Harambe-Cameroon

I am really excited about my internship here in Yaounde. Rachel and I are working with a foundation called Harambe-Cameroon, and more specifically on an environmental project that they are currently working on. Harambe-Cameroon was started by Olivia Mukam, who is just 5 years older than I am. She came to the United States in order to study at John-Hopkins University. While there, she was involved in a project that involved African students who were all, like her, studying in the United States. They wanted to make use of their experiences and opportunities in the United States in order to make a difference back home in Africa. They made a collective initiative (which I not sure of all the details and objectifs of which) but is still going on today. So, Olivia came back to Cameroon, her native home, with a lot of talent, experiences, knowledge and most importantly passion for making a difference for her people here in Yaounde. She began Harambe-Cameroon, a non-governmental organization with the idea that a large majority of Cameroon’s “enjeux” if you will, are actually pretty solvable. The problem is that the new generations simply don’t know how to make a living for themselves and solve the problems at the same time. It is commonly known here that a vast majority of the population is incredibly smart, and I think more than 50% of the population actually has a master’s degree. The problem can be found within the employment system. There are not nearly enough jobs in Cameroon, and no one has been taught the kind of entrepreneurial skills that are necessary to MAKE jobs for themselves. Olivia saw this as a huge opportunity. There are more than enough problems in Cameroon to be solved, and with the correct ideas and initiatives, those problems could be turned into businesses. And hence, the creation of Harambe-Cameroon. Olivia immediately focused on university students once she had set up Harambe. Last year they created a competition. Students had to identify a problem in their society, come up with a solution to this problem, and then propose a business solution to it. They got funding from other organizations and so forth, and were able to offer a valuable sum of starting money for the winners creation and commencement of their entrepreneurial idea. The winner of last year was Abdou NJOYA. He proposed the creation of a recycling system which would be installed on the different universities campuses and then potentially after a very long while, potentially within the city itself (as recycling here is actually non-existent.) He wanted to set up sets of 3 large waste bins-color coded as the Cameroonian flag in order to collect plastics, compostable materials and glass. Now a year later, the project is beginning to come together. He has since solidified his idea with essential particularities, for instance where the material would be taken and stored, how to create the bins so that stealing of the material (such as glass which gets a fairly good price from the retailers) and how they would educate the student population and make this system effective. Rachel and I have arrived just in time for the fun part: making this idea on paper become a reality for Abdou. This week we went with Abdou to the University of Yaounde I –our first campus choice. We talked with the Vice-President and with the Dean of Administration in order to see what the field looks like so far and what kind of support we might be getting. The President is the only person that we need permission from in order to start this program on his campus, but the others are a vital piece to helping us get the go-ahead. Both Abdou and I went into the meetings well prepared to answer the skeptical questions that these men would have for us, because I were them, it would seem a little too good to be true in a way. We need no help from them other than their permission-everything else is covered and would be self sustaining. We certainly were not expecting the meetings to go as well as they did however. The Vice-President said while he obviously could not give us the go ahead we needed, if he could help with anything he would and he got us the appointment with the Dean. The Dean was what I thought to be a tad condescending in the beginning of the meeting-he was only doing what anyone would by asking us all the details and being sure Abdou had indeed thought of everything-but at first it seemed as though he thought we were being naïve with this dream of recycling. However, Abdou is incredibly intelligent and has been working on this project for more than a year now, and answered all his questions with ease and reassurance. By the end of the meeting, the Dean told us he would help the project be expediated to the President, (really great because with African time, us getting our request to the president could be a long time without the dean’s help) and also told us he thought this project was a really great thing we were doing. Abdou was overly pleased afterwards, which was so fun to see after all his hard work. The communication between Abdou and I is also really great. He speaks English well, only slightly better than I speak French. So we both speak in interchangeable French and English, depending on what vocab we are needing and when we both want to practice our other language. We still have a lot to do obviously, with making educating posters, getting the bins created, setting them up on campus, etc. but it is so exciting to think we are actually putting this idea into development that will help the community immensely. It would be great to come back in about 5 years and see it in full swing. (Hopefully it will be doing really well by then.) While Rachel Abdou and I are working on that, Harambe is in full swing with this years competition. When we have time therefore, we will also be helping with that. We are coming up with all kinds of fundraising ideas, such as karaoke night, dance competitions, and “American cooking” type of bake sales. If anyone who is reading this has a facebook and has not done so already, if you could “like” Harambe-Cameroon on facebook or add them as a friend, it would be such a help. Olivia is trying to get funding and being able to say we have a thousand likes or friends on a social network would help a great deal. Thanks!

