Drying clothes in front of the fire cause it's too wet and rainy to do it anywhere else...at least without them getting mildewy and taking a week to dry. Thank God for fireplaces!!
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
September 7, 2006
Flashy hats, God, and Roadblocks
Since I’ve been back it seems that one of my co-workers finds in necessary to wear a new hat every day. These aren’t the normal hats you see around—like a Domino’s Pizza baseball hat or the common black Adidas cap. Nope, these are a variety of cowboy hats, in all colors. We’re talking florescent orange Jagermeister, shiny teal with sparkles, and woven with a red sash. Not only are they quite fetching but he always, without fail, has the chinstrap drawn so tightly that the skin around his neck and cheeks puffs out along the edges. It all adds nicely to his Canadian tuxedo, always well pressed.
Among my many cultural lessons here, one is about God. In the Northwest province, specifically, God is everywhere. Every taxi is painted with a slogan of some sort (“Jesus Saves” “I Am Covered With the Blood of Jesus” or, my favorite, “Thy Will Most (yes, most) Be Done”), people will bring up God on a regular basis, sing church songs ALL the time, very loudly, and love to argue about the difference between divorce and polygamy. I try very hard to steer clear of these conversations because I’ve found, also, that my cultural (and likewise religious) perspectives are quite different. Recently, however, I got into an argument about why I wouldn’t bring this man back to America with me. He thought that bringing up God would convince me because, after all, he wanted to have money and mansions and nice cars—America is full of stuff like that, waiting to be taken. I tried to find the correlation between his desire to have money, mansions and cars with God…he cleared it up for me. You see, God had told him that that was his way in life. To have many material possessions. Obviously. I didn’t argue, just put in my headphones and said I had to work.
After surviving my second roadblock in the past four months I feel informed enough to add this among my insights and thoughts on la vie Cameroonaise. So, it seems the tea works just outside Ndu haven’t been working in the best conditions—i.e., haven’t been paid regularly in years. They finally got mad enough to chop down approximately 100 trees, pile them in the road and seed them with bee hives. Obviously this wasn’t the easiest thing to get ride of…may have had something to do with angry men with axes, guns, and machetes, or the swarming bees, I’m not sure. Either way, it lasted almost a week and caused great distress among travelers (me included), anxiety and stress on the part of local government trying to calm the situation especially after a gendarme was hospitalized and possibly killed by a rock to the head, and talk among the entire province about the privatization of the plantations around the country. The highlight of my 6+ hour trip (84 miles) to Bamenda was the point wherein our driver had all 18 passengers get out, carefully walk down a very steep, very muddy hill while the driver tried to slip down. At one point about 9 men who were working on cramming rocks into the potholes were actually holding the van up so it didn’t plummet over the side of the hill. Eventually the roadblock was cleared but not before I was slightly scarred by the massive gun I saw sticking out from a pillow case in a passing car, the jabbing pole I sat on for 6 hours, and the feeling of having our van almost flip over as the driver daringly tried at another hill. I’m alive, the road is cleared, and we’re all happy up here in Ndu…that is, until the next attempted revolt.
Some insights on life back in Cameroon. Flashy hats, God and Roadblocks.
Flashy hats, God, and Roadblocks
Since I’ve been back it seems that one of my co-workers finds in necessary to wear a new hat every day. These aren’t the normal hats you see around—like a Domino’s Pizza baseball hat or the common black Adidas cap. Nope, these are a variety of cowboy hats, in all colors. We’re talking florescent orange Jagermeister, shiny teal with sparkles, and woven with a red sash. Not only are they quite fetching but he always, without fail, has the chinstrap drawn so tightly that the skin around his neck and cheeks puffs out along the edges. It all adds nicely to his Canadian tuxedo, always well pressed.
Among my many cultural lessons here, one is about God. In the Northwest province, specifically, God is everywhere. Every taxi is painted with a slogan of some sort (“Jesus Saves” “I Am Covered With the Blood of Jesus” or, my favorite, “Thy Will Most (yes, most) Be Done”), people will bring up God on a regular basis, sing church songs ALL the time, very loudly, and love to argue about the difference between divorce and polygamy. I try very hard to steer clear of these conversations because I’ve found, also, that my cultural (and likewise religious) perspectives are quite different. Recently, however, I got into an argument about why I wouldn’t bring this man back to America with me. He thought that bringing up God would convince me because, after all, he wanted to have money and mansions and nice cars—America is full of stuff like that, waiting to be taken. I tried to find the correlation between his desire to have money, mansions and cars with God…he cleared it up for me. You see, God had told him that that was his way in life. To have many material possessions. Obviously. I didn’t argue, just put in my headphones and said I had to work.
After surviving my second roadblock in the past four months I feel informed enough to add this among my insights and thoughts on la vie Cameroonaise. So, it seems the tea works just outside Ndu haven’t been working in the best conditions—i.e., haven’t been paid regularly in years. They finally got mad enough to chop down approximately 100 trees, pile them in the road and seed them with bee hives. Obviously this wasn’t the easiest thing to get ride of…may have had something to do with angry men with axes, guns, and machetes, or the swarming bees, I’m not sure. Either way, it lasted almost a week and caused great distress among travelers (me included), anxiety and stress on the part of local government trying to calm the situation especially after a gendarme was hospitalized and possibly killed by a rock to the head, and talk among the entire province about the privatization of the plantations around the country. The highlight of my 6+ hour trip (84 miles) to Bamenda was the point wherein our driver had all 18 passengers get out, carefully walk down a very steep, very muddy hill while the driver tried to slip down. At one point about 9 men who were working on cramming rocks into the potholes were actually holding the van up so it didn’t plummet over the side of the hill. Eventually the roadblock was cleared but not before I was slightly scarred by the massive gun I saw sticking out from a pillow case in a passing car, the jabbing pole I sat on for 6 hours, and the feeling of having our van almost flip over as the driver daringly tried at another hill. I’m alive, the road is cleared, and we’re all happy up here in Ndu…that is, until the next attempted revolt.
Some insights on life back in Cameroon. Flashy hats, God and Roadblocks.
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