Understanding Big Chairs

Laura:  What are we going to do when it's not socially acceptable to drink a cold Castel on the beach at 10 in the morning?

I have been back in village for a week now after the whirlwind of COS conference, and I have never missed Americans this much in my entire life. My fortunate circumstances that have allowed me to live in different places also at times gives me severe identity crisis. The first 12 years of my life, I was a Taiwanese. No doubt about it. The 6 years that followed, I successfully transformed myself into an American. I did such a stellar job that in college, my Asian friends were surprised when they found out I spoke fluent Chinese and grew up in Taiwan. Talk about being bien intégré. For the past 6 years, however, I've traveled. I've utilized that integration skills to put myself in the life of an English, a Cameroonian, a French. I avoided hanging out with Americans too much to get the full experience. However, my time with my fellow volunteers last week made me realize that I am in fact, American, and I miss them.

After our conference in Yaoundé, a group of us took vacation and went to Kribi, one of the popular beach towns. One evening, we were out in a very chic pizzeria that is designed for expats. The restaurant had these really wide and comfortable chairs. Being the luxury starved volunteers that we are, a conversation went on for a good 10-15 minutes about how big and comfortable those chairs were. Then it occurred to us that once back in the States, people will look at us strangely if we ever went on a rant about how big chairs are.

Several times throughout the week, we went dancing in clubs and had a fantastic time when American music came on. That kind of bond and excitement won't exist Stateside when all the music played are, well, American. I will miss a group of 15 Americans going bunkers on the dance floor to Lady Gaga's Bad Romance while Cameroonians are trying to figure out what is going on with us.

Our bus ride back from Kribi was bizarrely hot. All of us were packed in a bus like sardines, which is normal, but the humidity was unusually high that all of us were literally sweating bullets. I did not know my body was capable of sweating this way. We would all sit in the most relaxed manner possible, and there would be sweat dripping down our bodies as if someone was spreading water on us. It was pretty disgusting. To make matters worse, Cameroonians hate having wind blowing on them during bus rides, so even though we are all dying of heat, they would try to close the windows. You throw in the crying babies, or loud mamas who break out in songs because they wanted, then you have yourself a fantastic ride. I decided in that moment in time, amidst all the sweat, that I will NEED people in my life who can understand this.

During our COS conference, we had a RPCV panel who talked to us about life after the Peace Corps. The recurring theme was that people will not really be interested in your experience. They won't care. I got a glimpse of that this summer while I traveled back to Taiwan. I carried a photo album with me to show people my life here, and with few exceptions, most people really just aren't that interested. I am terrified of going back to a place where no one can understand the intense two years that I've just experienced. But when I looked around my beloved friends who were on that hot bus, I felt more at ease. At least, they will.

Over the week, there were several conversations among us discussing our plans for the summer and trying to find a way to meet up. We then pointed out how we are so eager to see each other Stateside even though we have all just spend two years together. We came to the conclusion that we need to talk to each other about the big chairs that we will be sitting in, and freak out about other minute details of American life together. I will miss these amazing people who are likely to be lifelong friends. Nothing bonds you more than being tossed in a strange place together for two years.

Retail Therapy

As a way to battle with all the Cameroonian frustration that I've had to dealt with, I've taken up retail therapy once again. The markets in Bafoussam have quite the gem if you are willing to take the time to dig, and deal with obnoxious men who yell ridiculous things and grab your hand in passing. The fripperie sells clothes, shoes, handbags that come from the US, Europe and elsewhere. Most are used, and not great. But sometimes, they have pretty decent things for a great price. I was never into digging for these gems, but now that my days left in Cameroon are marked, I now have more vested interest in finding the goods to take back with me.

The items that you can find in these African markets are absolutely hilarious. They range from cheap plastic, shiny shoes from China, to big poofy, 90's prom dresses, but sometimes, brand new, expensive designer shoes that still have stickers from TJ Maxx on it marking at $29.99. Today, I bought a pair of new BCBG heels for a whopping $14. Also, two skirts from European boutiques and a collar shirt for a total of $10. These are consider more "high-end" products that are being sold in small stalls within the market. There are also vendors who push around a cart with a pile of clothes on them. They look a bit like the bins you see in stores during sales. The other day, I got a crew-cut t-shirt for a total of .... 80 cents!

