Saturday, June 21, 2003

I'm going to Baffoussam tomorrow to "hang out" with my Papa's sister who apparently runs a small hotel there with her husband. I'm hoping that I'll have a chance to get to the internet cafe' while I'm there...

This has been quite an interesting week from the family perspective. On Tuesday night, just as we were about to eat dinner, we heard wailing from next door. Minutes of confusion passed until we learned that my Papa's brother, who lived next door, had passed away. Apparently he was in his 40's and had been sick for some time. No one has mentioned what it was he was suffering from. There was then two nights and early mornings of wailing. It seemed that it started about 10pm at night until about midnight and then started again at 5am until about 7am. On Friday morning, after a day of quiet, there was, what sounded like joyous singing that began at 5am and ended around 6am. All the voices were female.

Just about from the minute we heard about the death, family and friends began arriving. I believe that I have met the entire extended family of my father- cousins, uncles, sisters, great-aunts- you name it. They have all seemed happy to meet me, and have been very kind. One thing that has become quite obvious this week is that not everyone speaks French. Apparently every large-ish town in this country has its own language. This is possible since generation after generation grow up and live in the same place. Half of this city has the same last name as my Papa- Fotso. Here, they call the local language Guamala, or sometimes just Bandjoun, the name of the town. Everyone speaks it as their primary language, and many less educated/very poor do not know much French at all. This obviously makes things interesting...

The family was apparently Catholic, so last night there was the visitation/viewing. Of course this had its own Cameroonian twist. It was held at his house, and the living room had been cleared out to allow the simple white wooden casket, with a little glass window so you could see his face, to be set on two chairs. There was a candle burning on each corner of the casket. Around the room were probably thirty or forty chairs filled with various family and neighbors. People were also outside of the house drinking sodas (Fanta and Coke rule here). I went in with Mama and briefly viewed the deceased and took a seat. For whatever reason, there was music blasting during this whole time making it seem like a party, but no one was really dancing. We sat and talked a bit and met some of the family before leaving. We were only there about 15 minutes. The music, however, blasted all through the night, and since it was next door, kept me up.

This morning was the funeral. I got up at my usual 6:30am (can you believe that?) and ironed my clothes that had been hand washed by my brother, Cedric. I took my bucket bath and got dressed with a tie. I figured I needed to look as nice as possible. About 10:15 we were finally all ready to go (other family members had come to join us) and we went over to what I think was another part of the house. It was certainly next to it, but it was a large outdoor space. Anyway, the mass had already begun. My Mama got a chair for me and ushered me to a spot just behind the choir, who were sitting in the front rows. Most of the rest of my family stood. I'm not sure if she did this because I'm a guest, I'm Catholic (and they're not), I'm white or what. I'm not sure if I'll figure that one out for sure. I have been told that its generally considered an honor to be asked to host an American. I was even called "Pere" a few times today- Father, a sign of great respect. At the "Peace be with You" portion of the mass, a number of people went way out of their way to shake my hands (at Mass here, there is a two-handed handshake where you are either the outer two hands or the inner two hands). The mass had quite a bit of singing with a hand-held marracca-type rhythm instrument. Very overwhelming. The priest spoke in French, which was nice, while another man translated into Guamala for him. There were a number of testimonials from several family members- most of whom I had met, and then the funeral service was over. The body was carried out by four men and was brought around to the front side of the house where a deep hole had been dug amid the maize stalks. The casket was lowered over more prayer and singing. Then they began shoveling dirt on top. After each third of the dirt had been put in the whole, four men got down, and stamped the dirt down with a circular jumping-type dance. I was watching from the road, since I was one of the last leaving the area of the mass. Towards the end of this process, the mother and wife of the man began circulating among the guests holding his picture and crying uncontrollably. Men are not allowed to show emotion in public here, but it was obvious that my Papa was having difficulty holding back. He decided he would leave for a while and work it off. I came back home and rested and read for a few hours.

I'm writing this at 10:30pm of the night of the funeral. Loud male singing began about a half-hour ago (when I started this) and is still going on... Apparently tomorrow is the big party. After the mourning is over, there is a large celebration of life. My Mama told me there will be singing, dancing and drum-playing. I'll let you know how it goes...


On the Peace Corps side, this was a great week. I really enjoy my language and technical classes. My language class is just four of us who are about the same level. We talk all the time, and get noticeably better daily. On the technical side, we had a number of visitors who run various parts of large associations of micro-lending banks. These are the folks we'll be working with for two years. They've been quite interesting, and I'm certainly looking forward to finding out where I'll end up. I also co-taught the class on Friday on the basics of company budgets, control and audit. Fun!!!


Monday, June 23, 2003

Obviously I didn't make it to the internet cafe' when I thought I would. I obviously underestimated the magnitude of a funeral here. I was told on Sunday that every tribe is a bit different, but that this was pretty standard for the Bamileke people (in case you want to look them up).

Yesterday was the Doile (I think that's how its spelled). It was not quite the celebration that I had initially thought. After further discussions (and observations), the whole celebration of life piece doesn't come for a year after the person has been dead. Apparently, the family is supposed to be in mourning for a whole year, and then after that is supposed to move on with life. The Doile turned out to be an interesting maniifestation of mourning, the day after the burial. Around 11am, a large portion of the village along with family memebers from all over came to the area where the funeral service was held. For about an hour, there was essentially three circles, one larger than the next, of mourners. In the middle were the old men- the village elders. Two were playing two tall drums and the others were shaking marracca-type rattles (I'm going to see if I can bring one back) and were singing. Around that circle, a larger circle of men walked slowly around counterclockwise. Around them was an even larger circle of women, also walking counterclockwise. No one but the old men in the middle was saying anything or doing anything except walking. Some of the women were carrying some rather odd items, like serving pieces, bowls, serving spoons, and a photo of the man. There were distinct songs which lasted 8-10 minutes and then they all took a break, broke formation and chatted with each other. After a couple of minutes, one of the older men starting shaking the rattle or beating the drum and everyone got back into formation. They then sang a different song with a different rhythm. This lasted about an hour until the men all left to go eat lunch somewhere together and the women were by themselves. They picked up the instruments the men had left behind and sang their own songs. Soon after this, it started to rain, so I left with my parents and returned home.

After receiving about seven elders in the living room, my Papa wanted to get away, so he asked me to go on a long walk with him. We had a great hike through parts of the village I never would have known existed for about 2 1/2 hours. I got a good lesson in some of the flora and fauna of the area, and we even came across the Bandjoun soccer stadium where we happened to catch the end of a match. All in all, it was quite a day.

Today was more classes. French continues to go well, although we have an oral test on Thursday or Friday to check our progress. The rumor that's going around is that if you're not at least deemed proficient and are sent to a Francaphone area, you will be sent home. I'm not sure how true that is, but I don't want to take the chance. The business classes for me today were a review since they were about creating business plans and finacial analysis.

I don't think I've mentioned this before, but each of the business volunteers were paired up with a local business to help during our training period. I was paired with the local glass/mirror/window seller. He's a super nice guy who's about 29 years old and has had the same shop in the same place selling the same things for 8 years. He's looking for my help to bring him to the next level of business since he's obviously stuck and doesn't know how to grow any further. Basically he can pay his bills and feed his family, but not much more. He really wants to do more and loves his job. He just doesn't have enough clients. Its a bit more complex than that, but it is a difficult predicament since its such a small town and Baffousam is so close and has stores with much more selection and inventory. If you have any great ideas, please let me know!! I meet with him three times a week at lunch.

Please keep writing!! I miss you all!! Let me know if there's something you want to know that I haven't talked about yet!