Bonjour Abu

Abu remains my favorite nickname/pronunciation of my name that I have heard here in Bibemi (or perhaps ever). Others here include, but are in no way limited to: Oh-bre, Aubby, A-bre, Offrey, and of course Audrey (oh, so your name is like that yellow haired girl from 24 – damn TV shows seem to bridge that cultural divide anywhere and I cannot escape being called Audrey no matter where I move). In a given day, I hear most of those versions of my name with the exception of Audrey. There is only one Gendarme here in Bibemi who calls me that. I hear “Abu” each day I go to work because it is a family in the Muslim quartier that pronounces my name like so. I have to stifle back laughter each time I hear it. It is a great way to start the morning, honestly.

Mango season has officially commenced. Nonkong (the water boy) has started bringing me tiny green mangos as a cadeau (French for gift). I don’t know if the green ones that are picked when they are green will become ripe but we shall see. Many people here eat them when they are green and they are not very sweet. Perhaps tonight I will try one like that.

Okay I believe somehow in the midst of my enthusiasm over the wonderful things available in Yaounde I forgot to mention something very important – I heard the song “total eclipse of the heart” (one of my all time favs) in FRENCH at the main grocery store in Yaounde. Now, I know most of you reading this are trying to figure out why I am making such a big deal about this but – to me – it was amazing and I just ran to find one of my friends (who was elsewhere in the store and who had been rocking out to the English version of the song with me on the bush taxi earlier) and we both got extremely excited and happy about hearing the French version. So, picture two girls (both “from” Louisiana) very enthusiastically pseudo dancing to “total eclipse of the heart” in French in the middle of a large African grocery store. Can’t picture it can you? Guess you’ll have to come see it for yourselves.

On the way home from Yaounde I got off the train in Ngaoundere (just try to say that correctly!) which is the end of the train line and basically immediately went to the bush taxi to Garoua. Well I had missed the first bus by literally 3 minutes. It was still there when I got there but full and they wouldn’t let me on. But, I bought a ticket for the next bus and just sat and read my book waiting. Well, boarding a bush taxi is extremely hectic and they basically call your name out – but you often cannot understand that they are saying your name – and then you grab your ticket and then run to the bush taxi and push your way on and try to find a decent seat. The seat is important because it is a 5 hour ride and one person in each row will be sitting in-between two seats and that makes for a long 5 hours. Well this time for me a nice guy who worked there saw me and knew that I would be pushed out of the way and end up without a good seat and so he told me to give him my motto helmet and he went a put it on one of the good seats by the window for me. It made the trip awesome. For some reason, Cameroonians don’t really like wind. They keep the windows closed during this 5 hour trip during which the temperatures rose to about a 100 degrees. Well, I cannot be anywhere near comfortable for 5 hours in a stuffy bus sooooo I kept my window open – just a tiny bit – and kept my arm basically hanging out of the window trying to keep at least one part of my body cool. Also, each time the bus stops in some small town people come up to the windows and try to sell you things like fruit, beignets, juice, water sachets, etc. I was able to procure some papaya and beignets and a water sachet. Lovely. However, by this time I have been traveling for about 20 hours. I got on the train in Yaounde at 6pm on Wednesday and this is now about 4pm on Thursday when I am pulling into Garoua. I still have a long trip to Bibemi on the motto. Well in Garoua I have to drop off some of the packages I lugged up from Yaounde for the volunteers up here in the North and I had to pick up some of the packages for one of my postmates that I had left in Garoua. So, after quickly running these errands I got in a taxi to Pitoa where I could get a motto to Bibemi. Well, since it is Thursday and the day of the large Adoumri (a town near Bibemi where Phil is) cattle market (and by large I mean largest in central Africa) it is not very safe to travel at night because of road bandits. So, on the 20 minute ride to Pitoa (which finally began around 5:20 – which is an hour before the sun will be gone completely) we got a flat tire and didn’t arrive in Pitao until about 6pm. Well, at this point I cannot make it back to Bibemi safely – especially since I had to stop in Adoumri to deliver packages to Phil. So, I had the motto take me the hour to Adoumri and stayed the night at Phils and headed safely to Bibemi in the morning. Note to all those up in the Grand North with me – don’t attempt the trip from Yaounde in 24 hours unless you live in Garoua or Ngaoundere. Break it up. It is too much for one day – I promise. Lesson learned.