For my remaining days in Cameroon, I will be spending a lot of time in the market looking for hidden gems and haggling with the bargaining skills that I've honed up over the past two years.

Oh, and if you are wondering what obnoxious things are being yelled at me, here are some examples:

• mon bébé, viens ici, viens voir! (my babe, come here, come look!)
• ma chérie, vous êtes belles, hein? vous me mariez? (my darling, you are pretty, marry me?)
• la blache! la blanche! viens! (white girl, white girl, come!)
• la chinoise! hee haw (Chinese girl! random sounds that are suppose to be Chinese)

Usually these things are yelled at me in a variety of combination. The obnoxious thing is that even with my poker face on, they'll still yell various things at me for a long time after I've walked away. I used to hate going to the market for this reason. But now I'm more used to it, and also I'm there often enough that some people know me. A good number of the vendors are actually from Batié, so we've became friends. If the guys just yell things at me, I usually just ignore them and keep walking. But the moment they grab my arm or touch me in anyway, then I would turn around and smack them. That works well and the guys around usually get a kick out of it. They laugh at the guy and make him more embarrassed. Double the effect!

Oh the quirks of Cameroonian markets! I've started to find them rather endearing and I will probably miss it in the future. I know I will definitely miss designer shoes for $15 for less!

Cameroonian Fustration

The events of this week has left me totally frustrated with the way things work in this country. I was always aware of the inefficiency, but I do everything in my power to avoid them. This past week, I've had to deal with them first hand. Let me tell you, NOT fun. I grew up in Taiwan and thus was brought up with the Asian efficiency. There were times when I thought Americans were inefficient. All this just makes dealing with Cameroonian inefficiency that much more grueling for me.

I won't go into too much detail on all the mishaps, but I'll mention them in bullet-point forms. Yesterday, it took an hour-long run plus an hour of power yoga for me to get rid of the frustration. I don't need to talk about it in detail and bring that back again. So, in a nutshell:

• two trips to Bafoussam to meet the new governor and finalize things for the ceremony and storage space. Two trips this week, in addition to many trips before, and still no confirmation on -anything-. The trips/meetings were for the most part pointless. Nothing they couldn't tell my over a phone call. In addition, I STILL don't know who the new governor is.
  
  
• was informed two days ago that the Embassy can no longer clear our container from Books For Africa. Apparently there was a new policy change, and somehow no one informed me. The person in Peace Corps who told me a year ago that he'd help me with the process also had no idea. Did I mention a YEAR?
  
  
• 23,000 books are suppose to come in one week. A ceremony and distribution of books are taking place in two weeks. We still have no idea on the following: how to get the container out of customs, how much it will cost, who will ship it to Bafoussam, if we have a place to store it for sure, the exact process of getting the books where they need to be, exactly how many people are coming to the ceremony, who is preparing for the food, etc. etc. etc. So basically, 95% of everything remains a big question. Yet, for some reason, people don't seem bothered by it. 

I know things will work out, but this whole waiting everything until the last minute way is driving me insane. I am the biggest procrastinator so I know all about putting things off, but not when it involves other people. Two days ago, during one of our pointless meetings, the guy said, "but the 19th is ways away". Did he think the books will sort themselves and the caterer and everything for the ceremony will magically show up? This is precisely how so many "festivals" that suppose to take place in this country turns out to be a bust. Because people apparently feel things will magically appear and organize themselves...

During one of my rides, I finally see why for the most part, Cameroonians are very apathetic. I thought, "I would be, too, if I was a citizen here." Why bother if you have food in your stomach and enough to get by in life? There are so many hoops to jump through in order to get even the most simple task accomplished that it's no wonder people just do what they need to, and let the rest be. Can you blame them? I know there are still plenty of Cameroonians who do care and are striving to make a real difference, and for that, I have a great deal of respect.

Your Majesty

After nearly two years in Cameroon, there are some things that I still don't understand about the culture, and I likely will never understand. The traditioanl chiefs that is prevalent here in the West region of Cameroon is one of such things.

Yesterday, Théo and I met with the chief of Batié who had arranged a meeting with all the chiefs of the villages who are participants of the Books For Cameroon project.