A cultural spanking

This weekend Eliza’s camera went missing. I had borrowed it to take pictures during our environmental field trip, and was keeping it very safe in my backpack in my room until I could remember to bring it to her safely. On Saturday night, we all went out to go dancing. I had the camera in my hand, thinking, "oh I will bring Eliza’s camera to record some of the night!" But then, for once in my life, I am incredibly self-admitting and responsible, and think, "no Elizabeth, you will do no such thing because you lose everything but the shirt on your back, and it is not even your camera." So I put the camera back in my bag and leave it safe and sound in my room. WELL much to my dismay, on Monday when I come home from sleeping over at the apartment on Sunday night, I realize the camera is gone. And even though I had been gone for a day and a night, and couldn’t remember exactly what I had done with it, I had a gut feeling it had been stolen. My host brothers had cleaned my room on Sunday morning because they are great and love doing nice things for me, but I was worried that this was when the camera had disappeared. I didn’t want to not believe the honesty of my brothers, but I didn’t want to be naïve either. So I traced my steps like my mother taught me so well to do-and figured out exactly where I was and when. I investigated all the possibilities and finally came to the conclusion that no, I had not been irresponsible with the camera, it had indeed been stolen. I was positive that my two older host brothers had not stolen it, but had a feeling that it had probably been my younger host brother Morris. My family reassured me that they were going to find this camera, and had thought that our other little “brother…not actually a brother” had taken it. The next night, I come home and wait to see how they are going to go about doing this. I was not at all prepared for what was coming. They had the 15 year old “brother” come over, and my host mother started interrogating him. When he didn’t have answers or when his answers did not bring us any closer to getting the camera, she would simply tell him he was lying. She gets herself a little worked up about the whole matter because he is not admitting to anything (I am thinking that I am pretty sure he is not the one to have stolen the camera) and all of a sudden comes over to where he’s sitting and begins to beat him. And this is not just a kind of slap on the face that stings a little, like spanking punishment. This is two fisted as hard as she possibly can pounding on his back, hitting his head with her flat hand, and stomping on his feet with her heels. The sound of her fists upon his fragile back was absolutely terrible. I am 5 inches away from him in the next chair. So is a guest of my mothers, who is eating his chicken like absolutely nothing is happening. Naba, my host brother, tells her to stop and wait for Morris to come home so that they can see what he has to say. She stops for a bit and goes back to sit down. They boy is sitting very still with his hands covering his head and trying not to cry too loudly. After a few minutes, my mom starts talking/interrogating him again, and again, gets herself worked up. She walks across the room and grabs the large wooden broomstick. A sharp intake of breath from me alerts Naba to what is about to happen, and as she strikes the broomstick down full force from all the way behind her head, both Naba and the boy attempt to stop the blow, which in my opinion, could have been potentially life-threatening depending on where on his head it could strike. She manages to hit him, but not on the head, and so goes for a second hit. At this point Naba and Cyril, my other host brother, manage to take away the stick from her, which as least told me that this kind of treatment had crossed the Cameroonian standards of punishment as well. Finally Morris comes home and they start asking him what happened. He admits to taking the camera just to use it, but says that now he does not know where it is. When Autance (his real but secret mother) finds this out, she too takes both fists and pounds Morris on the back to the ground. He is ten. He is so upset and crying and hurt that he starts to dryheave from hyperventilating. Naba takes him by the hand to go and calm him down, and also search his room for the camera. They come out 5 minutes later with the camera. At this point, my heart is in my throat because while I of course wanted the return of the camera and the problem solved, I knew the consequences that were about to come with the appearance of the camera. Morris was guilty and had clearly stolen. He knew this as well, and was hysterically crying. My host mother told him all the things that we would tell our children in America. That stealing is wrong, and you are even only 10, how are you already stealing? If you need something, you ask for it. She calmly told him to eat his chicken, and then she would hit him. I could do nothing but wait. Because of the cultural difference, it is no ones place, especially not mine, to interfere with the punishing of children. My host brothers are also chuckling at how upset Morris is. A new host brother who just returned home from school the other day, takes responsibility and takes Morris by the hand out into the dark courtyard, butcher knife in the other hand. From the dark I hear the horrific screams of Morris as Freddie hits Morris with the flat blade of the knife. He is told to go to bed, and the other “brother” is allowed to leave. Throughout this whole ordeal, I have been sitting stunned and stuck in my chair, afraid to leave in case things get out of control and I do actually need to step in like Naba did, and also because it is because of Eliza’s camera that all this happening. I am well aware of the cultural difference, and even though this was my first real experience with serious child punishment, I tried to keep my complete horror hidden from my face. My brothers however, since they know me, can tell that I am upset and know why. They start joking with me, saying oh how funny it is that I am upset, because they don’t hit kids in the United States so I don’t like that. This reaction almost bothered me as much as the beatings did. It seems very unfair or at least unequal that here I am, trying to not interfere or say anything and being understanding that this is a huge cultural difference between the two countries-understanding that these people aren’t cruel or don’t not love their children, that this is simply their culture….and here they are, making fun of me for being upset when they know that we don’t do that, that people go to jail for doing that in America-definitely not be understanding to the cultural difference. It just felt like, if I am making the effort to understand from my point of view, why can’t or why shouldn’t it go the other direction and they make that effort too? I of course still love my family, but it did of course shake me up a little and was incredibly hard to sit through. But, like we discuss here a lot, it is very easy to make assumptions like our way is better or this is right and this is wrong. And while I will never think that beating a child is the way to punish them, I think it is very important to realize that there is not necessarily a right or wrong way, and because its easy to make fast judgements and assumptions we have to be even more aware and vigilant about not making those decisions quickly. We have to be able to see things through all kinds of different lenses and learn about why differences exist in the first place. It is only natural and good to have your own opinions, but important to realize there is a difference between judging and simply observing the situation.