So I arrived back in Bibemi on Friday (market day) and was fairly exhausted from all this traveling but I went to the market to get some foods – since having been gone a week my fridge was empty. Monday, went to work and then lunch at the chefs house. Because this week was the fete de jeunesse (youth day – which is a huge national holiday here) they asked if there 13 year old daughter could come over and freeze a bunch of yogurt in my freezer as they had done with the volunteer I replaced in years past. Sadly, I didn’t have the large freezer anymore but I said she was welcome to use my tiny one. Well, I had about 60 bags of yogurt shoved into my tiny freezer (which normally holds about 3 bottles of vodka and is full) and then on the drawer/shelf below it she had shoved another 200 yogurts. Literally my whole fridge smells of sweet milk. That is what their yogurt is. But, hey, I was happy to do my part for the youth!

Speaking of youth, Wednesday was youth day. This is a national holiday here in Cameroon and involves all the big wigs in towns gathering together under a tent or on a platform to signify their status (along with all the other people who gather around the field where the fete will occur). I faired the fete in Adoumri with Phil as I was on route to Garoua that day and Adoumri is on the way. Also, we heard rumors that Adoumri was hosting the districts fete and while I think those turned out not to be true it was still a big to do. I took many photos but I am not sure they do it justice. Basically all the schools (and a few of the organizations) in town (and in the surrounding villages) dress up in their uniforms or in a special outfit for the day and then they parade across the field one after another. Then, when that is done, they come across the field again and this time each school performs a dance/song (and a few skits like a karate match) for the officials in the town. Now watching groups of African youth dance is quit different than watching groups of American children dance. It was hilarious and adorable and I was so glad I got to watch it. Phil and I had been standing with all the locals but were moved to the tent with all the officials. From what I heard (as in the reports from other volunteers) most of the other rural youth day celebrations were the same. We arrived in Garoua a bit late to see the main fete here but we did get to see the large crowds of children and it just felt so festive with everyone greeting you with “bonne fete” and all just excited about the day. Pictures will be posted when it is possible to post them.

Ah, before I left Bibemi on Tuesday I was walking back from the petite market where I went to buy eggs to make cookies for the kids in my quartier (for the fete) and I saw all the cotton workers in the midst of the cotton drop off point for all the farmers and all the cotton workers were singing together. A group of them were in the cotton car (picture a giant orange like garbage truck) and they were dancing the cotton down (to compact it) and singing a song. It was a surreally African moment that I did manage to snap one photo of but I didn’t want to disrupt them so I only snapped a quick photo. It was awesome to witness though. After that, Tuesday afternoon my guardian brought me my electric bill. This was a bill for a month that I had the old (electricity sucking) fridge for about half of so I knew it would still be kind of expensive but I didn’t think it would be as bad as it normally was. When he brought me my bill it was almost 20,000 CFA again. I thought that seemed wrong but it is what the bill said so I gave him in the money and kept the bill so I could look at it more when he wasn’t rushing me. Well, he told me he had to have the bill back so I went to get it and decided I would examine it before I gave it to him. Well, once I got to studying it – I realized it wasn’t my bill. It was someone elses’. He had given me the wrong bill. So, I went out to where he was waiting on my porch and brought an old bill with my name and account number on it and showed him that this wasn’t my bill. He tried to tell me I was just confused but that it was my bill. Then, I got mad. I told him to give me back my money and that I would start paying my own bill and I would call the company and sort it out. He wouldn’t give it back. Well, he wasn’t leaving until I had my money. So, after about 5 minutes of arguing he got upset and realized how pissed I was and gave me back my money and said he would go look for my real bill. He came back no joke 3 minutes later and said he had found it. This is the third bill I have paid him. The first one I gave him 20,000 for a 17,500 bill (I didn’t have exact change) and he refused to give me my change and had a different excuse each time I asked. So, the next bill I gave him exact change to the penny (as I will from now on) and so this time I think he figured he would get some extra money by giving me the wrong bill and keeping the difference. I am going to try to get the company to take the money directly out of my account each month. I don’t enjoy this money exchange with the guard. If only the internet would work here in Garoua so I could do so!