I have not had the best of experience with these traditional chiefs in Cameroon. When I first arrived, I visited my chief to do protocol - informing him of my arrival and such. I remember arriving at his house and waited for at least an hour. Reason? he was sleeping. My counterpart who brought me just kept saying, "well that's just how it is."

My thought was, "then why do you people put up with it?!" I thought perhaps over the next two years I would understand this culture better. Well, I haven't.

The meeting yesterday consisted of 9 chiefs. I explained the origin of the project, and our expectations of their roles in following up with these libraries. It's important to have someone in the community to follow up on the project because the principals of public schools are appointed by the Minister of Education. Personnel thus gets changed around at moments' notice, and for no rhyme or reason. That's the Cameroonian government for you.

Yet to be perfectly honest, I have my share of doubts on what these chiefs are actually going to do to ensure smooth follow-up. Nevertheless, it's important, and Théo, the Cameroonian from the local NGO whom I'm working with, thinks it's very necessary.

So, the meeting was scheduled at noon. We started roughly around 1pm. But only 3 chiefs were present. We continued on. For the next 3 hours, I repeated my short speech at least 3 times because more chiefs were showing up at different time.

Perhaps it's the upbringing in a democratic society, but I find the deference that people have to these chiefs to be extremely obnoxious. Yes it's a sign of respect, but WHY? What did these people ever do to earn the respect? Oh, they were born into the right family.

While the chiefs that were present at the meeting were all nice enough guys, I began thinking on how this kind of traditions prevents development of a country. There was a time in history that monarchy was prevalent in many countries around the world. But there is also a reason why almost all of them have been abolished.

The power structure in these villages that still have traditional chiefs makes getting anything accomplished extremely difficult. It took us over a month to finally get this one simple meeting scheduled. Imagine trying to get more things done with them. Adding onto it a corrupt and inefficient government, it's no wonder progress is slow. Besides, I find it extremely bizarre that in 2010, people still address others with "Your Majesty". I associate those words with the 18th century.

This all makes me the more glad that I was born and raised in societies where the most respect I need to give anyone is a polite handshake and I never would have to address anyone with such deference.

Old Habits Die Hard

I've always been a terrible procrastinator. In college, the semesters when my grades were less than stellar were the semesters when I didn't have a sufficient part-time job. I take the free time for granted and I procrastinate. In the end. I don't accomplish as much. Being busy in a way manages my time for me. There are only so many hours in a day to go around, and when the days are filled, I don't have the choice to sit around.

Here in the Peace Corps, I have nothing but time. And as a result, I procrastinate, a lot. For the Books For Cameroon project, we are in the process of designing library management training for the participating schools and communities. Kate has compiled materials from two different sources to create the training manual. While I've delegated the training design to Kate and the others, I still somehow ended up with the amazing job of translating 30+ pages of document into French (note the extreme sarcasm.) I just keep telling myself it will be good for my French...

I have started on the translation work and frankly, it's not that bad. But, it is a lot like in college when I have papers to write. I know all it takes is me sitting down and just doing it. Yet when I have the time to put it off, that's exactly what I've been doing...

For the past few days, I have been obsessing with thinking about life in London next year and everything that comes along with that. Oh yes, battle of graduate school is over. I made a decision to attend London School of Economics next year! Anyway, I told myself I would reserve the entire Sunday to my translation work.

Naturally, Sunday gets here and my Internet was out all day. Internet makes my life a lot easier with the online dictionary. So of course, I decided the work can start tomorrow. Old habits die hard.

It is also no wonder Cameroonians never rush to do anything and are always nonchalant about scheduling. Why bother scheduling anything when things out of your control will happen and mess up the plan?

Une Vraie Africaine

After nearly 20 months of being in Cameroon, I finally gave in and got some dreads on my head. I never really had any real special interest in getting the hair done, but I figured it's one of those things that I simply must experience before leaving. So, just before launching my 3rd round of business classes in village, I spent the entire day "becoming African".

My friend Bibian is a hairdresser and she has been asking me about getting my hair done for months. Naturally, she was thrilled when I told her I'll finally take the plunge. So, Monday morning, we found ourselves at the local bar that I frequent and began the long process of hair-braiding.

