The problem is that it might be too little too late… and done by people who are not used to thwarting authority. As a lifelong authority thwarter, I have been giving them some tips, but I am really trying to stay out of direct participation. I don’t really think that the new guard will really be that different than the old guard. It took all day Saturday to do the assembly. I drew all during the meeting. I’m getting the hang of these things. Go with my sketchbook, and get hours and hours of uninterrupted drawing time… and a show. My favorite part are the elections. There isn’t really much of a democratic spirit here… oh sure, there are elections, but the outcome is pretty much set before it even begins. The candidates announce who they are going to be (all decided in advance), then there is voting. That is also decided in advance. They pretty much want me there as an observer, so that I can vouch for the transparent and democratic nature of the process. They don’t really like it much when I say: “oh I don’t really mind that results were decided well before the vote, or even the meeting today”. I’m not supposed to say that. Its like I stand up in the room and say: “Its ok that you farted, I don’t mind”. Everyone gets stuck on the whole.. how did you know I farted part, but I clearly don’t care if they follow these stupid and totally imposed rules from the outside. Like you can trick people into good governance. We really do think Africans are stupid. I did learn something that I have been looking for a while. It’s a Zime saying that roughly translated goes something like this: “When a strong man helps a weak man in a fight, the weak man will run away”. Basically, I have been looking for linguistic evidence that charity, or helping someone out, is considered lunacy or weakness. This definitely does the trick. Its why ‘development’ just won’t work here. They wait until we show up, and then run away. Our culture is just the opposite. You always take the side of the underdog. So, when people come here to help the weak man fight, and he runs away, we are shocked. They Zime are shocked that we are shocked.
Speaking of weak men, and fighting. I threw Alex out this weekend as well. I knew he was done when he came back from getting new gas bottles in Among M’bang with almost no gas, and no money. He’s been getting particularly greedy again… and I have just had enough. I waited until Sunday to do it, so that I had a whole day to follow through on what I knew was going to be an pain in the ass. I started by taking Alex around to all of the places where he had outstanding chores, or stuff owed. We stopped by the carpenter (who I have been waiting for to deliver my table for almost 3 weeks). 5 minutes later, the carpenter promised delivery at noon that day.
We went to a few other places, and ended up at home, where I said (in my best Colombo) :” Oh, by the way Alex, you did say that you bought that grill right?”
“oh yes” was the reply.
When the Peace Corps volunteers were here and we grilled beef, I paid for a grill. Alex produced one. A week later Yo Yo (my neighbor) came to collect it. Apparently, he had borrowed it, and told me had bought it. Bouffing my money (bouffer, to eat in French slang, is the local word for stealing the money).
I said: “that’s strange, ‘cause Yo Yo told me you just borrowed it”.
“No, I bought it, but not from her”.
“oh” I say “Well, I’m confused, lets go straighten this out”.
He said: “She isn’t there, she’s at Church”.
“Really,” says I. “Thatcher, is Yo Yo at home” I asked her as she conveniently walked by..
“Oh yes, she’s getting ready to go to Church”.
“Great, can you let her know I’m coming over”, as I got up to head over there.
Alex goes as pale as a black man can. He lags behind a minute, trying desperately to figure a way out of this. I’m already in the neighbors compound.
“Is Yo Yo here?”.
She pops her head out, and I say: “Alex was telling me that be bought the grill, but you were saying he bought it… What’s going on here”.
I can be a real bastard, the whole morning was about engineering this moment. Alex will be smarting from that exchange for a long time. She fucking ripped into him. He tried to speak in Zime, she would have none of that.
“In French, I want Ben to know how much of a liar you are”.
That was the start. I let her rip into him for a minute or two as he come up with one lame lie after another.
I then said: “Thank you very much for clearing this up” and headed home.
Alex followed.
We sat on the rattan deck chairs, and I said: “That’s it Alex, you are done”.
He didn’t get it for a second or two, so I got up, asked him for his key and said:” Empty your room, and don’t come back”.
The tears came, the begging, every imaginable plea, whine or flat out begging continued for a few hours, as he slowly packed each item he owns into two small plastic bags. It was pretty much one of the saddest, most pathetic scenes I’ve ever seen. One of the things that bugged me the most, is that he kept trying to negotiate. One more chance.. over and over. No was the answer. Over and over. He told me he was going to the village to live.. which is essentially like a demotion, and was supposed to elicit sympathy from me. I bought him a machete, and a sharpener and said” “good luck, you will need it”.
I basically let him have it, but in a cold emotionless way. I told him that my anger was cold, and that kind doesn’t go away. I told him I didn’t hate him.. I pity him, which is like hate without the respect. I told him he was going to die unless he made the choice to be a man. Blah blah blah. I told him I knew that, as Charly had told him he was not welcome there either, that meant he had nowhere to go. He still had in the back of his mind that this was a negotiation, or a warning, or something. To be blunt: Fuck that noise. I am here for another year and a half, and I need to train some people to learn how to use my stuff so that they can do it themselves when I leave. Everyday Alex is around is one less day that I have to teach someone who wants to learn. He basically said at one point that he would be happy to not talk to me until I was ready to leave, so he could have some of the shit in the house (like my gas stove, or chairs)… Nice to be wanted.
I told him it really hurt me that I had to do this, but nowhere near as much as it was going to hurt him. The brutal truth is that Alex will not survive more than a few months in the village… and if he does, he’ll never make it out again. It is a fucking hard life, and he is a coward , lazy, vain and has a drinking problem. He has no bed, no possessions, no money, no skills, nothing of use to the people in the village. He is dead weight in a part of the world where the word dead will get accentuated in that phrase. I’m essentially sentencing him to either death or purgatory. This was hard for me to do, but I’m not pretending that was doing this for his own good. Maybe it will be, maybe not. That is his choice. I am doing this because he costs me too much money, time and effort. I am not getting a good return on my investment, and I am switching product. I told him there are 6 billion people in this world, and we as individuals are worth almost nothing. I told him if he could give me a good reason I should give him another chance.. I would consider it. He didn’t have anything. I really don’t like having to do this kind of shit. I don’t like having other people’s future in my hands. I resent it. My own future is going to be hard enough, but I really don’t like having my patience mistaken for weakness, and I will sleep well tonight knowing that I gave him every chance to make this work.. and he chose not to. He accused me of crucifying him. I said.. the hell I did. I put the hammer, the nails and the wood on the ground. You did the rest.
So, he slept in Charly’s car last night, apparently. This morning, who should walk by, but the Chief of Karagua, looking for his radio. Apparently Alex never finished dealing with that. If it wasn’t the grill, it would have been the radio that put him out the door. I sat with the Chief, and had to listen to him complain about not having his radio for months (and he is right to be pissed). I hunted down Alex, and let him have it. Publicly, which is the worst possible punishment. He needed to find the radio, or the name of the person who had it by noon the next day. At 11 am he showed up with a name… a name of the brother of the guy who supposedly had it. The Chief came by later, and said he didn’t know who that was. Off I went hunting down Alex. Charly found him first. I had a short talk with him before we met with the Chief. I said:” I think you sold the radio for beer money. If this is true tell me now, and you won’t go to jail. If you tell me it went down, and it turns out that it doesn’t show up, you are going to spend a long time in jail. You can’t steal the Chief’s radio and get away with it, and you can’t ruin my professional reputation for beer money”. A long pause, and a.. “I sent it down”. We met with the Chief. Alex’s answers were wholly unacceptable. I suggested that Alex go down the next day, find the guy, and the radio, or suffer the consequences. The Chief seemed to think that was a fair proposal. Alex left this morning, and is supposed to come back this evening. We shall see. I hope for his sake that he is not lying. I will throw him in jail. Isn’t that why I came here? Come to Africa, throw people in jail. Its all a part of VSO’s slogan: Sharing skills and changing lives. I am sharing my skill at being ruthless, and certainly changing his life. Maybe the new slogan should be sharing kills, and ending lives.
Speaking of ending lives. I have a small update on the GECEC situation. Apparently, the rumor around town is now that they don’t have enough money to give people their money. It is a very localized rumor, and can be explained away as a cash shortage, and a new credit application freeze.. but I’m not sure how long its going to stay as a closely held rumor. All hell my break loose.
Oh, and a final sharing and caring moment. Arlette is no longer representing VSO Cameroon… as of a week ago. I’m not sure if she got officially fired.. but there goes another life I changed. Boy, I am going to leave a large trail of wreckage behind me at this rate. If Cameroon gets many more volunteers like me, they will all be out of jobs, and in jail.
It doesn't begin with a P... but come to think of it, Life in Lomié would make a great musical. I can hear it now, complete with Baka water music. This goes right up there with my Gay Quarterback in the NFL busby berkeley musical. Sigh, what I could do with a large fortune. Alas, money makes people really boring.
Speaking of money, that is what this trouble I was referring to is all about. GECEC is having problems. I'm not sure how much I've written about this, but for the past two months the problems have started surfacing at GECEC. The first being Thomas. Thomas has been stealing money. He's stolen about 2 million (which would be about 4 thousand dollars or about 5 or 6 years salary) in the past year. He did it by taking money for deposit, and then ripping out the record of it. Basically, he's bought a few things with it, but he's probably spent most of it on stupid stuff like beer for everyone. The auditor discovered the gap before the general assembly. He agreed to not go public with it, as the auditor hadn't shown up in a year, and that was thier job. So, after they studied the books, they found that Thomas had been stealing. They also discovered a larger almost 5 million CFA gap in the books. But they aren't sure if it really is a gap, or just bad bookkeeping. I think it may not even be missing, but Charly is making sure that he can take his share if the whole thing falls apart. So, day before yesterday, they confronted Thomas with an offer. Pay back half, and you can keep your job,and not go to jail, as long as you make monthly payments. I'm still not sure the outcome. The police commissioner was on standby... I have not been wanting to be there for this, and I was specifically not invited. So the implicaitons of this are legion. This is the only funcitoning savings and loan for hundreds of kilometers, if it goes down, there is nothing. Not only that, it will be the second attempt in Lomié. I'm not sure there would be another. If word gets out that the empolyees have been stealing there will be a run on the bank.. and there aren't a lot of funds in the bank currently (loan repayment is in the low 40%, and viability for a bank needs to be in the hight 80%). So, the mayor, and the other elite in town would be sure to get thier money out.. which means.. that's right. The regular people who do the bulk of the work supporting an institution like this, repay thier loans, and follow the rules are going to suffer.
Jen has a friend named Ange. She got a job a few months ago cleaning house for a petty functionary. She worked about 10 hours a day, 5 days a week for the whopping sum of 10.000 CFA a month. That is about 40$. She was putting half of it in her account at GECEC, so that she can go to school in the fall. She got fired because the wife was jealous, and the man has not paid her for her last month of work. She is going to lose all of her money at GECEC if there is a run. Ange is 18 and ran away from Batouri and her abusive husband with her baby about a year ago.
Two closing notes. One, GECEC's survival is dependant on me finding money to prop them up. Now that I know that what I can bring in is just going to paper over holes in the books, I am less motivated to work hard on something I don't really want to do (namely, write grant proposals). I don't realy feel obligated, or responsible, really, more annoyed. I mean, it is really going to suck for a lot of people if there is a run on the bank, but I didn't steal the money from the till. I will continue to work on it, and if something comes of it, great, if not. Well, I will probably be chased out of town with the rest of the GECEC crew. Hell, maybe they will even blame me. Two, it is like working with the sword of damoclese hanging over your head here. It seems like, instead of putting the sharp objects away and getting to work, they throw them up in the air, and try to get work done before they have to dodge them coming down, pick them up, and throw them up in the air again.
oh, and the puppy i didn't get just bit my penis.
so.. yesterday, Alan (my neighbor) lent his motorcycle to someone. They used it all day, returned it out of gas, and broken. Things have not been going well next door. D'oh has been sick, and they have very little money. The rainy season is here, and Alan's car repair business is slow. Petit and Patricks school money and living stipend have not come from thier parents. The kids come over regularly to eat here, as they have nothing at home. Alan took it very badly that this man took advantage of him. He apparently beat the living shit out of him, and was only stopped from killing him by other people around who convinced Alan that this guy could work off his debt around the compound better if he was still alive. When I told Petit this story, he said: "oh, I was wondering who the bruised guy doing housework was".
Thatcher (yes, after Margret), the older little girl next door, has been causing trouble lately. She has no mother, but is being taken care of by Yo Yo (Alan's sister). She has been doing things to make sure she gets attention. Breaking things, taking things, and generally causing trouble. The past few days, she has been a bit sheepish, and quiet. Yesterday, she came over to sit in the house. Lolita (yes.. another neighbor child) told her to show me her arms and feet. They were swollen and lascerated. Apparently Yo-Yo wailed on her something fierce. Jen said she heard a child howling for a long while in the afternoon.
These are my good neighbors. It just flat out sucks to be a Cameroonian child sometimes.
So... the rule in my house is no hitting, no fighting. Hard and fast... the kids know that I am serious, and if they start, and I even start to get up from work, they all start to file out.. knowing exactly what the consequences are... they will be kicked out. But, for next door... there is not much I can do, or even feel comfortable judging.
The peace corps volunteers in the east came to Lomie this past weekend. It was the kind of american invasion I can support. There were 8 volunteers who came. Carey, who I've written about, and 7 other, much younger, volunteers. We tried to make burgers, but the only woman with a meat grinder in town hates Charly (my boss), so no go. We ended up grilling strips of beef on my new grill (which really consists of some wires). It was good. The little american oasis here was, well, kind of anti-climatic. The volunteers were, to a person, very nice, very young, and more than a bit vague. I don't know how to describe it otherwise. I mean, I'm sure some of that comes from getting older, but I know myself well enough to know that I was never that vague. At thier age, I was running Mob productions, and running around like a bat out of hell. They seemed kind of shell shocked. All of them had been here for more than 9 months...so it wasn't about being new. It was more about... well, the fantasy of Africa meets the reality. Most of thier observations were pretty much at the very local level, and most of thier jobs are of a much smaller scope than mine. The most important thing that I learned is that the Peace Corps is more like high school than anything else. They have dorm rules in Yaounde, a curfew, and all sorts of supervision. I would go balistic.
On Sunday we made pancakes for dinner. That was a treat. All in all, great fun, and totally american conversations were had... including obligatory star wars references.
My gorilla skull has a friend. Its a panther skull. It is tragically beautiful. I was also offered Ivory, but I declined. If anyone thinks that the elephants, panthers and gorillas stand a chance in hell of surviving are mistaken.
In a related sad topic. There is a fight brewing between which western organization is going to get to support the gorilla habituation project. The one that is going to fund embezzlers and frauds, or the one that is trying to give self aggrandizing liars the money. The end result of this is that the villages are being torn apart by 'conservation' NGO's that really need a 'gorilla project' in their portfolio. Its big money. With a gorilla on your glossy conservation magazine cover you can get a whole lot more donations to pay for the european salaries and plane tickets to see exotic places. Its all about those giant checks they get at fundraising events, and hanging out with concerned and caring celebrities. The biggest irony here is that no one ever actually gets to see the Gorillas...but hey. Those are details right?
I'll write more about the actual details as I get better information.. you know, name names, tell all. This would be a really good article on the savageness of conservation, and the very lucrative end game for this kind of betrayal. If I only knew a good investigative journalist. This is a story that could be told very very well. I just can't write well enough. But I am going to try out some sneaky stuff of my own to get people to lie on film. We'll see.
The real output of all of this.. is tragically, going to be more Gorilla skulls probably.
It all started yesterday morning, at around 7:30am with some negotiation on the price of motorcycle rides to Echambord, which is about 21kms south of Lomié. I tried to get the price way down.. but that didn't work.
So, for 2000k CFA (4$) we all, and by all, I mean Jen, Vieux (a neighbor kid) and myself, headed off. It was cloudy, but cool. I was carrying my camera equipment, vieux was carrying the bamboo grumier truck that Vieux's brother made. He was carrying it so that the family would be complete. That was the reason for the trip. His little brother had finished several new trucks, and I was going to film him putting them together, and talk a little bit about selling them. At the very least, I was buying the ones that he made. So, off we go. Jen was carrying.. um, nothing. The ride was fantastic. The jungle is just fucking amazing, and as soon as you get about 10kms south, it gets to that really nice jungle, and it comes right up to the edge of the road. After about 20 minutes, the bike I was on got a flat....or more accurately, it had a slow leak, and we had to get down while it was getting fixed. Don't think that there were approriate tools. Think, metal wires, spit and some glue. We waited about 30 minutes for the guy to fix it. Off we go again. It turns out that Vieux lives a good 5 kms outside of town.so, we got to the town, and the drivers didn't want to take us the final 5k to Vieux's house... actually, they wanted to get the white man to pay some more...so.. we got down, said, you do what you have to do.. and we walked. Luckily for Jen, who was there to do research for Koko, a vegitable that grows wild in the forest, the local expert
so... Jen found the person she was looking for, and headed off into the jungle to collect plants. Vieux and I walked 5 kms to his house..where, when we walked in, the first thing that happened is that one of the boys there said: "merde".. I just flat out shocked him. I don't think they have ever had a white man in their house, and I was clearly a guest that they had been waiting for.. for weeks. Was I coming, was I not..they were sort of convinced that I was blowing them off...but then, walking down the road, there I was. merde. I sat with the father chatting for an hour or two, the father was gracious, and we had a long conversation... which was.. sort of interesting. There is is trait here that men have..Its this tendency to create a whole logical framework world view based on a few key assumptions that are, well, for lack of a better term, way way off. It is amusing and tragic all at the same time. After a meagre meal of plantains and avacodo (they are really really poor)...we got to the trucks. They were awesome. The kid had a basket full of parts, and built two more totally complex and fantastic machines in front of me. All of which I got on film. The whole family sat around, watched and commented and shouted at the boy.. who was so nervous at first, his hands were shaking badly. A few hours later, two totally amazing vehicles were sitting in front of me.I mean, they make the first truck look simple (I think I posted a few pictures of it somewhere... can someone check for me? If not, I'll post some photos). He also even made balsa wood logs for them. One is a tree lifter, and the other, a tree dragger.
they are like tractors.. but one has a crane...which works, and is counter balanced to be able to lift things without problems.
My coming there and filming.. was pretty much the highlight of his life. Seriously. It is strange having that kind of effect on people.
I really do want to sell his stuff so that he can afford to go to school. He lives a 10 mile walk from school, lives with his 7 brothers, and uses a razorblade, and bamboo to make these things. Sometimes, when he can find one, he takes a plastic bottle and makes windows, on even rarer occasions, he finds some paint, and paints them. And he makes absolutely fantastic vehicles. His mother is going to make special baskets to transport each one. I had to spend a lot of time convincing them of that. They were talking about me taking the kid to the port, and having him assemble them there, as if the rest of the world was just outside the port. Like the port was the end of the world. From there, it was all wine and roses, so why did you even need put them in a container, or box. It is difficult negotiating with people who are absolutely convinced that they understand how the world works... and clearly have no clue. They are sooo sure that the world is like.. well, 15 minutes of video they saw once, mixed with an experience of working with a white guy 20 years ago... Mostly, I let them say what they want without breaking it all down too much. Its just to far.
So.. hopefully, I will get the customized rattan baskets.. which will help in transport and sales...and I can work on getting them out of the country.
So, at about dusk.. we set off to walk back a short 30 kilometers (20 miles for the metrically impaired. After about 10kms, the geovic truck, full of singing workers drove by. One of Jen's friends has a sister who works for them...
and they stopped. I got in the back and hung on for dear life for 30 minutes
I was really, barely hanging on, there were 20 of us in a pickup.. the muslim guy who speaks no french and I, were shoved out of the back, hangin on. There was a lot of singing, as they just got paid, and they were mostly drunk already. It was fun.. and totally scary. I got off and had a very sore calf. I was essentially holding myself in the truck with one leg, wedged under a giant mass of plantains... and got a very bad charly horse. I worked it out with some tiger balm....and that is half the story of my yesterday
Wait.. are these the troops I was supposed to be supporting? Or was is just hte 'healthy' ones who chose a job who's primary description was to kill. I mean lets be honest, there was no draft, and this isn't 1942. So, for those that don't get it... the American Empire is done. These pictures will have more of an effect on the balance of power, and future politcs than September 11th. The amazing thing is how deep this goes, and how little, it seems from here, that the government understands how bad this really is. Even a completely unpresidented (heh) quasi apology is so completely besides the point. This isn't about individuals, as much as the machine always blames its failures on the individuals, this is about a system that fosters a culture of actions without consequences. How could a bunch of kids who kill for money (and a bunch of private contractors who flourish on misery), fly half way across the world to start a war based on total, and blatant lies, do anything less than this? The particular nature of these photos (and apparently the videos put the stills to shame) reveals a deeply troubled national psyche. This is the Bush America. This is our America. This is what we have become. This is what becomes of all countries that fall in love with the idea of war.
Why am I ranting here about this? Because here in Lomié, at the end of the road, and again the end of that one, where people don't care about politics. People are turning against the US. Americans were gods here. Gods of light and power. The power now has limits, and the light has developed a sickly reddish hue.
Apparently I was on national TV this weekend for my valuable participation in the opening of the SNV office in Bertua. I'll be signing autographs at the local Barnes & Noble all week. In other news, the porcupine was recovered. As of last night, he was in his little cage, happily eating bananas. I'll go check to see if he is still there this morning. Yep, still there, and now, fiesty.
Earlier this week I went to Bertua, the capital of the east. I went for another SNV type of event, and I'll spare you the details. It was their office opening, and office openings are pretty much the same everywhere, except here, there is more protocol, and all the speeches are read. Anyway, Bertua is about 200kms away, and it took about 12 hours to get there. Bertua is actually a city. I wasn't expecting that, but it definitely hit that critial mass that you need to achieve cityhood. It was bustling, and clearly growing fast. There are also a lot more white people there, and I think that they are timber industry people, and the like, for the most part. I say this because I was approached several times in the few minutes I was in public by women who were, um.. very forward. Clearly being sexually aggressive to white men pays off in enough cases that it is normal. Very different from Lomié. All in all, I don't think I'll be spending a whole lot of time in Bertua.
The ride back was as usual, brutal and long. Two things of note. There is a category of clothing that, for lack of a better term I'll call 'ironic' clothing. I first noted this when I was with Gwinn in NY years ago, and we saw a bum (and I distinguish that from a homeless person) wearing a shirt that said: 'Expect the unexpected". Apparently he didn't read his shirt... or maybe he did. Anyway, I saw some ironic clothing here recently. On the ride back, when I got out to push the van out of the mud, a villager... and I mean deep village inhabitant... was wearing a baseball cap, the kind that a generic tech company from the late 90's made in support of their PR efforts. This one said "building a better tomorrow" with a super slick, and ultimately generic logo. This villager is sporting a fancy cap (fancy by Cameroonian standards), that he probably counts as one of his more valuable possesions. I wonder if this ranks up as one of the more usefull things this company did.
The other piece of ironic clothing was a pair of pants that a Baka was wearing when he was selling me the baby porcupine. They were those purposely ripped jeans, with the heavy fraying. Now people here all wear clothes that are ripped (except the elite), but they spend a lot of time and energy trying to avoid that. It never occured to the Baka that the pants were torn on purpose, he thought... well of course that is why they sent them down here. So, he was happy to be wearing these torn pants, not because he thought they were fancy, but that it was ok, as most of the clothing worn here is torn...so these fit right in.
By the way, there is a lot of used European clothing here. Most of it Dutch. Apparently, much of it is gathered as donations, shipped down here, and then sold to the local inhabitants for a profit to the middle man. Nice.
Yesterday was 'labor day'. Here, it is a bit different. Only the elite have jobs, so labor day is a celebration of superiority of those who have jobs, over those who just work the field... which isn't considered work. It was, of course, celebrated with a large amount of drinking. Today is quiet though. Most people are really really hung over.
Yesterday i got a baby porcupine.. I was going to raise, breed, and eventually eat. Last night, someone stole it. I think it was one of my neighbor's kids... he, uncharacteristically spent a few hours hanging out with me yesterday. I was thinking.. I wonder if he is doing this because he thinks it will help him steal the porcupine...and I thought, wow.. I am cynical...but yeah, maybe. Sure enough. At least he didn't take the hutch I had built. I also got pretty ill last night. A food allergy that seems to be new in the past few years for me. Intense headache, followed by vomiting, and then a sleep that is more like being passed out. Today, I had to deal with an unrelenting slew of demands on me. It never stops, and everyone tries to take advantage of me on everything. One example. This girl died tonight. She was 22. Her family asked me to make up some posters with her photo, a few words, and the dates of her life. I stopped what I was working on, and did them. I have now learned that I have to get paid up front for everything. I printed one of them, and not the full 10 they asked for. Then they said.. oh, we forgot to ask you to put her name on it, and we can't pay for them... can you give us a discount. So, I already do this at cost.. not including my time. I then get shit for being a white man. Oh, and the kicker.. she died of AIDS.. of course, she didn't according to people here. She died of slow poisoning. I mentioned that to Alex, who said: "of course that is what she died of, but you can't say that, and what good would it do anyway".. so I told him about the 14 year old girl who said: "aids doesn't exist, no one ever dies of it, you just made it up to keep me from having sex, and making babies". Makes me feel real good about spending my time doing favors for folks like that...
I miss by baby porcupine.
It is February now. I start working my ass off again. Calendar for the mayor, posters, site for the gorillas (…like they use the internet). The fridge is still broken. I eat like shit. I get tired of waiting for the tables and chairs that Alex ordered (yeah right) a few months ago. I scrounge/steal a great table from the SNV building, get some shelves, and do some general clean up. It feels very productive. The fridge even works for a few minutes…before its craps out. I will never have a working fridge. Izidore is now avoiding me as he has not been able to fix the fridge with two months time and a bunch of money. The gorilla site is uploaded. Thank you Locke. I then spend a day waiting for the mayor to pick me up to take some photos for the Calendar. He never shows up, but I don’t really care, I get to draw some. I get used again and again by locals for my computer skills. I don’t mind being used so much (well, I do, but I can handle it), but when people are rude to me about it, and act as if I am some sort of lapdog… It pisses me off. This time it was the local debt collector, and a priest. It is Saturday the 7th of February. Alex’s women problems are piling up. Some girl comes by and delivers me a subpoena for him… and some girl that he has been hitting on (I call her no-name lying girl) comes by with a sob story, and I get to listen as Alex isn’t there. She is Jen’s ‘friend’ as well…but she really can’t deal with her either anymore. I sit patiently for a few minutes trying to play my new gameboy, and she is really bugging me with some sob story about her parents getting killed in an industrial accident in France when she was a baby. She is so totally full of shit. I’ve had it. I am tired of Alex. I type up a countdown list. “Alex’s final 5 fuck ups” and post it on the wall in the living room. He is pretty freaked out…as he should be. I finish Final Fantasy. It is very good. I mean, really good. Even the story is good…or at least the little things in the story are good. I work on lightwave, but it is very limited as it doesn’t work with Panther on my Mac. Lightwave 8 is only two months late. Looks good though. I look at Charly’s financial planning report for the year. This is another kind of final fantasy. The numbers are kind of scary. I will be responsible for bringing in half of the annual budget in outside funds. I am now a fundraiser. Not only that, but GECEC is not a viable financial organization. Maybe it will be in the future, but right now.. its not looking that strong. Microfinance is not all its cracked up to be. The Lions (the Cameroonian national team) loses. The are clearly physically more talented than their opponents, but the don’t share, have no cohesion, and all want to be the ‘star’. I think there might be a national lesson in this..but that would be… well, snotty. The Dutch descend. A few Dutch people drive a truck down here for “Pere Paul” one of those religious types hell-bent on turning the baka into good Christians. He has been here 30 or so years. His niece came down with them to do a radio story. They are nice, if a bit lost… and surprised that Pere Paul is no longer here. He is old, and went to Yaoundé to live. His parish here is falling apart in less than 3 months after his departure. Entropy rules. CIAD’s main funder is in town. There is a huge clusterfuck of politics, money and lies. George (he is great) has a bout of honesty in front of the donor, and when asked, tells the truth about CIAD’s lies. Ooooh. They didn’t expect that. I make valentines day cards with Petit. He is trying to sell some. It is really dry, dusty and hot here now. There is about 3-4 inches of fine red powder pretty much everywhere outside. The trucks hauling trees generate a 40 foot cloud of red dust as they pass. February 11th, the festival of youth. Basically, all the children march in rows, singing about their great leader. I film it. The good news is that they aren’t really good at it, and couldn’t really care much about the parade. I’m finishing up the GECEC calendar. The mayor’s? Don’t count on it. Lolita is a hermaphrodite. Now its Friday the 13th. I feel sick..but its really a reaction to a massive shift in barometric pressure. Then a rainstorm. The first in a while. The change in pressure was so massive and sudden, that I pretty much passed out for a few hours while my body reset. That night, I heard yelling out front. I peek out. I see a naked man yelling at a group of people near my neighbors house. Next day, I see that Alex has a fucked up hand. Apparently, the naked guy from the night before got mad at them for stripping him, pouring beer on him, and sending him home (he had peed on their house without permission). He came back with a machete and an axe. He got wrestled to the ground after trying to hack his brother to bits. Alex got hurt a bit in the process. I rest for a day or two. Then, some VSO volunteers show up to visit the Gorilla project. Some VSO officials show up. I meet with SNV. There are fund raising documents to write. They look suspisiously like project proposals to clients, minus the clarity of purpose. Jen heads to Kargua with the other volunteers after an.. awkward exchange with CIAD folks. The kitty, who is doing great, brings a tree frog in the house to torture and kill. The tree frog jumps on the wall, and stays there most of the night. The kitty is not amused. I collect it the next morning, clean it off, and let it go outside. It is magnificent. I have my review with Charly and Arlette. It goes fine. I couldn’t care less. My fridge still doesn’t work, and we are now in late February. Jen and George head off to the forest with the Baka. I have a day totally to myself. It is great. I play with lightwave again. I seem to be having a really easy time with it. For some reason, not working with it and thinking of totally different things for a few months has really made it easier for me to use. I get some cool models done, but the Panther/Lightwave problems limit what I can do greatly. Iphoto craps out on me. It can’t handle the amount of pictures I have in it. I lose my whole photo archive system. Sigh. More working on lightwave… and the refrigerator repair man came back to town. Oh my. I might actually get a working fridge.