Alright well that is about it for me this week. Happy Friday the 13th to everyone. Happy 21st birthday to my baby sister. Happy valentines day to all of you who are choosing to celebrate this hallmark invented holiday ☺!!

Okay well since the internet in Garoua chose to not cooperate with me the last time I was in town and chose to be down the whole time, this blog will cover about a month of time! Awesome. Just a heads up about that and I apologize to all of you who are avid checkers and won’t have any new news for a bit.
I just had a pretty typical afternoon here on the Wednesday the 18th of Feb but what is typical to me would seem surreal to all of you I imagine. . First, it’s getting damn hot. It is over 100 and the sun just beats down on you relentlessly. Those cold bucket showers actually feel great – too bad I’m just as hot and sweaty soon afterwards. But, I got back from going “en brousse” with the health center again to the village where the children gather round in large masses to laugh at/with me. I broke out my camera a bit at the end of our vaccination day and they had never seen a camera that was digital and they had quite a fun time looking at pictures of themselves and taking pictures with it. I only got about 3 photos of it but I will try to get those up at some point – let’s be honest it probably won’t be until July when I am back in Yaounde or maybe in Maroua if I am lucky. Anyway, after we got back to Bibemi I ate lunch with the chef (as per normal) and came home only to decide that I had to brave the heat again and go find Nido (powdered milk) and insecticide (apparently the spiders have also decided it is too hot outside and are going to all hang out in my house). So, I leave my house and start walking to the only boutique I know will have both of these things. I have made it about to the carffour/petite marche when one of the bars starts blaring the rap song “lean back” loudly and still in English which means only I get the benefit of knowing what the awesome lyrics to said song are. I am just shaking my head and giggling when I see my friend Onerray and greet her. She asks me where I am going (as do about 3 other people just in this carffour area) and I tell her to a boutique on the big street. Asking you where you are going every time you leave your house is a slightly annoying habit that people here have. But, you get use to it and learn to keep the answer short and sweet. Making my way towards the boutique this whole time, I pass the daily afternoon card game between about 6 men in Bibemi and one of them is Barka – the man who greets with the one armed fist pump and Obama shout out. The children nearby who had previous to this been shouting “Bonjour Offrey” (which was their interpretation of Aubrey in that family) but hearing me also response to Barka’s Obama shout out they began also screaming “Bonjour Obama” at me. Lovely. I keep walking and make it past the Catholic Mission and am greeted by yet another posse of children. They are yelling “Bonjour Ma Soeur” (hello my sister) or perhaps it was “Bonjour Monsieur” (hello sir) – to be honest I cannot tell the two apart when small children who don’t speak French attempt to scream them repeatedly at you. But, I replied with “Bonjour tout le monde” (basically – hello all) and then in Fulfulde tell them my name is Aubrey. I have told them this before but hey, they’re kids and they forget funny white people names easily. Then they switch to “Bonjour Aubby” which was apparently the pronunciation they were going with. Finally, I make it to the boutique. At this point I have greeted about 100 people, no joke. I arrive at the boutique only to find that it is closed. I ask one of the many people just hanging out in the shade around the boutique if it is closed and they reply “No, the man (as in the owner) is just in his house which is right there (and they point to the nearby mud hut). I say thanks and then one of the guys who had been telling me this gets up and comes with me into the owners concession and basically wakes him up and tells him the “nasara” is here to buy things. I feel pretty embarrassed at this point but have learned to get over that feeling pretty quickly here and smile and tell him thanks and go wait by the door of the shop while he puts a shirt on. Then, of course, the shop is out of Nido. That’s fine, I can wait on making more yogurt til I can find Nido (which I should be able to do in Adoumri tomorrow) so I buy more cookies for the children in my neighborhood and the insecticide and begin the whole process of greeting people on my return journey. When I get to the cotton area near my house they are dancing and singing the “cotton song” again in the large orange cotton container. By the time I get home I am disgustingly sweaty again and rather exhausted from all the cultural experiences that are involved in simply trying to buy some milk and bug killing spray. Just wanted to give you all a snapshot of what it is like for me to go to the corner store.