True to Cameroonian form, Bibian told me she works really fast and it'd only take 3 hours or so. To which I was extremely skeptical since I have heard nothing but excruciating long hours from other girls. For some, it's even a 2-day event. From hour 1 of the process, Bibian kept saying, "see? it's really fast, we'll be done soon". This is SO Cameroonian. It's much like when they tell you, "yeah, yeah, I am on my way", but then don't show up until an hour or two later.

The Beginning

Naturally, it came to be 5pm and we were finally putting the finishing touches on my rasta. By this time, mamas who were walking by would come and help tying up the ends. At one point, there were 4 women working on my head. Of course, Bibian said, "well it's only because you have so much hair that it takes so long." riiight. Always take their indicator of time with a grain of salt and add on 3 hours or more. Time is absolutely not money in this culture.

Hour 6

In the end, this was really fun experience. During the 6 hours of hair-braiding, villagers would stop by to comment on how good it looks on me and how I'm becoming a real African. And of course, "now that you are becoming a real African, you should definitely get married here and not go home."

Bibian & Me

The demand for me to stay in country has been overwhelming these past few days since I got the hair done. Everyone from village mama, to sketchy men, to the governor of the West Region advised that it's best that I do not go back to the U.S.

Yes, the governor. I met with him yesterday with Théo´in regard to the Books For Cameroon project. During the meeting, Théo mentioned that I will be ending my service in about 6 months, to which the governor said, "what are you doing going back to the States? You should get married here and stay! Sure there are some dust, but the climate is great!" We continued to talk about the project, and at the end of the meeting, he walked us to the door and said, "I hope you will take my advice and stay here. You can go home to get married, but come back here to live." Théo said he must have been impressed by me because he invited us to his "salon" instead of his "bureau", and the "salon" is supposedly for special guests only. Funny Cameroonians.

Now, the beauty is not without a cost. Besides the fact it took 6 hours, my scalp also hurt a great deal during the first night from the weight of all the fake hair and I couldn't do anything but to lay horizontally on my bed to ease the pain. The pain, however, is really worth it because the villagers, and even my friends in Bafoussam love it so much! This is definitely one of those "I will miss Cameroon" moments.

You just never know!

Current Mood: Uggghhaaahhh I am SO sick of begging for money.

My goal to fund Phase I of Books For Cameroon by the end of September is unlikely to happen, unless either an amazing, generous philanthropist decides to donate $3.5k in the next 24 hours, OR, if by some bizarre miracle, 700 people decide to donate their next $5 latte/beer in the next 24 hours.

I am somewhat disappointed; however, I suppose raising $5,000 within a month still wasn't too bad of an effort, considering it took 3 months to raise the first $3,000. At least, I have been learning a great deal and showing progress. That's the important thing, right? Or so I tell myself. Ça va aller.

Okay, now I got that out of my system, let's talk village life.

A journalist once asked me to describe my "typical day" as a Peace Corps volunteer. That, I have decided, is simply impossible to define. The constant surprises are both the beauty of life as a volunteer, yet also the source of many frustrations. Last Friday, I went into Bafoussam for banking and other various errands. The car ride from my village to Baf. is only 30 minutes. Yet, we stopped in Baham - a town near my village - to pick up more clients and we waited there for an hour. Unexpected frustration. I was once again reminded that time is not money here and the term "opportunity cost" means nothing for the most part.

Yet when there is bad, there is good. Yesterday, I had a pretty productive Sunday of studying for the GRE and getting work done. Late afternoon, I made my way into town. The weather was gorgeous, so I enjoyed the walk and took in the tranquility that Batié has to offer. While in town, I had a Schweppes Ginger while waiting for my grilled fish. Meanwhile, had some funny conversation with villagers. One guy was trying to give me a hard time about the fact I can't speak Batié even after a year. And everyone else in the bar defended for me saying I had to learn French, and what in the world would I do with Batié after I leave? Funny villagers.

I got home and just as I situated myself for a movie while eating my fish, Billy and Loïc came by. Apparently there was a big dance event at the rich neighbor's house that I had to go see. So I took my camera and off I went with the kids. There I saw the group of villagers dressed in traditional Bamiléké fabric and getting ready for a big dance. Turns out Le Grand had invited white people to come observe this village tradition, and that's why there were all the fuss.