Karen (from the Peace Corps) stops by and treats me to dinner and brought down some veggies. Some Canadian lady talking about “adaptive flexible process management” comes by. She is really annoying, and scoffs at us volunteers (because she lived in Congo for 10 years… so what could we possible know) until she finds out that I have internet access. Ha. Gwinn has a birthday far away. Alex fucks up, and lies to me about it. Two strikes out of his five gone in 10 minutes. He lost another one a bit back, so he has two left. He is now genuinely scared. I make ID cards for GECEC employees.. you know, so we can tell each other apart. I go to fix Eccofac computers, they are the people who are supposed to be protecting the forest and the animals in it.. but are likely to be the largest source for the bush meat trade. An HIV positive guy hits me up for money. He has an elaborate story, but I believe him, cause.. well, he’s an asshole, and liars are usually nicer. I still don’t give him money, but I try to find some other solution. It highlights a huge problem with volunteers and development. The need far outweighs the supply… and those that are willing to help basically come down and get drowned.. while those who are less giving, or less inclined to give, stay and further the problem. I fear that only massive and sustained violence directed at the rich will cause any kind of structural change needed to fix the MASSIVE imbalance we have created. George leaves. He has a party where the people who have been trying to destroy him.. were all weeping and singing about him leaving, and mentioned, casually, that as the last white man in town, I was not responsible for helping them. Monday, Jen’s problems begin with them. Sorel is trying to get rid of her. To much of a reminder of George. I am getting a new video camera when Gwinn comes. The 24p Panasonic, with cinema gamma. I am very excited. It should make what I do work with PAL (with a bit of conversion) better, and the look we got working on the Hellboy stuff before I left is really good. It really can look and move like film. I’m hoping that it will allow me to really take my video work to another level. Things with Jen and CIAD are getting worse. Jen publicly denounced Sorel in front of their clients (CIAD’s). Public humiliation is about the biggest insult here possible. I am preparing for Gwinn’s visit. She should be bringing a bunch of computers and other supplies with her. Getting that past customs requires preparation. I am getting some governmental stamps on papers. My computer is dying, or dead really. I’m not getting power anymore. This really sucks. I have some battery time left. I am turning the screen brightness all the way down, and using a flashlight for screen illumination. I probably have about 5 hours of time before I am totally cut off. This sucks. Brian, another volunteer, wants to come down for a few weeks.
The past two months have been an ever increasing spiral of chaos. Not all bad, not all good… just a lot of travel, movement, work and the like. I am going to recap them in a whirling miasma of impressions and events with the hope of trying to catch my blog up to more recent events, and start posting regularly again. I do want to, however, flesh out a few of the past two month’s events in detail…but I am going to do that in a more democratic manner. That is to say: tell me what you want me to elaborate on, what you think is interesting, and I will pick a few of the most requested topics and elaborate.
OK. So, I left off in mid January. I have lunch in a shack in town with George and Kira (beans if you were interested). On the TV next door a Nigerian soap opera is playing. It is spectacular in its low budgetness. One light, one camera, one take. The actors walk in front of the lighting rigs and off the sets while the camera is rolling.. and you get to see it all. Lots of yelling and wailing. I want to make one of those. Then I travel… for two days. The first is.. well, easy. The bus has a few empty seats, which I have never seen. It is the first day of the Africa’s Cup.. soccer. The driver came pretty close to flying back to Yaoundé. I hung out with Iza, who is going home. She is the first of our flight of volunteers to pack up and go. She is going back for a bunch of reasons. Boyfriend, mediocre placement, money. The works. Day two of travel. I ride in the fancy VSO car, on pavement the whole way. Before that, I get a few hours of internet time… heaven. On the way there, we discuss the shortcomings of VSO’s training with the head of training. I get to Bamenda for our Annual conference in the evening. Say hi to all the other shiny happy volunteers. OK, not so shiny, but it is good to see everyone. It is also interesting to see everyone after the harsh reality of Cameroon has settled in for a few months. I also get to meet volunteers who I have not met yet. We have dinner, and watch football. From here on in, soccer (what a dorky word) will be referred to as football. I mean, seriously, why in the hell did we name our game football. There are only a few times in the game when you kick the ball. It should have a better American name like.. battleball.. or something. Anyway. We watched the match. Cameroon looks mediocre… but I’m not going to say anything about that for fear of death. Two days of meetings. Boring, hypocritical, and ultimately useless drivel. I doodle, and enjoy the gaps in between to share stories with other volunteers. My stories don’t seem that different than most other people’s.. they just seem much more frequent. Its like I have packed 2 years of the most extreme stories into 6 months… like a greatest hits compilation of volunteer experiences. So, I sort of patiently wait for what I really came up here to do. Kill a pig. Dave and Brian bought a pig, and we are going up to Dave’s placement to have a barbeque. Mmmmmm, spare ribs. We spend the morning doing errands, and getting up to his place. Nice placement. All in all, the teachers seem to be having the most stable and rewarding placements. VSO should stick to what it knows best. I carry a few cases of beer on my head. The locals (Bamenda is Anglophone, but I can hardly understand a word) are cracking up at me. I was supposed to assist with the slaughter and preparation.. but Dave has.. something else to do, and Brian is going to film it. Farhan (who is also there) doesn’t want to get too involved with the killing. So its me.. The guy they brought in to guide me is really intent on letting me do it all. I do it all… except remove the intestinal sack from the stomach area. It started by me dragging the pig to the ground, stabbing it in the heart with a dagger. Looking it in the eye, and holding it down until it died. Then cutting it up, removing the hair, and cooking it. It is amazing that there is this moment where it stops being a pig, and becomes meat. It took all afternoon. The meat was good. Dinner was great. I’d like to write something here about cruelty, meat, vegetarianism, and stuff like that.. but truth is, I didn’t have any real agenda with this. I just wanted to help and learn. I did both. The locals liked me. They kept saying how much of a bad ass white man I am. Killing a pig isn’t all that. I left the next morning, and took the bus back with Ed (a teacher in the far north) and Ana (his girlfriend who was visiting). I got invited to have dinner and watch the next football match at Steve’s house (he is an expat who works for the power company). Sarah (another teacher from the north), a totally great, and probably insane, Irish volunteer made dinner. It was totally fantastic. Ed and I watched the football match in the street with a bunch of Cameroonians, while the expats all had fancy parties in their expensive pads. We would have, but we couldn’t figure out Steve’s TV. Cameroon won. I get a package from Gwinn. YEAH. I really really like getting these. Thanks everyone for the birthday card. These packages keep me going for at least a month. The highlights? A new gameboy, comics, movies, malarone (my new anti-malarial).. a baseball hat. I do some shopping and get ready to go back to Lomié. We improvise on the way back.. and take a several hour detour cross country. Beans spill everywhere after we hit a huge bump in the road. I get in a big yelling argument with a baggage guy in A’mong M’bang (pronounced: bon-ban). It was a huge yelling fight over a few bucks for bags. He was drunk, and pissing me off. I went off. It felt really good to be able to give as good as I get. The bus was totally overfull on the way back. The worst its been yet. 24 people, plus kids. We get back and Alex broke Jen’s bike. He is in trouble again.
Thursday January 22st, 2004
So, the past two days have been filled with relentless demands on my time… for computer work. Considering we have no power, this is a problem. I keep telling people I can’t do anything to help them, but they still leave with expressions like: fucking white man, all I want is my _ fill in the blank _ and he wouldn’t give it to me… Sigh.
The sous-prefet died. He is the regional power here, and people seem to be running around like the world has changed. Apparently he has been sick for a long time, so this is no surprise, but there will be some heavy drinking this week.
Wednesday January 21th, 2004
As there is no electricity, so I get to draw. I spent most of the day drawing. Ooooh yeah, felt good. The kids next door watched.. and JR spent a few hours trying to copy the drawings that I was doing. I like the kids next door, and they are great one or even two at a time.. but as soon as three or four show up.. well, the amount of time they can play without whacking each other in the head, or breaking something decreases exponentially. Maybe I can make a cage for them, and let one or two of them out at a time.
Tuesday January 20th, 2004
The power is out. It has been mostly out for the past week. I am using my solar panels regularly to keep the computer stuff going. We get about an hour or so a day. I don’t really mind, as the SNV are in town, and I am working with Jaap and Charly on our funding pitch to do marketing support for the community forests here. I like Jaap, but man is he bitter, and have no idea of what he is doing. The good news, is that after some presentation, and my best –sell snow to eskimos- act, he seems to be convinced that this is a good idea. Whew. Thing is, I do think it is a good idea. I’m not sure if it is enough, but good lord, they need to do something to support these communities. He knows it, but he has no idea what to do, and is, frankly, burned out and bitter. I can understand that. He has worked hard on this for years, and there is no appreciation of his efforts. That being said: if you are doing this for recognition of your goodness.. find another job. No one is ever happy when someone else comes in and “helps” like this. So.. what am I proposing? I’m glad you asked. A series of radio spots, some short TV spots. I would do a set of ‘news’ stories, and a set of ads… tangent: if that sentence doesn’t explain the complete bankruptcy of the ‘news’ I don’t know what does. News is nothing but an aesthetic. Tangent over. I would do some flyers, a brochure (real printing, not just my inkjet), a website, a power point presentation for public speaking engagements, The heart of this though, is a short documentary, and a short advertisement video.
water fights are universal.
Monday January 19th, 2004
More video work, more photos, and more calendar work. I finished up some video work that I have been doing (for the funeral a few weeks ago), photos of the town for the Mayor’s calendar, and the actual designing of the calendars (the one for the Mayor, and the one for GECEC). I am going to have some trouble with these. Charly bought some thick paper that cannot fit through my printer. I am going to try to find some glue to see if I can work something out, but I am pretty limitted by the available materials…although, as usual, the real limit is going to be the aesthetic one. As long as I keep pretending that it takes me a lot longer to do the work I do than it really does, I should be fine. I’ll still have enough time to work on other things for myself… although, I haven’t been doing much of that lately. Still, I think that I will start picking that up again as I have more room for action, rather than just reaction in my day to day now. Oh, and the Tatiana, JR, Lolita and D’oh had an extended waterfight today. It started with a floor cleaning, and ended in a full on soaked house. It is clean though… and the dust has been getting really bad.
Sunday January 18h, 2004
I still have no fridge. Izzy ran out of gas, and Alex has to go back up to Abong M’bang and get more. Apparenly there were some leaks in the pipes, and Izzy had to start over. Sigh. I’m never going to get a working fridge here again. I do make light of it, but it is a real problem. Nothing here is built for single people (not single as in not married, but as in sole, alone, not part of a larger family). The fridge is the great equalizer. It allows me to cook enough for days at a time, shop for days at a time, and keep enough variety in my diet so I don’t get ill. I have been without for a month now, and my diet is clearly not as good as it was when I had the fridge. Hopefully, Alex and Izzy will figure it out, but I am not tremendously hopeful. The problem is, they have both made it a matter of pride… and so, it is hard for me to take it away from them. Well, not them, but Izzy.
There are some Chinese merchants in town. The have a big car, and fill it full of stuff, and drive down the road selling things until they run out, or hit the end. It is a collection of the worst quality crap available. Alex found some picture frames he wants. I am going to loan him enough to buy some. He wants to sell the framed pictures at a premium.. and he even has a few buyers (I verified this myself before agreeing). I helped him negotiate the price down, and now he has a business of his own. Not a chance I’ll see the money again, but I do want to support his efforts at being responsible. Funny thing. Chinese people are white here as well… so he wanted me to negotiate with my brothers to get a better price. I didn’t, but I gave him a few tips on negotiation with merchants from the rest of the world… like the idea of a quantity discount.
Saturday January 17th, 2004
I got a present today. George came back to town carrying a package from Todd. He sent me a Peanuts book. Fantastic. Aside from making me happy and laugh, I look at it, and it reminds me of everything we do/did do well.. better than any other culture in history. It is the best of america, and it is now sitting on my coffee table.
I have gotten to the stage where I ration my media, and it actually makes it all much better. Scarcity enhances value... so what does that mean for an information/consumer society based on ubiuquity and entertainment? Either we have built an economy on a currency in perpetual decline, or nothing. Probably nothing.
The neighbors kids (who have names.. JR the oldest boy, Tatiana the oldest girl, Lolita the middle girl, and D’oh the youngest girl… apparently named after the Simpsons) came over again today. Now I am half called the white man, and half called Ben. Anyway, they used a toilet for the first time in their lives. It was a group activity, which included a lot of laughing, and lamenting the fact that you can only get so much shit to come out before you are done. I sent them to get more water after they used almost everything we have in the house to flush. They are to small to carry the buckets, so they used empty soda, and water bottles. It took them a while, but they were very excited. Very.
Thursday January 15th, 2004
Alex came over this morning with a black eye. Hah. Apparently I’m not the only one who wants to belt him. He wouldn’t really tell me much about why, but someone hauled off and belted him. I’ll post the photo I took of him. It is not flattering.
Kira, the boy that George is essentially raising, wandered over today. It is a bit surprising that I haven’t seen him in a few days. He usually is over all the time when George is out of town. Apparently he has been a bit sick. Anyway, he smelled of piss. He had peed on himself, and had been wearing the same clothes for a while. I washed him, and payed some attention to him. The neighbors where he stays when George leaves, are heavy heavy drinkers. They are also constantly having trouble. They are also the patriarchal familly in town (the grandfather’s name is.. Lomié). Anyway, they were very happy to let us take care of cleaning Kira. What bad news. I can only imagine what is going to happen to that boy when George leaves.
Athough, funny thing happened as we were discussing it when a girl came over to visit Jen. She had a bag. A simple plastic bag with school books or food, or whatever. Kira’s first instinct was to reach for her bag and ask what was in it, and could he have some. She wasn’t interested, and pretty much ignored him. He kept at it for a minute, and then gave up. I started talking about how much of a trouble maker Kira was (‘cause he is bigtime), and I wondered what the future was going to be like for him. A minute later Alex strolled up, and went through almost the exact same gestures and questions. We started laughing. Tragically, Alex is the model… which is a shame, because Kira is a good kid, and smart as well.
Wednesday January 14th, 2004
So, I have written a lot about what has happened, and my reactions to them. Emotional reactions, phsyical ones. I have not really written much about how I feel in the broader sense. I think that might be because I have been so overwhelmed with this new world, that it has been pretty much all I can do to keep up. I think this is starting to change. The whole winter holiday crush was so extreme, that things feel calmer now, and I feel like I have enough room inside for more than just reaction. I feel like my tourist phase is over. I feel like I am really here. I also feel like I have let go of a lot of my past. Not memories, but the habits associated with the moral and practical realities of living in the US and Europe have warn off enough for me to feel.. well, like I am changing. I feel adrift. It is a good, if unsettling feeling. The world is a big place. I like that feeling. It is something I have been missing for a long time. I also feel like I can peel away what I care about and what my environment pushes on me. It is liberating. Very. I have no idea where this is all going to lead me, but I do know that I am going to be a very different person. The biggest difference is the feeling of weight being lifted off of my shoulders. Ironic that I have a job where I am ‘officially’ supposed to be saving the world, and I feel none of that. You are constantly reminded of just how insignificant you really are here. Every day. For me, that is a huge relief. The wieght of pretending that what we do with our lives is important is such a burden. I just want to spend my time exploring, and working on how I live. How I find my way… not with propping up some mass delusion of self importance. Anyway, this is going to be a turbulent time for me, but we are all here to suffer and die right? That is better than being numb and narcisistic.
Tuesday January 13th, 2004
My neighbors, well the store next door really, is run by Mauritanians. A small Islamic country north of here. Anyway, we (the US) dropped off some military folks to make our presense felt, and pay a few corrupt officials to let us wander around in the desert and talk tough about terrorism. Well, shortly after that, our neighbors stopped looking at me, and actually shuddered when I walked by, and have been asking Jen a ton of questions about me. Great. They were really nice to me, and then all of a sudden… fear. I wonder if they know I am american and jewish? That would be a joy now, wouldn’t it. Well, I hope things settle down. I hope there isn’t any trouble… although, the worst I can imagine is being run out of town.. but that is highly unlikely. I may just have to do my shopping eleswhere. Fucking asshole American Military. The worst part is that this ‘fighting terrorism’ is total bullshit. You can’t fight terrorism, it’s a tactic, not an enemy. And even if it were, you can’t fight it the way that they are pretending to. Life here is not nearly organized enough to do that. Many people here have never had identity papers. There hardly any real government control in the sense that we measure it here. What we are really doing is trying to keep poor people poor and harmless. We are making freedom of movement, freedom of speech and assembly pay to play activities. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about how much of a total fraud this all is. Actually, that doesn’t make me sick. It is that most people want to believe it.. that is what makes me sick.
Monday January 12th, 2004
Gwinn is coming. Sooner rather than later. My first visitor. This should be quite a trip. I am very excited.
Gwinn's first guest blog is here... everyone rejoice.
gwinn blog entry
march 26, 2003
Intro
It will quickly become apparent what my focus of interest and learning has been while visiting Ben in Lomie: i.e., I wanted to discover what it takes to manage the basics of daily life in a place where most modern conveniences and a centralized utilities infrastructure do not exist. While I’ve observed some things about the society itself (and I will certainly make some anecdotal comments about that later on), I’m not at a point in my French-speaking ability, or social integration, to have much data upon which to base any opinions or conclusions. That’s really Ben’s area of expertise [as he’s had far more experience(s) here than I] and one upon which it would be foolish for me to transgress at this time.
I will say that from the moment I arrived, I began to feel more alive than I have in quite some time. One has to pay attention here to everything. People are in motion constantly. Every activity, from dealing with the most basic bodily functions to having a conversation about the logging industry with a neighbor, requires one’s full engagement. It is simply not possible to slide through much, and, while it can be really tiring, it is also exhilarating and eminently interesting.
So, I will dive into more of what I know (or at least have a better capacity to understand) based on my observations and experiences, so far. I hope this is as interesting to you all to read as it has been for me to live.
Around the House
Household maintenance is more than a full-time job here. As in the “olden days” in the U.S., (and most parts of the world today) women seem to spend the bulk of every day taking care of the basics: cleaning the house, doing laundry, getting/preparing food, and gossiping…(more on that later).
Water
I’ll start with my biggest adjustment and household maintenance consideration: there is no running water here at all (in the bigger towns and cities, e.g. Douala and Yaounde – yes; in Lomie, and all other villages – no, as far as I can tell). This lack means that every single drop of water has to be lugged from one of the town pumps, the closest of which is about 75 meters away. The pump is usually open from 6-10am, and again from 3pm until dusk. Most people fill up several 4-5 gallon buckets at a time, which, when full, are balanced atop the head and carried home, one at a time. I am not nearly coordinated enough to do that, so I carry one at a time back to the house, sloshing a good portion of the hard-pumped water onto my pants and into my shoes. Usually, we get two buckets of water in the morning, and two at night, which have to serve all our water needs: dish washing, drinking water filtering, cooking, sponge baths, toilet “flushing”, watering the garden, etc. On laundry day, I try to rope someone else (i.e., Ben and the infamous Alex, who lives in a room in Ben’s house) into also filling up one of the bigger “tubs”, which holds around 10 gallons. It’s a bitch to carry, even with two people, and there is no way I could do it, even with my slowly strengthening biceps and triceps.
There’s also a lot of waiting around time involved in getting water. I believe there are three other wells/pumps in Lomie; the one near Ben’s house is in the middle of downtown and there is always a line of buckets/people waiting. (It’s clearly a kid responsibility to get the water, so there are always hordes of kids hanging about, playing games while waiting for their turn.) Oftentimes, I’ll go put my buckets in line, head back to the house for a bit and watch from afar as my buckets get moved up in line as the people ahead of me fill theirs. This method works only so far: if someone further up in the line isn’t around, people from behind start jumping ahead, and at a certain point, all order breaks down. Then it becomes a more complicated negotiation of who is deemed worthy of more respect (and can thus fill their buckets first), who has the chutzpah to push their way up to the front of the line, and most likely several other societal nuances that I have no clue about. As a white person, I seem to be afforded a bit of privilege (sometimes) so if it’s unclear about who’s next, someone will often take my buckets and even offer to pump the water for me. I always say, “C’est pas necessaire – tu veut pomper?” And they always seem to want to do it, so, of course, I let them. I’m still not clear on why this happens: Is it a respect thing? Do they get some sort of increase in status by helping me, a white person – and more than that, a white woman with long blondish hair? This is what Jen (Ben’s roommate) seems to think, although I really don’t know… Anyway, I’m not entirely comfortable with it all, but again, I’m happy to let someone else pump (it can get really difficult, as the water table falls rapidly since the pump is well used.) So far, only one (teenaged?) boy has offered to actually carry my buckets back to the house – and I said no thank you. As with the whole pumping thing, I’m not clear on what it means for someone to do things for me, so I didn’t know if that meant he would expect to be paid, or if he thought it would give him license to hang around…or what.
Washing Clothes and Dishes
Again, having to pump/carry all of your water dictates how much cleaning/washing you really want to do.
Doing dishes is pretty straightforward: I heat up some water on the gas cook top, pour it in a dishpan, wash the dishes, dump out the dirty water, get (cold) clean water, rinse and stack.
The necessity and frequency of doing laundry, like everything else, is subject to interpretation: clothes are always worn for more than one day, most often for at least three or four sweaty days at a stretch. Most people here just don’t have/can’t afford much in the way of any possessions, e.g., 3-4 shirts, 2 pairs of pants, a pair of shorts and one pair of “proper” shoes and some flip-flops. Even though I did bring a substantial number of clothes (more than I needed), I’ve adapted to not doing more work than I absolutely have to in this climate and have realized that deodorant can go a long way toward keeping clothes in the “okay to wear again” category.
But, when it is time to do laundry, it all happens in a big tub, by hand. You dump in a bunch of powdered soap (Note: we, the white people, use “fancy” – “Omo” -- laundry soap. Everyone else in Lomie uses the same soap for everything: it’s a big square chunk of all-purpose soap that seems to work fairly well, but doesn’t have the advantage of modern perfumes that help lend the illusion of clothes cleanliness) into the water, then add the clothes, stir them around and let them sit for a couple of hours. According to the soap box, your clothes will magically become clean in a couple of hours. This is apparently not true, as my somewhat chapped hands will attest to. Scrubbing everything with a brush is required, as the red dirt of Cameroon (you Midwesterners, think Oklahoma dirt) infiltrates everything from the moment you step out of bed (or accidentally touch something to the cement floor or anywhere else.) Keeping your clothes clean here is an art, and most Cameroonians have mastered it. Being starched and well-dressed is a point of pride here, and it is amazing to me how many people manage to sport completely clean, crisp white shirts. I walk out the door, and instantly have dirt all over me. I don’t know how they do it.
Oh, and it seems I made a good move when I first got here without even realizing it: I had been here for just a day or so, and I decided to do Ben’s laundry for him. I sat out on the front porch steps to do it -- this activity was apparently noticed by the entirety of the Lomie community. Now everyone thinks I am an extremely hard worker, and a good “wife” for Ben! One can never underestimate the power of a good (if inadvertent) publicity stunt!
Food and Supplies
The stores here seem to sell only canned or packaged goods, and you can buy only a limited number of fruits and vegetables anywhere (bananas, a few tomatoes, onions, potatoes and pineapple, some eggs periodically, although since refrigeration is a luxury here, the egg quality is definitely not a sure thing, as my egg-buying experience of yesterday illustrates: I bought 5 eggs, only one of which was good) during the week. There are no leafy greens to speak of, and it seems difficult to grow them (e.g. conventional lettuce) here, although that may just be because it’s currently the dry season. Ben’s roommate, Jen, has a garden in back of the house, and although now it appears somewhat barren, they tell me they got quite a bit of food from it at the end of last year: peas, carrots, green beans, peppers, herbs (basil does really really well here), radishes, and a few other random things.
Each Saturday, there’s a town market, and if you get there early (5am) you may be lucky enough to get some better tomatoes, manioc, herbs and spices, etc. Everyone here, and I do mean everyone, has a “field” in which they grow their own food so what makes it to the weekly market is only that which is surplus, and that is really not much.
You can, however, buy prepared meals from various women/mini-storefronts throughout town. A “plat” is around 500CFA, which is less than a dollar. This involves taking your own pan/dishes, walking down the main drag, asking each person what they have to sell that day, making a decision and having them dish it up. The standard fare seems to be some combination of: rice, beans, fried plantains, manioc, koki (like a spicy polenta molded and wrapped in a little palm-leaf pyramid) and meat. Despite what I initially intended, I’ve eaten pretty much every kind of dead animal on offer, even monkey. I will not eat monkey again, as it made me ill – both physically (we think something was wrong with it, because everyone who ate it got sick) and mentally. Once I saw the little hands floating in the pot, well, that was the end of that.
The condiment of choice is piment: I don’t know how it’s prepared, but it’s obviously got some sort of extremely spicy pepper in it. It’s pretty yummy, and a little goes a long way.
In general, the food here is quite good, and much tastier than my un-African-traveled mind expected. Much to my surprise, I think I’ve actually gained weight on this trip, as we eat very well every single day. Food and other supplies are also pretty cheap: Ben has allotted 5000CFA ($10) /day and between the two of us, we have not yet spent that much money in a day.
I’ve also had several women offer to teach me how to cook “Camerounais” and if I end up coming back here, I will definitely learn how to do it. (Not least because I will be an object of ridicule if I continue to get “take-out” every day! One of the neighbors, Yolanda, or “Yo Yo”, as she is affectionately called, asks me every day, “Gwinn. Pour quoi tu ne fait pas la cuisine?”
Personal Hygiene
Taking care of one’s body here certainly requires an adjustment of personal hygiene standards.
Bathing
As a wimpy-ass American girl, who is accustomed to sitting in front of her computer all day long, I have to say I’ve realized that I just don’t need to be that clean if it means having to carry big buckets of water to get that way! Everyone else here seems to have no problem (undoubtedly for the reasons I mention above) being fairly stinky, so the sheer fact that I wear deodorant every day puts me in a sweet-smelling category all my own. (Cold) sponge baths are the only option, and I’ve been happy to realize that I can survive on them quite happily.
Defecation
Using the toilet is an experience somewhere between that of an outhouse, and a perpetually backed-up toilet on a septic tank system. I should also clarify “toilet”: it is a toilet bowl, that sits over a hole in the floor that apparently leads to a somewhat larger hole in the ground below the house. There is no seat, no lid, and, most importantly, no tank. So, one hovers over the bowl, hopes that the laws of physics and gravity work as they should, and takes care of business. Then, afterwards, you take a big bucket of water and dump it into the bowl itself, again hoping that everything rushes away, down into the hole in the ground. If you don’t use enough water, things tend to make a reappearance and it’s an unpleasant situation all the way around. However, most people here really do just have some sort of pit latrine out back of their house, so in comparison, I feel pretty fortunate. Oh, and I was also very relieved to find that the little store next door sells toilet paper. No Charmin, but it ain’t leaves or newspaper so thank god for that.
Electricity & Telephone
As you’ve undoubtedly figured out, electricity is available, but there are no telephone capabilities (except satellite phone.) The electricity has, so far, been pretty reliable since I’ve been here. I believe it runs off of a diesel-powered generator, and is shut down between 8-10am every other day (why, I’m not sure.) I did hear that last year the electricity was off for ~3 months (again, I’m not sure why) which would certainly change some things about how people live here. No stereos blaring the same Shania Twain album every few hours, no cold beer (quelle horreur!) and no satellite TV, just to mention a few.
As far as the telephone goes, there is no countrywide infrastructure (although I did see some wired phones in Yaounde), and it seems as if there are no plans to put one in. I believe there are fewer than 5 satellite phones in town, as they are quite expensive to buy/use. I brought one from the US for Ben’s boss, Charly, and just the equipment itself cost around $1000. That’s more than most Cameroonians make in an entire year, and in several years for the vast majority. Making a call costs an average of at least $2-3/minute, so you begin to see why, until someone figures out a way to make cell phones affordable here, that outlying villages will remain essentially isolated. I did see several ads for cell phones in Yaounde, and I believe they are affordable enough for many people who live in larger commercial centers to have one.
Money
Cameroon’s currency is called the Cameroonian Franc (CFA), and the current exchange rate is about 600CFA = $1. There’s not much more to say about money, other than most people don’t have nearly enough (or any) and are constantly trying to figure out a way to get more.
Oh, I do have one other thing to say about money: in general, it seems like things cost the stated price, i.e., there is less “bargaining” for basic supplies than I had anticipated. I do think I’ve been ripped off a few times, to the tune of a hundred CFA ($.20) but so far, I’ve not been seriously cheated. I think Ben has had some different experiences with people trying to blatantly take advantage of his ignorance early on in his sojourn here, but as of yet, that hasn’t happened to me. (This is most likely due to the fact that I haven’t had to purchase any big ticket items – Ben has dealt with all of that, and is savvy enough to know when to negotiate.)
Transportation
Vehicles
In town, the vehicle of choice is the motorcycle. There are a number of motorcycle taxis, upon which you can get a ride for about 100CFA/kilometer (???). Many of the area NGOs also have motorcycles, and you can see people zipping about all day long, doing what, I’m not exactly sure.
Several people have cars in varying stages of working order, and they seem to spend quite a bit of time getting them repaired, obtaining the necessary parts, etc.
Other vehicles on the road include various NGOs’ 4x4 SUVs (although one does wonder how long something that has essentially been turned into the vehicle of choice for American soccer moms can really last on the rutted paths that pass for roads here), a few bicycles and the ubiquitous Grumiers. Grumiers are the really big trucks that continually haul away the last of the Cameroonian primary growth trees from the local area rainforest.
In order to get from one town to another, most people have to take the “bus.” The bus costs about $10 to get from Yaounde to Lomie (~300km). I know Ben has written about the “bus” before, but the experience is so intense, it deserves another telling. First off, the “bus” (and I promise I will cease placing it in quotes here in a minute) requires some definition: it is actually a passenger van (usually Toyota), with a couple of special modifications made to it. Steel bars have been welded across the ceiling, to provide for reinforcement. This is an absolute necessity, as the amount of stuff that’s piled on the van equals the height of the van body itself. It also seems that an additional bench seat has been added to the interior, so that instead of it holding the 10-12 passengers for which it was originally designed, it’s possible to cram in at least 20. On the trip down, we were sitting 5 people to a seat, for a total of 24 (including the driver) and I am using the word “sitting” loosely. The trip took us around 9 hours, and for 5 of that I had a woman sitting squarely on my lap. (At several points I wondered to myself if having a leg that “fell asleep” for hours on end could result in a required amputation.) There is not one millimeter of space to move in, and all of my previously held notions of what “dirty sweatiness” might entail took a quantum leap into another dimension of meaning.
All in all though, and I know I’m weird, I enjoyed the trip down, as I was squished up right next to a window so I could see everything and everyone we drove by. I know the novelty would quickly wear off, but my first time was pretty interesting.
Roads
The roads here are all dirt. I saw a few paved roads in Yaounde, but even there, dirt appears to be the norm. As far as I can tell, the notion of a “road grader” is nonexistent, (or, more likely, there’s simply no money to pay for one) so the roads are full of ruts and holes and giant bumps requiring a slow-down to about 5mph each time one is encountered. So, what could really be about a 4-hour trip from Yaounde to Lomie ends up taking at least 9 hours, and apparently that’s considered making good time. During the rainy season I hear that the roads are completely impassable and it is not uncommon to be stranded for days at a time while one waits for the roads to dry out enough to attempt to traverse.
Society/Culture
As I mentioned before, this is a big one and a topic upon which I don’t feel that I know much about, so far. Much of what I’ve “learned” has really been told to me by Ben and/or Jen. I have no reason to doubt what they say (most of you know Ben, in particular, has this annoying habit of being right almost all of the time), but it is important to know that I don’t have much first-hand experience to base my opinions on. Also, the fact that I am a woman (and to a somewhat lesser extent, although obviously significant in its own way, a white woman) would undoubtedly lend itself to a different experience than Ben’s if I were to actually live here.
