South Province Meeting and the accident

Not technically a part of the south province (the closest border is about 40km away), Will and I had been annexed a while back, becoming members of the "Dirty South". There are many reasons we call ourselves that, and most of the connotations that come to mind are probably true, at least in part.

Every three months or so is a provincial meeting, and my (and several others') last meeting was to be held in Ambam, next to the Gabonese and Equatorial Guinea border. I left early Friday morning from Edéa and arrived without much difficulty late that afternoon. After arriving, we sat around catching up and drinking (the south province is REALLY good at the latter). I decided that with a long night ahead, I'd stick with Gold Bond and Pamplemousse (Gold Bond is really cheap whiskey sold in small plastic bags called sachets). I wasn't involved in dinner (it was well underway by the time I got there), but the folks who were did an amazing job, and we gorged ourselves on homemade burritos eaten by candlelight. It appeared for a while as though Jen's house (our lovely hostess) was the only one in town without electricity (even her neighbors had it), but soon everyone else's was out as well.

Well, what do you do when the electricity goes out at your house and there's lots of volunteers around??? The answer: find a bar that has a generator to provide you with music and cold drinks. Several drinks later, dancing broke out, and a good time was had by all. During this time, I got to know another ex-pat who lived across from Jen named Mathias, a nice Italian guy who also spoke good french and english. He's there working with some french NGO that I still don't know the name of... Anyway, he offered to take whoever wanted to go on an excursion to see a waterfall the next morning. I was interested until I heard that it was about two hours each way from Ambam. I politely declined, while several of the women showed interest. Somehow, we all made it back to Jen's house, found a place on the floor, and more or less fell asleep.

The next morning, Nicki's alarm went off early, waking most of us up. This was the call to go see the waterfall for those interested- except it was raining outside. Everyone who was interested decided it best not to go in the rain, so we more or less went back to sleep. A couple of hours later, the rain had stopped (it wasn't a heavy rain) and Mathias showed up at the front door with his pickup truck half full of Cameroonian friends of his looking for interested parties for a newer, closer excursion to hike up a small mountain. I thought it sounded like fun (potentially more fun than the drinking and butchering of pigs and ducks that would be roasted for dinner), so I climbed in.

The trip out turned out to be much further than advertised, including about 45 minutes on a dirt road of questionable quality. We arrived safely, however, found the local chief to ask permission, engaged the obligatory guide, and started up the mountain. It was quite a steep climb with many surfaces of almost sheer rock, but we all made up. For some reason (perhaps because I had neglected to shower that morning), the bugs (mut-muts) were quite heavy around my head, which was more than a little annoying. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful view, being the only rock to exceed the treeline for miles around. Nothing but rainforest. On the way back down, we even picked a couple of wild pineapples (much smaller and sweeter than their commercial cousins) for a snack. We made it back to the truck (a four-door pickup), thanked our guides, and headed back to Ambam. Everything was great for a while, and we were going back just as we had come. After a while though, a dark and ominous cloud began to come closer and closer, so we sped up to try and make it to the paved road before it came down hard. We didn't make it.

We stopped the truck to let in a couple of guys who were hanging out in the back inside and the dog who had been with us the whole time. Then, with the raining pouring down, we continued on, rather carefully, I thought. We came to a decline in the road, and for reasons I can't completely understand, we lost control, slid on the now muddy road, and the truck began to turn over. I think it turned over at least twice, but I'm also fairly sure I blacked out temporarily, so I don't really know. The next thing I know, I'm looking out the window on my left (I was sitting just behind the driver) and realize I'm upside-down and the window is broken. I see Mathias outside already brushing himself off and try to call him over to open the door. I guess he didn't hear me, and a terrible sense of claustrophobia was overcoming me, so I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed the heel of my shoe and carried my foot out the window, which was luckily followed by my leg, then my head, shoulders and the rest of my body. The rain was still falling.

Once I was out, I turned around to help others out, but a woman I didn't notice before told me to go sit down. I figured I should take her advice, so I made my way to the side of the road. It was then that I started to take inventory of my situation. I was clearly bleeding, but not profusely) in several places, and I was having trouble breathing, with a sharp pain on my left side. After everyone else was out, it was clear that I and one of the women with us were the only ones obviously injured.