How many class changes is that now? 4?

Our first days at l’Institut Catholique went well, even though we were enrolled in two classes that none of us wanted to take to begin with, but that were the only ones that weren’t 8 hours every week, hadn’t started yet, but also didn’t wait to start until may. Getting to the classrooms we got lots of the usual stares, but once in class I was surprised by how little attention we got. It was pretty refreshing! Week two, however, we realize that because of a change in time of our religion class, we would be missing half the class every week due to our other class…SO we have to drop our anthropologie des religions, and just keep sociologie politique. HOWEVER, this leaves us with only one class. We talked to the doyen, and asked him if, even though it starts in april and Mr. Teku didn’t want us to not be in class and was also skeptical of the probability of it actually starting in April, could we try and take that course now that we have no other options since all the classes have already had 2-3 classes. He said we could, and while Mr. Teku was not too pleased and is having us join other classes at the Dickinson Center in the meantime, we are all really hoping the class starts in April because it should be super interesting—it is the cultural problems in western Cameroon. The University also has a dress code, no skirts above the knee and covering up on top…which two of the guards enforce, and the rest do not. So some days when we have skirts that go right to the knee or just above, we get a little reprimanded, but it’s a tad confusing because we see other Cameroonians wearing the same thing. We do realize, however, that we are just slightly more visible than the other students, haha. It takes us two taxis- or a moto and a taxi to get to the University, which is kind of a pain because it costs a lot then and requires us to leave our houses at 6:30 am, BUT a moto ride in the cool morning air for 30 minutes makes it all worth while. So now we wait and hope our April class starts, and are doing pretty well in our other one too. In addition to our other classes at the Dickinson Center it makes for a nice change of pace to go there.

Le sable noir

We took a weekend trip to Limbe, another coastal city in Cameroon. We got into the car on Friday afternoon after our classes at UCAC, spent a good 7 hours in the van (for a 4 and ½ expected drive) due to all the traffic. Traffic here not just meaning car jams, but also hold ups for large herds of cattle crossing the roads. Mr. Teku bought us bananas along the way, as people are constantly selling items like that on the sides of the roads for the drivers. When we arrived at the hotel (Holiday Inn! Not exactly the chain in the states) they served us this amazing dinner. We ate these delicious sandwiches with bread and mayonnaise, tomatoes, and hard boiled eggs. There was rice and chicken and really delicious vegetables with garlic and of course pineapple and papaya. Eliza Doob and I got to share the “guest apartment” out back behind the outdoor kitchen. The following day was really full and fun. We first drove to Buea about 15 minutes away-which was a great drive. We were able to see the huge palm oil plantations and rubber tree plantations. The rubber trees were the most interesting. They are these really tall skinny trees that are all bent over as if the wind has pushed each one in the exact same manner. Each one is tapped just like a maple syrup tree. Along the way we watched Mount Cameroon grow bigger and bigger. That particular day was the Race For Hope day in Buea. Each year they have a huge race up the mountain. About 600 men and women summit the mountain—in, get this, about 5-6 hours. WHAT! It was crazy. We came mid-day, so some of the first runners were coming down the hill, and we got to stand on the side of the road and cheer them on. Next we drove to an artist’s house named Max. A few years back, Mr. Teku found this man and was really impressed with his work. Max paints absolutely beautiful African tableaus. Mr. Teku tracked him down, and brought him to Dickinson to teach a course there and also get some awards. He got his name out, and now is known world-wide. He sells his paintings for thousands, millions of dollars now, but instead of getting himself a nice house and living exceptionally well, he has kept his little studio to work in and donates his money to different organizations which help children in Africa with things such as AIDS. Getting to talk to him was amazing, he is so genuine and happy. He told us how he was not supported for wanting to be an artist at all. His family did not want him to do this and his friends thought that he would never go anywhere and he should be a doctor instead. Now that he is slightly famous he reports with a huge smile on his face that he has brought him family and town pride and they are very very happy that he is an artist. He also has not let go of any of his African ideas and instincts with his entreprenurialship. He will only sell a painting if he feels that the buyer’s soul goes well with the painting and rubs him the right way. If a painting falls down on the floor he sees that as a sign that the painting needs to stay in his studio and never be sold. He has one painting that he has refused to sell for 20 years because of this, and obviously is now worth millions of dollars. The UN even tried to buy it…no go. His work and his words were really moving, and even made Eliza a little teary eyed. Next we went to go see the tea plantations! They look just like bean fields, but with beautiful blue flowers on top. How do they harvest it I asked? Women pick off the bijillion leaves by hand. How many women and how many hours this must take blew my mind. Really amazing, but the tea in Buea is a big economy for Cameroon. We then drove to the zoo. We were all really impressed with it because it was not like a zoo in America at all. This zoo was made with the goal of saving animals from human captivation or extinction. It isn’t uncommon for people to have baby monkeys or tigers and keep them as pets, not really being aware of the danger and difficulties of this once the animals grow older. It is also a big problem that people hunt and kill chimps or monkeys or..whatever really, and sell it as bush meat. So, this zoo was opened and has since really expanded and become much better for the animals over the years. They now have lots of chimps, monkeys, gorillas, a huge boa constrictor, crocodiles, and more. It was really fun to watch the animals, and the incredible human characteristics they have. From the zoo we headed to the beach! The beach was much more touristic than Kribi was. We were certainly not the only people there, and definitely not the only white people there. The sand in Limbe is black! Very bizarre, but really fun to play with on our faces and skin to pretend we had mustaches or black skin. We also got to take some horses for a ride on the beach! While not as amusing as we thought it was going to be originally, it was really fun for the people who had never been horseback riding. Colleens horse was being very stubborn and was intent on not coming back from down the beach for about 10 minutes. Mr. Adolf, who is a friend of Mr. Teku’s that helps us with whatever we need, got in the water this time in his boxers and a “north Carolina” t-shirt. Highly amusing. That night we got to eat the delicious fresh fish straight from the ocean, and other yummy goodies back at the hotel. Eliza had broken the faucet in our room that morning, and so because our water was still turned off, we had quite the issue with bathroom needs until our morning departure. On the way home, Mr. Teku bought us the biggest pineapples we have ever seen, and we came home straight away to, as Mr. Teku likes to say…DESTROY them.