I am excited to report that this week both Phil and I (the two health volunteers, Mike is an agro-forestry volunteer) both got to weight our first babies named Obama. Well, I suppose mine was named Obama and I believe SHE was born sometime around mid December. Phil’s was named Barak Obama and was born in September (so I guess that baby is lucky Obama won!). I am not sure whether Phil’s Obama baby was a boy or a girl. I will have to ask. (I have now got confirmation it was a boy) Anyway, I laughed and smiled to myself a lot about the fact that a baby born in a small village on the outskirts of Bibemi in Northern Cameroon was named for the first black President of the United States. Makes it seem like a very small world to me. Thanks to my grandma (who sends me lots of great magazines so I can stay in touch with America and the rest of the world outside of Northern Cameroon) I have been reading about how Obama won the election and all about his first few days as President. That’s right, she got me a January 26th Newsweek by February 13th! Oh, Courtney got a package sent back to her that she sent UPS and didn’t write AFRICA on it sooooo I would recommend USPS and that you specify that Cameroon is in fact in Africa. Apparently the people who work for the postal system didn’t take basic geography or know to consult a map.

On Friday (the 20th of Feb) the Prefect of the region (the big wig guy) came to speak in Bibemi. He has been newly appointed and is making the rounds to all the local villages. Well, needless to say a visit from the prefect is a big deal and the whole town turned out. Three of the different local ethnic groups (the Kapsiki, the Giziga, and the Moondong) came and did traditional dances for him. Everyone was in their best pagne and all the other local big wigs turned out to watch the festivities. Of course, Mike and I had to go. We had just been watching it with everyone else but someone noticed us and came and got us and we had to sit on the stage in the elite seats. It was nice to have a seat in the shade but that meant we couldn’t leave when we wanted and had to stay the whole time. I did get photos of most of this (and movies of two of the dances) but we had to sit through 2.5 hours of talks. It was all in French, and then translated into Fulfulde, but I understood about ½ of it. The prefect spoke very clear French so it wasn’t too hard. I think my favorite line of his was “the women work more and better than the men” (les femmes travaillent plus et meilleur que les hommes – in French for those of you interested, don’t quote my spelling though) and most everyone clapped – or if you were the crazy old women near me you screeched. Anyway, it was interesting to watch everyone get so worked up and be so nervous about this man’s presence. Rank is a really big deal here and people took his visit VERY seriously. The gendarmes kept the crowd backed up by swatting at them with random sticks off the ground. At one point when Mike and I were still on the ground, one of the gendarmes was trying to back the crowd up that we were in and he went to hit a group with the stick and noticed that it was close to where I was standing and he was too afraid he would hit me and moved on. So odd. But, hopefully I can get up some photos of these fete as well.