As luck would have it (good, in this case), there were two cars that had come down the road since our accident, one of them being a taxi. I carefully picked myself up and walked down to the taxi which (after a stop to let some mommies in the back seat out) arrived at a medical clinic not far away. I walked in, sat down and started discussing what happened and where it hurt. After a couple of minutes, they decided that they couldn't help me, and sent me on my way to the provincial hospital in Ebolowa. I was very lucky again, and the taxi was still there since one of the nurses was going to take it home and he was waiting. I convinced the nurse that I needed to leave immediately, and got back in the taxi, still bleeding. We arrived (still with the other woman) at the hospital emergency area. I walked in, the nurses looked at me strangely and asked me to sit down in the front room. I was told I needed to buy a carnet before they would look at me (a small notebook where they write all the nurses' and doctors' notes). Again, luckily I had a bunch of money with me (having already paid for our taxi) and got it out of my pocket.

The nurse then started writing down all my essentials, blood type, height, weight (which we guessed since she didn't want my muddy shoes on her scale, and I couldn't take off my own shoes) in the notebook. At that point, the doctor sat down and we did our little interview about what happened and where it hurt. He wrote a laundry list of things to buy at the hospital's pharmacy when I told him that I was not going to receive any injections or serious medicine before consulting Peace Corps doctors. After a little insistence, we called in a girl with a cell phone outside (at her call box) who came with her 2000 phone directory. We looked up the US Embassy number, and called (I didn't have my phone with me since I left it a Jen's house and hadn't memorized any of the numbers). I reached the marine on duty and told him the situation and that he should call the Peace Corps medical officer on duty. The woman who came in with me then took the list, went to the pharmacy and bought what I needed, which included gauze pads and iodine solution (yes, in Africa you have to buy your own gauze at the hospital).

After tending to the convict writhing on the floor supervised by two gendarmes with shotguns (apparently he ticked off some other prisoners and they beat him to within an inch of his life- he was in bad shape), the nurses finally came with their rusty bowl and started picking out pieces of glass, cleaning up and bandaging my surface wounds.

Just as that was finishing, Mathias came in. I don't know how he got from the truck to the hospital, but he was there with a Cameroonian friend who had his own car. Mathias was great and made sure I got something to eat and even went to buy a shirt and sweatshirt for me, since I was still wet from the rain and the shirt had already been half cut off of me. He had spoken to Peace Corps and Jen back in Ambam and I thought I might stay in Ebolowa that night since no one was coming to get me and folks were coming up from the meeting to make sure I was alright.

After an hour or so, we learned that there was a mixup in communication and that no one was coming up from Ambam. So, wanting to get to Yaoundé anyway, I took a taxi to the bus station where I got a bus to Yaoundé. Seeing I was in lots of pain, the folks kindly gave me "shotgun", which is by far the best seat in the bus.

Eventually, after a few more hours, I made it back to Peace Corps headquarters in Yaoundé, where the doctor was waiting for me. Since there was no one else around (including volunteers), she decided that it would be best if I stayed at her place for the weekend. I can't tell you how greatful I am to her for taking me in, feeding me and healing my wounds over the next couple of days.

Monday morning, we finally made it to the hospital for x-rays (there's only attending doctors on duty on the weekends, so tests and other things generally have to wait unless its a serious emergency). After a number of painful manipulations, its was discovered that I had two broken ribs, which nicely explained my pain, trouble breathing and all the rest...

There's nothing you can do for broken ribs but take pain medicine and wait it out. So, that's what I've been doing...

Arrival of Seema

Several close friends of mine threatened to come visit me here in Cameroon at one time or another over my two-year visit. In the end, outside of my parents and brother (who will be arriving soon), only one did, Seema. This was not just the planets aligning just right, but the result of considerable effort on her part (with lots of coercing on mine). Since she's just finishing her medical residency, Seema wanted to work in a local hospital, and the Hôpital District d'Edéa was only too happy to agree.