You think your wedding was cute?

Friday night I come home to my host mom and dad sitting with one of our family friends outside about 9. I quickly learn that the family friend is getting married, and we are planning the wedding meal because we are having the wedding at my house! How fun! When is this wedding taking place I ask? Saturday. As in, the next day. At two. WHAT?! This is Africa folks, this is Africa. In any case, I am really excited. I know there is going to be a lot of work to be done to prepare all this food and prepare our house for the wedding, which I can help with. My host dad also told me to make sure I bring some of my girlfriends to the wedding as well, and be ready to dance! So that night I help my mom prepare these meat ball type of things and get the chairs all outside along the wall. Here in Cameroon it is typical to line up all your guests chairs along the wall, in order to save a big space for dancing on later, and not have the area be crowded. Also great for getting to check out who’s all there as you sit around facing each other and eat your food. On Saturday morning I get up and am ready to go. I made friends with my host brothers girlfriend the week before, and so in the morning she came prepared with kossam (drinkable yogurt) and beignets (delicious pieces of fried bread and sugar) for the both of us to eat while cutting up mass amounts of papaya and pineapple. I then go out back to help my other host brothers girlfriend cook all the fish in hot spackling oil out back on one of the three woodburning fires. After that, I helped my host mom cut up chicken. Thankfully, we did not kill them ourselves at our house, which is pretty common. They killed it when they paid for them at the market. So now, I am completely knowledgeable in the butcherie process of chickens, head and eyes still on the chicken and all. No squirmies here, because in order to halve the chicken, you need to take a couple big blows to the sternum with a huge butcher knife and more often than not, spray a little chicken gunk everywhere. We cooked the plantains, made the rice, and swept and washed the house. After all was said and done, we all washed up and made ourselves look nice, and when the wedding party arrived from downtown signing the papers, (about 2 hours after the so-called start time of the wedding) the festivities began. The Cameroonian torrential downpour of course came at the most inconvenient time, and brought the good majority of the guests inside, but stopped in enough time to not ruin the entire party. Once the wedding party had eaten, everyone else ate, and the food was demolished in the span of about 45 minutes tops. Anne, Doob, Anna and Rachel came over to see the party. Once everyone was done eating, the couple came out and did some of the rituals, which were quite possibly some of the cutest gestures I’ve ever seen. The parents from both sides came up and welcomed the other into their families. Then the newlyweds both took a bottle of champagne, stood facing each other, and popped them at the same time and shared a little of the celebratory drink with everyone. Then the newlyweds said things to the crowd, thanking them for coming etc, etc, and then were cheered on as they had their kiss and hugged each other. They both looked like the happiest people on the face of the planet. Rachel and I were literally tearing up it was so adorable. They then did their first dance, and everyone got up to dance along with them. Things settled down a little after that, while people all got their drinks and got ready to get down! From there, the dancing never stopped. They all thought it was really hilarious and great that we were dancing too, especially since none of us can do much dancing at all. Everyone was dancing of course, the elderly, the young kids, the newlyweds with their baby (it is common to have a baby together before getting officially married here-and the couple had an adorable half albino baby which I was allowed to dance with later!) and my host mom, who’s got moves! All my host brothers were dancing with us, and it was just a really really fun evening. As the night wound down and guests slowly trickled off, I learned more dance moves from my slightly tipsy hilarious brothers and host dad. It was a really fun time, and the newlywed husband told me that it was the happiest night of his life and was so glad we were all there to join in. One great wedding.