People
Most everyone I’ve met to date has been very warm and nice – men, women and children. People tend to live in large family units, and it is the norm for a few adult women to live in the same house with at least one or two men, and a whole passel of kids. Polygamy is also in practice here, and I know of several men who all have more than one wife – everyone lives together in the same house, and from the tiny bit I know about it, all seems to work fine.
The “houses” are more like compounds, containing a main structure and a few smaller structures. I’m not sure how everything is arranged, but I do know that most everyone (except for Ben, ‘cause he lives in the white man house) has a traditional Cameroonian kitchen, which is to say, one cooks over an open fire.
I’ve had primarily superficial interactions with most adults I’ve come in contact with, with the exception of a few people: Alex (who we think is about 25, but seems to have the emotional maturity of a teenager), Petit (who is somewhere between 15-19; he is a complete ham, is rumored to be an amazing dancer, and he loves to draw), Charly (Director of the GECEC – credit union -- Ben’s boss, late 20s or early 30s, smooth operator, handsome and amiable, probably one of the – if not the – most sophisticated people in town), Brigitte (late 20s, works with Ben, seems nice and friendly, although I have a hard time understanding her French so it’s hard to really make any sort of connection), Eric (mid-20s, Charly’s brother – he runs all of Charly’s “other”, i.e., under-the-table businesses, super nice guy; I’ve been tutoring him in English most afternoons for about three hours, as he is attempting to pass his baccalaureate exam for the third time), and Patrice & Antoinette (couple in their mid-30s, fairly sophisticated, Patrice is one of the very few – less than 5 – people in town who has been outside of Cameroon; they invited Ben, me, Jen and Brian, another VSO volunteer who was visiting for a few days, to dinner last week and put out quite a spread. We even had a bottle of wine, which indicates a truly special occasion, and a really big deal. They’re both pretty nice, although, again, a bit hard to read, I think not only because of the language barrier, but also because they have enough experience with white people to be a bit wary, and rightfully so.)
So far I’ve had no problems with men yelling at me, wanting to touch me, making rude comments or anything like that. Of course, it’s also entirely possible that because I can’t understand Cameroonian French terribly well, any semi-undesirable comments have just passed completely over my head! But in any case, I just say “bonjour”, smile and continue on my merry way.
The women have been uniformly nice, and, apparently open to and interested in getting to know me better. As with women everywhere, I do feel that tiny bit of reserve that manifests itself in the “glance of assessment”: who are you, what are you about, will I need to compete with you in any way, where do you fall in my social hierarchy, will I be able to trust you, etc. As a white woman, I think I exist outside of their hierarchy, which is an advantage in some ways, but not so much in others. As an American, I and my behavior are subject to review against everyone’s notions of what Americans are like, how much money we have, what we know and are capable of, and how we can benefit them. It does seem to be possible to make real female friendships here (Jen seems to have made a few real friends) but I’m unsure as to how the whole equality thing would play out. I clearly have more material advantages than anyone here (men or women) and I can leave at any time. Additionally, it’s clear that I will be leaving (soon, in a week) and while I may come back, that will also be for a set period of time. It’s certain that I will not live here for the rest of my life, and while my generation of Americans has adopted more nomadic living habits, that is really not the case here. People do move to different villages (marriage being a primary motivator), but as it takes a lot of effort (and time) to get even a finger-hold of stability established, most people seem to live, and die, in the same place.
Kids run around wild everywhere, and their parents seem to pay very little attention to them as long as they are out of the way. Any misbehavior results in some pretty serious yelling and often a beating, as corporal punishment is alive and well here. Ben is very patient with the kids (much more so than me; I’m more in the camp of “oh they’re cute until I’m sick of them” and then I flip over into “children should be seen and not heard” mode) so they are constantly in and out of the house, rolling about on the floor, playing with rocks, screaming loudly, and just generally having a good time being kids. One activity that occupied the little neighbor girls early on was braiding my hair. Apparently they all learn how to braid at a very young age, and were fascinated to touch my (straight) hair and put it into braids.
Several of the children appear to be either mostly or entirely neglected. One little boy comes over almost every day, and he has been dubbed “no name” kid because no one knows (or can elicit) his name, nor where he lives. A few of the little girls have varying problems (like a propensity for theft, or pooping in the so-called water cistern – which doesn’t actually hold water) and it’s not uncommon to see them wearing the same dirty, ill-fitting clothes day after day. Sigh.
Communication
Since there are no telephones, the only way to talk to someone is to stop by and see them in person. People come by the house several times a day, for various reasons, and I’ve been surprised at how nice it’s been to not hear the ringing of the telephone all day long. There’s something about having to talk to someone f2f that makes the communications more human, solid and real. I like it quite a bit, although the constant stream of traffic can make it difficult to engage in tasks (like writing!) that require a certain amount of focus.
In general, people here seem to act much as they do in small towns the world over. They are concerned with, and talk about who is saying/doing what about/with whom, who is perceived as having the most power, who owes whom money, etc., etc.
Work
Some people here have “office” jobs, like those that work at GECEC with Ben, but the vast majority of people seem to be some sort of a merchant. Someone gets a hold of a few cartons of cigarettes and a bunch of bananas and Voila! Insta-Store, with nothing more required than a chair and small table. I noticed this in Yaounde as well, and was struck at how it seemed that the entire city was one big marketplace. Little tables lined every street, and it is obvious the commercial and entrepreneurial spirit runs rampant here.
Other work consists of, obviously, housework and fieldwork. For example, Brigitte, who I mention above, is the Controller for GECEC, so works all day long in the office – then tends her field during the evening and/or on the weekend. The women (and some, although fewer, of the men) work extremely hard here, and manage to pump out a number of kids to boot.
Entertainment
From what I’ve observed, many people seem to have satellite television, and most everyone has some sort of stereo or radio. Music blares loudly and continuously from the several bars that line Lomie’s main street, and unfortunately, people here seem to like the worst of bad North American pop (think Celine Dion). I have heard some great (recorded) African music, although I have no idea who the artists might be.
It doesn’t appear that there’s much in the way of live musical performances (other than some infrequent drumming, and the music the Pygmies make, both of which I have yet to see/hear) which is somewhat surprising to me, considering how much singing I hear on a regular basis. For example, last Sunday, one of the women’s tontines* met at the house next door. After their meeting, they all stood outside the front door in a large circle, singing, clapping and dancing, taking turns dancing individually in the center of the circle. I have no idea what they were singing about, but it looked like they were having a lot of fun doing it.
*Tontine = a women’s collective. Each member contributes a certain amount of money to the group “account”, which is then used to make certain business investments. For example, one of the women’s tontines here in Lomie is raising money to buy a grinder.
So, my computer is working, and soon, I will have a guest blogger to keep everyone up to date, and give a fresh perspective. I have been a bit swamped. When I got back, Jen was pretty much on the verge of not only being fired by CIAD, but the director is also a deputy mayor, and threatened to have her put in jail if she didn't leave. Needless to say, I have been in political overdrive for the past few days, trying to prevent this meltdown. Things seem to be stable enough for me to write a bit, and get back to working. Things are never boring here.
the miracle of satelite communication
Sunday January 11th, 2004
locke > traceroute 81.255.24.153
traceroute to 81.255.24.153 (81.255.24.153), 64 hops max, 40 byte packets
1 dyson.cliq.org (131.161.246.1) 0.538 ms 0.538 ms 0.463 ms
2 ge-0-1-1-40.pa.via.net (157.22.13.131) 2.625 ms 2.628 ms 2.651 ms
3 f17.ba01.b003123-1.sfo01.atlas.cogentco.com (66.28.28.41) 3.336 ms 2.720 ms 3.214 ms
4 g1-0.core02.sfo01.atlas.cogentco.com (66.28.6.5) 3.661 ms 3.477 ms 3.458 ms
5 p15-0.core01.sfo01.atlas.cogentco.com (66.28.4.69) 3.462 ms 3.500 ms 3.316 ms
6 p14-0.core01.ord01.atlas.cogentco.com (66.28.4.186) 49.213 ms 49.291 ms 49.475 ms
7 p6-0.pr01.ord03.atlas.psi.net (154.54.2.238) 50.519 ms 49.218 ms 49.304 ms
8 Ge3-1.CHICR2.Chicago.opentransit.net (193.251.250.57) 49.356 ms 49.178 ms 50.65 ms
9 P4-0.CHICR1.Chicago.opentransit.net (193.251.243.213) 49.561 ms 49.326 ms 49.449 ms
10 P9-0.NYKCR2.New-york.opentransit.net (193.251.242.249) 84.206 ms 84.530 ms 83.873 ms
11 P11-0.NYKCR3.New-york.opentransit.net (193.251.242.210) 83.707 ms 84.681 ms 83.829 ms
12 P4-0.PASCR1.Pastourelle.opentransit.net (193.251.241.133) 158.822 ms 158.882 ms 158.730 ms
13 pos6-0.ntsta202.Paris.francetelecom.net (193.251.126.157) 159.55 ms 159.694 ms 159.342 ms
14 pos14-0.ntaub201.Aubervilliers.francetelecom.net (193.252.161.30) 159.446 ms 159.127 ms 159.197 ms
15 pos9-0.nrpoi101.Poitiers.francetelecom.net (193.251.126.169) 166.178 ms 167.138 ms 166.123 ms
16 pos9-0.nctou301.Toulouse.francetelecom.net (193.252.100.85) 167.603 ms 167.217 ms 168.64 ms
17 POS-1-0.TLSG1.Toulouse.raei.francetelecom.net (194.51.162.94) 172.82 ms 171.940 ms 172.301 ms
18 ATM-1-0-0.511.TLS11.Toulouse.transitip.raei.francetelecom.net (81.52.11.186) 167.470 ms 167.944 ms 167.686 ms
19 81.54.148.58 (81.54.148.58) 181.854 ms 181.65 ms 180.388 ms
20 193.252.234.196 (193.252.234.196) 177.609 ms 182.327 ms 195.756 ms
21 193.252.234.201 (193.252.234.201) 183.541 ms 182.712 ms 184.319 ms
this is what it takes for my packets to go from Lomié to Locke. How cool is that.
Friday January 9th, 2004
I seem to be having some trouble with the Lomie.net set up. Locke has been all aces in getting to the bottom of the problem. Lomié will be online for real soon… well, at leat it will have email. I have had several people come up to me and want to know when they can start looking for husbands and wives (white ones preferably) on the internet. At first I tried to explain the limitations of the system that is going to be set up here.. but I soon gave that up. Now the answer is… you can’t do that from here.
Thursday January 8th, 2004
There is a baka con artist here.. that I believe I have talked about before, who tried to sell me honey this evening. Justin. So.. most Baka are very shy, totally nice, and don’t mix with the Bantu. Justin is… well, he carves wooden objects, hangs around town drinking palm wine, and is pretty much a con artist. He ripped George off. I have given him nothing, and plan on giving him nothing. He is a bit confused by me, but undaunted. Last night George and Jen were working and talking about CIAD politics, which are fucking brutal. I was working on my computer, chatting. A knock on the door. My favorite Baka, Justin… with another Baka, who was very shy. Justin wanted to sell us some honey. Now the thing is, I really like honey and have wanted some pure jungle honey… especially the kind harvested by Baka. They climb straight up the trees using vines and such… Tarzan style, people hand up burning sticks afterwards, and they wave the smoking sticks around the hive, reach into the hole in the tree, pulling out honeycomb… getting stung. Down below, people are making baskets out of leaves to hold the goodies. They come down, and leave as fast as possible (bees, apparently, are like sharks, and can smell the honey from far away, and come after it). So, this is what I want some of… but Justin came at a bad time, is the wrong person, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. When I told him I was working, and that he should leave because we weren’t interested… he got mad, insulted me, and then walked into the house to talk to Jen and George (who were oblivious to the goings on). I got mad, got up (I am easily more than twice his size), and chased him out. One step further, and I would have kicked some pygmy ass. I only like to fight people who are much smaller than me…
Oh, and speaking of people I want to hit, Alex came back triumphant. Motor, freon, and other assorted fridge repair parts and gas for the stove.. Someone told me afterwards, this was the most responsible thing he has ever done in his life. I think that Charly even threatened him bigtime before he left to get the stuff. Now it is a matter of seeing whether or not Izzy is a bit of a fraud as well. He so hypes his ability to fix everything, that I have my doubts, but I really want to give him the chance to solve this for me if he can.
Wednesday January 7th, 2004
Charly got a new car. There are roughly a dozen vehicles in town, not including the logging trucks, busses (read.. vans), and those just passing through. Now Charly has one. It is purple. It is a toyota. It has tinted windows, and low slung suspension. It has furry seats. It is a pimpin’ vehicle. It will last about a month here before breaking down. I think he blew the speakers getting it down here. Seriously. Charly has a slick urban aesthetic, but lives in Lomié. I suggested that he raise the suspension, but I was told that would hurt the car in the long run. I thought… hmm. Long run. That is optimistic. Half of the people think: wow. GECEC must be doing well, Charly got a car… I’m going to put my money there. The other half think: wow. Charly got a car… I’m not putting my money in GECEC, he’s stealing it all to pay for a car. I think: selling bootleg whiskey, gas, and illegal cable is profitable.
We had an innaugural toast at a bar.. at the other end of town… you know, not to mix with the hoi polloi, and to have an excuse to drive. It is, of course, less than 150ft away…but we all drove anyway. Pulled a table outside, so we could drink and admire the fine automobile, which has been named.. um.. something in zime that means little girl. We drank, and toasted, and the driver had to drink soda.. much to his chagrin. Oh, did I forget to tell you that Charly doesn’t drive? Oh sure, he has a license, and he did drive someone else’s car back from the new years bash drunk beyond comprehension (I’m too drunk to walk, that is why I have to drive), but he bought the license straight up and drove the other car…well, about 150 feet. See, Lomié isn’t that big. It takes almost as long to turn the car around on the main road as it does to drive from one end to another…but people here make people in LA seem like hiking fanatics. I wonder where he will get parts when it starts to break down.
Tuesday January 6th, 2004
I am sending Alex to get fridge parts so that Izzy can fix it. They both really want to, and I really want the fridge to be working. So, I give Alex money, warn him, and send him off. After he gets on the bus, someone tells me that Alex has never had this much responsibility given to him before. Great. Well, if he fucks it up, I have enough to go to Charly, and get his endorsement of my evicting Alex.
when misery becomes normal.. is it tragedy?
Monday January 5th, 2004
CIAD politics are getting bad. CIAD, for those of you who need a refresher, is where Jen and George work. The newest update is that the current directrice Sorel, has decided not to come back to work after the holidays. The office is locked, and no one has the keys. The pisteurs from the Gorilla project have not been paid in.. well, a long time. No one can do anything. She might be in Yaoundé doing politics with George (not VSO George, but the head of the board of directors.. a powerful native son of Lomié). Who knows, but clearly, being here is a priority.. which is interesting since all of the funding may fall through as they have apparenlty, not lived up to the requirements from the donors. Sigh. Self destruction seems to be a great skill here abouts.
Saturday January 3rd, 2004
Surprise. Alex is back. Apparently he wasn’t really welcome at the funeral.. and even more.. It happened a day late, so he didn’t need to rush out there as he had isnsisted. They made him sleep on the ground, and generally ignored him. He isn’t drunk though.. so that is a plus. He did find out more about what happened to his sister though, and it is pretty horrible. She was hemoraging vaginally, or uterinely (is that a word?) for a few days before Christmas, but her uncle (where she was living in A’mong M’bang) didn’t want to take time away from the Christmas masses and other religious events to take her to the hospital, so they waited until after Christmas. When they finally took her, it was too late, and she apparently had a massive bleeding session, and died less than a half hour of getting to the hospital. My thoughts? One of three things probably happened. One, the least likely in my very unprofessional opinion, is that she had some biological malfunction upon reaching puberty. Two, she had an abortion that was badly done, and bled to death. Three, she was raped, and had been damaged in the process, and then bled to death… or any combination of the three. Not pretty thoughts, but hard to ignore. The tragic thing is that Alex attributed it to some family curse, and left it at that. I didn’t chose to bring up my thoughts on the subject as I don’t feel it is my place, or that it would help in any way… but damn.
Thursday January 1st, 2004
I got out of last night’s heavy drinking binge because they told me the wrong place. I mean, I knew exactly where it was, when I realised that it wasn’t where they told me it was, but still. I had my out. I had a nice dinner with George and Jen, walked to the salle de fetes, saw no one, and snuck home. Lame, but as I passed the SNV building (where it was) I saw Alex there (who was wearing a scarf in honor of his dead sister), taking with Izadore, and both were visiblly drunk from 60ft. I got home, and fell asleep.
Alex came by today. Charly promised him money to get to the village where his sister was going to be burried (because he missed the truck that was heading down)… but Charly was asleep. Would I give him money. The answer was.. not until he had talked to Charly. He went off looking for Charly. Charly, who had been drinking VEERRYYY heavily the night before (and Charly is not a drinker, so it must have been something to behold), could not be woken up. I agreed to give Alex money, but only on the condition that he understand that is was Charly’s money, and that I was helping Charly and not him. I feel like an asshole, but I am tired of being the Bank of Ben for Alex… and besides, he has been drunk for well over a week straight, and wouldn’t have missed the free ride down if he hadn’t been fucked up. So, we negotiated a price, I gave him money to get change, with instructions to go to the store and buy cookies and eggs. The store is less than 50 feet away. He came back with cookies and cigarettes. I don’t know how he managed to fuck it up in less than 50 ft…but he did. He took the money –forgot about the cigarettes, and left. The good news is that he is going to be gone for a week.. or at least, that is the plan. I don’t think he can finish anything he starts, so I expect him back sooner.
Oh, did I mention that when I expressed my sympathy, he immediately grabbed on to that as an opportunity to see if he could use my camera to film the event.. when I said no, how about the still camera, no? How about the DAT recorder? Still no. He would be getting great footage he promised. Nice to know that his sister’s death can come in handy. So what is worse… say no, or him asking?
Wednesday December 31st, 2003.
Well, today I spent most of my time figuring out how to get out of having to go to the new years eve party. See, most people here, or at least many, have been drunk for almost a week straight. Tonight, there needs to be a party that puts the end-cap on the holiday season. That party is being held, and hosted by the local elite. It is a big event, and I have been solomnly invited by a few people as a great honor.. then it is followed by a description of heavy drinking. This is something that I would love to see, but I really don’t want to drink… and actually, I don’t want be there, I just want to see it. Were I but a fly on the wall. Alas, I have to get my –getting out of something I don’t want to do- skills honed. If I can’t think of anything I may have to go. I am having a quiet dinner chez George early in the evening.
Tuesday December 30st, 2003
Lomie,net is now extant. Much thanks to Gwinn (for registering the domain…you did didn’t you?). Tomas, and mostly Locke’s efforts (thank you very much Locke), Lomie.net is alive. Now I can start to build on it. It is going to a while before I figure out what will work for people here, but a the very least, the Gorilla Habituation project site will go up soon. I am still having trouble with mail. I’m going to have to work on that.
Monday December 29th, 2003
Alex’s sister died today.. or yesterday. She died of what sounds a bit like hemoragic fever, or at least massive hemoraging. This is his actual sister, 13, same mother, same father. He is shocked and sad, which I can understand. She is the only full sibling he has.. although, he hasn’t lived with her for years, and I’m not sure how often he even saw her. The funeral is Thursday because no one is going to interfere with the holidays.
Sunday December 28th, 2003
Have I written about our Peace Corps volunteer down the road? I think he joined the Peace Corps and shipped over with some very distinct notions of going to show these people the right way to do things. I think he was under the impression that no one had properly explained the situation to the locals, and once they understood the situation things would straighten right out. I think he is far braver than I. He speaks little french, and has never left the US before. He is also my age, or a bit older, so this isn’t a starry eyed youth. He is working, part time in health, and part time for the John’s Hopkins project. Carey is the first white person to live in N’goyla. Carey has yet to take his shoes off and have his feet touch African soil. Carey asks lots and lots of questions, because he thinks there is ‘an answer’ to Africa. Carey would be shocked and saddened to find out that I eat bushmeat. We had a long discussion about the finer points of Star Trek. Carey, for lack of a better term, and I say this with affection, is a queen. He is Carey the Jungle Queen, and I think he would find that funny. Carey is the progeny of a southern, deeply religious (well, the american version of religious) and conservative familly. He has a strong and distinct personality, that I’m sure that helped him survive growing up. He has many of the same traits as conservative religious folks I’ve met (fixed view of the world, moral absolutism, etc) except his are on the liberal side. I’ve actually never really met someone who followed a liberal agenda the same way that the conservatives follow theirs. Well, he is either going to change, or leave. Both of those worldviews are equally anacronistic, simplistic, and useless here. I’m not sure if I am doing him justice. I like Carey, but that might be because I like people with strong personalities. I mean, that he even came is testemony to his spirit, that he is throwing himself into this full on is brave… and a bit suicidal. Anyway, Carey stopped by again today, and has been by a few times. I haven’t really wanted to talk about him much, as homosexuality is a very big taboo here, and I’m not sure what Peace Corps policy; and I don’t want to get him in trouble, even by accident.
Saturday December 27th, 2003
Saturday December 27th, 2003
Today was my first funeral. It wasn’t a real funeral. I was a remembrance ceremony, so I still haven’t seen a deuil… the ashes on the face kind of funeral. The patriarch of Brigittes family (I work with her) died last year, and there was a ceremony with lots of speeches, and a very catholic mass. To be perfectly honest, it was kind of boring. The best thing about it was some footage I got of kids singing, and the few minutes of women preparing the food... Other than that…whew organized religion is boring. Oh, I did get to spend some quality time with some of the Camerounian elite. That wasn’t very interesting either. Don’t get me wrong, everyone was very nice, the food was good, and the conversation interesting at times… but it was a bunch of people who are hellbent on having what I am walking away from. So, basically, it was polite conversation. The only part that got intersting is when I asked them why they keep looking to outsiders to build their country? I used the specific example of geovic… why did it have to be an american company doing this. Couldn’t some Camerounian hire the specialists needed to run this? There was vociferous agreement from a few, and a notable lack of comment from some of the most –everything european is great- folks. I realised that for some here, dropping the europe card is like quoting Shakespeare. It is a weapon of elitism… not that Shakespeare isn’t great (just like Europe), but it is certainly a tool for intimidation.
Oh, and Alex, who got a lecture from me the night before on working the funeral with me, didn’t show up in the morning as I has requested. So I took off without him… and we passed him on the way… much to his surprise.. and even more so when he waived and expected to be picked up, I told the person driving to just keep going. Not surprisingly, he found a way to get to the village where the funeral was (oh, did I forget to mention that? It wasn’t in Lomié, it was in a village about 15km away). He wanted to help, and I told him, when he shows up when I need the help, then he can help, he wasn’t going to help when it was convenient to him. Oh, and he has been pretty much drunk for 4 days straight now.
Friday December 26th, 2003
Today was a lost day. Apparently something I ate didn’t agree with me. Maybe my body is so unused to alcohol that rebelled. Maybe the combination of travel, visitors, and lack of sleep finally cought up with me. I went back to sleep after my guests left. I slept for a few hours, threw up for a bit, and went back to sleep. Tomorrow I have to go film a funeral for Brigitte (who works at the gecec). I hope I feel better… although after puking a bit, I feel much better.
-
Thursday December 25th, 2003
Everyone is drunk. Going on two days straight. We get a lot of visitors. Most asking for money, some just wishing us well. The days activities consist mostly of preparing food, getting water, and sitting around. David, a random american who is in town waiting for his friend before they go on a pirogue trip of their own.. although much more ambitions than our two day forray... stops by. We have a great, and extended chat. He is a writer… or aspiring. I have no idea.. but he is smart, and likes talking about abstract and large ideas. This is my christmas present.. a totally pretentious discussion with someone who comes from the same context as I do.. and doesn’t have a simplistic view of right and wrong. Anne is making gin and tonics. I drink and talk for a few hours with David. We cover politics (at the macro level), society, human existance, art, history… every pretentious utterly useless topic there is. It was like scratching an itch. By the time I kick him out, and return to paying attention to my other guests, it is almost dinner time. George is invited as well. We have a 5 course meal. It is fantastic. Two bottles of wine, one, actually good, the other descent. Salad with goat cheese to start. A squash soup with bacon on top. Porcupine curry. Vegitables with melted cheese on top, Fried bananas with melted chocolate on top for desert. They all go to bed early, as their bus leaves at 4am in the morning. I stayed up to put together a short video, that I burned to CD for them as a memento of their jungle trek… I worked until 2am on it… and got up at 4 to see them off.
Here we go again. I am back and relatively caught up. So we are all off to the races again.
Tuesday December 23rd, 2003
I get up at about 5:30, as do we all, since the village chief puts on the radio to listen to the news. It is very strange hearing about the performance of futures markets while in Karagua. After a breakfast of bread and tea… the containers of which we leave behind as a present, we head out. It starts off very well. A beautiful toucan sighting, and a monkey sighting within the first 30 minutes… and this before we even head into the jungle. We turn into the jungle. Wow. So, Kungulu, the other village involved with the habituating of gorillas, raided their forest. Karagua, on the other hand, is unmolested. Absolute magic. So first of all, when you leave the road, and cut into the jungle, the temperature drops a good 10-15 degrees, and the dampness mounts.. or is more noticable. The second thing that happens.. is I start to sweat. Profusely. I am a bit strange, but it is one of the things that I really like about trecking in the forest. I am totally soaked within 20 minutes. We continue hiking, and I continue taking pictures. I am starting to get a better handle on how to take pictures of the forest. It is still far to dense, and chaotic for my eyes, let alone a camera. We hike for what feels like hours, but is probably an hour or so… regularly seeing tracks and trails of gorillas. Then.. after some particularly fun stream crossings, the trackers are on to fresh tracks. One of the trackers is Baka, and the other Bantu. Both nice, and pretty quiet. The lead tracker is Baka. Older, or at least the forest has aged him. And tall for a pygmy… somewhere around 5 feet tall. We go tromping around and find the nest…apparently from the night before. The trackers ask us to wait for a bit, not mentioning the obvious, that a large group of white people will only hinder their search for signs of Gorillas. So, let me note again.. these are not the Rwandan, or Ugandan mountain gorillas. These are western lowlands gorillas, and they move fast. They aren’t habituated, and don’t sit still for tourists. The trackers come back to get us, and away we go… cross country. Well, country is a bit misleading. Through the dense jungle, not on a path, but heading through the thickest parts. Thorny vines, savage ants, mud, banches… sharpened sticks shooting from carefully placed traps.. OK, no sharpened sticks.. but it certainly felt like it. It was not easy keeping up with the Baka guide, who is half my size, born and raised in the jungle… and me with my camera, backpack and big ass… oh, and all of this has to be quiet. Sneaky quiet so that we don’t scare the gorillas away. An hour of this later, bleeding from a few cuts and gashes, we seem to be getting close. The air itself is different. The other animals seem like they are also holding their breath. We can hear them. Soft noises. We stop as the trackers try to get closer, and pinpoint their exact location. I prepare my weapon of choice (my video camera… which is better than my still camera). The trackers come back. The whole group is their, but the male has separated to the side a bit.. and he is our goal. The thing is, the group would be easier to see, but if we go after them without him seeing us, or being comfortable with us their… that leads to trouble.. and a few weeks ago the new head of the SNV in Cameroon came with his family, and ran scared when the male screamed at them (they didn’t even see him.. just heard him, pissed their pants, and left. Apparently, the yell is that scary). At this point, the trackers pick up speed, I follow but the others are having a bit of trouble keeping up. I ask the Bantu guide if he would carry my backpack, which he did. This freed me up immensely. I was now able to keep up with the Baka guide.. albiet he was much quieter. We are at the base of a hill, and turn to the left. The Baka stops. I stop. We listen. I hear the adult male almost breathing… but really, I just feel his presence. We continue along the side of the hill without climbing. The gorilla heads off. We see some fresh prints, and follow. At this point it is less about the Baka guiding, and more about the two of us tracking the gorilla down together… as the last two sets of prints I found before he did. I was also able to tell how fast the gorilla was going because of where the weight was being distributed in the print. I made my observations, and the Baka agreed. We continue to head a bit down and around the hill. The Baka stops again. Suddenly this time. My camera has been on for the past few minutes just in case. I hear the gorilla again. The Baka points. I don’t see anything. Damn jungle chaos is still to much for me. Then, I see it. A large dark shadow moving through the undergrowth. Maybe I have it on video, maybe I don’t. It doesn’t matter. He is off. We follow, but it is pretty clear that our game of cat and mouse is over. I don’t feel him anymore, and the prints are harder to find. The most amazing thing to me is how something so big can move so quickly through such dense forest hardly making a sound. We stop for a bit, and the others catch up. We continue looking for a bit, and realize that we have pretty much circled about half way around the hill. We rest and chat a bit. Apparently, the group has a pregnant female, and that slows them down a bit. The dominant male probably led us around the side of the hill while the others went in the other direction, because they were gone. Smart these gorillas. We discuss whether or not to continue after them today, but decide against it, as we are all carrying our bags, and we have been plowing through jungle for a few hours now. We find the trail again, and head to camp.
At the camp, the other two trackers are hanging out… having carried the food and other supplies with them in the dugout canous. We make lunch (rice and veggies), and set up our tents, and clean up a bit in the stream near camp. I am tired. It was only 4 or 5 hours of treking, but damn, half of it was in a constant crouching position, with constant acrobatics to avoid the thorns where possible. I also was getting a bit of grief for having taken off with the baka…which I can understand. The afternoon is over before we know it. Night falls very quickly in the jungle, and by 6 it is dark out. Not dusk, dark. We make dinner (rice with fish and veggies) and chat with each other and the guides. We talk CIAD politics, pay, and other stuff. Everyone is pretty psyched, it was a good day… and for the others, this was their first trip into the jungle. Even Mariacah enjoyed herself immensely. I mean, if this doesn’t effect you, nothing will. We are all asleep by 9.
Sunday December 21st, 2003
The rather ambitious goal of today was to head down to Karagua, the other village involved with the Gorilla Habituation project. We fell a bit short of that. I spent a full day trapsing around Lomié trying to track down Achille, who was in Among Mbang, either sick, or visiting his girl on the side; trying to get a car to take us down, trying to get food for the trip, sending Mary and Ludo to get water from the pump; trying to get into the CIAD office to get the tents and sleeping mats… I started negotiating at 9 am, and it didn’t stop until 8pm.. with.. well, not much accomplished. I mean, I had some fun doing the over the top negotiating, but I think that the others were a bit nervous about all of the yes/no/yes/no/maybe nature. The status at the end of the day was: one tent and food. No other tent, car, permission to go (well, a note really).