Ah more exciting news, I got a new kitten. Phil had gotten a kitten a week or so ago and well, he didn’t like it. It followed him around crying and wanted too much attention and things (Phil, hint, it’s a KITTEN) but so I inherited this baby kitten. It is tiny and malnourished and I am trying to fatten her up. Phil had named her Eleanor and I call her Ellie. So, I will try to get a picture of that new family member up soon. Right now, Ellie is sleeping on top of my clothes which are on my bed (it’s so hot I am down to a tank top and underwear in the house). Yes, it is about 110 here (or that is my best guess as when I blow on my arm that feels like AC) and it will just keep getting hotter until it reaches about 140 during the day. Oh, added bonus, we keep losing electricity. Now, when it is 110 degrees and I cannot have cold water and a fan, I am not a happy person and I take many cold bucket showers a day. Except, the water isn’t that cold either! AH! But, right now my fan is on and my electricity is working (it went off at about 5:30 this morning and came back around 3:30 this afternoon).

So Saturday (Feb 21st) Mike, Phil, and I were just hanging out Chez Moi (with my new kitten) and we decided that we wanted some beers. So, Mike said he would stay and Phil said he would go carry the beers back but I had to show him the bars. So, we went off. Well, the two bars closest to my house were both closed. Odd. We could hear loud music off in the distance in the other direction so we asked and apparently that bar was having a fete and they were the only ones open. So, we went walking towards the music. Now, I have a hand cranked flashlight with me but it is pitch black out (no street lights here in Bibemi). We got to the bar and they party was going on in the courtyard type area outside behind the bar but the gate to it was locked and closed. So, we waited, knowing that as soon as someone saw us they would come let us in. Soon enough, a nice man came and convince them to let us in (apparently it was a somewhat private party for a specific group) so we went in and attempted to order beer. Well, we had basically just crashed a private party in hopes of buying beer and bringing it home with us. They weren’t too pleased to let us go without us feteing with them. So, before they would give us our beers they made both Phil and I (him first, then me) dance around this circle with a group of people (all of whom were way ahead of us in terms of beers) doing this crazy traditional African dance that I can at least be willing to say I was horrible at. My body doesn’t move that way, and it certainly doesn’t without some alcohol in me! But, it was hilarious. Phil and I just laughed at each other (I got photos of him but as he doesn’t carry his camera everywhere with him like I do, he had no such luck photographing me!) and laughing at the two very drunk people who were hilarious in their dancing. We had finally satisified them enough with making complete fools out of ourselves that they allowed us to leave with our beers (with the promise that we’d return the bottles – that is a big deal here) and wished us a fun evening. Oh Africa.


Monday (Feb 23rd) at the health center I was just hanging out one of the prenatal consultation rooms with one of the nurses, who for the sake of confidentiality I will call Holly, and a young guy (who was wearing Western clothes and spoke good French and seem pretty progressive) who had been talking with a number of the staff members who I will call John. Holly works at the health center is Muslim. Her husband works for one of the high ranking individuals (therefore he makes decent money) in town and is also Muslim. John was asking Holly (in French which I appreciated so I wasn’t completely left out of the conversation) if she was excited about Women’s Day (which is March 8th). Holly said she wasn’t really excited because she didn’t think she was going to celebrate this year. John asked why not – he asked if she hadn’t been able to buy the pagne (here in Cameroon to celebrate you have to wear the women’s day pagne from either this year or a previous year). Holly said no, that she had the pagne, but that she wasn’t going to celebrate because her husband didn’t want her to. John asked why not and Holly explained that she husband didn’t like what the fete symbolized and didn’t want his wife celebrating it. John began to argue with Holly that she needed to tell her husband that it was here right as a women to celebrate this fete and that she should celebrate if she wanted to. Holly turned to me at some point and asked if I understood. I said yes I did and that I also though that she should think about celebrating if she wanted to because it was a day to celebrate the women of Cameroon, of which she was one. But, Holly wouldn’t hear any of it from us and said no, she wouldn’t upset her husband with even mentioning it. John then turned to me and said “this is what’s wrong with Africa”. That is the second time someone (both times a young modern thinking man) has said those exact words to me. The time before, I was in a bush taxi and witnessed corruption occurring (details aren’t necessary – I don’t think I am suppose to say stuff like that on my blog) and a young man two rows in front of me in the bush taxi turns around and asked me – “did you see the corruption” and I replied “yes, I did”. He then said to me “this is what’s wrong with Africa” and I said yes, I thought it was a big problem as well and hoped in the future things would be different. I am never sure how exactly to respond to things like these two situations other than to be glad I was born in America and hope that I am doing some good in being here and talking with people about how it is possible for things to be different. Also, pleased feel free to be impressed by the fact that I was able to have these conversations, or understand them at least, in French ☺