Just about everyone from the quartier were there, and ALL the kids were around. They love getting their pictures taken and I created a bit of a chaos when I asked Billy & Loïc to take pictures of me and the little ones. There were ALL over me. You would've thought I was running a daycare in Africa or something. So funny.


I hung out with the kids for the most part; they are so much fun. The dances were going on with the traditional musick; not much different from the others I've seen, but extra special since it was in my village and people dancing were my friends. Later, I saw the "white people". They apparently were a group of priests from all over the world were in Yaoundé for a week, and they are friends with Le Grand's wife. I met them briefly. It was really weird, even for me, to see all these white people in Batié!

So that was an interesting turn of events to my quiet night with a movie. Today, while I was getting some work done, neighbor came to knock on the door and invited me over for lunch. You don't turn down food when offered here, so off I went! The group of missionaries was also there. Also, my amazing, non-corrupt mayor was also present. It was a mini-UN right there in the living room with English, French, German, Spanish being spoken, and people from France, Spain, Fiji, South Korea, and other exotic places. I chatted briefly with the missionaries about my work and they told me a bit about their stay. It was really cool to find such an international setting right in my village, and I got a real kick out of my mayor speaking German. And just like that, an unexpected Monday afternoon!

Since I've been utilizing the RPCV network to seek funding for my project, I've had the chance to read many profiles of RPCVs. The common theme that I've extracted is that Peace Corps is the best two years of their lives and they have very fond memories for years after. I don't doubt that to hold true for me as well, but I wonder if the experience must stop after these two years, or will I be able to continue create memories that will be just as good as these two years, if not better?

Percussion Festival in Foumban

Saturday morning, I met up with 3 French girls in Bafoussam and rode in their pick up truck to Foumban. Clotide is the French volunteer in Dschang and is blessed with a car. Seeing a girl drive here in Cameroon is really bizarre, but cool at the same time. I haven't driven in over a year, and thinking about it is really strange to me! Shall be interesting when I finally drive a car the next time...!

Anyway, we were off to Foumban for a percussion festival. Foumban is a city in the West province, but unlike the rest of the Bamiléké westies, the city is mostly fill with the Bamoun people, and the Muslim influence is strong there. In the morning, we visited the palace where the Sultan lives. Within the palace is a museum on the Bamoun culture. Just so happened that morning there was some sort of ceremony on the succession of the throne. I am still not exactly sure what it was about, as the case most of the time with these ceremonies. There were lots of people dressed in really pretty clothes though, so I took pictures!



After the ceremony, we visited the museum. This was my second time there. First time was when Megan came for a visit, and we had the tour in English along with Laura and her sister. This time, we had the tour in French. Interesting stuff.

We met up with Dakar, a Cameroonian friend of us who lives in Foumban, and he took us to the market. People are so much calmer here than in Bafoussam. I detest going to the market in Baf. because people just would not leave me the heck alone. Here was much calmer.


The percussion festival was suppose to start around 2pm, but of course we got there well after 3pm and chairs were just then being brought out for the official thing. However, there were various groups playing, so we amused ourselves in that. I am really fascinated by the music and the culture. It's not something I really understand, but interesting nonetheless. Too bad Megan wasn't visiting during this time, she would have really loved it, being a percussionist and all.



The festival is apparently a sort of competition between all the groups. I didn't realize until we came back at 6pm and the event finally began at 6:30pm. Our friend, Dakar, apparently is the MC for the event, and saved us front row seats. Per usual, we had to go through protocols of blah blah blah speeches that took at least half an hour. I really like when the French guy from RFI (Radio France International) got up there and gave his 2 minute speech and in it remarked, "i think we aren't here to hear the speeches, but to enjoy the music. So let's enjoy!" Now, that's more like it.

The four finalist groups played and it was fantastic! Yet unfortunately, after an hour of playing, it was another long thing picking the winner, the criterions, blah blah blah. And the group that wasn't even the best and didn't respect the time limit (they went on for another 5-10 minutes after the MC tried to stop them) somehow won. This is the first time the percussion festival took place, and somehow the winner is the "School of Culture". Makes us wonder if that's somehow related to the "Minister of Culture" who was putting on this event? hmmm...

Despite of it all, the weekend was a good one! Good culture, good company, good food, good weather (no rain all weekend). What more can we ask for?