My guests spent the day relaxing around the house… sitting on the porch, and watching Lomié pass by. Everyone stopped by to see who all was there. One drunk crazy man with a bad arm kept coming by. Begging for money. Every time I approached him, he stuck his bad arm out and started to yell that the white man was beating him, then he would collapse on the ground in a heap, again, keeping his bad arm in front of him like a shield. I picked him up, and escorted him away. He came back every hour or so, only to be chased away each time.. and not always by me. My neighbors show far less tolerance of him. My drunk landlady made a visit. Justin, the baka con-artist made a visit. So between negotiating and chasing away crazy people and drunk people begging, I had a busy day with some of humanitiy’s more irritating social traits.
Monday December 22nd, 2003
The day started where Sunday left off. Negotiating. I start the day with a visit from Michel the eco-tourist man in town, who was hoping that I would be going with him into the jungle with my guests.. (who in the meantime have been sitting on the porch and getting talked to by everyone in town.) only to be visibly dissapointed when I ask him if he has a tent that I can borrow. He tells me I have to talk to the ECCO fac guys. Which I put on clothes and do. I spend some time talking to them, schmoozing really, and then they let me take a tent. Very nice of them, I must say. I get word while there that we may have a car. How much are we willing to pay. I say 30, but 40 if necessary. Now I’m off to the hospital with Anne to pay a visit to Jeanne, George’s girlfriend, who has the worlds first case of communicable Heart Disease. Apparently, she went to the hospital the day that George left with Pete, showing similar symptoms. Hey, she doesn’t want George to leave, so she’s trying everything.. including ‘catching’ a heart attack. Sick is sick right? So, why are we visiting? George has the keys to CIAD’s inner sanctum where they keep the tents. It was suggested that Jeanne may have them in his absence. I doubt it.. seriously,.. but Jeanne had called me from her death bed the night before, either to ask for money, or get a message to George. I blew her off. Today, I came with a white doctor to make up for it. So, Anne spends a few minutes checking in on her, and I ask about the keys. Anne and the doctor make an appointment to chat in a few hours. We head back. The word comes through that man with the car is set on the price of 40k (80$ for a 40 mile trip, back and forth for 4 people..well 5 if Alex is tagging along). I get back, and the driver is there. I think the deal is done, but no. The negotiation starts all over again. 25 minutes of over the top “someone get me a knife, so I can cut open my arms and give you the blood from my veins, because that is all I have left to offer” kind of negotiation. He agrees to 40, and with the ECCOfac tent, we have everything. Meanwhile Anne heads up to the hospital for the courtesy visit. We pack, and finish getting provisions, and pick her up as we head out… saving her from a long visit to a place she will probably never see again.
We take the same fantastic ride through the jungle that I took last time down, in a very packed car.. with Alex. I have some fantastic video from the ride. We get to the village Monday at about 2pm. We meet the chief, and some of the other people in town. No question of us going out today. We spend the afternoon and evening chatting with the chief, presenting our gifts, taking a walk to the local fishing hole, and visiting in the village, and cleaning up. The ride got us nice and dirty. We had ant-eater and rice for dinner, then we listened to a bit of radio from Congo (the chief’s pride and joy is his radio so that he can stay on top of world news). Bed at around 9. The Chief and the pisteurs seem confident that we will see Gorillas. I think they are blowing smoke up our ass, but you never know. The important part is: torrow we go looking for gorillas. I am very excited.
Sunday December 21st, 2003
The rather ambitious goal of today was to head down to Karagua, the other village involved with the Gorilla Habituation project. We fell a bit short of that. I spent a full day trapsing around Lomié trying to track down Achille, who was in Among Mbang, either sick, or visiting his girl on the side; trying to get a car to take us down, trying to get food for the trip, sending Mary and Ludo to get water from the pump; trying to get into the CIAD office to get the tents and sleeping mats… I started negotiating at 9 am, and it didn’t stop until 8pm.. with.. well, not much accomplished. I mean, I had some fun doing the over the top negotiating, but I think that the others were a bit nervous about all of the yes/no/yes/no/maybe nature. The status at the end of the day was: one tent and food. No other tent, car, permission to go (well, a note really).
My guests spent the day relaxing around the house… sitting on the porch, and watching Lomié pass by. Everyone stopped by to see who all was there. One drunk crazy man with a bad arm kept coming by. Begging for money. Every time I approached him, he stuck his bad arm out and started to yell that the white man was beating him, then he would collapse on the ground in a heap, again, keeping his bad arm in front of him like a shield. I picked him up, and escorted him away. He came back every hour or so, only to be chased away each time.. and not always by me. My neighbors show far less tolerance of him. My drunk landlady made a visit. Justin, the baka con-artist made a visit. So between negotiating and chasing away crazy people and drunk people begging, I had a busy day with some of humanitiy’s more irritating social traits.
Saturday December 20th, 2003
One of the topics of discussion at dinner last night was the Gorilla Habituation Project. Mariacah and Ludo were very interested, and after dinner we talked about what they were going to do during their trip. We decided that a trip down to Lomié to see Gorillas would be the perfect contrast to being in the extreme north of the country for the rest of their vacation (anne is in the exreme north for those who don’t remember). The only problem is that CIAD is closed for vacation, no advanced warning, and it is getting close to Christmas. Well, we decided to go for it. We all headed out in the morning to catch the bus back to Lomié for some Gorillas and Christmas dinner. First of all, the baggage carriers at the bus depot know me. We got out of the cab, and immediately, they took our bags, and set them next to the bus. I asked how full the bus was.. with us, it was full. Hmm. I head back to pay, while the others hunt down a bag or two to hold some of our stuff. Since we decided on this so last minute, we weren’t exactly neatly packed. I buy the tickets, ask Anne to grab some seats in front, and we wait. I was ready to wait a few hours, but after an annoying negotiation over bags on the roof.
-2000 for the baggage.
-no way. Last month I came this way with much more and only paid 500
-2000 or its not going
-500 and it is.
1500
500
1500 or you aren’t going
bullshit. Nothing, and I’ll put the bags up myself
1000
I hand him 500, and grudgingly, the bags go up.
We start loading the bus… and some woman comes up.. no more tickets for this bus..what? I was here a few minutes ago, and there were still 8 places… well the white people came.. and filled up the bus. What? Fucking white people.
Whatever. We load up (with an almost full bus.. 19 instead of 20+) and take off. I realise that the prices here are directly related to the number of white people. More whites, exponentially more money. I also noticed that near the holidays there are a lot more cops out, stopping people. Half of the bus said this was a good thing, and designed to keep crime down around the holidays. A more cynical minority said: yes, but the cops are the criminals. I would tend to fall in that camp. I mean, I realise the cops aren’t really paid well, so as a Chrismas bonus they stop a few more people, take a few more bribes. All in all we got stopped 8 times, including one with a full paper check. This doesn’t include the one guy who stopped us less than 100 meters after that last one, and everyone in the bus started laughing, and the bus driver said: you have to work this out with your buddy a bit better, he just hit us up a 100 meters back. It also doesn’t include the cop that we blew past.. he was just impotently blowing his whistle to get us to stop…and we were on a downhill, so weren’t stopping for anything… zooom. Its not like he has a radio, or phone to call in back-up, so on we go.
We get into town, Alex is there… sniffing around all the busses that come into town to see what he can see. He helps us take the bags to our place, after I convince Ludo and Mary (what she is called here, as no one can pronounce Mariacah –fucking dutch-get some real names.. I mean, really) that I know Alex, and its ok to let me help. We open the door (which Jen locked on her way out to spend Christmas with her friends at Kribi- a beach town apparently really worth going to), and I smell something odd. Maybe just jungle must with a door being closed for a bit. I go to put the Christmas haul in the fridge.. and find that it is broken. Not only is it broken, but Alex starts to boast of how he rewired the power so that he could turn on the porch lights to make it easier to get around at night, and to make the house look lived in. Apparently in the process he crossed some wires and blew the motor on the fridge. He is pretty amazing. He managed to break the only machine in the house that was working from outside. At a certain point you just have to marvel at the initiative and prowess of always being able to break something when I leave. This time, even a locked house didn’t stop him.
We all crash early, after explaining to Ludo and Mary the basics of cleaning with no running water. Tomorrow we start the Gorilla oddessy.
Friday December 19th, 2003
Today I did some food shopping. I really spent like a madman. I bought a couple of bottles of wine, some smoked ham, good cheese, chocolate, dried fruit, spices and other totally indulgant food stuff. I probably spent a months salary on the food.. well, that and two magazines. A 3d magazine, and a mac magazine. This was my birthday and christmas all rolled into one.
Pete, George’s friend, is still in the hospital here. He is waiting to get sent home. He spent 4 or 5 days in intensive care,but he is out, and stable. He is waiting for the european doctor and tank of air to come from Europe before he can leave.
I had dinner with Matthew. Anne and her sister (mariacah) and her boyfriend (Ludowig) joined me. We all had a great time. Kara (from the John’s Hopkins project) stopped by before she was heading back to the US for the holidays. We had a fantastic dinner spread, and I brought one of the bottles of wine, and we had a Cameroonian feast, with Chocolate for desert. Yum.
On the way to his house, which was somewhat hard to find… with some very unhelpful watchmen giving bad directions…we got stopped by the military. We were a bit lost looking, and a car stops ahead of us, and out come two gun toting army men. “Papers” came the order. As I am digging around my pocket for my ID card, Anne tells me that she and her sister both forgot their papers. Oh shit. This is an offense that can earn anyone jail time, but most likely a fat bribe.. escpecially at christmas. At least Ludo had his passport. Anne told them that she and her sister didn’t have their papers. Bingo. These guys knew they were in for some serious pre-holiday white man bribery, or jail. I started talking my head off. It was my fault, I dragged them last minute out for dinner… they could take us back to the hotel and we would be glad to show them the missing papers. If they really wanted, we would go to the station with them, while we went and got the papers. Guns got menacingly tilted in my direction. Fierce good cop bad cop stuff (well, really just bad and not so bad).You name it.. it came out. So then it came: OK. Finissons. Bribe time. I went into overdrive. I have no money, I am a volunteer, would be walking around in this neighborhood if we had money? Its Christmas, you can let us off… and on and on. This went on for a few minutes. They kept saying, well our boss is watching us, if we can’t show the ID cards or money, we will get in trouble…finally, one of them broke. “We’re wasting our time”. I knew we were good. A few minutes of them debating, they let us go. Thank you, merry christmas, deep contrition for the lack of respect for the laws of a country we were guests in… but.. no bribe, no jail. Whew.
Wednesday December 17th, 2003
So, spent the day hanging out with people, socializing, and stopped by the VSO offices briefly. There are CIAD problems (George and Jen’s NGO). Jen was fired, and the conseil d’administration isn’t really taking responsibilty for having had a director who stole a whole wad of money. In fact, they are starting to blame George for brining it out in the open. Nice. Arlette called me into her office. She was beside herself. George wrote a nasty letter about her.. and he was attacking her. I read the letter, and it wasn’t so bad.. so I spent an hour or so talking her down. Basically, I tried to show her how things may look from the other side, and that maybe George was worried. His placement was almost over, and the structure was falling apart (throwing away two years of his life), his friend was in the hospital after having had a heart attack, and his girfriend was pressuring him every way that she could to take her with him. Maybe George was a little stressed, and maybe she could give him the benefit of the doubt..and besides, he didn’t finger her specifically, he just said there were communication problems. The really nast part here is that I sort of accidentally encouraged George to write that letter. Ooops. Well, all in all it may have turned out for the best. She ended up talking to the CIAD board of directors, and at least solved the Jen being fired problem (which I also had my fingers in). The best part of this for me, is that I think that I have a pretty good understanding of how to deal with Arlette… and that will help me in the long run.
I also went shopping. I’m on a quest to find inkjet photo paper. I found some stuff that looks promising (it isn’t specifically inkjet paper, there isn’t any that I can find in Youndé). Even finding this paper was really difficult. I went into every store that even looked like it might sell paper. Now I just have to go back and negotiate.
Tuesday December 16th, 2003
Today is my 37th birthday. I got up at 4:45 am, and headed to the bus stop. We were crowded as usual. We left at around 6:30, as usual. The difference: the holidays are approaching, and this bus was direct to Yaoundé. There was another difference due to the approaching holidays: Bush Meat Fandango. We must have stopped 10 times between Lomié and Among Mbang to buy meat. Monkeys, Prorqupines, Ant Eaters, small deer creatures.. the bus was full of dead animals. The roof was full of dead animals. Then, we got to town. We stopped for a few minutes, long enough to take all the meat off, and send it up ahead to avoid the checkpoint. We passed the very lame checkpoint, and picked up the meat again. The system for passing the checkpoint consisted of putting the dead animals in briefcases, and getting a well dressed man to ride on the back of a motorcycle with the brief case… as if he was going to some meeting. Between that and the bribes, it worked. All the meat made it across…and no one really even broke a sweat. The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. I even got to Yaoundé relatively early. Early enough to hang out with Anne, Wynette and Leanne. George is in town as well, but Isabelle is already back in Canada. I think she is going to end up going home early…
Monday December 15th, 2003
I had a SNV meeting over dinner at Chez Jacky’s. We discussed CODEVIR collapsing, a flyer that the SNV may want me to do for them after they saw the Tontine flyer I did for the GECEC, and well, general business ignorance. The dinner as usual, consisted of bushmeat, fried plantains, and rice. Also, as usual, it was good. So, this afternoon, Charly showed up and told me that the SNV was interested in a flyer, and could I work up an estimate. By dinner it was done, and I brought it up. We discussed it for a bit. Rolf, who I like, but in a kind of isn’t he cute patronizing way, talked about the difference between graphic desing and communications, as if I had no idea what what that would be… or more succinctly, as if I was a graphic designer. I smiled and nodded. I just want their business. During dinner the discussion got a bit more complex. We discussed the imminent collapse of CODEVIR, and they made it clear that we should not confuse a “case” with the whole Community Forest experiment. I pointed out that it was one thing to say that when you are in Bertoua, and the other partner in this venture is even farther away…We are here. When CODEVIR has problems they come to see us, and more importantly, they come to see Charly, taking a lot of his already fragmented time. I also asked them what kind of responsibilty do they feel towards the success of the CODEVIR project. Jaap went off. He got very defensive… sucker. Fell for my trap. I said: I’m not telling you, I was asking you. If you feel you have none, then let us know so that we can make appropriate adjustments to how we work with them.. that is to say: not work with them. That was our bomb. Without support, CODEVIR wasn’t worth our time. This worked, and we started talking about solutions. It became very apparent that Jaap, who I also like, really didn’t do a good job. He said stuff like: “how could we have known that they needed management training”, and “it wasn’t my fault that the buyer I had lined up in Duala went out of business”. Wow. That is the SNV’s expert market consultant. He’s been here 7 years, and I’ve been here less than 4 months, and I already have a better grasp on what isn’t working. Not to say that knowing will make it easier, it just means that there will be a whole brand new set of mistakes to make. So, as I said, we started talking about solutions. At first, they thought it was another bid to get money from them.. but I said.. “no, we don’t care who does this.. as long as it gets done”, and “frankly, we don’t have the time to do all of this”. That seemed to work. Rolf countered with: this money that you are loaning to CODEVIR isn’t yours so don’t get to uppity. Fair cop. When the posturing died down, we talked about two main holes in the whole Community Forest project: creating a market, and business management. So now the identification of these problem areas are not confined to this blog. Oh.. one last note. At one point in the conversation, I was offering suggestions on how we could build a market for Community Forrest wood, and basically said something about being a broker (one of the problems with the whole community forest idea is that no one took into account that the major buyers won’t want to have to deal with 50 new small sellers… duh). Jaap said: we were already being accused of having something to gain from this, so we backed off. I asked why, what is wrong with you (the SNV) getting something out of it? He was stunned, and we didn’t persue it further.. but this is a big philosophical problem here. Is the problem that people make money off of their work, or is it what they do with the money they earn? I mean, I’m not being stupid. I understand why they say that they try to stay away from the whole arugment of: what is your cut in all of this? You can always retreat to: we have no monetary interest in this, so we are not a threat.. but bottom line, no one here trusts that, and everyone here knows that they have an interest.. it just isn’t monetary. Ironically enough since their budgets have been cut, they probably would have been more sustainable if they had had a more clear interest.
Sunday December 14th 2003
Today I switched from mefloquine to doxycycline. We’ll see how it goes. From what I have been reading, it might take weeks for me to know if my brain problems are drug related, or something else. Other than that, today was a slow day. Cleaning, preparing for a week of SNV meetings, and a trip to Yaoundé to avoid having to get drunk with people here.
Saturday December 13th, 2003
I’m not feeling great. Its not like I’m really feeling ill, but I just feel tired. I’m sure some of it is the amount of work I am doing, the equatorial climate, the barometric pressure shifts, diet, and lack of consistant sleep due to noise, and a kitty that likes to jump on my face, or box my nose when I’m sleeping. This being said, I had tontine presentation this morning. So, we were supposed to start at 10 am. At around 10:30, a few presidents trickle in. At 11 Madame Adjoa (the head of CADEF, a womens ngo..which, as far as I can tell, consists of.. Madame Adjoa on evenings and weekends talking a lot. Does she like to talk or what… that and she likes hats.) strolls in with some story about something at the market. I don’t really know, and didn’t really care. No Charly. At around 11:15 a motorcycle shows up with a note for me. When all is ready, send for Charly at the mayors house (read office). I make some excuse, and head up to the mayor.. Madame Adjoa follows. Nice meeting. We show up almost an hour and a half late, and then take off to go find the guy who called the meeting. Whiskey was being served in large quantities, and I was offered a glass. I politely declined, and after the obligatory protocol, headed down to the meeting.
I tried to keep focused.. I did really. But after 15 hot minutes of protocol babbling, I started to drift. After two hours of talking, it was my turn. I was expected to read the flyer, but.. well, I’m not good at sticking to the protocols. I waxed as eloquent as I could in vaguely disinterested, and hunger impaired french to sell the presidents on the idea of putting their money in GECEC… but it was clear that half my audience wasn’t really strong in french, and were also as distracted as I was. They were mostly there to get the free food or drinks that accompany these kinds of presentations. At around 4, still having not eaten for the day, we ended. Whew. On the way down to the bar where we were going to get drinks, I excused myself, went home, ate, and relaxed for about 5 minutes. Oh man.. I hadn’t realized how lousy I was feeling. I muster enough energy to go down to the bar to be social for a half hour, chat with the ladies. I’m pretty checked out at this point, and I am relieved when Alex shows up with some banal complication about getting paid for the photographs we (I) took for the Consecration thing. I use this as an excuse to fuck off home, play some game boy, and then go to sleep.
Thursday December 12th, 2003
I have a lot of work. Logo work, poster work, making price lists, figuring how how much to charge, stupid meetings, and potential new clients. I have a meeting with one. The president of a local community forest. They want to do a promotional video. I go through what they can expect for how much. The price doesn’t seem to bother them. We’ll see. I put together an estimate for them to sign. We will see how that goes over. I am really having to start at the basics here and see what works business wise. There are benefits to no beurocracy (it is much easier to do business… you don’t even realize how stilted doing business in the US has become until you do business where there are no rules). The flip side is that there are no rules.. and getting money from clients is difficult. I’m also contending with the cultural differences. How do you talk about deposits, or discuss pricing at a day rate in a society that doesn’t factor in time to the cost of goods sold equation. I like most of it, but I am going to have to spend a lot of time on basic paperwork management since there is no one here that can do it for me. That is going to greatly reduce the amount of work I can actually do. I also have 50 tontine flyers to prepare for Saturday’s presentation… Did I mention that I am presenting the flyer to the assembled group of tontine presidents. For those who don’t remember, tontines are the semi-formal women’s collectives that manage money.
Wednesday December 10th, 2003
One of the girls that I photographed during the school photography blitz brought kitty back today. She was totally filthy, somewhat feral, and even more skinny. I warmed up some water, and washed her… which drew meek protest. Then, I dried her off, and put her down. She took one step and collapsed. After a few hours, and some eggs, she is a bit better… two steps, and she falls over. She has trouble lifting her head up. I think its pretty much 50/50 that she survives the next few days. I’ll see what I can do. The girl that brought her said that she saw her in the market, where she had apparently been hanging out for a few days. So, the power of information dissemination in full view. The missing cat poster worked. People knew what she looked like, and where to bring her. I also think there was another benefit.. but this one is speculative. I believe that someone took her originally. She is a cute, friendly and healthy kitty, so somone snagged her. When they found out that she wasn’t a good Cameroonian kitty (she likes to sit on people’s laps, and likes to be petted, and fed) and that the white man put up a poster looking for her, they dumped her out the door, and she made her way to the market. I believe this, because there is no way that this kitten survived on her own for two weeks in the bush. There are bigger animals out there that would have her as a little snack. We have also had several brutal rainstorms. So, that is my theory on the unseen coercive effects of information.
Sunday December 8th, 2003
While online I notice that Gwinn is on a machine that can use the Ichat AV feature. I try to connect..and it works. Fucking amazing. I was talking with Gwinn while in Lomié. I would have loved to talk for longer, but I’m already afraid that my connectivity bill is going to be astoundingly large… and this might just bankrupt me.. but it was great to hear her voice… it made being here seem.. well, farther away actually. It was also strange, in that is was sort of an impulse, and not a planned event, so we were casually chatting and marvelling at the ease and power of Apple’s stuff that it seemed way too.. ordinary. I can’t wait to get to Yaoundé with this stuff. Free global chatting. Excellent.
The consecration video is a hit. It has been playing in the bar across the street pretty much all day. I have a potential new customer out of it as well. This bodes well.. although, late in the evening, one of the new-elders came by and wanted to know why I didn’t film him when his wife was giving him a gift. I told him no one asked me to…this went over well enough, but I wouldn’t want to be in his house that evening.
I made the missing cat posters, complete with picture, and reward offered. We’ll see what that does.
I mefloquined again.. but this time, I am drinking several bottles of water a day.We’ll see if I go nuts or not.
Saturday December 7th, 2003
I played my Game Boy today. Lots of resting and relaxing. I feel pretty good today. I have Alex go out and test the video on different players, and it seems to work well…although the translation to PAL is still really really bothering me. The highlight of the day had to be the Alex and Petit juggling show.
Petit came by to hang out, and show us his new juggling tricks. He is practicing almost every day. Alex, on the other hand, stopped practicing, except for a few minutes here and there. So we all started a bit of juggling, and I started talking about different tricks. I brought up the apple eating trick. After not being able to explain it successfully to Alex and Petit, I sent Petit to get us some apples. I did my eating thing.. Jen tried, and couldn’t really get the hang of it, which really supprised me as she is a FAR better juggler than I will ever be (she is working on 5 right now, I will probably not get past 3 in this lifetime). Then Alex and Petit went at it. This is when the entertainment really started. I started to try to teach Petit how to do the trick, and Alex started teaching him as well. With total authority, he was telling Petit the nuances of eating the apple. Petit wasn’t really getting the hang of the trick, largely due, I believe, to the fact that throwing a perfectly good apple in the air is pretty much a totally alien thought. I mean, eating apples here is pretty rare… so risking one falling is a bit difficult…but Petit is very smart, and very talented.. so he started getting it a bit. Alex meanwhile, was coaching and correcting away. Then it was Alex’s turn. He pretended to juggle, and started to eat the apple. After faking it, he actually tried to do it.. with little success. It was fun to watch, but we hadn’t even started. We then got the Alex and Petit juggling show…They did an improvised and totally unselfconscious act for us. Petit moonwalked across the floor jugling, with Alex deriding him the whole time…but never juggling. Then Petit called him on it, and Alex faked his way around the fact that he couldn’t do it. His faking wasn’t even a real attempt, it was more slapstick than anything else. This was pretty much the pattern. Alex not doing a trick, or doing a very simplified version of a trick, while Petit did all the real work. I would be a great act if they could actually take it on the road… Alex is pretty clearly not as capable, so uses his only talent: his mouth. The thing is, he isn’t really that mean, and overall is pretty ineffectual, so he never delves into the bully territory… and Petit doesn’t just sit back and take it..but he is clearly not as good with the witty banter as Alex. All in all, with the power going out and the whole scene by candle light, it was a very pleasant diversion. I mean really, who needs television?
Friday December 6th, 2003
Today and yesterday I worked on getting the Consecration video out to video disc. I am using Imovie’s import features, and doing some of my very basic editing in it as well. It is a very well made piece of software. There are a few annoying limitations, but for what I am trying to do it is perfect. I am basically capturing everything, and cutting the clips down to the best parts, and then very roughly assembling them.. and adding some sound on top. Most of the improvements I would recommend to Apple would be in the sound department. I spent a day capturing and editing (the video is about 45 minutes long), and a day converting it to PAL (I am still looking for a good solution), and buring it to disc. Tomorrow is the day I hand it over to the Church folks. It will be intersting to see their reactions. Alex is very very happy. He smells money.
So, usually my brain is fuzzy for a few days a week, and then as I get closer to the end of the week, I start to think a bit more clearly. Not this week. I don’t feel quite as out of it, but I am still pretty vague. I’m going to take my meds again this weekend, and hydrate a lot. I’m not sure if not drinking enough water is making the reaction more severe, or if travelling has something to do with it…so a final week of steady water intake, and no travelling will be my best judge… besides, I still think that the muddy brain is better than Malaria. The thing that is bothering me a bit is that I am not having some of the other side effects. Emotional swings, intense dreams, psychotic episodes… that stuff. Am I just adjusting to being here? Is is a dietary thing? Is it something else?
Kitty is still missing. I have been back a week or so, and I think that she is either dead, or stolen. I am going to have to wratchet up the pressure. I think it is time for me to introduce the concept of a “missing cat” poster to Lomié. I may even offer a reward.
Wedsnday December 4th, 2003
More students trickling in. Exactly what I didn’t want to happen, but knew would. I am getting better at telling them all to organize themselves. The tragic thing here is that kids are so used to being told what to do in the most blunt and absolute terms that when I try to be reasonable, it backfires.. so I am blunt, then later I explain. Alex on the other hand, gets a long talk, and I make him spend the evening writing lists of student’s names, and other basic organizational things. He can barely write, and has no organizational framework at all. I have to teach him the fundamentals of organizing and planning. I believe he is the definition of functionally illiterate. I also wonder if he has had a learning disability his whole life. Whew. Trying to learn here in school is hard enough, no supplies, 100 students in a class, and it costs money (so many students have to stop for a few months to earn enough money to continue). Imagine being disylexic on top of that. Oddly enough, it is probably both easier and harder. On an absolute level, it is much more difficult, but in this context he can function normally. That strange duality of reality strikes again.
Today I spent most of my time making a poster for the Gorilla Habituation Project. Actually, the second of two posters. I am pretty happy with them. I did a flaura/fauna dypthich with an animus anima theme… One with a monkey face as the main image, the other with a flower. What pleases me most is that I took all the photos as well…so I got to do the writing, make the logo, take the photos, do the design, and print them out. Full service.. although I have run out of A3 brochure paper, and that will be impossible to find here. They are heading out to Europe with George as soon as he leaves.. which, I found out today, will be a week sooner than I thought.
George’s friend Pete (also in his 50’s I presume), is really sick. George came by today, and told us that he is heading up to Yaoundé with Pete first thing in the morning. He also asked us if Pete could spend the night so he wouldn’t have to walk so far in the morning (George lives about a half mile from the bus depot). Of course we said yes. Jen gave up her matress, and we started getting ready. Pete showed up at the door, after having taken a motorcycle taxi here. Oh my god. Those fucking stoic british people. Pete was really sick. I mean at death’s door. Apparently he had been having problems on Mt. Cameroon. Pain in the chest, tightness around the chest as a whole, loss of feeling in the extremities, a hard time breathing… Even I have read enough stupid health brochures to recognize the signs of a heart attack. He was pale, very pale, sweating, and having a hard time breathing. It was like he was running a marathon, only he wasn’t moving. We sat around for a while, chatted, and tried to take his mind off of the situation. I, of course, was really bad at it, and kept trying to find out if there was more that we could do. After a while, George went home, and Pete just wanted to lie down. He did, and started sweating even more, breathing harder, and soflty moaning. Oh shit. I was sure that he was going to die…and he wouldn’t even complain. Everything we tried to do for him, he would have nothing of. I wanted to get the nun who runs a medical center,but no. I spent most of the night listening to him breathing… and got up several times to see if he was still alive when I couldn’t hear the breathing. At 5 am George came by, and they headed off to catch the bus. Now that is the part that is really stunning to me. I will assure everyone her and now: If I feel that bad, I am spending the money on a private 4X4 and getting the hell out of here as fast as possible. I am not a stoic british man. I am a whiney American wimp. I will raise enough fuss to get me out of here as fast and as safely as humanly possible. I mean, sitting in a cramped bus for 8 hours (minimum) smacking over every bump while your heart is giving way? No wonder a little tiny island ruled half of the world.
Tuesday December 2nd 2003
Well, students came trickling in all day, Alex wasn’t around to manage the process, and yet again, I get dinged for helping out. The good news is that I did eventually find Alex, chew him out, and get the process in somewhat of an order.. the group of students (another 15 or so) finally got it together to come in one group. I spent a long time explaining to Alex that our deal changed… and that he was going to learn how to do simple project management before he touches any of my equipment again. Flush with some pocket money, he seemed to be fine with that. We’ll see how long that lasts.. both the contentment and the money.
My brain is really fuzzy. I can barely remember where I am much of the time. I feel totally disoriented, and incapable of concentrating for more than 15 minutes. I find myself obessively staring at some particular detail for a few minutes before I am even aware of what I am doing. I really need to change the meds. I am pretty sure that this is meflaquine related.
Speaking of fuzzy brains.. I met my landlord. Well, the woman who owns the property… the landlord is her nephew. He is a total crook, and of course a well respected business man in town. She is a total lush. She is in her.. oh lets say 60’s, and is drunk all of the time. She hassled Jen when I was in Yaoundé last week. This week she is hounding me. She came by when I was doing some photographs, and she started to hassle Jen. I stepped out, and introduced myself. The exchange was… well, slightly amusing, but largely, tragically, indicative of many of my exchanges with drunk people here.
-You owe me money
-I do? I don’t think so, my boss pays my rent here
-I didn’t get my money.
-You should speak to my boss about that then, I’m sure he’ll pay
-I did. He said he already paid.
-OK, then we’re good
-I’m going to go to the police, and get you thrown out if you don’t pay.
-OK. I think that might be a good idea, lets go…
-Um.. you need to pay, because my nephew hasn’t given me the money, and there is no contract
-This seems to be a problem between you and your nephew to me.
-You need to pay
-No, no I don’t, and throwing me out isn’t really going to help you is it?
-No, I guess not, but you need to pay
-No I don’t, you need to solve this with your nephew
-My nephew is a crook and he steals money from me, a poor old woman with a health condition. I suffer, oh how I suffer (on and on like this for a while)
-And this is my problem how exactly?
Etc… for about 20 minutes… sigh.