Tuesday (Feb 24th) was Mardi Gras. I didn’t get to celebrate in the same fashion that I did last year in NOLA but I did allow myself to eat the box of velvetta mac and cheese (with broccoli) that my grandma had been kind enough to send me. It was delicious and made the day seem a bit special. But, I learn another important cultural lesson. When you go to a tailor en brousse (or at least here in Bibemi) DO NOT pre-wash your pagne. When I went to one of the tailors in Garoua she told me it was important to wash the pagne before you made clothes with it because it shrank a little bit the first time. That made sense and I said I would be sure to do that from now on. Well, so, I pre-washed my women’s day pagne before I brought it to the tailor on Tuesday. Oh dear God, you would have thought this was the stupidest thing anyone had ever done. I got yelled at by my “mom” here in village for about 10 minutes, then her 13 year daughter, then her husband, then one of my coworkers. The tailors had to get it explained to them that I was white and didn’t know what I was doing and therefore washed the pagne. I tried to tell them why I did it but apparently because it isn’t nice and neat and starchy now it is harder to cut and sew and so in their opinion I was just stupid and they didn’t want to hear about why I did it. I felt like a 5 year old – but then again I feel like that a lot here when people lecture me about why the things I am doing are wrong. When I try to explain that there is a different between WRONG and different they often just smile and nod. It’s frustration but, petite a petite (little by little) I suppose I need to earn their trust. But, I now know that when you are getting clothes made en brousse DO NOT pre wash pagnes. Therefore, I don’t plan to get much made en brousse that needs to fit well because, well, it won’t. Go figure.

Finally, today (Wed the 25th of Feb) I was sitting on my couch reading a book about the 1918 influenza (don’t judge, it’s really interesting) and I heard these kids making lots of noise and “playing” around in my backyard. It didn’t bother me. To be honest, I kind of like the sound of kids playing. But, all of a sudden one of them hits my wall with something. I stick my head out the window and ask them to stop and not touch the house. They scatter away quickly but return about 3 minutes later. I let them stay because again, they aren’t bothering me and they seem to be playing nicely now. Well, about 10 minutes more go by and suddenly a giant rock is thrown onto my roof (which is metal) and makes a huge noise. I am done letting them play. I quietly put on my shoes and open my door and make my way to the back of the house. I just stand there until they seem me. They are throwing rocks up into this tree near the back of my house and trying to knock down these seed pods. About 30 seconds later one of them notices me and freezes in the act. The rest follow, terrified. I said (in Fufulde) NO! (Kai) GO! (Moof) and they scatter tres rapid (very quickly). Sadly for them, they leave there bucket of seeds. So, I know that they plan to come back and continue said activity as soon as I am back inside so I take there bucket and bring it into my concession. None of them were brave enough to come ask my for the bucket and they came back to find it gone and went home. Hopefully, that will be the last of the giant rocks hitting my roof. Last thing I need is them to throw one that breaks a giant hole through my roof just in time for hot season and then rainy season. No thanks children! Ah life in Africa, you never cease to be entertaining.

Okay well you should all be caught up now on my month of February. The heat has commenced. In March, I will do my first animation on AIDS and sexually transmitted diseases to the middle schoolers here in town. My external hard drive got brought back to Cameroon for me. All in all, February was pretty great! Hope ya’ll had a great month too!