When it rains, it pours

Cameroon has four seasons, two wet and two dry.
We are technically in the dry season right now, however, the beginning of the wet season has come early here.
And when it rains, it pours.
Power goes out, life comes to a halt, and the rains comes down. I have never seen so much rain in so short amount of time. It is actually incredible. And really gives the dirt roads a beating.
However, it is great for cooling off Yaounde, and also as I came to find out, great for taking showers.
Because the rainfall is so heavy, and it is so hot before the rain, taking a shower out in the rain is more than necessary. It's pretty heavenly.
From an environmental standpoint, without some good ole herbal essences, taking my shampoo out in the rain with me is not exactly kosher, but seeing as how my shower inside drains the water out the exact same place where the soap would be going in the rain, it isn't quite as much of an issue. I do, however, regret not bringing herbal essence here because water pollution is terrible, and while I am only one person, and shampoo is certainly not one of the more dangerous things being put in the water, it would make me feel a little more environmentally sound.
In any case, getting stuck under la pluie is not always a bad thing.

Fidelis goes to school

A while back, Fidelis, Mr. Teku's son and my new buddy, told Eliza and I that we should quote on quote "come with him" because he wanted to show us something. Eliza and I, being skeptical, kept asking what it was, but he would not budge, and since we trust him, we decided, while in africa...
We walked down the road a little ways and started to hear music and voices in the near distance. As we approached our destination we realized that Fidelis was taking us to a school. A primary school at that. When we walked in, literally every little eye was on us, and we got escorted to the front of a huge assembly of kids, and were awarded seats in the shade-clearly a sign of respect seating arrangement. We soon discovered what exactly Fidelis had wanted us to see.
The only way to describe it is to say it was a sort of talent/fashion show, with an african twist, being put on by a kind of student council. There were multiple girls and boys who, upon the music cue, would walk out on the invisible runway and model their attire--eveningwear-- which consisted of the very typical "this is what the people in music videos going out to dinner look like", african traditional wear--which was my favorite as it was exactly what it sounds like, and casual "i am 'a la mode' right now lookin good wear. They would display these outfits and also do a little bit of african dancing at the same time, to what was presumably a few judges in the front row next to us, while all the little ones looked on and cheered. Intermission was a huge dance off, different guys and groups of people would get up there and dance like crazy.
I mean, dancing here IS their culture. I know no one who cannot dance. And the ones who are known as "good dancers" are literally out of control. It is amazing.
At one point, the dancers were getting people from the "audience" to come up and dance, and of course, "les blanches" were prime candidates for such an activity. Thankfully Eliza, and not me, got pulled up and taught a little dance move, and the crowd went wild. Fidleis was extrememly amused, as later we found out that that was his goal all along.
Later that week Fidleis took us to his own school for the same kind of event, but only with dancing. That time we came willingly and it was so fun to watch group upon group dance their pants off. I made friends with the young lady sitting next to me with an adorable baby, and so was allowed to hold the baby for half the show. Anne got a great picture of me in my kaba with a cameroonian baby, which im hoping she will put up at some point and i can attach a link on here.

T.T.R

Since not everything that happens here is worthy of a story or a blog, but definitely worth remembering, I give you...: Tiny Tidbits to Remember.
1. sugarcane is absolutely delicious, and grace explaining how to eat it without sounding inappropriate was even better than the sugarcane itself.
2. if you're lucky, while traveling at night you will find yourself in what we like to call the "party cabs". also known as little cars with 70's style carpeting on the seats and blue mood lighting.
3. Contemporary Cameroon consists of the professors buying a round of drinks in an underground club and listening to the rain, because, as Eliza likes to point out, it really rains a lot here.
4. one of the rotating meals that my family makes is called gumbo, and has the consistency of saliva. Tastes delicious, but takes some will power to get down.
5. Going to class at the dickinson apartment is always life threatening as a savage goose inhabits the entry way and is not afraid whatsoever, to charge.
6. marriage proposals here are like black licorice jelly beans. no matter how hard you close your eyes and hope for none, you always wind up with WAY too many of them.
7. My host brother, Naba, determined to learn some english from me, and very excited to try it out on Doob in the morning when we were leaving for school--grins, waves, and yells, GOODNIGHT! to doob as we are getting in the taxi at 8 am.
8. while talking to an overly friendly man at my family's wedding, I sassily defended rachel's nose ring with some statements about the United States fashion and her ability to make that choice herself, making it quite clear that I was not about to let Rachel get criticized unfairly from a different cultures perspective. later finding out that this was in fact, not a random person, but rather Colleens host father, I was worried my arguments might have perhaps been not polite, by countering a host fathers opinions. HOWEVER, i later learned that Cameroonians truly appreciate a good debate, because now Colleens father thinks i am the salt of the earth and "quite an intelligent young lady". Who knew.
10. walking up a hill, or...just walking for that matter... at a snails pace in Cameroon is considered only natural, why walk fast and exert energy? I am happy to say I am eating up that cultural difference. what a wonderful concept. my kind of people.