Monday December 1st, 2003
Izadore left me two giant squashes before I headed to Yaoundé. Today, I cut them, and cook them. I make enough soup to feed us for a week. It takes about 6 hours of cooking over a slow (gas.. yay) flame. It is spicey, and good. I use lots of spices that I bought in Yaoundé. Did I mention that? I did manage to find time to do a bit of shopping for spices. I have also noticed that Lightwave (my 3d application) doesn’t play well with Panther (my new OS). The good news is that I have enough work to do on other things, that it isn’t a major problem.. but who knows when I am going to be able to get the next version of Lightwave… and that is a problem. It is supposed to be released this year, but rarely do launch dates actually match up with the press realease… and then, of course, it has to get to the VSO office, and finally, I have to pick it up. Sigh. My guess is that no 3d until sometime in January or Feburary. That is what I get for upgrading like that. The good news is that everything else works, and After Effects 6 is a great upgrade. They pretty much improved all of my favorite things.. So, I’m really looking forward to playing with it.
Alex came in with some sort of story about how all of the kids at the highschool were not going to be able to take their exams because the local photographer took their pictures, took their money, and was nowhere to be found; and a dossier without photos is a captial crime… so no photo, no dossier, no exams… etc. So, after some negotiating with Alex over terms and timing, I agreed to take the pictures. My terms were: they all come at once, because I didn’t want to be hassled every five minutes when another student showed up, and I wanted to get paid enough to reimburse the precious supply of photo paper that I have here (I have had a hard time finding more paper, and what I have is limitted). He agreed, and the mayhem began. It was originally 15 students. When all was said and done, it was somewhere in the low 30’s. For the most part, they came in one bunch, and Alex did deal with the organization… until the evenening, when a slow and steady trickle of students heard that I was taking pictures, and kept stopping by. I said no to everyone, and told them to organize a group for tomorrow through Alex.
The difficult part is that many of the students can’t really afford even my reduced prices (I charge half of what the going rate is here)… so by asking for any money at all, I am exluding many kids. If I don’t charge, I’m going to be completely burried in requests. More importantly, I will be constantly hassled for one or two photos at a time.
Saturday and Sunday November 29-30th 2003
I returned to Lomié…barely. Saturday morning bright and early, I left Santa Barbara in Youndé… after a brief negotiation with a cab driver for a private cab… I get to the bus station… which is generous. It is basically a patch of dirt where the van’s stop, lock and load. I got my ticket, and sat my stuff down. I was pretty burdened with paper and other junk I got in Yaoundé. Apparently Saturday before the first of the month, no one travels. Pay day is Monday. So a long and slow 3 1/2 hours later, the bus is ready to go. We head off to Among M’bang. It takes us 4 very dusty, and very bumpy hours. I, of course, didn’t bring water or food… and for some incomprehensible reason didn’t bother to get either while at the bus station before leaving. I was assuming that I would have a few hours in Among M’bang to kill, and I would eat and drink there. We get there at almost 3:30 pm. I get off, and ask about busses to Lomié. The last one is out there on the street doing its final loading before leaving. I haul ass over there, negotiate my seat (paid a premium… well, 2$ more…) and my bags.. and squeeze in just as the driver was yelling to leave. Everyone moans.. cause I am a big guy… We are totally overloaded. Totally. We head off. The sides of the bus start to buckle outwards… making very loud groaning noises. I’m sure we aren’t going to make it. We get about 20 minutes out of town.. and we get stopped by the cops. Well, one cop. The other was sitting in his car… a beat up old mercedes, with sheepskin seat covers… doors open, music blaring… hand down his pants. We get the usual hassle (the first cop we saw out of town took a quick bribe, so we barely even had to stop), but a simple bribe isn’t going to do it. Apparently we have moonshine on board… and we are all accused of trafficing intoxicants. 45 minutes of slow menacing bribery later.. we head off again. The kicker here is that the building right off the side of the road is… a moonshine bar. Nice. So we trundle off.. very very slowly. The welded metal bars that have been added to help support the weight of cargo are starting to bend. I used my hand to measure the bowing that was going on.. almost 3 inches outward every bump and ditch. 3 inches each side. That means the sides of the van were bowing outwards almost a half a foot each time we bumped. Several times I heard very loud cracking sounds. Some I could identify as the welds giving way, and other times.. I was sure I was going to die. The good news (sort of) is that we were so overloaded, the driver could only manage to do about 15 miles an hour. The road was abismal. Ruts that I swear you needed to repel down. 5 hours later we make it to Mindouru. That is the half way point. It is now very dark. We pause for a bit. I get a little food, very little. I have a splitting headache from the gas fumes that seem to be seeping up through the floor, and being squashed between 4 other people in our row. Oh, but there is hope.. two people are getting off here. Nope. No. False hope. We take on two more, both with cargo. After an ugly packing job, we set off again. Two hours into the last leg, a 4X4 passes us. The road is blocked up ahead. We will have none of that. We press on. Another hour, and no blocked road. Maybe the obstacle has been cleared. Another 45 minutes later, and out of the darkness we see a Grumier pulled off by the side of the road. OK, We pass another.. and another. Finally, we see a Grumier in the middle of the road, facing us. Now we see what the problem is. He was heading up the hill, and stopped. Once these trucks stop, they can’t start again unless the road is dry… otherwise they slip all over the place, and spill their loads. We sit and ponder if there is room to squeeze by on either side, when word comes down that there is another truck behind this one. A long discussion ensues. We are going to try… the deciding factor was watching a 4X4 go off road, and make it past. I suggest that we unload the van before attempting it, as the sides are a bit muddy. Oh no.. we’ll just plow on through. The van gets about half way before it gets stuck about 2 feet deep in mud. Now we begin to try to push the car out of the mud. The driver floors it everytime we get any traction.. and sinks us in deeper. Any discussion of physics is useless. Why would he not accelerate, it is only making things easier.. and what do I know, stupid white man. So, I stop pushing… and considering that I am about 80 pounds heavier than most of the pasangers.. it is a big difference. Finally, I suggest, from the sidelines, that they take the load off of the top. It is now around 11 pm. My head hurts something fierce… mosquitoes abound. The sky, however is magnificient. We unload the roof. There were half a dozen large barrels of whiskey.. each weighing probably 150 pounds… a bunch of other heavy stuff, and then.. here is the kicker… about 15 boxes of scrap metal. Each box weighing at least 100 pounds. No fucking wonder the sides were bowing. At this point, I just sit back and take it easy, as some of the men start to dig the van out of the mud… shovel.. vroom…move forward 6 inches, move 6 inches down, shovel, vroom.. you ge the idea. At around 12:30 there were cheer of triumph. The van was freed from its viscous prison… there were many self congatulatory remarks… “see what the black man can do when we all work together”… was my favorite. I mean the irony is just… well, stunning. So we spend 20 minutes loading up the van, with all the impossibly heavy cargo, get in, and away we go… for 10 minutes. The van breaks down. The co-pilot gets to work… he pulls up a panel, and starts messing with wires and belts by flashlight… while we all sit in the car. The smell of gas is now overhwelming. I am getting lightheaded, with is only a slight relief from the pain. Vrooom… the van works again. Cheers from everyone… and away we…no. No. The van breaks down after 5 minutes. The driver wants us all to stay in the car, but a few of us don’t comply. I sit outside, on the damp road and stare at the sky for about 20 minutes while the van is getting re-fixed. When it was all done, we headed off again… driving very very slowly. At 3:30 in the morning we get to Lomié. I have not eaten or had anything to drink the whole way. I stagger home, and fall asleep.. for a few hours. The last thing I remember from the day.. was the Osama Bin Laden sticker on the back of the van.
I spend all of Sunday recovering… playing my new Game Boy Advance games. So, thanks fo Gwinn, Tomas, and Forest, I have enough games to keep everyone happy. Tony Hawk is a big hit with the locals.. although they call it a skiing game.. and from where they are coming from.. it may as well be… It is 8 hours to the nearest paved road, let alone enough to skateboard on. They also like MarioKart.. but Metroid is still the reigning game. From my end, I got two turn based strategy games: Fire Emblem, and Final Fantasy Tactics. Fire Emblem is a great game… good balance, enough depth to keep it interesting, and the interface is very easy. The swords and sorcery stuff doesn’t really do a whole lot for me.. I mean, I like it..but in and of itself.. it just.. well, doesn’t send me. Final Fantasy Tactics, however, is a fantastic game. Wow. Steep learning curve, complicated interface, and also a swords and sorcery fantasy..but wow. Great gameplay. I am really enjoying the process of managing my ‘clan’.. I have almost 20 characters to manage, and I need to change their jobs, and equipment regularly… keeping an eye on balanced skill development. Some of it complex enough that I actually have to take a few notes to remember what is going on.. but I think that has more to do with the Mefloquine than the game. I also really like the story. No, seriously… it borrows heavily from ‘never ending story’ and other –kids get sucked into a fantasy world stories.. but there is a creepy subtext that I like… and it isn’t accidental. So it totally makes the swords and sorcery stuff work for me. I just needed that other layer to make it work. The best part about the game: I will be working on it for a long time. I mean, I finished advance wars 2 in a week. This game actually has me looking forward to playing again, as I don’t know what is going to happen.. and depending on my mood, I can manage, fight, or get into the story. And that is this weeks edition of GBA game reviews from Lomié. Tune in next week when I try to explain what an “Ollie” is to Petit.
One last note: kitty is missing. It seems that everytime I leave, she goes missing.. although this is a bit more worrysome as she has already been missing for a few days.
Friday November 28th 2003
Note taking day. I spend most of the day typing up notes from the workshop. I am tired, but totally relieved that this thing is over. My brain is still funky…I ready to go back to Lomié. I get a whole lot of shopping done. Tupperware, printer paper, lots of printer paper, kitchen utensils. I’m very glad I have this written down, because I can’t think my way out of a paper bag. I’m, once again, carrying big bags of stuff all over Yaoundé. I break out: Finding Nemo as a treat. Oh yeah. Totally enjoyable.
Thursday November 27th 2003
My brain is a bit better, but not a whole lot. We improvise like crazy, and thankfully, time runs out. There are some good things that come out… some basic communication problems, problems prioritizing, and some clear conflicts of interest.. but all in all, this is a management problem that cannot be solved by workshops. There is also a high level of distain, if not straight up prejudice from many of the VSO program staff here. I found out that we have to go through a ‘cultural sensitivy’ screening, and training.. but not the staff. Hmmm. I think that someone really fucked up there… I hate to think that it is related to the whole –only white people- can be racist thing.. but there might be some of that going on.. its either that, or total incompetance. So, one of the big cultural differences.. is the role of a volunteer. I think that Volunteers are perceived as the lowest rung of the totem pole here (hmm. Totem pole). The belief seems to be that we should know our places, and act accordingly. We, on the other hand, come here thinking.. we’re all in this together.. a clubby kind of thing…mixed with some: look at what I have given up to come here…Anyway, the mix of the two is kinda ugly. I wonder how it is in other Program Offices. I’m sure a lot of this has to do with the culture and personalities here. Well, whatever, I’m here and not there… and I certainly have no desire to fix the VSO…which needs some serious help.
Wednesday November 26th 2003
Ug. Today was day one of the workshop. It started well enough… ok, that isn’t true. I find it hard to keep focused for more than 30 or so. My brain is totally fuzzy. I can’t concentrate, and I forget stuff… lots of stuff. I’m pretty sure it’s the mefloquine. I slog through the first couple of exercises.. and realize that our agenda is for shit. They are totally in a different place than advertised. They have a common view of the future, they just don’t know how to get there. This is a ‘change management’ problem… and I was prepared to do some visioning stuff. I just threw up on my keyboard…not really, but seeing these words typed out in front of me.. makes me even more ill than I feel. So, in a hurried huddle during lunch, we change the agenda. My brain is totally out to lunch. We do more stuff… then finish up. We have dinner out. It is pretty fun.. but I am really not altoghether here. I really don’t like this feeling.
Tuesday November 25th 2003
Another day of preparation in the VSO office. I give a bit more of my brain to the impending nightmare workshop. I try a last ditch attempt to disuade Caroline (the head of the office) from having the workshop, as I believe that until the problems with Arlette and Alice (the program officers) are taken care of. There is also Catherine (from VSO international) who is in town for a week to help raise money… which they really need. So, my pitch was: is this really the best use of everyone’s time right now? Can it be done later? No dice. We are on for tomorrow. We have a simple set of exersises that we are going to run through.
I am feeling totally discombobulated… my brain is fuzzy, and I can’t remember a thing. Is it the mefloquine, or am I just not really excited about this workshop.
Monday November 24th 2003
A day in the VSO office. I spend about half of my brain opening my new fedex package, and a third downloading stuff from the internet.. and about a minor sliver on the purpose of the trip… the workshop. I am very happy to get the package. All sorts of goodies. Raiders of the Lost Arc on DVD, comic books, silica (for drying out my machines)… oooh yes… goodies.
Sunday November 23rd 2003
A day of rest, and some preparation for the meeting this week. I have no idea why I agreed to do this… and I have some real trepidaiton. As it gets closer, it feels like the last thing I want to be doing… it pretty much represents everything that I think is wrong with western business… but Anneke is nice.. I think that, as usual, I am a little too much. I pretty much said what I think about development, VSO and other stuff last night as we chatted. She looked very shocked… but today seems to have internalized it. We spent a bunch of time talking about the politics, and personal relationships of the people that were going to be there.
Saturday November 22nd 2003
I’m off to Yaoundé to do an organizational development workshop for VSO. I am facilitating, along with Anneke, a Dutch woman I haven’t met yet, but who works as something half way between a volunteer and a program officer. I cought a ride with Wynette (one of the residents of Santa Barbara in Yaoundé), who had been in town for about a week studying the forestry process. The car was crowded, but the ride was relatively easy. Nice 4X4 pickup, we made it in.. 7 hours? 8 hours? Whatever it was, it was pretty painless. As we headed out of the dense forest, and into an area where it hadn’t rained in a while, I got a glimpse of what the dry season is going to be like. The plants on either side of the road were red… completely covered in dust. As the Grumiers barrel by, the kick up a ton of dust, which settles on the plants. It is a bizzare looking landscape. Like creepy red tentacles reaching for the cars that pass by.. trying to infect them with the same disease that is killing them…
Thursday November 20th
Today was day three of Arlette’s visit. Surprise, she is leaving early. So much for me getting a ride up on Friday… some story about having to go to Abong M’bang to deal with some legal problems. Right. Anyway, we met about ROLD… and getting a volunteer for ROLD. It was an uncomfortable meeting.. as Patrice continued to insist that money was forthcoming from the SNV… and he tried to present the ROLD as a more cohesive entity than it really is. We talked about me working with, and for ROLD. I nodded, and didn’t say a whole lot. I’m starting up the marketing business regardless of what happens with ROLD, wich will be nothing… or very little. No one is there to really pay attention to it. So we went on and on.. and…until it was time for them to leave. I’m really glad that I have no expectations of them… as long as I get internet access, and a place to pick up packages.. I’m good.
We are getting to the end of Ramadan. The prayers this week have been getting louder and more furious. The muslims are getting grouchy.. because, not only are they not eating, but they aren’t sleeping either. The prayers start at 3 am, and go for a full hour… broadcast, of course. I haven’t been sleeping, and I don’t even have to pray. I will be glad when its over. I’m tired of getting woken up at 3… and the cadence is such that every time you start to drift.. it changes, waking you up again.. or is that just me?
Wednesday November 19th 2003
I ate elephant today. Not only that, but I got a bunch of other ‘whitey’s’ to join me. Basically, Alex came in and told me that there was elephant available, and wanted to know if I wanted any. I said.. ok. It came in. I had a bite, and after initially looking at me with horror, the others also had a bite. I am the devil. All those pure souls… tarnished. All this good karma earned.. down the toilet.
So, first of all… its pretty good. Not good enough to justify killing, but rich nonetheless. Second of all. The elephants that are killed here, are mostly killed for the ivory. The corpses are left to rot in the forest…Word gets around, and some locals find the body, and start cutting it up, and hauling the meat back. My not eating it will not stop the killing… and it will rot in the jungle either way. Let me clear. This is not justification. I ate the elephant before I knew that this was how it worked. But is it better to eat the elephant, or not?
This relates to another observation that I’ve had. Its about garbage. So, garbage is thrown pretty much on the ground… all over the place. Up ‘til about 20 years ago, every piece after a month or two, would turn into dirt again. Then along comes Mr. Plastic. Mr. Plastic doesn’t go away.. and yet, there is so little of it, that it doesn’t really cause much of a problem… it just gets burried in little bits and pieces all over the place…and if it does get to be too much, it gets burned in neat little piles. So.. what this makes me think about is our giant dumps. We don’t scatter our trash around.. we stick it all in one place. There is no way that it can easily re-absorbed…I mean, I get that we have so much trash that if we spread it around it still would be a problem. The observation here is not about our nasty habits, it is about how we look at other people. We see people throwing trash all around, and think its dirty and nasty… but actually, here, it’s the opposite. Putting all of your trash in one place is considered nasty… just like wiping your ass… why would we want to smush the shit around our asses with a piece of paper? And having a toilet? Why would you do that? Collecting all the shit in one place? Shouldn’t it be spread around a bit?
Dinner Chez Jacky… with Arlette, and one of CIAD’s funders… a funny dutch guy from an organization that barely even visits the organizations that it funds.. they have very little staff. This guy spends about 3 weeks a year in Cameroon. The SNV and other donor organizations don’t have a lot of respect for them, but I would love to do a study (well, not really, but you get the idea) of whether or not randomly handing out money is any more or less effective in the development process. My guess is that there is a small difference, but that the overhead incurred by having people ‘on the ground’ and checking things, and all the rest of the bureacrats, doesn’t come close to justifying the increase in cost… Man, would that change the development world or what? Any grad students out there looking for an earth shattering topic?
So, at dinner, Arlette pretty much completely dismissed Jen, and insulted the rest of us… she pretty much couldn’t give a shit about us.. which I understand. We are just meat… tourists. And most of us don’t get a fucking thing accomplished. This added to the fact that we are out in the sticks.. well that is just the final straw.
Tuesday November 18th 2003
Clearing Out the SNV building I got two Gorilla skulls. Oh man. They are very very cool. It almost makes up for them bailing… well, almost. So, there is a large gorilla skull and a small one. The large one is.. massive. Larger than my head, huge teeth, and it has a sharp edge on the backside that I can’t really figure out. The small one has a giant crack along the back. Apparently the cause of death.
Arlette showed up late in the afternoon. We, the volunteers of the east, had a meeting in which she told us that our –comitee of the east- was welcomed by the program office, but they have no money for us, and aren’t obligated to listen to our recommendations. She did however answer a lot of questions that I have with one tidbit. The VSO’s funding is drying up… well, that may be an overstatement.. but they have less money now, than before. This puts everything in perspective. They had just started to impliment a massively ambitious (and massively flawed) new strategic direction, and the legs got cut out from under them. There is also no small amount of denial about the implications of this. Their funding comes primarily from the government, so when it gets cut, it isn’t coming back, and is probably soon to be followed by more. Not only that, but a wounded organization tend to suck protective money to the beurocratic layer, so there will be even less money available to do the actual work. On top of that, they are cutting 5% across the board, instead of cutting vertically.. so basically each program office has been asked to get more ambitious with less. This is a total recipe for pain… if not disaster.
Arlette also took us out to dinner Chez Jacky, so how bad could it really be?
Monday November 17th 2003
I already have a potential client. The mayor. He wants to do a brochure and a video promoting Lomié. So, clearly not the poorest of the poor, but he has money, and the product will help move Lomié out of the realm of the media invisible.. to the impossible to find. I would also like to make a plea… anyone who has work that can be done remotely.. I want it. Simple stuff, boring stuff… that is what I am looking for. 200$ here, 500$ there… if I can do a total of 1,000$ worth of work.. that pretty much frees me up to work for free for people here… I will also happily work for old equipement (well, video equipment, and laptops really, specialty inkjet paper.. everything else will be to difficult to get here). Anyway, I’ll make a more formal pitch to people in the future…but consider this a bug in the ear.
Arlette is supposed to be making a visit this week. She is my program officer. She, of course, will not show up today, as scheduled. It will be tomorrow..and it will be because she is sick, or something.
here I fucking go again...
sigh
Sunday November 16th 2003
So, I’ve decided to start a new business. Sort of. Since it is abuntantly clear that donor money is not going to be something I am good at getting. I can’t deal with all the stupid paperwork, and beurocratic hoops, all for a maybe with huge strings attached. More specifically, the SNV isn’t going to pony up…oh maybe they will. What I do know is that what people have to do to get the money, and what it does to their pysche is degrading… I’ve said this before, but it is formalized begging. So, the idea of starting a marketing business is one that I mentioned to Charly… and no surprise… he is all in favor of it. The idea is to take on clients from wherever, and use the money to subsidize the work for the local NGO’s… but to be honest.. I care less about them. It is going to be more to help the GECEC make some money, get some equipment, train some people, and give the GECEC clients a discount. It also put me in a postion I understand. I have something that other people need and want. Since I don’t have to make money for myself, it frees me to lower the prices. I get to manage myself… which will help me maintain my sanity. The only downside is that I’m not really sticking to the VSO mandate of ‘helping the poorest of the poor’… but to be honest.. I don’t really believe that will be helping anything here.. or pretty much anywhere. Every society rises on its middle class… you don’t get development from the bottom up. OK, bold statement, yes… but am I wrong? Can anyone give me an example of a society that rose from poverty to wealth by supporting the poorest first?
Saturday November 15th 2003
I am in a very bad mood, and I feel crappy. I’m getting more and more convinced its the Mefloquine… in fact, I think that I may not have had a malarial outbreak. I think that it might have been the meds all along. Its really hard to tell, but I am spending about a day a week feeling really bad. The good news is that I have no real stress. Even with the SNV shenanigans, I’m annoyed, but it only goes so deep. I realised that it has to do with threat levels. None of this is a threat to me. The worst thing that happens is that I don’t get anything done for two years (well, I could get really sick, but that is a whole ‘nother subject)…So when people show up late.. doesn’t really bug me. Don’t do something well, doesn’t bug me. SNV bailing in an ugly cloud of denial and loose ends.. bugs me, but only so much. It sort of feels like college to me. I know that sounds strange, but I had this feeling in school as well. I live in a little bubble world. I just have to show up, but the real difficult things are taken care of for you.. in this case, I get paid a living wage by VSO, my rent is covered. I have special ‘white man’ status… I’m only here for two years, and there is only so much I can get done. I certainly don’t think that I am going to ‘change the world’ and have no feelings of obligation there. The only obligation I feel is towards Charly and GECEC…but I am pretty confident that I am going to be well worth their investment.. I mean, if I leave the printer, and satellite modem.. I will have already largely brought in more than I will be taking…so anything else is gravy. I pretty much work at the speed I want to work at… do what I want to. Don’t get me wrong, I am working, and there are a lot of demands on me… but they just don’t get to me is all.
Friday November 14th 2003
I get an urgent message.. Rolf is waiting for me up at the SNV building to show me how to use the satellite phone. This is news to me. I throw on some clothes, and head up. I get a brief lesson on how to work the phone. It isn’t complicated. I get a sheet of paper with some basic instructions on how to contact France Telecom if something needs to get re-set.. but that is about it. No billing info, no instruction manual, nothing but a mandate to turn it into a profitable business by December… I’m pretty much to pissed off to do anything but bitch about the SNV all day to anyone who will listen. Most people in town don’t get it.. They are gone. I mean, people were actually relieved (and believed) that the SNV weren’t really going.. it just looked like it. This is going to be an ugly ride down a steep hill. Most of the local NGO’s are toast… what was that stupid movie? Dead Man Walking?
or, the good the bad, and the just plain..ugly.
Thursday November 13th 2003
The official handing over of the SNV building happened today… although, this was as much an official: goodbye Lomié event, as a hello GECEC event. After years of being here, the SNV is gone, years ahead of schedule…with much unfinished business.
So, this may lapse into a semi-coherent rant (which may be hard to distinguish from the rest of my posts, but humor me), but what a fucked up situation. So, first, I’ll go through the event, then the implications. We are supposed to show up at 2pm, at three, the sous-prefet shows up, there are to be some testimonials about how great the SNV is, a paper signing and key exchange, then we wander around the building for a few minutes, then dinner at Chez Jacky. I showed up at 2ish… at 3ish the rest of the people showed up. At 4ish the sous prefet shows up.. which is really weird.. Its like a king or royalty or something.. like his arrival in and of itself is the event…which, I guess it is. This protocol stuff would be annoying, if it wasn’t so silly. I got out of having to sit around by being the official event photographer. Rolf even asked me take pictures for him. Two cameras… oooh. I’m a big man now. Oh yeah. Then the testimonials began
It was the testimonials that really got to me. One person after another getting up and saying how much the SNV changed their lives for the better. How good and helpful they are/were. This would be great, if it were true… for example, Seraphim from CODEVIR, the people who borrowed money from GECEC for the portable saw project, spoke about how great the SNV was, and how grateful he was for all their help and support… I know that they are on the verge of collapsing… and largely because the business plan and feasability studies that the SNV did were.. well, not great (and let’s keep in mind here, that these were done by the very same people who are now the SNV’s consulting experts). Somone else was telling me much the same thing about one or two of the other testamonials. One guy, was no longer welcome in his own village… As if this weren’t enough to get me riled… Rolf spoke. Rolf went on and on about how, at first the change was something he thought was bad, but finally, he saw that it was good… (which I agree with, but for totally diffetent reasons).. and how they weren’t really leaving, they were just going to be neighbors, a short 5 hour bus ride away.. and look at all the great stuff they were leaving behind… like the nifty satellite.. and this fantastic new building. This went on for a while. It was pretty uninspiring, and made me understand how badly the SNV wanted, or needed really, to bail on Lomié. Needed is the right word. I’m sure that Rolf and Jaap didn’t want their money, and plans to be short circuited. They are both likable, and sincere… the irony of a sustainable development project bailing, and leaving less than nothing behind is clear. So, then the Mayor was asked to speak. He wasn’t so flattering. He asked point blank: are any of these organizations strong enough to stand on their own? In his opinion, not really. He said it nicely, but was pretty clear that he wasn’t fooled, and that this was going to be a fiasco. Rolf got up to rebut, and fudged and hemmed a bit. He missed a great opportunity to ask they mayor what he, and the city of Lomié were going to do to help.. but he just fudged around. More speeches, some wandering around, and then dinner…which was a huge event, and probably the last big client Jacky is going to have for a long long time. Oh… I forgot to mention…that the titular head of GECEC (the director of the board.. not Charly) gave a speech about what the SNV now GECEC compound was going to do. It was during that speech that I found out that I was expected to be working there everyday..and that I would be doing sys-admin for some decrepid computers that the SNV was leaving behind, as well as managing the satellite phone system. Nice. So, this is what really pissed me off. I am being asked to clean up after the SNV, and the Dutch government. What the fuck is that about. So my big beef? That the SNV created the need for email, and sat phone communication, and then, because of bad planning, are taking it away… no wait, even worse, they are expecting Charly to turn it into a profitable business. They are asking Charly to do what they themselves never had to do… so if it fails, it is of course, Charly’s fault for not being a good manager. The thing is, it is doomed to fail. No one bothered to ever go into costs. I still haven’t seen a bill to understand exactly what the costs are… they don’t even know how it works. I had to tell them that you get billed for incoming and outgoing mail… although there is still debate about that… which is even more stunning.
Bottom line, I have to get this poison out of here as soon as possible. I am going to do what I really didn’t want to do, use my satellite modem for the town. I am going to try to set it up as a viable business, and add in the cost of the future security deposit so that when I leave, GECEC can keep the modem, and take over the billing…without having to suddenly dump thousands of dollars into the system (which is what the SNV is asking them to do). I’m so glad I was asked.
I also have to sys-admin two old wintel boxes running win 95, with 16 megs of ram. I will have to split my time between working on my current job, with my (bad ass) computer that can do exponentially more, and maintaining two pieces of shit that the SNV couldn’t be bothered taking with them. I basically got downgraded because of the SNV’s crappy ass job of leaving Lomié. Yeah fuckers, don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.
Now I get how this development thing works. Build a well, poison it, and then blame the locals for drinking out of the well. Nice.
Hiking, and now I start badmouthing people that have access to the internet...
Wednesday November 12th 2003
Kate and Jed head out for a very ambitious trek across the DJA back to SanMelima, the location of her placement. They are going out with Michelle who heads up PREVERT (I’m not making that up.. with my dyslexic brain I had to read that a few times), an eco-tourism.. um.. company (its basically him). After a morning of negotiations, and preparations.. they were off. Promptly an hour after they headed out.. it started to rain. So, during their stay here, they got to know a lot of the palm wine drinking crowd. They spend a gloriously drunken evening dancing barefoot in the mud, singing, being intitiated into the ‘club’ and being very carefree. Man do I feel old.. or was I ever like that? That just has no appeal to me… the dancing in the mud sounds fun…but it goes downhill from there. The next morning, a delegate from the ‘club’ came by to hit them (and me) up for money. I pretty much killed that idea pretty quick. I’m getting good at the blank stare of death, mixed with the blunt question: Are you asking for money? That might be part of why getting drunk in the mud doesn’t appeal.. the morning after.
We met with Rolf about ROLD today (Rolf is the official head of SNV east cameroon, the dutch development organization). Patrice (the head of ROLD) and I showed up, Charly was away teaching pgymies about bookkeeping, but joined in later. So, about 5 mintutes into the meeting, I understand what is going on.. this is a meeting with a venture capitalist. Rolf is a VC…although, he takes pains to note, again, that the SNV is no longer in the business of dolling out money, but in the consulting buisness. If they buy your pitch.. you get.. an expert for a day or two. The funny thing is: the remaining SNV people are the experts. To say I have my doubts.. is an understatement. So, the presentation goes on… I start anwering questions. I mean, I try to hold my tongue, but this is a game that I know better than Rolf. I mean, again, most of this shit is watered down VC buzzword soup. Patrice doesn’t get it all, and I pick up the slack…which I guess I’m not supposed to do. Anyway, I give him the right answers, and find a hole in their new plan. I make my presentation, which is all about exploiting the flaw in their new plan: ask for a marketting and communications expert, and then hire myself on the SNV’s tab… Fits with their new mandate, solves a bunch of problems. It is pretty much a typical Ben solution. It doesn’t really play well. Partially, I went way to far to fast, and partially, the folks here have no real idea of what is going on. The SNV is bailing on them. That is what I reallly got out of the meeting. They lost much/most of their government funding, and have to pull back. They have enough money to pay for their own salaries, but that is it…and this whole consulting thing, is an ugly compromise to attempt to justify the SNV employee salaries, and keep the taxpayers feeling good about ‘helping’. They have essentially been castrated. They are VC’s without the Capital… an uglier thought does not exist in my mind. So, all of a sudden, I feel like I have uncovered the con… and I’m supposed to be on the con artists side… you know, ‘cause were in the same business and all. We finish the meeting with promises of more meetings, and maybe some help from the SNV in writing the ROLD action plan.. or more accurately, in revising the one that Patrice is to write. What a scam.
ooooh.. and it feels so good.