I went Tuesday night to meet Seema at the airport. She was coming off a several week camping safari around southern africa, so she arrived via Nairobi on Kenya Airways. Her flight arrived on time, and after getting her bags, she came out to find me. It was really wonderful to see her, and the whole way back to Edéa, we did our best to catch up on the important stuff.

Wednesday morning, we headed over to the hospital, where we met the Medicin Chef (chief of staff) who was overjoyed to meet Seema. He personally took us on a tour of the entire hospital after his brief interview with Seema to find out where she was interested in helping out. I REALLY hate hospitals, so I hung out mostly in the hallways, while Seema went in to see the patients. Throughout the entire hospital, there were only two modern pieces of equipment: a blood spinner and an ultrasound machine. I'd been there before, but without the complete tour. Its not pretty, and even Seema, who's worked in hospitals in India, Bangladesh, and central america said that its as bad as she's seen anywhere. She started work on Thursday morning. Friday, I left for the weekend to go to the south province meeting while she went to pick up her sister at the airport followed by a relaxing weekend at the beach.

La Fête de Mariage

A couple of weeks after the funeral of the son of one bank member and friend was the wedding of the son of another. Mama Yem has long ago taken me in, hosting my welcoming dinner not long after my arrival, and giving me a big hug everytime she comes into the bank. She also happens to have two attractive daughters of marrying age, but I think Mama's been pretty good about not pressuring me to take one of the off her hands.

So it was that I was invited to the wedding. The week before the ceremony, Mama asked me if I'd like to be a ceremonial member of the family, by asking me to wear the fabric chosen for family members for the occasion. Its actually a great tradition where men and women of the family all wear the same pattern in whatever configuration they choose (blouse, dress, shirt or bou-bou). It certainly makes it easy to identify who's who in the photos. It was a nice honor, and I took it seriously, having a nice long-sleeved shirt made by my favorite tailor.

Weddings here are usually all-day affairs. This one started at 10am, and I finally made it home at 4am the following morning. The son opted (against his mother's wishes) for a civil ceremony (at city hall) rather than a religious one. Perhaps this was because he wanted this to be his first wife of many (there's a box on the marriage certificate here that you check for polygamists). The ceremony was brief and was followed by pictures. This was followed by two small receptions: one at Mama's home, and the other at her estranged husband's home- of course there was food and drink at each. Mama's house, with its cement floor and wood plank walls was dressed up with palm fronds built into a temporary covered porch and all the furniture was outside. The loveseat for the married couple was covered in a white sheet, and their path from the "road" was covered with tiny red flowers - it was really well done.

I returned home to take a nap at about 4pm. After a bit of a rest, I left for part two of the evening which was being held in the multifunction (gym, dance, auditorium, etc.) hall of the largest high school in town with my gift in tow. I decided on giving cutlery (including some nice steak knives), since no new family can have too much of that, packaged in a nice wicker tray. According to the schedule, I was a half-hour late. According to the way things panned out, I was two hours early.

Just as things were about to get started, virtually my entire table was promoted to one of the three tables on the stage- the other two being for the bride and groom and immediate family and the groom's employer. I suppose its one of those benefits of being in the family...

The standard speeches were followed by a massive buffet dinner (including goat, snake and monkey) which was followed by even more standard speeches. Afterwards was the giving of the gifts which consisted of a long line of guests with their gift in hand who gave their gift and received a couple of hugs and words of thanks in return. Gifts were followed by dancing, more specifically the first dance of the married couple. After that, the brothers and sisters of the bride and groom were called out to dance and partners assigned to them. Once again, I was included in this, and was assigned the wife of the groom's employer as my partner. So, there I was, dancing with a women I'd never met to Cameroonian music in front of an audience of about 300 people. I'm going to have a hard time being shy after returning from this country...

I danced quite a bit until the cake finally came out around 2:30am (yes, most people were still there). I finally threw in the towel and got a ride back home at almost 4am.