More Tiny Tidbits to Remember in the future.
This is Elizabeth Toutain, signing off.
Au revoir.

Jackie. This isn't a flower, this is you being lazy--(or focusing more importance on other things--good call dad!)

So we have all now gotten our dresses made by the woman down the street named Jackie. She is a very sweet woman, and is a good dress maker, but she isn't one of the greatest dress makers ever. She is a tad lazy. We all got beautiful dresses made that we love, except pretty much every dress needed some kind of minor adjustment. These adjustments haven't been extremely tricky, but Jackie isn't really into over working herself, and so some of the adjustments we are all thinking need to be done by others. My dress is beautiful, and jackie adjusted the straps to fit me perfectly, except instead of cutting the material and restitching it, she simply pinned it up, and then sewed it in place, saying, "oh they're flowers!" haha i mean jackie, i may not know how to sew very well, but those arent flowers...those are a product of your laziness. But I actually like them, so they are okay. I also bought a kaba-a traditional african dress which is basically a pretty potato sack with cool interlaced top material stitches, which I also love.
March 8th is womans day here, and apparently all the women buy this specific print that comes in either pink or green and wear it on womens day. So next outfit is these dresses, perhaps made by doobs mother, who makes really nice things!

Parents in Chon, parties begin.

My host mom went to their village, where my host father is the chief and is there for another week, so my older brothers threw a little party in our courtyard yesterday night. Tex said there would be lots of dancing and a dj, so we all got really excited to see some amazing african dancing, BUT it ended up being just a nice get together with all his grad friends who made amazing cameroonian food and sat around and chatted. My older brothers are amazing, and we love each other. Naba, Edson, and Tex are all about 25-ish, unknown, but love having a host sister to look after and hang out with. They are really nice, and a lot of fun.
Morris, the younger brother, is also a gem. He acts very serious and tough, but then when I get home he gives me a huge hug, or giggles like a cute little boy when i tickle him, so i know its just a front. I like to call him mon petit bebe.

Mangos of god

We had mangos two days ago for the first time. They aren't in season yet, and even so, tasted like they were from heaven. They even beat the amazing pinapple, banana, and papayas, which we did not think was possible.

Le recteur. DIDN'T see that coming.

Mr. Teku took us to have a little orientation at the Catholic University yesterday, which was really nice. We got to meet all the important administrators who all welcomed us with classic cameroonian love. The campus was beautiful, and the classes all look really interesting. They also have a gorgeous church, which I am excited about going to, because they play music with all the good kind of african music. Very exciting. We got to meet the recteur-or president of the college-and were very stunned to find out he is an albino man! Not that an albino can't hold a prestigious position, but albino's here are marginalized a lot, so it was pretty shocking to meet him. He was extremely nice though of course, and was very excited to have us here. So for classes as of now, im taking the mandatory "Contemporary Cameroon", a class called Negritude and additionally Environmental Studies at the Dickinson Center. And at the Catholic University I am taking a class called "La geographie humaine et economique de l'afrique centrale" and "La culture africaine...something or other" The second one we are all taking, and the first one Eliza and I are taking. I am overloading by one class because I really want the environmental science class-which im 99% sure will count for my french major since it focuses more than 50% of its content on Cameroon, a francophone area. And it sounds like overloading is VERY doable here with the amount of academic rigor. If it is too much, I can always downsize.
Classes start soon, so then life will really seem more real here!

Motos-- The new addiction

A few of us have now taken rides on the moto-taxi's, which are the most addicting things ever created. They are not exactly advised because of the obvious safety reasons, but students in the past assured us that you need to try them out anyways and just be careful--which we OF COURSE did. And they were right. They are cheaper, more fun, and actually not scary at all. Holding on isnt even necessary, it doesn't feel dangerous and the drivers, (when you make sure he looks like he's going to be a safe one...ie with a helmet, glasses, etc.) are very good at weaving in and out of the traffic carefully. They are also much more easier to get than the regular car taxis-although you are noticed much more easily--look, a white girl on a moto! Peter and eliza just joined doob and I in our moto addictions, and now are possibly more excited about it than we are.
Dad, looks like im taking that moto back when I get home!

My address

Elizabeth Toutain
c/o Teku T. Teku
P.O. Box 14478
Yaounde
Centre Region
Cameroon

Laisse! Ca c'est MA FILLE!