Tuesday November 11th 2003
I’ve got gas. Yes.. finally. I can cook. This is a huge relief. I really miss being able to prepare food for myself. I really like the food here, and I’m still sort of puzzled as to why people who come here complain.. I mean, there isn’t a huge variety, but what there is, is good.. and I’ve been finding out that all the best stuff if straight from people’s gardens. Most people only go the market to suppliment their diet, or get meat; the bulk of their food they grow themselves.. so a lot of the best stuff isn’t really grown for retail… that is a totally alien concept. I printed out a photo for Isadore (who I just found out spent some time in jail… more on that later) that I took during the ROLD assemblée general, and.. not that I asked, he brought over some fruits and veggies. One was some sort of weird eggplant thing…although, I’m not to sure about that. It sort of looks like a pepper (half way between the spicey kind, and the green kind), and tastes like an eggplant, but more bitter. The other, Izzy swore was a cherry. It was roughly the same shape as a cherry, and it had a pit, but a totally different texture and taste. It reminded me of a leechee (I have no idea how to spell it). Anyway, my plan is now to start swapping my technology services for the fruits and veggies that I can’t find in the market.
So Izzy, spent time in jail.. apparently 4 months or so. I’m a bit sketchy on the details, and who knows what is true…but this is what I heard. Izzy was driving some people around in Among M’bang, and he ended up with a ladies handbag that didn’t belong to him, which contained some money. So, after some sort of accusation, argument, or something like that, whoosh.. off to prison to wait for trial. 4 months later, the accuser never really showed up for any of the trial stuff, and no one could find her, so, apparently, they let him go… much thinner, and older than when he went in.
a freindly visit.
Monday November 10th 2003
The Peace Corps came. Well, not all of them, but three PVC’s (yes.. another acronym). One (who was here before) who was chaperoning two new volunteers. The Peace Corps is a little more rigorous than VSO with its preparation. 3 months, which involves homestay in some other part of the country.. so you can make all of your newbie mistakes in a relatively neutral location. Before the placement actually takes, you get sent on a courtesy visit…and that is what this visit was. One young lady (ooh.. look at me, I’m all old and stuff) is going to be posted in Mindaru (the truckstop between here and Among M’bang about 2-4 hours up the road),and the second is a rather flamboyant and exubrant guy who is going to be in Ngyola..which is a few hours down the road the other way… in is the end of the road… quite literally. They had a long adventure getting here… passed through quickly, and headed back soon after. They got to stay in the fancy hotel here… the hotel with sort-of running water… and apparently MTV. Whew, I feel a whole lot better knowing that MTV is available here. So the volunteers, they stopped by for a few hours.. we chatted, and they seem nice. The guy (who’s name I forgot, and wouldn’t mention anyway) is a pretty extreme personality… he was trying to save all the bugs that were flying into my house and landing on their backs. It will be interesting to see how the community responds to him. I have this theory that to most people here, a white man in a business suit and a white man running down the street naked would attract an equal amount of attention here, so most of our cultural signifiers will probably be missed. I hope for his sake this is true.
Hi all, sorry for the month long delay in posting. I have been overhwelmed by travel and work.. and the Mefloquine has really been messing with my head. I am only now starting to feel like half the man I was... so, I have entries, and photos and the like. I am going to start posting slowly, and pick up speed until I catch up to the current date...so sorry if this first few posts feel stale.
or how I learned to love the Pastor.
Sunday November 9th 2003
Today was consecration day. So, originally, Alex was supposed to take my equipment and tape the consecration.. which seems to be some sort of ritual where a chosen few become church elders. In this case, the pastor, who is a very shrewd polititian and business man, seems to have chosen a group of people who were a combination of up-and-coming elite, and elites. As confirmation of the political nature of the choices, there were two sermons about jealousy. One about Cain and Able, and Cain believing that he knew better than god, and getting punished for that, it then drifted into: if you think that these people shouldn’t have been chosen, god will punish you. All in all, a very effective proposition. So the elders of the church are pretty much every power broker in town.. either politically, or fiscally.. except the Muslims.,. of course. There seem to be two power structures here. The protestant one, and the muslim one. The muslims have no power in the official sense…but I think that many of the most successful business people here are muslim.
So… the event was slated to start at 9:30. I rained a bit in the morning, so I knew that meant.. not before 10:30. Alex (who has already spent the money he was supposed to earn on this gig buying some shoes) was nervous, and ready to go at 8. I, being sick, and not particularly excited to do this thing at all, was not going to leave the house before 9. As we left, we passed the pastor wandering around town. Apparently, not in any real rush. It rained more as we walked the mile to the church. We got there, I scouted a little. The light was both beautiful, and a total nightmare. There were windows on all sides, that didn’t have glass or anything. The light pouring in was very bright… and came from all over. There was no place for me to set up the camera where I could get a nice back lit shot. Alex kept hovering. Trying to get me to let him use the camera. Not a chance. I did let him sit with the recorder, as I need sound.
After an hour or so of waiting, and setting up the room, the event started. The mass seems to start with a procession of singing from the pastor’s house, followed by more singing and drumming inside. A brief run down of church business… and more signing. There were 4 singing groups that each took a turn. Girls, Women, a mixed group with drums, and another, which seemed to be led by.. some woman who takes care of the pastor. When I say take care, I’m not sure how far that extends. There was an old casio heyboard that was playing through the obligitorlly blown speakers (in this case, on the edge)…and actually, the guy got a great sound out of them. It sounded very twangy, and very analog. This continued for a while, until the 7 candidates were introduced. There was some preparatory speech making…and then a pause for the babptisms. A few kids, and a few adults (who were being born again, renewing their vows, whatever). The kids cracked me up. I have some great footage of their reactions. Some of the kids screamed bloody murder, others looked like they had no idea what was going on: “I know I’m inside, but it must be raining, because I am wet. One kid really got into it. He must have though that this was bath time. He kept reaching for the water after they had doused him.
More singing, and then consecration begins in earnest. All in all it was not very interesting.. except for the super secret part where all the elders clustered around the candidates who got on their knees, so that the assembly couldn’t see them, and then.. like magic, when they stood up, they had changed into their special ‘elder’ outfit (basically… black). It seemed pretty silly to me… and most of all not really effective as a magic trick.
Then the 7 newly dressed elders stood in a line, with baskets in front of them, and the pastor told the crowd to show their appreciation by putting money in the baskets of the newly consecrated, and that there was a surprise waiting for the elder who collected the most money. Nice. The came the processions of gifts. First by the wives… and when I use the plural, I mean that both times. Each canditate’s multiple wives. In the case of the women, the husband, and the other wives of the husband.
I love Africa. I mean, that the church (which ever one) decided to sort of look the other way on polygamy was very astute, if not a tad hypocritical. It is also cracks me up that I get the: we believe in family values speech at the drop of a hat… in fact they care so much about family values that they have more than one. I mean the logic of that is simply stunning… its like the argument that polygamy is an effective barrier against aids.. because there is no way the man will stay faithful, so if he has a few wifes, then there is no need to get sex elsewhere. I have no equipment to argue either point… nor the desire.
So, back to the ceremony. After the wives, came the families, and then finally, friends. A final blessing or two, some more singing, and that was all she wrote. It was almost 3pm at this point. I set up the camera outside to get some portraits, and interviews. Lots of handshaking, and then an invitation to the pastor’s to have some food. I sat next to the local head of MINEF (the one I called out at the world bank meeting) who had just been consecrated. He is, sort of, responsible for hunting and the environment. Anyway, I had to spit out the shot from my ant-eater. Gotta love that. I’m eating illegal game in front of the the man who is the highest local authority on regulating it. A man who I called out as an obstructionist in front of his boss and the world bank.. and he’s as happy as a clam now that I have commited him to eternity via video. After the food came the drink. The pastor has quite the supply of whisky.. and I mean whisky. Everyone was getting good and sauced. The mayor, the other elders (read: elite…which is the local word, not mine, by the way). I excused myself at around 4:30-5. I had to go lie down. Several times during the ceremony I got the malarial hot and cold flashes, sweats, and sore joints.
See, the day was only half over. There was the gala soiree that was scheduled to start at 7… oh, no wait, it got changed to 9, oh wait.. when I showed up at 9:15, there was nothing. No food, no drinks, no people… just a rooom full of empty plastic chairs. So, the plastic chairs. For every event, the same uncomfortable plastic chairs come out from some invisible storage area. Green or white. There is, apparently, a never ending supply of plastic chairs for all of the myriad events. I’m surprised that there aren’t labels on the chairs by this point.
At 9:30, I quietly headed home. I was totally beat, and had to pass out. What really made up my mind was the description of the events about to unfold: we would all be given a seat (no tables, by the way, just the chairs), and we would sit there, until a few speaches were completed, the food brought out, and the protocol officially engaged. It would probably be around midnight before I ate. Then, after that, the dancing would begin…all the while, the heavy drinking would continue. I’m not sure if the dancing was done with formal partners chosen, and the traditional african music of Celine Dion used to get people going. All I know, is that I wasn’t going to wait to find out. From all reports, the festivities didn’t really end until dawn. I am very happy that ‘palu’ (malaria) is considered a fine excuse for missing the event. Next time, I fhink I won’t be so lucky.
here comes sickness.. here comes Alex.
Saturday November 8th 2003
Not surprising, I have malaria again. I seem to be getting it mildly. I feel tired, a bit disoriented, and my muscles and joints are sore.. mild hot flashes, and crazy dreams (I converted Rush Limbaugh into a tolerant liberal.. was the most memorable this last time). My relationship with Alex continues to go south. It comes out that he has been lying to me about all sorts of stuff…and since I confronted him about the pump payment, he knows he’s in trouble. He is especially panicked as Sunday is the Presbyterian Consecration ceremony that he is supposed to be filming as his first paying gig… and he knows he is totally dependant on me. He is making all sorts of impassioned pleas, promises, and passive aggressive supplications (If I don’t let him use the equipment Sunday, they will put him in jail.. but I shouldn’t worry about him). I sat and listened, without speaking. Very difficult for me.. but I hadn’t made up my mind as to what I was going to do with him.. so I just listened. I was also going to talk to him when I was ready, not when he was slightly drunk, and babbling on. If I get this right, he spend some 15,000 CFA that he was supposed to spend on different things for me on one night of drinks with his friends… and has basically been struggling to make that up ever since..by lying, and stalling… hoping that I would just forget.
So I meet with Charlie this morning to basically let him know what is going down. I have his blessing to send Alex packing. Charlie tells me basically: he doesn’t trust Alex either. Nice. Thanks for dumping him on me. So, its pretty much up to me, but at least my ass is covered.
It was around noon that Alex showed up with my Game Boy. I have been asking almost daily for a month, and he shows up as if he had delivered the holy grail. This after he had promised me.. on pain of jail and death, that he would deliver all of the delinquent items on his to do list by first thing this morning. One item down, 5 to go.. plus the missing money and other things that aren’t even on the list. I tell Alex that we are going to talk now. I tell him that I was ready to kick him out.. but that Charlie asked me to give him one more chance (not true, but the spirit was there). I told him the next time I had to talk to him about something he didn’t do, or a problem I had, it would be to tell him to move out, and that our deal was completely off. I told him I didn’t think he would make it through the week. I told him he wasn’t going to use my equipment anymore. I told him I didn’t trust him…that I have no idea what he was thinking, but I didn’t really care anymore. He sort of got it..but I don’t think he really did. He started asking me if he could use this and that a few hours after our discussion. I said, let me think about it.. um, no. I told him that I was going to film the ceremony the next day. He could carry stuff, maybe. I wish I wasn’t sick… that would make all of this easier. I slept a lot.
I got more visitors today. Kate (another youth for development volunteer) and Jed (her boyfriend) showed up today. Surprise. They are both really nice, and crack me up. Both totally lost in the immediacy of the experience, and each other. They went off to see some choral music with Jen and Alex in the evening.
or everyone gets drunk, and kitty makes her kill.
Thursday November 6th 2003
Kitty is growing up. She is getting larger, and more coordinated. She was sitting on my lap, purring, as I was sitting on the veranda talking to Jen and a neighbor, and suddenly she was bolting down the path. All claws and fury. I had no idea what was going on. Pounce, pounce… she cough a frog. She trotted back up with the frog in her mouth, showed it to me, and promptly headed indoors to eat it up. So much for the vegetarian kitty. She downed it in no time at all. Fresh from her first major hunting success, she went right back out and caught a lizard… and polished that off as well. This is great. Now I don’t have to worry so much about feeding her. I’ll give her an egg in the morning, and she can still eat scraps. She is at that very cute stage, where she only runs, attacks, and sleeps. She also follows me to bed every night. Whatever she might be doing, as soon as I head to bed, she shows up, curls up next to me (she has to be touching me), starts purring, and falls asleep. Kitty.
Brian’s project is officially dead. He seems to have wrangled it so that he will be working on a sort of VSO Cameroon Intranet (my idea, thank you very much…). I sent him an email with a list of ideas, but we are going to talk about it more when I head up to Yaoundé next.. which is in a few weeks to ‘facilitate’ a workshop. Ug… but at least it will subsidize my next Yaoundé trip… so can’t complain too much.
I played around with Keynote to put together a short presentation for my job transmogrification to marketing and publicity for all of the ROLD members. It is a pretty decent application. The presentation is simple, but it gets the point across. Charlie and Patrice are both keen on the idea of me doing this. Now it remains to convince Rolf (of the SNV) that it is a good idea, and to find some dough to help repay GECEC for its investment in me. I think this might happen… which would be a good thing for me, I think.
Alex is officially fucking up. I went to get water this morning, and the well manager told me that I hadn’t paid my monthly dues. I gave Alex money for 6 months when I first arrived.. only one month was paid for. Not only that, but I gave Alex some money to buy soap, and lunch for me. He bought the soap, and bought himself lunch. I ended up not eating all day. Michelle (an eco-tourist guide) came to ask me to help him with marketing, and made a whole pitch about having Alex join him in the bush with my camera to take some real pictures for his brochure… Alex in the meantime slowly slumped in his chair, and passed out. Later, when we woke him from his drunken stupor, he staggered towards what used to be his room, breaking a glass on his way. I explained to him that he didn’t live in that room anymore, and that he should go to his room. After a minute of complete incomprehension, he staggered off to his room. There is a context for the drunkenness, but still, it didn’t leave a really good impression with me. The next day, the lies continued. The promises continued. Nothing materialized. Our deal is pretty much done. I’m going to have to let him know where he stands soon.
The context of Alex’s drunken stupor? The Party Party. The political party in power had it’s annual celebration. A semi-official holiday (if you don’t close up shop.. “what, you don’t support the party?”) that consists of several running events (women, kids, men running about 6k), checkers, spear chucking (you read that right), singing, dancing, and… a movie. 21 years of peace and prosperity, the ‘triumph of the will’ Cameroon style. Anyway, I stayed away from it all. There were a lot of imported petty party functionaries. I didn’t want to give them an excuse to hassle me.. not that I felt threatened, but my profile is already higher than I would like. Wandering around during a political celebration just causes more eyes to turn my way. Anyway, they asked Alex to set up the PA system, and some microphones… which he did. While he was hobnobbing, they plied him with drink. He was really fucked up.
i go to the jungle.
Tuesday November 4th, 2003
I went to the Gorilla Habituation Project in Kungulu on Sunday, and got back this afternoon. I went with Matthew, who works for the John’s Hopkins project that is starting up in Ngoyla. His family came for a visit, and this was the first stop. The project is part of CIAD’s efforts (think CIAD, think George). There are two villages where there are ongoing habituation efforts. Karagua, and Kungulu. Karagua was nixed because the village chief has fired one of the trackers (even though he isn’t really their employer, and actually, he didn’t have a problem with the tracker, it was his brother..but things work a bit differently here), so Kungulu it was. The idea of the project is to get the Gorillas used to human presence, so they won’t run away, as they do now.. so that tourists will come, and bring that filthy lucre with them. No one has been able to successfully habituate the Western Lowland Gorilla to date, but that is what they are trying to do.
So, Sunday evening we head off. The roads are getting worse, and in the dark it wasn’t very clear where we were going. After about 45 minutes, and a few questions, we get to Karagua. We get out at the chiefs house, he welcomes us. He is surprised that we are there, but happy. We sit around his house, exchanging small talk for about an hour or so. My being with GECEC, and being there to take pictures of the project both score big-time. He is very excited. We make some awkward exchanges of gifts.. well, we bring them some basic supplies for the village is what really happens. Soap, rice, cheap wine, salt. The chief then discusses the idea that with the proper motivation, the local women want to dance and sing for us. Motivation costs about 2,000 CFA a bottle, and is probably 80 proof. 5 bottles are suggested. 2 are purchased, with the wine acting as the remaining motivator. The official head of the Kungulu Motivation Department showed up. If I get this right, he is basically the designated drinker. He was totally ripped, and in charge of getting other people to his state. It was almost ceremonial, his drunkenness that is, and seemed to be held in high esteem. He definitely was in charge of doling out the libations, which was a task he did with aplomb. The dancing and singing commenced, as we told them we were getting tired. It seemed to be something that was an every day occurrence.. I mean, there was nothing else to do at night. No electricity, no water, no transportation..but moonshine and drums. I watched for about a half hour, and slowly backed away to go to bed.. .which was on a flat board in one of the tracker’s houses. The singing and dancing continued for many hours.
Sunday night is Meflaquine night, and Monday morning is the ensuing stomach ache, and explosive release caused by the medicine. I forgot to ask where the hole in the ground was located… I really need to get better at this going into the bush thing. I also, like a total dumbass, forgot to cover myself in mosquito repellant. At about 4 in the morning my bowels told me that I had to find that hole in the ground. The moon was full, and with minimal stumbling.. I found the hut with the hole. Now if I had only remembered to bring the toilet paper as well. Good thing that there are plenty of leaves lying around in the jungle.
I stayed up, and watched the sun rise, and the mist break. Now that was absolutely fantastic. The village slowly woke up, people headed to the fields. We started to prepare for our departure. The idea being that morning is a good time to see some Gorillas, and Chimpanzees (rumor had it that there were Chimps around the camp). Then the final of the 3 trackers who was to go out with us showed up. He didn’t think we should go out. He said we had to have a paper from CIAD authorizing us to go. He also wanted to wait until their liaison (Achilles) was going to come down. I told them that we couldn’t find Achilles in Lomié before we left, and that he had last been seen at a funeral, and the roads were bad, so probably wasn’t heading down. None of this seemed to work. Matthew and I played a bit of good cop, bad cop. The chief wanted us to go (a bird in hand) and the other guy was insistent. I suggested that we send the car back to Lomié to fetch Achilles, while we headed into the bush. This seemed to work, somewhat...but again rebuffed. Matthew then laid out the strong bargaining position. We will indeed go back to Lomié to get this mythical paper signed, but instead of coming back to Kungulu, we would go to Karagua. That settled it. The chief was not going to lose this deal.. and have his authority challenged. We headed out 15 minutes later (turns out Achilles didn’t even go down the whole week).
The camp site was about 4 kilometers into the bush. This is hardcore jungle. I find the jungle to be..well, not beautiful. It is, rather, full of beautiful things. Overall though, it is too much for the senses to comprehend, and the beauty lies in the details. It is so thick that you can’t look at the canopy while walking. You pretty much can’t look at anything except the next step… if you don’t, pow. Face, meet ground. Machetes are being used the whole way to hack at the vines that cover everything. The ground is the same red earth, but covered in dead leaves, dead branches, fungus, flowers, bushes, roots, and whatever else can possibly exist. There were several streams, and bogs that we had to cross. I have a great pair of hiking boots. They are pretty much the state of the art, waterproof super boots. I would have happily traded them for the crappy rubber boots that all people who really tromp around in the Jungle wear. I was covered in mud up to my knees after the first two streams. I was totally soaked after the first kilometer.. top half in sweat, bottom half in mud. You have to wear long sleeve shirts in the Jungle, or you will get bitten, torn, or otherwise abused. I only had a thick shirt, and was paying the price.
We made it to the camp, which was a little clearing in the jungle populated by a few huts. We dropped our stuff off, rested a few minutes, and went out looking for Gorillas. We split into two groups. I went back into the boggy, dense part, near the plantain plantations where the Gorillas had been recently seen destroying the young plants to eat the tender insides. 3 hours of grueling cross country hacking and slashing produced: 3 paw prints (which were actually recognizable) a few nests, some eaten fruits, and several piles of Gorilla shit. It was fantastic. I had my camera, and was mostly shooting photos. I have some images that are pretty fantastic. We got back to the camp, totally wiped out. We waited around for the other group, who came back with similar near miss stories. It takes the trackers a few days to find the most recent tracks, then luck… pretty much. Matthew’s Cameroonian girlfriend picked mushrooms while hiking, and we set about making dinner and setting up the tents. Well, to be honest, I didn’t do much of anything, except take some pictures and chat. There wasn’t really much I could do to be helpful, so I didn’t bother. I did however, manage to get bitten by every mosquitoes around. I came out with almost 70-100 welts. Some were from the ferocious ants that.. are really mean…but most were Mosquitoes. The moon came up early, and was stunningly beautiful. It was full, and lit the sky like a lantern. We ate our rice and mushroom gruel for dinner, had some bread, and watched the fire slowly burn out. At the very late hour of, maybe 8, we all crashed out. I, of course, the epitome of preparedness, didn’t bring a sheet for sleeping.. or really, any clean clothes… so I pretty much slept in my soaking wet jungle clothes on the ground. I slept just fine.
I was the first one up again.. at around 5, and watched the sun come up again. After a breakfast of tea, bread and more rice for those who wanted it, we packed up, and headed back out. We took anther route out, which took a few hours of trekking. Less streams, and more flowers, and more Gorilla tracks. The path outlet into the Baka village that is next to Kungulu. We chatted with the Baka a bit, took some pictures, and headed back to the car. On the way, I saw a giant black and white monkey swinging from the trees. He was moving to fast for me to get footage, but he was pretty amazing nonetheless. In town, a man who had a pet monkey, wanted me to take a picture of him with it. I have a bunch of photos of that monkey. I go to the jungle, and have to take pictures of tied up monkeys… what is that all about?
or.. i make pictures move, and I have a new housemate.
Saturday November 1, 2003
The ongoing process of figuring out how to get my NTSC video work output to PAL based video cd players (which are all knock-offs…”Sony, by Japan” is my favorite) has come to a _relative_ end. I figured out how to output stuff to Video CD that will work with pretty much all the local players. The quality, for my standards, is not good enough, but people here are still so amazed that it can happen at all that they are satisfied. The problem is that NTSC is roughly 30 frames per second, and PAL is roughly 25. That means that 5 frames per second get… eaten, leaving gaps in movement. I haven’t figured out how to fix it. I’m not sure there is a good fix. Using frame blending in after effects seems to take some of the edge off, but it isn’t a solution. Ideas anyone?
The outcome of my experimentation phase being done, is that I have a ton of video production to do. I am sticking to Final Cut Pro for most of the editing duties on the more straight forward editing projects. I think a year or two of working with it, and I should get pretty comfortable. I have the two elements I need to learn: time pressure, and the ability to make mistakes. My mistakes here, are a giant step forward as far as everyone else is concerned.
I have a housemate. Jen, a youth for development volunteer… how horrible of a name is that… who’s project was one of those that went south, showed up in town yesterday. When she came to visit (while I was in Yaoundé last time), she met with George’s placement people, and they said that she could come and work there…so after a few days of mulling it over, here she is. She is going to be working in, and around Messok with an agricultural collective that is buying some sort of mill. The details are sketchy, and she has yet to go to Messok due to the project leader’s illness, and rain.. which has finally decided to start showing up, a month late. She has already planted a garden in front, cleared the back yard, and is starting to plant a more substantial garden back there.. although at the moment is losing the battle to the pigs.
One of the outcomes of her arrival is that Alex has moved out, and into the room attached to the house. This is a very good development. The Alex experiment is starting to bring definitive results: not good. After a week of pressure, I bought Alex some clothes. Apparently during his drunken stupors, he has been giving away his clothes. He has been wearing the same outfit for almost 3 weeks now. He gave away his pants, his shoes, some shirts, and whatever else he could. Why? The cynic says: to create a need, the optimist says: because he is a really nice guy. The pragmatist says: both of these things are true. The bottom line, he needed some new clothes. He found some stuff he liked, and started to pressure me to buy him some clothes. Normally, this is exactly the kind of thing I would like to do in exchange for the work he.. sometimes… does around the house. The problem is that his change-keeping- techniques have turned out to be growing. I agreed after a week of stalling, to buy him the shoes he wanted, but that I would keep them, until he had done some work, and delivered the growing list of things that had been paid for, but not delivered. He came back with a whole outfit… which I had not agreed to. The outfit is hysterical. Will the real Alex please stand up. He is a total pimp. I have some photos which I will post soon, but in the meantime: Black jeans, shiny shoes, silk (well, polyester really..but you get the idea) shirt, unbuttoned, fat gold chain, and a Kangol style hat… all worn with a certain swagger that says: PIMP circa 1994. The first time I saw him coming up the road I thought to myself: who is this guy who looks and talks like Alex? Does he have a brother who dresses like a complete fool? No, it was the man himself. I almost wet myself laughing.
Tuesday October 28, 2003
I’ve been back almost a week now. It felt good to get back here. Getting to Yaounde really helped my state of mind. I got to blab about stuff, gossip, eat cheese, buy equipment, meet new people, get my FedEX (which made me really happy… yay for comic books) relax, and abuse the internet… but getting back, I actually felt like I was coming back to something that wasn’t totally alien. That, and I have a fridge. So, since I’ve been back here is the rundown of events and thoughts:
Some guy in a village up the road killed a gorilla, and she had a baby. They now have a baby gorilla at their house. They wanted to sell it to me. Alex went to go shoot some video of it, but they got cold feet. They were worried that he was associated with someone who would turn them in. Um.. if he knew about it, why didn’t he already turn them in. Sometimes logic loses out to emotion… or maybe they just don’t like technology. I may try to go there with my camera to see if I get a different response. I may tell them I have a potential buyer in the US, but that they want to see some video before they buy.. and then when it comes to buying.. I’ll just ask to see the papers. I am an asshole, but at least I didn’t shoot the mother. If I do go, it will be the first time I’ve ever seen something like this.. a gorilla in somone’s house.
When I was going to take my Meflaquine, I went through my medication bag.. and noticed something had moved. Alex looked a bit guilty, but I couldn’t find anything missing. At first. Then, the next day, I saw something red in the bushes in front of my place. It was a used condom wrapper. The kind that the VSO gives out. So, I waited for a bit.. and then, when I was sitting on my stoop, as I am doing more these days, and he came up.. I said: “hey.. what is that things over there?” He said “what thing”. I said “that red thing? Can you get it for me?” He walked over a few steps, saw what it was, and totally broke down… I had to get on his case again. Another long speech about responsibility… “it isn’t that you took the condoms… I don’t need them, its that you didn’t ask, and you didn’t tell me when I got back”. Another lecture. I fucking hate this. He is 25 years old. I shouldn’t be talking to him as if he were a child. Since then I’ve talked to him several times. I am getting more and more blunt.. and I repeat more and more. He also spent some money on beer that was for our food. I busted him on that as well.. which he refused to cop to.. and somehow, sort of found enough money to buy what he was supposed to. I am now starting to go shopping with him every time… which is what I want to do anyway. The funny thing is that he was supposed to buy 5 kilos or rice… but they were out, so he bought 3 dozen eggs for about the same price. He was a little perplexed at why I didn’t really think that was a good exchange. When I told him that eggs only last a few days…then he began to understand. It is strange to me that he has so little knowledge of food preparation. Our neighbor bought some Mackeral, whole… and he was really excited to show me. He had never seen a large, whole Mackerel before. When I told him that I have seen that before, he was surprised. He was even more surprised when I told him how big tuna really is.
My printer is working great. I have been taking portraits, and printing them out. I am going to be a popular guy in town..although I can’t really afford to print out too many as paper is REALLY fucking expensive here. Wow. But in the meantime, having it is great. It stays at my place, until I leave, then I leave it here. Charlie was already coming up with ways to make money off of it. This is why it stays with me for now. I feel so patronizing sometimes, but then again, I’d rather that, than no printer.
Kitty went away. She was just gone. I was pretty sure that she was eaten by one of the frequently sighted giant snakes in the area. It seems that because there is no real rainy season this year, the snakes are out in force. I have no idea what the correlation is.. but there you go. Two days later, when I started asking around, our neighbor returned her. She apparently wandered off, and they took her in… and wanted to keep her.. because, surprise… she is friendly. Most people are stunned that she is friendly. I tell them it is because I held her a lot when she was smaller (which is hard to imaging, cause she is still really small), and I treat her well. When my neighbor returned her, she immediately crawled on my lap, started purring and fell asleep. She had a hard few days. She is doing fine, and now comes in and out of the house freely. She doesn’t really seem interested in wandering off. Either she did, and met some bigger meaner animals, or my neighbors spotted a kitty, and took her. Who knows. Now that they know she is my kitty, I won’t have any more problems… unless she runs away for real, but I doubt that.
I ate monitor lizard for dinner on Saturday night. I didn’t like it that much, but I didn’t want to complain. I won’t be going out of my way to eat it again, that is for sure. Very fatty, very stringy, and the hands were a little much for me. I mean they looked like cooked child hands. Oh, and I think that monitor lizards are protected. Sigh. There goes that moral clarity again.
Alex, or a friend of Alex’s, had some trouble with the law, and Alex was called in as a witness. Something about support beams for houses, and them being stolen. Turns out some kid stole them from his mother, and then lied about it.. pinning the blame on Alex’s friend. The interesting part here is that one of the local gendarmes let his friend off the hook, but not before taking Alex aside and saying: “finisons”. It litterally means lets finish this. What it really means is it is time to talk about bribes, or grease, or whatever you want to call it. So the deal is: this guy wants to get a camera from the US. He is willing to pay for it, but needs Alex to ask me to get it for him. I’m OK with that. It isn’t really a bribe, more like a little something to keep the local constabulary on the happy side. I let Alex know that the soonest something like that could make it into the country would be with Eric over the summer. That seems to be OK by everyone.
On that note, I have been doing some video CD tests with my new software, and.. they work on the machines here. It turns out that my mistake was actually reading the labels on the machines. They all say DVD, and SuperVCD player (and Sony and…). Not true. There are pretty much all knock offs. Only in the expensive stores in Yaounde (where I got my printer) can you get the real deal. The thing is, no one here can really tell the difference… and I didn’t really bother to look more carefully until my experiments didn’t work. The good news is that I can output the video I am shooting here to VideoCD and keep people happy pretty easily. CD’s are pretty cheap, so I can live with that.
