Woman's Day in Cameroon

Americans don't celebrate Woman's Day.  Closest we seem to have is probably Mother's Day, but at least that is somewhat of an accomplishment.  You have to at least try to be a mother.  Or try in order to be a good one.  It's OK though; Cameroon really needs a chance to celebrate women.  Even if they are born that way.

Woman's Day starts off with a parade.  That's par for the course as every holiday in this country starts out with a parade.  Normally whatever groups you might be in march together in front of a grandstand where all the notable important people sit (comme moi) and everyone who isn't important or marching gathers nearby to watch.  For Youth Day (congrats on being born!) most people march with school clubs or just their schools in general.  Mbakaou is pretty small so there usually aren't many marchers, but Woman's Day had only thirty.  There are more than thirty women in Mbakaou of course, but you are sort of socially required to buy the official Women's Day outfit and most people can't do that.  Sounds a bit harsh, but are you celebrating Halloween without a costume, Christmas without a tree, or Saint Paddy's without a pint?  Social pressures.

So they march.  Then they put on a show.  Do some dances and a little skit making fun of men.  They collect money from whoever is willing to give it.  Perhaps it helps offset the cost of outfits.  Later in the day we got together again for women sports.  It is pretty rare to see Women sporting; I've never seen it in Mbakaou, but they do play occasionally in Tibati.  They played handball which is a strange sport I saw once when watching the Olympics and also soccer which is another weird sport I hear Europeans like.  And Hispanics, I think.  They were meh at the first and atrocious at the second, but you can't blame them since they apparently only play once a year here.

Women marching!

Grands watching!

At night that had a cultural event.  I was invited and given a seat at the front of the stage.  And then crowds created a wall of people trapping me inside.  This was a dance show.  I find a lot of things about Cameroon a bit odd and the dance shows are one of them.  People dance to music and then other people dance up to them and stick money onto their foreheads.  They do this pretty much whenever possible.  Hell, they did this for bilingualism day at the high school (along with a fashion show).  I played along and danced out to a couple people and stuck money on their heads.  It falls off and someone picks it up and brings it to the communal pot.  Now at this event I was the only man sitting at the stage.  None of the other invitees (or Big Men or Grands) came.  If I didn't get up, the girls would dance over in front of me until I put money on their head so they'd leave.  I can't NOT put money on their head.  A) They might just dance in front of me indefinitely or B) I'd offend them having given money to someone else.  Can you think of any situation in America where a man might sit in a chair and a woman come and dance in front of him for money?  I guess that is slightly empowering for women.  Lots of them put themselves through college that way in America…  I stayed at the dance until I literally ran out of money.  (Though I technically only brought four dollars American so it wasn't that expensive a show.  Not sure the going rate for lap dances in the States, but I got like ten for that.)

I went to one other event for Women's Day in Tibati.  It was a sort of artisanal market that was billed as a way for women to show their worth to men.  The Big Men were invited and put at a table on a stage per usual where they sat looking bored for a few hours.  There were maybe fifteen tables where you could buy things with only three that sold actual crafts.  The rest of the tables sold food.  I suppose out here women still have a bit of a ways to go to be considered equals with men, but the fact they have a Women's Day is a start.  I could see there one day being tables talking about women groups or organizations.  Maybe even for their employment.  As it is all the food was really pretty damn good.  Guess that's a start.

Tibati Cluster for Life

In Bogo, I was an hour away from Maroua the regional capital.  Most volunteers were only a couple hours from there.  We may have had "clusters", the administrative organization for work and security, but with all of us so close to our office/home-away-from-home we didn't really operate like that.  The Extreme Northerners were just all in it together; any time you went to town you were bound to run into somebody.  (I'm informed by Erin, my old post mate, that not only was Bogo a cluster in and of itself, but I was the de facto head of said cluster.  Huh, who knew?)

Tibati Cluster, on the other hand, is a family.  We are some seven hours from the regional capital of Ngaoundere (baring some tricky stuff involving hopping a train in another town at five in the morning).  We are thus a bit isolated.  Isolation breed intimacy (among other things like insanity).  WE DON'T NEED NGAOUNDERE.  Or other people.  We have each other.