So right at the beginning, I was in love with my host mother. She is large and in charge. She is loud and protective and immediately loved me when I said hello to her in her maternal language--which her son taught me earlier. The family, however, was quite the shocker. Not in a bad way, in a...sooooooo whos in the family? whats his name? who is he related to? is this a polygamous marriage? where is the dad? WHAT is going on?
There is a little boy, Morris, my favorite who is 12, and who is probably one of the best dancers I have ever seen in my life. He trys to put on this tough guy attitude face, but when i mock him, he grins really wide, and laughs and stops that. He absolutely loves playing games--and loved all the toys i brought for him. We have now lost all three bouncy balls I brought, the gum is half eaten, everyone in the family loves the starbursts, and I have created numerous paper oragami planes and boats for him. This morning, since we lost all the bouncy balls, we went and bought a soccer ball for 3 dollars, which was a hit for not only morris, but the entire extended family. Morris's parents, however, are unknown to me still. I think the mom said that she is in fact, not his mother, that its her sister in laws brother, but he thinks she is his mom, and will tell him the truth when hes older...like our adoption system usually. I learned that there IS in fact, a father, but he is the chief in his village, Chon, and therefore he is there, hence why I still havent seen him. There are two other sons, and another guy who...im unsure of name or relation who lives there. The house almost feels like a dorm, because the mom sleeps upstairs, and everyone else down. I am in my own room with a big bed, and morris and utance, (again, unsure as to whether she is an aunt, a sister, a daughter, whatnot, and another girl, whooooo thinking about it, im not sure lives in that room at all.) Then the three boys live in their own rooms that are outside, with separate doors from the house. But in any case- they are all extremely welcoming and nice, and very fun to live with. Someone was bothering me outside the big doors the other day, and the mom was very insistant that he should leave me alone because i am her daughter, which was pretty great.
My family also owns a bar, which we live right behind. It plays really great african music, and the people are used to seeing white girls, because the have a host student each year, so I dont get QUITE as many stares. Liz, the girl from last year, used to have all the other students come over to hang out there, and so we are all definitely going to keep that tradition going.
Table manners here are awesome, the complete opposite from france and even america. It is considered polite and a symbol that the food was excellent to lick your fingers after your meal-since you eat a LOT with your fingers. And eating a lot is encouraged. heavily encouraged. And we all eat at different times, no real family dinner sit down-we dont have a dinner table even for that kind of thing, so its very relaxed and laid back.
Peter and I also like to get a kick out of our family's unusual practice of loud activities at, inconvenient hours. For instance, Peters family rev's their truck engine every morning at 7:00. to warm it up? its 80 degrees. please.
And my family is in the habit of chopping wood at 5:00 am, which just so happens to be right outside my window. They chop it to start making the food for the day, so i obviously am not complaining, but...really? haha its quite the change in lifestyle!

On a different note, we now have all bought beautiful material and given it to the seemstress down the street to make dresses. So by next saturday we should all have real live african dresses! wew! ill try and get a picture to upload of my dress when i get it.

We are also trying to set up a compost pile and a garden here at the dickinsn center, since a good majority of us are really environmental and sustainably interested.

Yesterday at the market Colleen was mistaken for Shakira, and the man was so incredibly excited by the fact that he touched her, he went down on one knee and shouted so loud and pumped his fist. At the markets, it is impossible to browse--mom would be annoyed. you have to make your decisions very fast (i am annoyed) and know exactly what you want and what size and how many. its stressful but fun--better if you are shopping for food. and the prices are all really cheap, and of course, bargainable.

Thats all for now, its hard to keep updating before I forget everything that happens since the computer access is limited!

--OH and jessica is a cameroonian girl who is here to help us with EVERYTHING. she is hilarious and we are constantly running into misunderstandings or cultural differences between the group and her. but she is really great, and we love her alot.

Rachel and Eliza try to wash their clothes….

Today is our last day at the apartment. We all were a bit…lets say “sick” for the sake of everyone, in the morning, so no one was feeling too up to par- this African cuisine seems to finally be making a joke of our weak stomachs. We cleaned the house, mopped and swept the floors, and then some of us did some laundry. This of course, was a learning experience for the majority of the group. Jessica, who I just realized I haven’t mentioned up until this point—(how could I forget?! Ill come back to her in a minute) was eyeing our techniques while washing the clothes. Rachel and Eliza were, according to Jessica, not doing anything right. Mom will be proud to know that Jessica commended me on my washing knowledge. We explained that no, we are just simply stupid, but rather just have never had to do our clothes by hand before. Finally, after hours of washing by Rachel (she got up at 8 am to do her laundry, and when asked how long Jessica’s laundry normally takes her, she replied, ohh, 10 minutes..haha) we all hang the clothes on the bushes to dry, and finish up. Now, we wait for our host families to arrive to pick us up, and the semester will have truly begun.

Walls of material and syllabuses

Today we met Dean B downtown to buy our first meters of material for dresses, skirts, cabos, the like. We walked in, and had trouble seeing. Bright, bold fabric literally everywhere in sight—on the counters, on the walls, in the bins, just everywhere. There were even bras and undies already made. We took a while to choose our favorites that were in our price range, and are all planning on exchanging because each piece of material will make about 2 dresses each. Later this evening, the professors came over to talk about their classes, and we are all thinking about overloading now. All the classes sound so good, and we wish we could take them all. I placed high enough on the French exam that I will be able to take 2 courses at the Catholic Institute here in Yaounde, along with Colleen, Claire, Eliza and Doob, should they all choose to take them there too. We are all running around trying to figure out what is going to count for our specific majors and at the same time, not take too many so that we don’t give up experiencing Cameroon—so we will see how that all turns out by next week. French lessons start on Thursday. Bring it on.