Wednesday October 22, 2003
Arlette, my placement officer (or whatever she is called) didn’t show up to work on Monday, which is when we were supposed to meet and talk business. She had a strategic planning session with some other company or NGO. But that isn’t really why. Since Raymond and Dianna showed up on Sunday, I got a little more detail of what happened. Arlette came out for the emergency meeting… but didn’t even meet with Raymond and Dianna. What was she thinking. Totally stupid, and ill conceived. Raymond and Dianna didn’t even know that she didn’t visit until they called Yusef, the VSO driver, and he was back in Yaounde washing the car. So apparently, Raymond was asking questions about the finances of his organization, and Dianna publically denigrated both her organization, and VSO at a town meeting. Bad idea. Her boss is a very well known Cameroonian development figure, both locally and nationally. Bad, bad idea to publically call him out as a thief and incompitant. I’m sure he is either out and out stealing the money from his organization, or, like many pseudo NGO’s here, it is pretty much a one man show… and since he can play the game well, and none of the funders actually do any real due dilligence (hell, most of them don’t even want to come out to the east… it is soooooo primative doncha know….), he gets funded, and uses the funds as a personal treasury. So it may be a bit early for me to cast any concrete judgement, but the whole NGO business is making me more and more sick. There is this fucked up relationship between the locals, and the funding organizations… which is essentially gussied up begging… or maybe, begging with annual reports. People here aren’t stupid, and the individuals who can understand the ‘western’ business jargon, can also clearly see its weaknessess… and many are clearly not above exploiting it. I know I sound like a broken record, but it just makes me sick. Anyway, Raymond and Dianna came, not surprisingly, to Yaounde very pissed off. The accusations against them included.. being spies, troublemakers, and of course, racist… aside from the spy thing.. its seems true to me. Dianna is Absolutely Convinced that she is right about everything. She makes Eric and I seem like amatures. She also has no sense of humor, and likes Celine Dion. That in and of itself would be enough for me to chase her out of town. Anyway, Arlette was pretty much ducking her responsibilities… so I had to wait another day for my meeting. The good news is that my problems can all be solved with a bit of the ol’ filthy lucre.. and now that Arlette is totally overwhelmed, I am not above using that to my advantage.
I get my fridge, and money to help with the cost of hiring a car to take me to Lomie. Yusef has a friend, who has a friend… I meet them and their 4X4 truck in the evening…and we agree to head out tomorrow morning early.. 4am. At 5:30 they show up.. tire troubles. This doesn’t bode well. I find out a few minutes later, that they also stiffed by Yusef’s friend. We pack the car, and head off to Lomie. That was some kind of ride. The first part went very smoothly. Then the nice paved road ended. We lost a mirror (which was taped on), and there was a sickening grinding noise from the rear axle. As we got to Among M’bang, we stopped for repairs. Being with a white man, all of the prices went up. It took a while to find the problem. The ball bearings were shot. We got some new ones.. and replaced them. This took several hours. It was during this time that I found out they had no real idea where Lomie was…and Yusef’s friend had told them it was a few kilometers away from Among M’bang. Oh shit…125 kilometers of totally fucked up road away. When I told them the distance (without even describing the state of the road… hell I didn’t want to be dumped there..and I paid my money already)… there a littany of curses against Yusef’s friend. After almost 4 hours of grueling driving.. and I mean grueling (even the stupid SUV advertisements don’t show their cars driving on roads like this)… getting us half way, they started growling again. We stopped in Among M’bang, and they took off with all of my stuff, heading back to Yaounde. I quickly hailed a moto-taxi,and offered them 2000 CFA (4$) if they could get to the gendarme’s checkpoint before them, and to tell the local gendarmes to stop these guys. They bike raced off, and on these roads it is no contest. They were apprehended, and stoned to death by the mob in town... Ok.. that last part isn’t true, but I though it would make a great story…basically the story of the worst possible day for these two guys, who were clearly having a bad day already. What they thought would be easy money led to a 18 hour marathon of things breaking, getting ripped off, and having to risk their lives.
Anyway, what really happened is that we got to Lomie just fine. I bought them drinks, we unloaded the truck, and I gave them some gas money to get back to Yaounde. I hope they made it all right. I felt sorry for them.
or, the greeks meet the Peace Corps...
Sunday October 19, 2003
Last night was interesting. I was invited to Karen Kelly’s (Peace Corps program officer) for dinner. I met Kara (the PHD student from John’s Hokins), her girlfriend (I believe), a Peace Corps volunteer from the extreme north, the assistant director from the American School, and Karen’s Husband, who, it turns out works in the embassy (and not as a janitor). Dinner was fantastic. The food was a first class, healthy spread. If I were to place it in an American context. Upscale bay-area ethno-eclectic. Not that it would have to be the bay area, but you can find this in well off, well educated Berkeley houses, for example. Fresh Tofu, Cabbage and pinapple salad. An eggplant-potato dish, A sort of tortilla/flat bread, ginger juice (to be cut with water), and home made ice cream and brownies for desert. MMMMMM good. Conversation was fun, and skipped around to many subjects. I whipped out my Lomie tales. Geovic was a topic of conversation… and once again, I have a really big mouth. I didn’t realize that Karen’s husband worked in the embassy, so I was talking about what I knew, and what I conjectured about Geovic, and the sous-prefet’s drunken babbling. As long as it stayed on the casual observation level, we were talking about it. As soon as I went into some of my theories, the conversation ended. I’m not drawing any conclusions about what that means, other than I pushed the conversation out of the black and into the blue. I mean seriously, the only choice for him was to politely be quiet. That is why he can work in the embassy. Tact. I have little. Of course I have a different agenda, and no one is going to just tell me what is going on. Of note: he said that the US government had not given funding to Geovic…but I distinctly remember reading that on the website, and a few other places. If I am right, I’ll definitely send off a note. I brought the CIA stuff up again, to not much response. We talked of butterflies and prostitution. I am not really fit for genteel society, but I think they are pretty used to that. All in all, it was a great meal, and fine company. I’m going to join the Peace Corps folks who are going down to Ngoila next month for a few days to see them kick off their project. Video camera obligatory.
The second part of the evening was.. a little different. I met up with Isabelle, Kate and Rebecca who are all VSO volunteers. Kate is on the other side of the DJA doing a project with Arlette’s husband. Apparently, the project is a good idea, but not much is happening. She seems to being doing pretty well. She has a good way about her, and is enjoying the country.Rebecca is doing some NGO networking (I think). It was nice to see both of them. I think it is difficult for Rebecca here. She’s coping, but I think that she is encountering some of the complexities of life, and Cameroon. We met up at the Hellenic institute for a disco party. Yes, that is correct. The orthodox greek community center hosted a disco party. Fankinsense, Mirh and Andy Gibb. You should have seen those priests in the black robes dancing. OK, I’m kidding… but it did look like a room full of rejects from the Soprano’s (not that they were Italian.. they were actually from all over).. The rotund mullet sporting, fu-manchu growing plate smashing greek guy was a trip though… and the only black person there was selling the beer. It was very uncomfortable, and no one could dance. The expat community here is freaky… as it is everwhere. More freaky than everything was the juxtoposition between the two parts of the evening, and that this was more exposure with only white people that I’ve had in months. This is a strange place.
...or ben has a big mouth.
Saturday October 18, 2003
I didn’t get the ATM thing right. It is the most cost efficient way to get money here… the daily limits are annoying, but since I have my Paris account, and my SF account, I will be just fine. Two days of internet at the VSO offices… and some dirt. First of all, the half days of half working were in full effect. Friday, the office closed at 1, which is just about when people got back from lunch. I was booted. No internet for me in the afternoon.
I have been staying at the VSO pad, I instigate conversations about development, expatriots, morality and other such lofty topics. My points are the following: We are still colonizers… and volunteers and NGO folks, in particular, are hypocrites of the first magnitude. We (well, most of us) are here to import a behavioral code, and keep the economic imbalance in full effect. The NGO’s here have totally different salary structures for people who are from here, and those who come for Europe or America. It doesn’t really matter what skills, or education they may have. Most companies also have this from what I understand, but they aren’t preaching the alleviation of poverty.
If any of you were worried that I had lost my ability to piss people off by being an arrogant asshole… you can relax. I can still be a pompous ass. I got into a big discussion with someone here over values and morality. They were saying that folks here who work for the diplomatic corps, get paid western salaries, go from their air conditioned office, to their 4X4’s, home to their gated and guarded home full of flat screen tv’s, and all other fancy western conveniences had a responsibility to interact with the people here, and that they couldn’t create policy that helped people without knowing them. My argument was that exposure (or lack of) had no correlation with the effectiveness of policy. I had two points: it is totally arrogant to think that we can predict the results of policy. We suck at that. The laws of unintended consequences are much bigger, and more complex than we can fathom. The second point was that the well meaning, and integrated are capable of even more damage than the isolated.
I gave the example of the SNV (who were for the most part active in the field) who lobbied to get the community forest status created as a legal entitity. They got the status created, without considering the full impact of something like this would have. The noble idea was that these communities could manage their own resources, and it would be much better. This belief (IMO) was heavily influenced by their relationships and interaction with people ‘on the ground’. They were working with educated, willing and.. maybe.. capable folks who wanted this status. The problem is that, in a nutshell, the community forests have turned into an upolicable looting fest. Without having thought through the consequences of the legislation, and the power structures behind the personalities, they left a bunch of children with bags of candy in a schoolyard full of bullies. Now they are shocked that the bullies have taken the candy. Shocked. So shocked that they are moving away from direct action, to becoming …essentially… management consultants. I mean, fuck, just what the Cameroonians need. A herd of well meaning management consultants.
The psychic damage that will be wrough by the failure of the community forest initiative is totally devastating because it will take away something that the ruthless timber exploiters could never touch: hope. Only after building up hope, can you destroy it… to be replaced with a numb sense of hopelessness. (The painful question here is: was the failure avoidable?)
So that was my argument. By preaching (and it is preaching.. just like the church) the power of sustainable development, self-governance, and talking up all the benefits that would result from it; then not following through, the well meaning have done more to crush the spirit of empowerment and progress than any isolated western expat could ever do. This opinion was not well received.
I also questioned the whole notion… which is prevalent in the volunteer/NGO community… that people here will make things better for themselves by doing things the way we do in (your country’s name here). I have been here a only month… or two.. .and I seem to have a more sophisticated understanding of power dynamics and social dynamics than people who have been here years. I don’t believe that we ‘we’ do will work here. This is actually what really pissed people off. I made some sweeping pronouncements, as I have been …occasionally… known to do, about how things work here to people who have been here for a while. They seem to get pissed off as much because I am not wrong, as that I am saying them.
One of the more interesting tangents to me was, in a roundabout way, about identity. There was some outright denigration of a French guy who came here to do business, and who talked about how much better it was here. Less rules, everything is cheaper, and he lives like a king, with maids, prostitutes and lots of stuff. I said that while his lifestlye choices were not things that I liked, I totally understand what he is talking about. I talked about how some people thrive in certain evironments, and don’t in others. They talked about how obstructionist, and unfair everything is here, and how could I say that things were better here. I said things aren’t a matter of better or worse,but that I felt more comfortable here in some ways because I could face the bureacrats, and corrupt officials and try to work things out myself. That it was a system, partially because I am white, and partially because I have money (relatively speaking) and partly because of my personality, I can get what I want.. and some things that are very important for people in the US (like where you live, and what car you drive, and what TV you watch) are not important here. So I could totally understand why he liked being here, and that I couldn’t fault him for it. They said that I was just benefitting from being white and rich, and that made me..um.. morally dented? I said: if it was simply a matter of that, why wouldn’t all white people thrive here, and be effective? I also said that there were many people who ‘couldn’t’ live in Lomie for lack of balanced diet, health facilities and running water and thrive. Am I a bad person because I can be effective in an environment like that? Am I more racist? Am I morally dented? Do I care?
Anyway, the summary here is that there has been lots of discussion about these issues here, and as usual, I am out of synch with just about everyone.. except Isabelle, who is a bit of a freak as well.. but we end up talking about making documentaries, and the politics of working for a rich American NGO as a volunteer.
So the VSO dirt. In brief: at least 4 placements have gone very south in the past few weeks. Brian, a computer teacher has been fired for being to expensive… His placement really just wanted free labor, and when he refused to teach students directly (basically saying there were qualified Cameroonians who could do that).. they realized he moved from one side of the balance sheet to the other. Since they couldn’t fess up to that, they came up with some totally ludicrous personal accusations, and suspended him. Raymond and Dianna’s postings pretty much imploded. Both of them have been fired, or asked not to come in to work. I’m not sure how much their personalities (or hers in particular) caused this, and how much the placements were ill concieved. I think the town is ready to tar and feather her, but I think some of it may have been because she asked some very public questions about where money was going.. as did he. Arlette, the VSO program officer for the east went out for an emergency meeting which apparently didn’t go well. G… is working as a midwife for one of the richest men in Cameroon, one who, apparently, is the muscle that helps the president keep control over the Anglophone areas. If there is political opposition, it mysteriously dissapears, or dies.. and this man has been implicated. She isn’t really comfortable there, and is totally isolated. She has left for Bamenda. On the not totally impoded front: Jennifer’s (I think) placement is being held up because some minister feels threatened by the work her organization is doing, so no work can be done. Suzanne has not had anything to do for the past 5 weeks. Nothing. She should be starting soon though. Jonathan can’t get into, or out of town unless he uses the chief’s taxi service (it’s the only motorized vehicle in town) and the chief makes him pay white man fees, which Jonathan can’t afford. That, and apparently, he has no support in town, so I’m not sure how well he is doing. There have been people who have been writing to the VSO office here offering suggestions for improvement and changes.. which are met with hardcore hostility and accasions. This should be a pretty interesting few months on the VSO as organization front. There are a lot more of us here than they are used to having at any one time. I’m not sure if they will be able to cope with the shear volume of crisis brewing.
On yet another front. I went printer shopping (as well as all sorts of stuff) shopping today. To be effective in my job, I need a printer and some paper, and ink. The whole mess will cost close to $800 (probably around $1500 if I got everything I needed). In the grand scheme of things, not a large amount. I just don’t want to wait the 6 months the paperwork would take to file for a grant. I may just break down and buy the printer with my own funds. It pisses me off though. I don’t want to have to do it, and I don’t think that I should have to. For doing marketing, communications and publicity, these are basic tools. You’d think that there would be some effort made towards having some funds available for me to be able to go equipped. I did get a pre-departure grant, but that was for all of the stuff I might need and it was roughly $800. Shoes, or printer… that is quite a choice to make. So, the bottom line is that: I’m not going to throw out 6 months of my 2 years on a pissy matter like this. I’ll put in the grants for other stuff, but I am going to get the printer. It doesn’t mean that I can’t be pissed off though.
Arg. Maybe I should try to set up a paypal donation thing: ‘save Ben from the bureaucracy’ fund. Hell, with 10k , and no paperwork, I could make an enormous difference. Benny Struthers… I can see it now. Do it for the children…
Wednesday October 15th 2003
Wednesday was travel day. I was supposed to be able to hitch a ride up to Among M’bang (where the highway starts) with the SNV, but I was dumped in favor of some refrigerators. So, at 4:45 am I left my abode to head to the ‘bus’ station. Its actually just across the street. At about 6:30 we headed out. I waited, and I got a good seat in the front. The roads were bad. This is what I expected when I headed out here, but was surprised by the good condition of the roads. This is much more of what I had in mind. The road had deep ruts from the logging trucks, was very slippery because of the rain, and had been either washed out, or was still submerged. There were a few moments, when we were heading downhill, that we were just skidding. The van (packed with 20 people) was skidding horizontally down the hill, and giant logging trucks, that are well known for not stopping, or moving for anyone, were coming at us. We skidded off the road a few times. We had to get out the van to walk across a muddy area, and the van tried for about 10 minutes to cross it as well. Then the fun started. In front of me, puff… a cloud of smoke appeared. We stopped, pulled up some metal plates. The battery had cought fire. We put it out, stripped some wires from the inside of the car, and fixes the battery… or a few minutes. Poof, again with the smoke. Again with the stopping, again with the fixing. This time, a damp rag was placed over the whole thing to make sure that it wouldn’t catch fire again. Again… poof. This time the flames were getting bigger. This was all directly in front of me, btw. Someone pulled the metal plate off, the rag, and some paper were on fire. I grabbed them, and threw them out the window before they hit the can of kerosine sitting next to them. Luckily, the competing van company’s van passed us… or tried to. We were blocking the road. We took some tools from them and started trying to fix the van. In this other van was none other than Patrice, the man who had won the election the night before to be the head of ROLD. We chatted for a few minutes while the repairs continued. He said that the other van didn’t seem to be as full. I asked if they had room for me. They did. I cut out on my estwhile cohorts, and took the working van.
Every once in a while, there are police checkpoints on all the roads here. One, maybe two cops (gendarmes) who make the driver stop, get out, and present the papers. Sometimes they look at the bags on the roof to determine if there is any contraband. We encountered one of those. He saw some bags on the roof, and wanted them brought down for inspection. This could be a prelude to confiscation, a request for a bribe, whatever. The driver was asked about the contents of a particular bag, to which no one in the van claimed ownership. After 3 or 4 requests for idenitifaction, a woman owned up to it. When asked what was in the van, she relpied meat for her family. Stuff she bought at the market, goat to be specific. The Gendarme asked for the bag to be brought down and inspected. The woman made some comment about him taking it. This pissed him off. Oh, I was out of the van, and by the side of the road for this, in full view of the gendarme. I’m not sure how much different the exchange would have been without my presence. Anyway, he got very huffy, and said.. roughly… I have 28 years of experience, I am the most decorated cop in the east, and you accuse me of stooping to take your nasty meat? Maybe I will, just for that comment. To which she said nothing. He asked her for her papers after berating her for being rude, with comments like: you can’t be married, because no man would be with you with a mouth like that, and just because you have a beard like a man, now you think you are a man. Side note here, female facial hair is common here, and this woman had a slight beard. When she didn’t answer, he again asked for papers. Now, everyone was getting a little nervous when she didn’t provide them. You just produce your papers on demand. Not producing them causes real trouble. So people started trying to make things better by asking her to apologize and just give him the papers. She apologized, half assedly, which he dismissed as to little to late. He talked of hauling her in to the station. Finally she produced the papers, which someone had to take out of her hands, and put into his ‘cause neither were going to move an inch. Now, I should be clear here. She was not being beligerent, just clearly annoyed, scared and evasive. After about 5 more minutes of him insulting her, her tribe, her name, her lack of husband (the truth of which was beside the point), he told her to change her attitude, and be thankful that she found a cop who was as compassionate as he was, and let us go.. without taking the meat. Back in the van a lengthy discussion ensued. The conclusions of which were: he had the right to do that, but most cops are totally corrupt. She was a total idiot for not just showing him her papers. The rule of law was indeed a good thing… as well as papers.With no further mishaps (except for hours… hours of very scary roads, we made it to Among M’bang. The road from Lomie to Among M’bang is 125 kilometers long. It took 7 hours. Apparently, it gets worse. George told me that wheels often go flying off. One interesting fauna notation. The rain brings out the ants. There were two or three ant columns crossing the road. Shit. There is nothing that scares people here like ants. I understand better now. The columns were like topograpghical maps of rivers. There were offshoots, and it didn’t go in a straight line… but the main flow was almost 3 feet wide, and it extended beyond the boundaries of the road, so I have no idea how long it was. Even driving down the road I could see the ants moving, and the mass churning along. That congo-line of ants could devour and destroy anything in its path.
From Among-Mbang on, the drive was relatively easy… except for the child that had been run over by a van (dead by the side of the road, and the van passangers standing around crying. A few police stops.. and the VSO land rover heading the opposite direction. I did manage to stop them, and find out that Arlette, my coordinator, was going to be out of the office because of an emergency meeting with Raymond and Dianna.
I made it to Yaounde. Took a taxi to Isabelle and Leanne’s pad.. well, it is sort of the VSO crash pad. I was totally filthy. Totally. That is not somehting I say much. I don’t really get bothered by dirt, and this didn’t bother me.. but I was a salty-ass country fuck if I do say so myself. I got the the pad, and caught up a bit with Isabelle. That was fun. We talked some dish about VSO and some of the drama in other people’s lives. I will post a few things in the next few days that will curl your lips.
Yaounde looks different after a month in Lomie. In some ways, bigger. In some ways, less so. Sidewalks are a strange phenomena. Stores with rows and isles is different. I guess that it is apparent that I have a better idea of what is going on around me, because all of the prices are going down, or I can negotiate much more easily. Taxi fares are better, someone tried to snake me out of some change… but I am pretty comfortable with what I cam doing, and how much things should cost. I still have a long way to go,but I already notice the difference.
Today I got money from an ATM, and if I got it right, I paid almost 50$ for the service. That is pretty damn high, and I might resort to western union tomorrow. I spent hours on line, and I still have a huge amount of work to do tomorrow. But for tonight, I am going to check out some theatre, meet a few people, and enjoy my evening.
Tuesday October 14, 2003
Monday and Tuesday were all day meetings for ROLD. ROLD, for those of you who don’t know, which should be everyone… is an association of associations doing development work in Lomie. It has..sort of… been around for 4 years, or maybe even 6. Anyway, the past two years have been a total loss. The director had a bad preganancy. There was a lot of infighting… and nobody paid their dues, so the organization couldn’t really do anything. The meetings were the General Assembly for the ROLD which happen every two years. They brought in a moderator from the SNV to help. The first day may as well have been in any US disfuncitonal organization that brought in a management consultant to help them. Buzzwords, presentations of warmed over business flow charts, and organzational models. Blah blah. Thing is, here, it still has some of the –wow, this is new- value. Not much, but some. Then we did some –group- work. Basically, doing an analysis of the opportunities and risks at a strategic level. As it is in the US, there were the: ‘we don’t need no stinking strategy’ folks, and the.. ‘all value is strategy, tactics are for the little people’ camps. It was interesting to see some of the differences… or the different results achieved with these methods in a different context. As in most places, those with a command of language, and in specific business language, talked and led. I was pretty quiet Monday. So were half of the people assembled. Especially the few Baka that were represented. Every session started late, and finished later. We didn’t finish one of the exercises as desired, and had to come back early the next morning. Oh, I forgot to mention. Charlie asked me to come in and work on Sunday, because we all had to prepare for the meeting on Monday. Turns out.. that really meant that I had to write out the agenda on big sheets of paper, while everyone else sat around outside and chatted. What really pissed me off is that I wasn’t prepared, and I didn’t get to bring my Ipod, or pencil to work with.. which would have made the work pass faster.
Tuesday was political… we got into ammending the statutes, and elections happened. We also finished the strategic work early in the morning. I spoke up and out much more on Tuesday. When I figured out what the exersice was really supposed to be about, I pretty much, politely, took over… getting us to where we needed to go in a short period of time. I may have annoyed some people, but I don’t really care. When we got to the statutes and stuff, I really started to ask some more pointed questions about power, responsibility and mandate. I started to ask because they want a VSO volunteer to help them pull this thing together… and I wanted to know what they were driving at, and how they expect to get there. I may even want to take over more of the marketting functions of this thing, as it offers more range than the GECEC. But that is another story, and may not ever even become one. So, I got into the fray a bit. I was commenting to someone at the meeting that politics seems to be strategy, but with a blood. So, out came the factions, the small town dirt, and the coalition building. I had to explain to people that I wasn’t going to be voting. That got most people off of my back. The new president, or whatever the official title is, is a strategy guy… Patrice. We’ll see how it goes. On a particular note. Charlie displayed his tactical astuteness again. There is a comptroller position that they were looking to hire from an outside firm. While we were amending the statutes, he recommended that the comptroller be found from within the group of associations. One: to save money, and two, because no one here trusts anyone else as far as they can throw them.. when it comes to money. Everyone agreed. I had a stupid grin on my face, because I know that no one else but Charlie could do it… so it was pretty much a no bid election when it came time to choose the comptroller. Only then did some people realise what had happened. I think it is good for the group, so I have no real objections, but Charlie now has them all by the short hairs.
This brings up a few things I have been thinking about. Sentimentalism. It is rampant in the NGO world. It is hobbling the NGO world. I mean, most people who want to “make the world a better place” are doing it for sentimental reasons, and less for ethical reasons. I think that ethics are a difficult thing to hold on to, and sentimentality gives some instant gratification. So, most of the people I see working, or volunteering are worse than useless. Not because they are bad people, perse, but they just don’t want to/can’t become like the ruthless people that they are fighting for the future of this planet, or whatever specific context they are in. Sentimentalism clouds the issues with how people feel about something, and allows words to take the place of actions as a measure of progress, commitment, or effectiveness. Maybe I am saying this because I just really don’t like sentimentalism. Maybe that prejudice is coloring my view, but then again, maybe not. If not, we are in a world of trouble, because those who want to do good, are basically repeating the horror of colonialism all over again.
NGO’s (and this is not my idea by a long shot, but I now have a better view) primary business is survival, not helping people. As they are not revenue generating by their activities ‘on the ground’, that money comes from fundraising. Basically, that is what they are really doing. The work is secondary… and probably now starting to be tertiary (after the raising of funds, and the presentation of the work on the ground). Example you say? VSO. We, the volunteers, are at the end of the process. What we do is essentially irrelevent to the organization. We are there for two years. The people in the office here have careers. They have targets based on how many placements they can find, not the quality of the placements. The reporting of the activities is becoming more important as well. The number of forms I’m supposed to fill out is silly… and they are completely irrelevant. I am pretty much just not filling them out. I smile, nod and basically go back to Lomie without filling anything out…because they sure as hell aren’t going to come and get them. I think the coordinator for the east hasn’t been to Lomie in years… Which is actually surprising, since travel is how most functionaries in this country make extra money (the travel –per diem is substantial). Anyway, one of the forms is called: A significant change document. Basically, the donors want to know that the money is going to something that they can put in their annual reports, or make them feel good about giving money (if you want to take the less cynical view). So, when the VSO presented this to us, they spent a lot of time explaining that it could be a little thing. Tutoring someone in english on your time off.. whatever. What it really looks like to me is an institutional recognition of failure. No big changes to report? Dress up the little successes… human interest stuff. I am thinking that I will either do something in video, or I will write about my change. A change from a hopeful optimistic development worker into a bitter crumudgeon. The story would have no bearing to the truth. I never had any ‘change the world’ notions coming here, but I think it would be funny to write. I’m also pretty sure that they would have no way to process it. Technically, I would be fullfilling the requirement.
Third thing, and this is the really big one for me. We (the west, north, rich, whatever stupid category we might fit into) have no understanding of what got us where we are today (namely rich and powerful). The stereotype is that Africans can’t cut it in the modern world because they aren’t capitalist enough, or they don’t have the rule of law, or that they are too collectively oriented to be able to lift themselves up. What a load of crap. I would say, if anything, the opposite. They are so ruthelessly capitalist that nothing can gain momentum. The lack of rule of law seems to be more and more lacking in the west as well. How many Enron executives are going to jail? When the brother of the president here opens a logging concession, how different is that from Dick Cheney’s old company getting huge no-bid contracts. I think that if anything, the myth of the rule of law is what might be holding us together. The myth, and the reality of some very protectionist barriers. The collective notion, or tribal, is nonsense. The tribal and collective stuff here is not that simple. We are actually far better at cooperation than people here. We don’t like to admit it, but all of the things we seem to hate, are actually what have made us strong. Redistribution of wealth, Collectivism, and a non-capitalist/humanitarian streak. These rapidly eroding values, are actually what seem to really differentiate us as people. Ironic.
Saturday October 12, 2003
I worked today. I was asked to film the opening of a new store that sells cheap farm products. The store was put together by a Tontine. This tontine seems to be well connected. Both the mayor and the sous-prefet showed up, and gave speeches. The mayor even pledged a cool million CFA, which seemed to be a surprise to the assembled audience. One million cfa is about 1500$. There was a band that came, and some dancers. The band was a ‘balafond’ band…which is a wooden and plastic zylaphone contraption. They were fantastic. I got tons of footage, and some audio from the DAT. I think I can put something nice together. The formula for the sceremonies seems to be pretty standard. Some speeches, some local authorities… this ceremony had a little skit about a store and AIDS, which was pretty incomprensible, then the food… served according to ‘protocol’ of course. The spread was pretty large, and there was monkey. I think I ate some, but I’m not sure. I am essentially a wedding photographer... which is fine by me.
Thursday October 9, 2003
I resolved the problem with Alex…for now. I moved all of my equipment into my room, and locked the door after he took the camera without permission again. We talked about it, and he was pretty disappointed, but what can he say. I have also been letting him use imovie to put together his first movie at night, so he can’t really complain. This is going to be an ongoing problem, but I think I’ve at least established a precedent that I can live with. I also feel like my stuff is safer in my room anyway. From dust, random people, and if I want to leave the front door open a bit.
The kitty is doing just fine, although doesn’t really seem to like fish… which is weird. She does eat bugs though, and that is handy. She also got the kitty litter idea immediately, and we haven’t had any problems since we got some sand. Now to work on getting her to go to the bathroom in the toilet. That I will be patient for.
I did some more time-lapse footage experiments, and I took some footage of ants. I really wish I had a macro lens. The ants were amazing, and they were doing an ‘ant highway’ thing that I have never seen or heard of before. There was a column of ants carrying stuff (larvae I think) and what looked like a dirt canal on either side, but when I looked closer, it turned out that the walls were alive. Essentially, the ants formed living walls to guide and protect the ants that were carrying stuff. They were stacked almost 2 inches high (about 5 ants piled on top of each other). It was at least 6 feet long. Absolutely amazing.
I was sick on Tuesday. Well, I was feeling run down all weekend, but I chalked it up to.. whatever. Tuesday I gave in. I took some medication for malaria, and slept most of the day. 24 hours later I felt much better. I still don’t feel 100% but when I head up to Yaoundé (next week… unless the roads get really bad) I will get a blood test done at the clinic near VSO.
I have been working on a logo for GECEC. I have some things that I like, but I still want more time to experiment. I’ll post what I have when I get to Yaoundé, and have a few hours of free high speed internet access. I’d love some feedback. It is definitely a strange process. I am trying to come up with something that will work in black and white, animated, for NGO’s and donor organizations, the local elites, and the local… locals? I feel strange ‘doing’ an African look… I mean what, they had to go all the way to America to find someone who could do an Authentic African Logo™ for the local savings and loan? How strange is that? It would be even more strange for me to do an Authentic American Logo™ though, and it really brings up some deeper issues involving identity, and the self… although what I really enjoy, is that those ideas are pretty much irrelevant. We just need something to use on business cards, and the flyers I’m going to do for the Tontine product we are releasing… (Tontine: the women’s groups that pool resources together to survive). I guess the overall lesson is that practicality trumps ideological soundness.