(and also matching outfits)

Stephanie, Caitlin, and myself are all displaced Extreme North volunteers.  We all lost our original homes and were sent off into nowhere to open up new ones.  Start afresh in an area that hasn't had Peace Corps for almost a decade.  They couldn't of sent a better team!  (This is not true; I could have totally organized a better team and it likely wouldn't have included me.  But they couldn't have organized a more awesome team!)  When I tell people who I'm posted near they are all like, "What?  That's awesome!  I wish I was near Stephanie and Caitlin!"  Yea!  And they probably say that about me too.  Oh.  No.  Caitlin says that when she tells people she's near me they say things like, "Well, THAT guy is crazy."  Yea, but the good kind.

I call them both Nuna which means "big sister" in Korea.  How I got posted near two Asian-Americans of Korean descent is one of life's mysteries.  I'm clearly the little brother of the family in spite of being physically larger and also technically older by far.  The important bit is that  we are most definitely a family.  A properly dysfunctional one too.  And right now, I'm laying in a bed at Caitlin's place as she nurses me back to health from some silly bout of malaria.  Yes, Stephanie, we watched Running Man last night and, yes, I still maintain that it is some of the greatest television ever produced.  My head hurt every time I laughed.  Feel Touch Cross!

Sadly Stephanie left us not too long ago.  She has gone on to bigger and better things in America.  The land of everything.  She was replaced by what is probably a perfectly good human named Liz.  She's not Korean though, so I don't really know what that's about.  And she naturally can't replace Stephanie.  Mostly because I won't let her.

NUUUUUUUUUUUUUNAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Ok, delirium seems to be setting in again.  Here is another picture:

"CAITLIN, my water bottle is empty and my head hurts!   Fix it."

Reunion 2020: Seoul

NOTE:  In America, I promised myself I would do a better job of keeping you updated.  Clearly I'm not doing that.  Tis not my fault!  My normal internet has gone from being shitty to being nonexistent.  There is none in Mbakaou and none in Tibati.  A short 8 hour drive and I have decent, less shitty internet, but, alas, I'm not prepared to make that trip so often.  We, my friends, have survived worse trials and shall survive this.  Have faith!  Plus you can now follow me on twitter @juggledgeese; I can update that via texts from my phone.  AND if you message me there or tweet at me, it goes directly to my cell here.  In Africa.  For free.  Technology, you crazy.

New Post: Mbakaou, Cameroon

Well, I've a new post.  A place to go.  It's called Mbakaou and, no, I can't pronounce it myself.  It's near a place called Tibati which is slightly easier to find on a map and also pronounce, but I've a tendency to mess that one up too.  I've spent a grand total of thirty minutes in a fly-by with the Peace Corps so I really don't have much to give you.  Course when has lack of knowledge ever shut me up?

The first noticeable feature is that is right beside a giant lake.  They built a hydroelectric damn and thus provide electricity to my tiny town.  Thus there is also a river nearby.  Moving from the desert to a forested, water wonderland is going to be an obvious change of pace.  I probably don't need to reiterate how much I like the water.  I am looking very much forward to living by it.

Now all this water apparently brings money to the village in the form of fish.  Oh joy.  Regular readers are also well aware of how much I enjoy eating fish every damn day.  Maybe I'll like it more nice and fresh.  I hear they can catch some pretty big ones too.  Brian, can I convince you, the fisherman, to come visit me?

Mbakaou is going to be small.  I'm on the fence about that.  I've a terrifying feeling French will be minimal and finding motivated individuals to work with may also be more difficult.  But I should be able to integrate a bit easier and I can sort of make my own rules as they aren't used to Peace Corps and white folk.  American or foreign folk I should say.  My political correctness and cultural sensitivity has taken a hit in this county, though they call us all "blancs" regardless of skin tone so it is kinda their fault.  I'll be the first volunteer to set foot there in quite a few years it seems.

The big damper to the affair is distance.  I had the luxury of being able to call my moto driver friend and be in Maroua in an hour.  This will not be the case.  By car it is around six or so hours of the regional capital, Ngaoundere.  If I use the train it can slice off a bit of that, but the train only runs once a day.  I'm going to be much more en brousse than ever before.  I'm mostly worried about mental stability when it comes to distance and connectivity, but it may have an effect on my ability to communicate with you.

All in all, it will be much more of a Peace Corpsy experience.  Though the deserts of Bogo seemed plenty to me...