Trip to Kribi--the image on every postcard getaway

So we packed our swimsuits, lathered on some of our 50-proof sunscreen, and headed to Kribi for the weekend. Kribi is a well known tourist beach spot in Cameroon, about 3 hours away from Yaounde. We were all expecting very low toilet standards for the trip, because Dean B kept insinuating that the toilets were pretty… “sauvage” as the French might say. But we were in heaven when we arrived, realizing that Dean B had been pulling our legs, and the place was actually like a resort. There was even warm water in the bathroom-which is a huge luxury here. We immediately went swimming, and nobody could stop smiling. It was like floating around in the biggest bathtub on earth. I mean, I’ve never been in water quite so warm. Everyone was also really fascinated by the idea that we’ve all been to this ocean, all swam in this same body of water, but now, we are on the opposite side, looking homewards. We all kept picturing where we are on a map in our heads, and it’s just so unreal. While at Kribi, we got to watch a handful of young boys reel in a HUGE net…full of fish. They take the net out with a tiny little handcarved boat, drop the net-and then a bunch of boys pull it in. It was crazy. Doob got the most adorable picture of a little boy holding a handful of his very own fish. Peter made friends with a little boy who wanted to play catch with him. Peter mentioned to us that he asked the little boy his name in French, but that the boy didn’t respond. Peter said “but isn’t it nice that even though we can’t communicate with words, we can communicate with smiles?” About twenty minutes later, when we got him into the ocean on a little inner tube, we learned, to the hilarity of everyone but Peter, that the boy speaks English. The next day we took a trip to the Lobe Falls, which are pretty famous because it is one of the only places in the world where fresh water falls drain directly into the ocean. It was really beautiful, and we got to take a ride in one of those little boats—called piroques—around the falls. We ate fresh shrimp, plantains and French fries. The rest of the time there was spent eating delicious pinapple, papayas, watermelon, fish and amazing kebobs. We all tried to get up on the last morning before the sun came up to take one last dip in the ocean, but none of us ever made it…

Meeting the host families, and...Patrick?

Our host families all came over for dinner. We cooked the usual fishheads, chicken, fried plantains, and rice. Then we waited for them to arrive. Of course, being on African time, most families showed up around, 6:30—when the gathering time was written down as 4:30. Finally, when everyone had sat around for a good long time;  the kids in the house, the families outside, Mr. Teku called us outside to be introduced. We lined up facing them, and one by one got announced, and were able to see our families for the first time. Usually a few people live in the Dickinson Apartment, and this time Anna was supposed to live there, but when everyone had a host family and was so excited, she realized she really wanted one too, and Mr. Teku, knowing all, of course had invited a family for her…just in case. I think It’s pretty indicative of the kind of group we are that everyone was so intent on living in host families. I met Patrick, who I thought at first was my host father, but am now realizing is not. My host mothers name is Marti, and I live in the same area as Doob! What a coincidence. We are pretty close to Eliza and Peter as well. The dinner went fine, and Patrick and I had plenty to talk about, sitting right next to Eliza and her host family. We were all really happy with our families, and now we don’t see them again till after our beach vacation at Kribi! 

Casino--or Score?

Took our first walk in the city today, and it was a really new experience. We first had lunch, which was of course, delicious, (minus my mild heartburn as a side effect of the malaria pills) and learned how amazing chicken taste when not raised in a huge factory. So we then took our walk-which consisted of LOTS of attention, obviously. I felt like i was on one large white american train ride through the city. One man even shook my hand. It is so surprising when everyone refers to us as beautiful, when in our opinions, we aren't the pretty ones, rather, the ugly ducklings amist all these incredibly beautiful people. We finally made it to our destination, something very familiar after Toulouse, the Casino grocery store, and picked up some groceries for dinner with Mr. Teku and everyone else. On return to our apartment, we met our neighbors downstairs--3 of the most adorable children we have ever met in our lives. Elijah, who is 6, Bayl, 5 and their younger brother, name unknown, who is 3. We played with them from our balcony for about 45 minutes--their favorite game was throwing up their teddy bear to eliza, who would...be eliza, and make surprise attacks at my face with the teddy, for LOTS of laughter below. Speaking in english, and in french, is such a huge difference from Toulouse.
The administration here is also just such a wonderful shock for me and doob especially. They keep telling us how much we are going to love this program, love cameroon, laugh so much, learn so much, and to not worry about things too much, just to do our best and work hard. SUCH a nice change from the constant stress of Toulouse.
We also heard from two amazing women here at the center tonight. They are living my dream. They both are working for ngo's here in Cameroon. One of the girls MADE her own, and they are both incredibly successful. We will have the opportunity to volunteer for them whenever we want, which a lot of us definitely want to do.
Anyways, mr. teku ended the night, as he seems to always be doing, with some hilarious quotes. one of which, included..."oh, im just standing because of happiness"