Development tangent here: So this whole notion of development is strange, and I really hate the word…but work with me here. I am essentially here for two years. Then what. The idea that we are taught (by the VSO and other development organizations) is that I will transfer skills to someone on staff, and that I will have shared my knowledge, and did that whole: teach a person to fish thing. In my case, that isn’t really possible, or desirable. I can make a bunch of stuff, flyers and leaflets and video presentations that should have a pretty durable shelf-life. The time that it would take for me to teach someone to do all of the things that I am doing is not realistic… and there are things that I can do as a white man here that a local person would not be able to do anyway. I mean, I am a walking billboard for the GECEC. Just me being here gets people’s attention. I am teaching Alex to do some shooting and editing of video, and I will be teaching people some stuff basic business stuff, so it not a fair characterization to say that nothing will be transferred, but only a small fraction of what I will be doing will be. I am essentially cheap labor. Is this a bad thing? Is this really development, or just a leg to lean on for a bit. I mean, Charlie is a sharp guy. He wins no matter what. I am relatively cheap, and I get attention without doing anything. I think doctors who are doing this type of work are pretty much in the same boat. Saving someone’s life is like giving someone a fish… does that mean its not valuable? Teachers, and the like (consultants, specialists) might work better under the transferring skills definition of development, but I sort of feel like that is avoiding the dirty parts. I have to do some pretty menial work, and that is helpful to a start-up…which is what GECEC really is. If I sat around and planned seminars, and slowed everything down to the speed where I could teach what I was doing, GECEC would suffer, and maybe fail. Is that what development is? Bottom line: this feels like a job, and I am just doing what is needed on a day to day basis to help the company survive… even if it means making an ‘African Style” logo as a white man. Even if it means that no one here is going to learn the ‘right way’ to develop a logo. Is this less valuable somehow? Maybe in an ideal world.
Enough of that. I have been invited to eat Viper for dinner.
I am now on the edge of a steep slope. I am bracing for the ride.
Monday October 6, 2003
This morning I took all the money out of my pants pockets, except 5,000 CFA. This is pretty much a blatant test of Alex. I don’t trust him, but I need to let him fail… clearly. I came back at lunch, and it was gone. So now I need to figure out what I am going to do. I can’t get rid of him. He could, and would, come back to liberate the stuff that I have. I would, if pressed. I need to instill a serious dose of respect, change the ground rules. All my stuff stays locked in my room, and I keep the keys. He gives me a full accounting of every penny he spends… or really, I don’t give him more than a few hundred CFA at a time… for immediate purchases- like food. He doesn’t touch any of my equipment without prior permission. All things that I ask him to do, I want done on time. This really sucks. I want him out of the house now. I can set these boundaries better if he is living next door, but I don’t want to evict the couple (with child) living there.
My most immediate questions is whether or not to call him on the money, or give him a chance to confess. I know that I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of me getting angry. I need to be pretty methodical about this. The thing is, I’m not really mad. If I expected more, than I would be mad, but this is pretty much what I expected. I had just hoped that I would get a longer grace period. It is also a harbinger of things to come. He is very impatient, and what he can get from me all requires patience, or theft. I’m not sure if there is much I can do about that. I basically have two points of leverage: long term he gets equipment, and the knowledge to use it (he can’t get that without my goodwill, and it will come at the end), and his fear of Charlie. Since he is impatient, the whole “stuff and knowledge” leverage is not useful. I may have a third point: Pride. He is proud and likes to show off my stuff. To the point that people are starting to comment on it. I can limit his access to my stuff, and his participation in my work. That is a blow that will sting, but with most vanity, comes brittleness. I’m afraid that it might break him…but I may end up taking that route. I’m just not sure how much I can treat him like a man, and how much I have to treat him like a child.
On another front. I’m not sure Kitty can keep solid food down. The place stinks like kitten vomit, and that sour smell of sick kitty shit. Alex didn’t put her in the bathroom as I asked him to, and the litter box is still empty. I don’t want just put dirt in it, but I don’t know where the sand is to be found. If it isn’t filled by this evening, I will just put some dirt in it. On the good side, Kitty seems wholly uninterested with running away.
I am not a nice person.
Sunday October 5th, 2003
Worked on my time-lapse video, and played with the kitty most of the day. Alex wandered off at some point in the afternoon… and returned with his father, who said a brief hello.. and then left. Alex wandered off at some point in the evening, and returned with some video footage.. of his son. One of the girls he sees had a baby. It is his first child. I feel pretty strange about the whole thing. He is excited. I am annoyed that he took the rest of the money that I gave him to buy some stuff with, and bought things for the mother. So here is where it gets weird for me. The actual amount is a few bucks. The mother could really use it. He didn’t ask, he just took. The problem is the whole power imbalance makes it impossible to have a real relationship with him. I am one giant pez-dispenser to him… money, knowledge, equipment. Fundamentally, that is all I will ever be. I can live with that, but it means that I have to have a specific relationship with him, and that also means that I am going to have to come down on him soon. I am going to ask Charlie to sit in, as a witness, because Alex fears Charlie, and I am going to have to rely on that to have him fear me as well. This is going to be hard. I have to scare him enough to respect me, but not so much that I create an enemy. I hate to reduce the relationship to a pure mechanical Machiavellian arrangement, but it is what it is.. and he has broken his part of the agreement. If I don’t enforce it now, it is all over. For me, my stuff, and the work I can do here. So seeing those picture of his child made me realize that I have to instill some fear into him. Instead of feeling any joy for him, I just felt mad that he has been abusing my good nature. Oh, and I found out that he is 24 (but his ID card says 18.. don’t ask, I don’t know).
I get to play with editing, and video footage, and the world bank.
Thursday October 2, 2003
The past few days have consisted of me editing the video footage for the World Bank meeting. I wake at dawn every day, work ‘till noon, rest my brain for a hour or two at lunch (deal with some social niceties), and again work until midnight. People do not seem to comprehend the concept of total immersion. They look at me as if I have some sort of sickness, which is probably not far from the truth… Alex is mostly stunned that I can concentrate basically without stopping for 14 or 16 hours at a time.
After a day or so I start to find the story in the images. The footage I shot was on my third day here, so I was a little out of it, and didn’t really have all of my brain available to cover all of the shots I needed. I’m trying to make do with what I do have. I am having some real fun with this, I only hope that I can take it to completion. There is no way I can get anywhere near what I want in 3 days. By major revision #6 it starts to be almost visually coherent. I have 5 minutes of introductory narrative (without the narration). I remember little things about editing video footage that have been burried in my brain for a long time. I can’t really edit in Final Cut, so I haul everything to After Effects, which I am more familiar with, and the interface idiom works better with my brain anyway. I need a script for some voice over, more video footage, the correct names of people, places and things, but there is a skeleton there. There are also a few edits that I like. The audio is a mess. I need to get some real audio software to clean up the crap audio that I have.
One concern that I have is that the amount of work necessary to make a coherent video presentation is lost on my audience. They seem to think that the work is in the video camera, and not in the editing. I try to explain the sheer volume of detail, and technical work that needs to happen for a piece to come together, but for them just looking at the video of people they know is so exciting, the subtleties of meaning, narrative and context are lost. That, and TV makes it all seem so easy, or at least natural and invisible. This might end up being a real barrier to me being able to do what I want… because without the appreciation for the time and energy required, there will be no support forthcoming. I have to do some pandering work next. Portraits of Charlie, and fellow office staff, for example. I am a cad.
So the meeting was painful and interesting all at the same time. Painful because the corruption in the Cameroonian government is so pervasive, and the world bank so removed and innefectual. The apparent topic was some fund that the Cameroonian ministry of the environment and natural resources (MINEF… which is pretty much the organ that sanctions the rape of the forests in the name of protecting them) was supposed to be managing was slated to give support to, among other things, community forests. The World Bank was there to follow up on how the fund was being managed, and to see if there was truth to the rumors that the timber interests were just using the community forest as an unregulated pillaging grounds (which is.. apprently very true). We had 3 hours of time slated, and over 2 was given to prepared speeches, and avoiding the issue. I may have really put my foot in it, but after a while I just couldn’t keep my big mouth shut. I raised the problem of the lack of papers for CODEVIR, and how the system was, maybe not intentionally, blocking the ability of the community forests to manage their own resources… so if they really wanted to help, here was a way right here and now to help out. I then pushed Herve to speak, who was reluctant, but spoke anyway. It turns out that one of the late-comers to the meeting was the petty bureacrat who was blocking the papers… I called him out in front of the World Bank. Big mouth strikes again. If it was my country, I would have gone for blood, but as it is not, I tried to instigate debate, and keep my mouth relatively shut. The government ministers began to talk of forms that were not filled out right. I said that obviously if that was the only problem, then they could have helped the community do it right, as they have no experience with this kind of paperwork… so the real problem might actually be a problem of will and priorities. Whoooo weee. The defensive backtracking from the petty bureaucrats was stunning, and was clearly not lost on the World Bank folks. Anyway, the dam broke, and out came all of the stories of stalled, stifled and sabotaged efforts by the local NGO’s in dealing with the government functionaries.
I felt better. It was like a blister popped. It may make things worse, as the World Bank folks leave, and the humiliated bureaucrat is the only authority left on the ground. I apologized to Herve afterwards. I also found out that the World Bank was there pretty much to take over from the Cameroonian government because the fund was so extremely poorly managed. What a shock. I got some business cards, and pushed them for some specifics. One last note. Charlie is a sharp guy. When final questions were asked, his were: what can you do to help us concretely… we see lots of strategic discussions, but nothing ever makes it to the ground. Of course the question was completely ignored.
So my plan is to throw the names of the World Bank and these folks specifially, around to help get the letters of transit signed, and threaten/cajole whomever I can to keep the process going. This is of course a lie. The World Bank couldn’t give a shit about this little project. I also am willing to shamelessly whore my camera out as a motivation tool. I will be trying to go to these meetings with a camera in hand to ‘document’ them… which I am, but the real goal is to use the WhiteMan With Camera™ power I seem to have here to get what I want. I’m hoping that the camera will be the carrot, and the World Bank, the stick. This is both unethical, and furthers the system of corruption. Why is it that the ruthless only work for themselves? I just hope it works.
I get sick and the world bank will be making a visit.
Saturday September 27th, 2003
Today is a sick day. I have been feeling lousy. I am getting hot flashes, the runs, and I am achy. I’m not sure if I have Malaria, or something else, but my day consists of doing nothing much other than listening to music, playing my gameboy, and chilling out. I have some visitors, but not enough to really disturb me.
I do find out that the World Bank, and MINEF are coming on weds night for a Thursday meeting to discuss the portable saw initiative. I have to prepare the video footage for a little ‘virtual tour’ of the site. Apparently some minister is not signing the documents that will allow the wood to be loaded on trucks to be taken for export (so no exporters will even look at the wood until that signature is there). I think that Jaap, in an effort to keep the project alive, has tried to bring in some outside pressure. This is a good idea.
I don’t really think that most people understand that the community forest project, and sustainable logging techniques present a real threat to the status quo. There seems to be this naïve belief that people really want to do some good, and that once agreement is reached, progress will be made on its own. Unless the NGO’s really understand that they are at war here, they will end up doing more harm than good. Giving people the tools to make their own product is less than no good if you don’t provide a market for those goods, especially when the product is fundamentally subversive. The frustration of a half attempt will create more hostility than just neglect alone.. you know, a promise broken, and such.
I don’t really know all of the details, and the players involved, but I pretty much understand that the big lumber interests have been grudgingly going along with this whole community forest project because they know that without education, and legal support, they can buy all of the lumber that they want for even less than before from the villagers directly. Like candy from babies. They supported the creation of said forests for that reason; but they aren’t going to embrace real competition…or even a successful competitive model. Even Jaap (a pragmatist) was talking about how the exporters, and lumber companies would want to take some of the wood from these community forests so that they can look good. I laughed, and said: “They will agree to the publicity, but that doesn’t mean they will actually follow through, and since no one is really watching anymore…”
I’m off to bed early.
com
I go to Messok, and the dead start to walk. Coincidence?
Thursday September 25, 2003
I spent a couple of hours talking to Jaap (the Dutchman) this morning. He has been doing development work in Africa for almost 20 years now. Whew. It was a pretty depressing talk, not because of anything he said, but actually more because of what wasn’t said. Basically none of the NGO’s and Charities want to get their hands dirty. They are turning into consulting companies…telling others what to do, without doing it themselves. I guess its easier to raise money if you can always blame the locals for the failures. I then went back to the office to finish up some posters for the Messok branch opening ceremony. I am glad I know how to write neatly. Apparently my poster making skills should be enough to justify my presence for a while. The members of GECEC were impressed. I didn’t really do anything other than write out and letter some lists of things…but I guess that is enough. I’ll upload some images of them later.
At around… 3 pm we left for Messok. I knew little about the place before we left. I knew that it would be a drive of either 90 minutes, or 6 hours depending on the road conditions (and it rained this morning so we didn’t know). Fortunately, it was a pretty fantastic drive through the jungle… passing villages, and animals and birds (I saw some flying Toucans). There were only a few really rough spots, and a bridge over the big river had giant holes in it that I still don’t understand how we got past.
We passed Le Bosque on the way to Messok. For those of you who don’t know, or don’t remember, Le Bosque was the Baka encampment in the Africa documentary that I had running at my place before I left. It turns out that it is pretty much a fraud. OK, maybe fraud is a little strong, maybe selective with the truth is a better description. Apparently Le Bosque didn’t exist until the late 70’s when some nuns decided to come down here and create a Baka village. They rounded up the pygmies and collected them around the church facilities, which happen to be beautiful from the outside (and apparently positively western on the inside, running water, electricity plush accommodations, the works), with meticulously kept grounds and some of the best facilities (medical and educational in the whole eastern part of the country.. which isn’t really saying much, but you get the point). So the whole ‘quaint’ pygmy’s living by the side of the road with little or no contact with the outside world was a deliberately created illusion. The irony is that are such encampments, two outside Lomie for example, but they don’t look as picturesque… Now, don’t get me wrong, it is still pretty close to absolute primitive man, but the images were very selective, and they made sure that the Nun’s plush accommodations and hospital, and school weren’t shown.
We made it to Messok, which is essentially a row of shacks along the logging road. Strangely enough, the Secretary of Defense for Cameroon hails from this little community, and even more oddly, he never served in the military, and even more oddly, his training is as a Pastor. Anyway, his wife is Mayor of the town, and I think they run it like a little fiefdom from afar… the Secretary has a big place in Yaoundé, Lomie, and a concrete house in Messok. I doubt that they spend much time outside of Yaoundé, but I bet there is plenty of money flowing to Yaoundé. Anyway, we made it to Messok around dusk. We headed to the hotel/bar where our accommodations were. We got there, and pretty much immediately I was accosted (verbally) by a drunk man who was basically accusing me of taking away his livelihood with my occidental ways. The pastor (who, as a GECEC functionary, accompanied us on the trip), told the guy that if he wanted to talk to us, he had to get on the floor and prostrate himself, as he was not fit to talk to us. Soon, someone came and escorted the man away.
We were shown our rooms by Kerosene lamps. The rooms contained a wood bed frame with foam on top. Some sort of fabric covering, and a moth eaten sheet, and a chair. The lamp was left as the means of lighting. The floor was dirt, and the ground outside the room was pretty much just mud, with algae rich puddles. The chickens that wandered around were a sort of natural insect abatement program. The water to be used by all was rainwater collected in a used oil drum. Scrawled in chalk on a wall towards the toilet (unless noted otherwise from now on all toilets are holes in the ground) read the word Hilton.
We left our digs, and got ready to make the social rounds. Charlie went to find one of his girlfriends, and Alex and I went down some road, where we entered a mud house, greeted a friend of his, and sat to have a beer by lantern light. Soon Charlie joined us, and slowly a quorum formed. Talk was in a French/Zime hybrid, and was about tomorrow’s ceremony. It turned out that the Mayor would not be in town, as promised, and that the deputy mayor wasn’t sure about his appearance at the event, and the prefect was ill, or visiting family in some other town. They were discussing what to do. I suggested that he might actually be wanting a little something to –motivate- the deputy mayor… and I suggested an interview in the video that we were doing. This seemed to be well received as an idea, and after some more debate, we headed off to dinner in an other house somewhere. There were about 15 of us in someone’s house (again mud and wood), which was lit by a single kerosene lamp. We ate, and then Alex and I were sent back to the hotel to wait while the negotiations happened with the deputy mayor (it turns out I was right, with a little motivation he was prepared to attend). After sitting in the bar watching people dance to music emanating from blown speakers, I crashed.
A few general observations about Messok. First of all, this is the first time I really felt tall. Lomie has enough outsiders that I don’t feel so extraordinarily large, but Messok was another story. I was a giant. Sitting I was as tall as most while standing. For most people of Messok, the idea of going to Lomie was like visiting the big city. The idea of Yaoundé was positively outrageous, and the concept of life in the US is pretty much so far out there, I may as well have antennae. It is a full on Trucking town, and the wild west feel of Lomie is nothing compared to Messok. There was a saloon that served a local moonshine, there is a sheriff’s office, chickens, pigs, goat and dogs roamed freely, and houses, or huts were pretty much set up where ever people wanted to live. The truckers are pretty much like cowboys who, instead of cows, herd wood, taking it to market. The Hotel/Bar where I stayed was pretty much a brothel (although I use that term very loosely) if it needed to be, and every woman dancing there could be encouraged to share one’s company for some beer and ‘getting home’ money… say less than $1. I feel strange even putting that crassly. I think the truth lies closer to: there are no distractions in town outside of drinking, and having sex. I think it is a much to mark time, as it would be for money.
Next morning, I got up, and walked around town shooting some video. I got some really great images. Kids knocking fruit off of trees, a monkey tied to some man’s house (apparently just for the time that it takes for the monkey to get used to the new environment, then they get let go to roam free). The “salle de Fetes” where the day’s celebration was to take place, and a few other establishing shots. I did get a great shot of the ‘promotional’ poster announcing the upcoming event. A sheet of paper with marker writing. This was the only ‘advertisement’ in town. Alex met a friend who offered him breakfast, which consisted of a corn type gruel, beans, beignets, We headed back to the hotel, where I proceeded to letter the banner for the ceremony on a roll of fax paper. It took me a couple of hours. The man who was harassing me the night before made a command appearance. He started off accusing me (white man) of destroying pretty much everything in Africa. He thought that the GECEC was my company, that I was coming in to town to steal everyone’s… well, everything. When I explained that it wasn’t my company, he said… it was some French person’s company.. when I told him that wasn’t true, he was bewildered. He was positively stunned when I told him I was American. Then he asked if I had come to kill him. Anyway, this slightly unpleasant conversation went on for the entire time I was working on the banner. He did tell me that I couldn’t be Jewish because I didn’t have an evil look in my eyes.
When I was done, we headed to the “salle de Fetes” to set up the room. I put up posters, and set up the video. The festivities were about to commence.
The opening ceremony was broken into three parts. The initial presentation, the ribbon cutting ceremony, and the food afterwards. The initial presentation was a dull affair, with French style speeches (pompous with lots of flourish, positively Baroque) read from paper. A presentation of the posters that I did by Charlie, which seemed to go over well. The biggest moment of the proceeding came when Charlie explained that I was going to be working for the GECEC, and that I was American… lots of murmurs and an expression of surprise. We broke, went to the GECEC office for the ribbon ceremony, which went as expected, and came back for food. There was a benediction, then the plenipotentiaries were fed, followed by the women, men and then the stray people who had heard that there was food. There was a bottle of horrid champagne as celebration.
After the celebration, came some interviews. The interview with the deputy mayor was a hoot. He put on his ceremonial ribbon which looked like it was left over from a beauty pageant, and pontificated in extreme ceremonialeese. There were a few other interviews, and then a trip back to the bar, where the deputy mayor forced Charlie to buy a round of drinks, and give him a free ride to Lomie. We waited around for a few more hours until everyone was ready to go. I stood outside and played with some kids, and crazy people. I am a serious magnet for drunks, crazy people and kids… and when I mean crazy, I mean it. The kids stand around and make fun of the crazy people, and think that I am the strangest creature around.
While the whole ceremony was unfolding, there was apparently another drama in town… a dead child came back to life. The story goes a little something like this: when someone dies here, they lay the body out for two days, and on the third burry it. As the mass for burial began, the child started to warm up, and sweat even. The mourners were stunned, and started to try to revive the child. After some time, the child woke up, and asked what everyone was doing there? He is slated to be back in school on Monday. Most people seemed focused on the dead coming back to life, but for some reason I just kept thinking about how many people actually get buried alive.
Our return was uneventful. I started to feel pretty ill. I had only one meal in the 36 hours of activities, no water (note to self: always bring water), and several beers that had been foisted on me (although I was able to keep it to less than 3 the whole trip). I’m not sure how sick I am really, but I have one hell of a headache.
Getting leafy greens and water.
Tuesday September 24, 2003
I went to the market this morning early… after spending some time in bed debating whether or not I wanted to get up. I had some feelings of anxiety, and claustrophobia… which are unusual for me. I’m wondering if the Meflaquine is making me feel weird. Its hard to tell if I am just looking for some private time and space to recuperate from (I get very little of either,and process (new job, new language…sort of… new culture) all the stimulus coming in; or if the drugs are making me feel strange… anyway, nothing serious yet, but worth keeping an eye on. Brigitte (one of my co-workers) was there, and helped me get some of the food I wanted with a minimum of hassle. I wanted to get some lettuce, but the guy selling wanted 600CFA (about $1) for each head… normally they are 100CFA each. I didn’t want to hassle, so I didn’t bother haggling. I got green peppers, tomatoes, and a pineapple (which is out of season, but looks good). One of my neighbors brought me lettuce at 100CFA a head… which I washed in water that I added a little bleach to. Yummy, leafy, green and kind of bleachy tasting. Mmmm.
I went to the drinking water well for the first time today. I worked my arms pretty well… and carried the water back. The old man who runs the well hassled me for cutting in line (there were a bunch of kids filling up buckets ahead of me). In my defense, I was just following Alex and another neighbor. Apparently the old man was just giving me shit. When he asked if I had payed my “abonnement”, and I told him Alex had, he said “oh, that bastard… I don’t deal with him”. It’s the first time I’ve heard a Cameroonian swear (except for the occasional –merde-)… anyway, it was a good workout, and carrying the water back was even better of a workout (my arms are sore). I need to learn to carry it on my head because that is the way people don’t spill any.
I worked on a bunch of lists at work. To do lists, 3 month plans…etc. After work I played my GameBoy for the first time in a while (Advance Wars 2), and drew in my sketchbook a bit. It made me want to have the energy to work on the flower/bug game artwork. I felt a little bit better after that. I took a picure of Alex earlier in the day, and I put him in a picture I took in a SF BART station. He pretty much flipped out when he saw himself in the US. I think we are going to put him in a few other pictures from the us, and we are going to print them out… most likely so that he can tell people that has been to the US. It cracks me up. Then I went to sleep… a turgid, strong dream filled sleep. Meflaquine again? Malaria? Over stimulation? Whatever the reason, it felt good.
The reality of raising funds in the jungle crests the horizon
Monday September 22, 2003
Today was a good work-day and a frustrating one; I’m sure a harbinger of things to come. The day started out well. I wrote some email to prospective donors, and friends. I had my first real work meeting with Charlie, and we went over the 3 month plan. It is pretty ambitious, and I am feeling (mostly self imposed) pressure to show some results. I also went over the overall list of things that I want to get done. I got a few emails back… all of which were pretty much along the lines of: that’s nice that you want money and equipment… we have some, but you are going to have to jump through some bureaucratic hoops to get it. Nothing really serious, but I know what is coming.
Chris, the former volunteer here filed out a request for a small grant through the VSO/British Council program to get computers for GECEC. It got accepted, but they won’t release the computers unless someone is here to transport the computers, and since he was leaving, the whole thing has now had to start back at the beginning… and then I found out that the fund is out of money for the year… so I have to wait until January to start the whole process again. Which means no computers until…oh maybe next September. For me to do my work (the list that Charlie and I worked on today) I need a printer, some paper, and ink. The whole thing would cost about 300$. I could get that money through one of the various funds out there, but it would take at least 6 months (my guess at this point). So that is going to be a big frustration for me. I am going to have to go to Yaoundé and spend some of my own money to be able to get my job done, which I don’t really mind. Mostly I’m annoyed at the needless wait, and the lack of coordination between the volunteer organizations, and the donor organizations. I mean how hard should it be to get a rapid deployment fund ready for each volunteer of around 500$ for quick cheap projects that could help with productivity in the short term. I really wonder what percentage of the money actually makes it all the way through the bureaucracy? All in the name of accountability probably.
Sunday is Meflaquine day
Sunday September 21, 2003
Sunday evening. Tonight is Meflaquine night. That is my anti malarial medication. Possible side effects include psychosis, hallucinations and crazy dreams, and stomach aches. I had a great dream the first time I took it, but since then I pretty much just get the stomach aches… unless I stuff myself. I think I will grab another “bar de maniok” and try it with peanut butter. I hope that will help.
The reason I am thinking about has to do with the large number of insect bites I seem to have gotten over the last 48 hours. I’m not sure they are mosquito bites, some of the groupings are not right for that. There may be some biting bugs in my bed (I have my net up, so it isn’t mosquitoes at night), or in the house… I’m just going to have to wait and see… but in any case, I am making super sure that my Meflaquine is not missed. I also need to get some fabric that I can hang over my front door so that I don’t have to keep it closed. The door closing seems to present two problems. One, no air is getting in. Two, people think that I don’t want them to stop by and say hi. This social thing is going to get me down later I know it. I am in the center of town, and everyone stops by going to and from wherever to say hi. I guess if I can get to the point where I don’t have to stop what I am doing while they are here, I’ll be good.
I did yoga today. I love doing yoga in a tropical environment, I stretch like a rubber band without really having to do the hard work. It makes me feel healthy even when I’m not. I do know that I am not very strong anymore, and I really will need to work on that. I also know that I was sweating up a storm. There were puddles on the floor. I am actually sweating a lot more than I thought I would here. Its not really that hot, it’s the humidity that gets me, and more than that, the stagnant air inside. I positively start to flow whenever I get shut in a room with no breeze. I’m hoping this is an adjustment, and that my doing yoga will help re-set my body thermometer. If not, well everyone here is going to have to get used to the sweating giant.
This thing with Alex is a little strange. He pretty much has decided that I am his father figure already. I’m torn. Part of me wants to pretty much stay out of that kind of role, the other part of me is thinking… if I’m not here to help like this, then why did I come. Oh, and I found out he is the cousin of Charlie, and that he had been living in Yaounde until he came back here for some reason this summer. I suspect that I will really be helping Charlie by taking in Alex, as much as Alex. Charlie is pretty much the man of the house (I think he’s in his late 20’s), and I think the man of a few houses. All of the kids and women there are not his offspring. I think that they are his brothers and cousins. It seems to me that he is pretty much supporting a family of 6 or 7. I am going to have to do some real work setting boundaries if this is going to work out… but I am trying to be careful. Sigh. George (the other VSO volunteer) is pretty much supporting a family as well… although it is his girlfriends, so there is a different kind of responsibility there.
On another note, the GameBoy is a hit. I’m going to need a few more games sent. Aside from Metroid, and somewhat WarioWare, the games I have are not interesting enough for the kids around here. I think some platformers would work great. I’ll never touch the unit again of course… it has pretty much been adopted by Alex, and his friends. They wear it around like jewelry. I’m sure if I put up a stink I could get it back for a night here and there, but I’m ok with them enjoying it.
On the work front, I am starting to send out email requests for information so that I can do some fund-raising. I realized that I might as well give in to it, and try to put some development dollars to work if I can. It’s a skill that will be useful in the future as well.
ah, home again
Saturday September 19, 2003
Today, I believe, the rainy season started. It poured this morning, and now again this evening. I spent the day talking to Alex, my temporary house-mate, a I think, younger brother of Charlie about what I can teach him for the next two years, and what he can do for me. I told him that if he takes care of me (including helping keep my digital wonders in my possession, shopping, cleaning and helping out with video shoots), I would teach him how to shoot and edit video, and that when I got ready to leave, I would give him a video camera, and a computer so that he can go into business on his own… I was pretty clear about what I expect from him, and told him that if he breaks the contract, the deal is off…but I’m not sure what all of this will come to. I feel a little strange. I sort of have a house-boy, and apprentice all in one, and it wasn’t really of my choosing. I think that Charlie wants him to find a skill or job that pays. I was asked, but I didn’t really have a lot of latitude. The power imbalance makes me uncomfortable. I’m not even really sure how literate he is. My suspicion is that this will either be a fantastic experience for both of us, or a total disaster. We shall see. He has been helping me set up my place, buying stuff, and having stuff brought to the house.
Speaking of the house, it is pretty much set up. My bed is in place, along with my mosquito net (I’ve been getting absolutely mauled lately), an armoire, my table with all of my computer stuff is up and working. I have been teaching Alex how to log and capture in FCP, and I have been pulling down some of the footage I shot. I have some serious “Africa” cliché shots that are… both cliché and amazing. I also tried out my satellite modem again today. This morning I chatted with Gwinn for an hour or so. If my little bandwidth calculator is at all accurate, it is a cost effective way for me to stay connected with people. I am set to chat with Eric in about 15 minutes. Being here, and having this technology is a bewildering experience. I’m not sure that I have internalized it enough to really break it down. We’ll see how it goes. As a work tool, it is stunningly powerful. Not the tool itself, but the access that it can bring. Today I asked Gwinn to do some research on the mining company that is coming to town, and I got some immediate responses. The biggest reason I hope that I can keep this equipment up and running is that the amount of work I can get done here will be 5 fold with this. Ok. Time to chat with Eric.
first day in Lomie
Saturday September 13th:
A full day of travel started with 3 hours at the bus depot in Yaounde. The (small) bus held 21 people, children included. It was the size of a large econoline van. I kept my backpack with my precious electronic cargo on my lap to prevent it from getting whacked to bits. The road leaving Yaounde was totally passable. Paved and in pretty good shape. The main arteries of Cameroon are well tended. Both Charlie, and Eric traveled with me, so I had some minders to make sure that I didn’t go astray. The countryside was stunning. Cameroon is one of the richest (resource wise) places I have ever seen. Food pretty much falls from the forest. Things seem to grow well. The red earth is moist from the rains, and it seems easy to till. We drove for 3 hours in the van to Among M’Bang, the junction town between Lomie and Bertua (the regional capital, clocking in at a whopping 8,000 people and apparently an internet café). We paused, and all of the luggage was handed down (including the goat) from the roof where it had been meticulously placed before. It was pretty easy for the locals to spot the White Guy gear and hand it to me. We paused for a few hours in town waiting for the van to Lomie. I was introduced to Olivier the external controller who verifies the books for GECEC. We chatted, while the new van was loaded, and then we were loaded. This (smaller) van held about 17 people. In front we were crammed in 6 across. I was one of those. The road to Lomie was not paved, and it started to get pretty bumpy, but all in all still much better than I had expected. Apparently the rainy season is starting late this year. We drove for about 4 hours through some amazing jungle. The road was wide enough for the logging trucks, but that was about it. I was touching… or rather the jungle was touching me, through the open window. Darkness fell (and I do mean fell.. it goes from daylight to darkness in about 20 minutes here), and we were still about 50km from Lomie. We started to see the hunters returning from the forest with their catch. We stopped a few times to inspect it.. and the driver and Charlie both got Porcupines. The last hour of travel was shared with a few fresh carcasses, and the odor of wild animal. We got to Lomie at around 8:30. A total journey of around 12 hours. Remarkable timing. I was then carted off to Charlie’s house where I went to sleep.