The Night the Lights went out in Edéa

One of the fun things about living in a developing country is the loss of electricity that can happen at any moment for any length of time. When it happens at night, you normally stay where you are for a few minutes, and it usually comes back on. Sometimes, however, it lasts a lot longer than that (especially during the dry season, since virtually all power here is hydroelectrically generated).

Recently, the power went off for a whole day and night. It was an occasion which caused changes in habits, but not frustrations. An opportunity to do things differently and do different things. I'm assuming I wouldn't be so laid back about it back in New York.

After cooking my dinner in the waning light of day and eating by candlelight, I decided to go for a walk. I took a small flashlight, just in case, and headed out. The moment I stepped out of my house, I couldn't help but notice the stars. So many of them. I could see planets, galaxies, and every constellation on view this close to the equator. My walk, in a large circle, allowed me to keep looking up and see in all directions. As has been observed innumerable times, its very humbling- reflection on a universal scale.

Fête de Travail (Labor Day)

May Day is a big deal in just about every country but the US. Here, its a day off work that has the added bonus of parading through town in your new t-shirt (provided by your employer for the occasion) followed by hours of drinking and eating (also sponsored by your employer). This year, for the first time ever, our bank decided to be a part of the festivities. We figured it would be good marketing and a good way to reward the employees and members of the various boards for their hard work.

Since everything in this country starts late, the 9am parade eventually got off the ground at 10:30am. We were something like 85th in line, so we enjoyed the first part of the parade before lining up ourselves. Since Edea's not all that huge, the parade route was less than a half-mile long, with the reviewing stand almost at the end. In the reviewing stand were all the important folks, such as the Prefet, Sous-prefet, mayor, police commissioner and others. Everyone likes to try and impress these folks, so we did our best to march in three straight lines in front of them, holding our signs and proudly displaying our shirts.

As soon as it was over, we high-tailed it over to the bar across from our bank (our traditional watering hole) for a few beers and sandwiches. A fun day bringing a good team even closer together.

Funeral of a neighbor

Its always a sad day when someone you have met dies. Here in Cameroon, its a weekly experience. This time, the son of a woman who's been very kind to me (and who attended all of my business seminars to help start her own business) passed. I had met him a few times (a really nice guy, my age with a wife and two small children), and he was one of the best friends of my friend Sylvie.

Every friday at the hospital morgue, there is a line of all the relatives or all the people who have died in the past week. This is what we call the 'levee du corps'. Since most people are buried on Saturday to maximize attendance, the vigil the night before starts with the procession of the body from the hospital to the house.

In this case, the hospital is up the road, and his mother's house (where all the activities took place) is almost next door to the bank, it wasn't one that could be missed. A procession with women singers from his mother's church went right past our front door. His mother requested flowers in lieu of cash, so Sylvie helped pick out an appropriate arrangement from her and I which also went from the hospital to the house.

That night, I met the rest of the bank members at our "section" under the tents that had been set up in the front yard of the house for friends and family. It was raining a little, and we all stayed through the "midnight mass" held on the front porch. After giving my condolences to the mother and father (his wife was already asleep in her makeshift bed on the floor in the living room next to the coffin, as per custom) and went home.

'Bel Canto' by Ann Patchett

The first "normal" novel I've read in a while, 'Bel Canto' by Ann Patchett has limited, defined characters, a real, or surreal in that it could never "really" happen, plot and a semi-sweet ending. As the title indicates, 'Bel Canto' has a lot to do with music, or rather , what would life be like as a hostage with a great opera diva. I enjoyed it, and recommend it for your summer "non-intellectual" reading list.

In progress: 'Underworld' by Don DeLillo

'Life is Elsewhere' by Milan Kundera

Probably my favorite book that I've read in the last two years is 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' by Milan Kundera. I figured I would push my luck and read, 'Life is Elsewhere'. A bit more "esoteric" than its predecessor (although the disclaimer at the front says as much), the book was well written (thanks in part to the translator) and enjoyable, although if I had known anything about European poets, it would have been a lot better.

'Bonfire of the Vanities' by Tom Wolfe

I've started to read Tom Wolfe's 'Bonfire of the Vanities' many times (I've had a hardcover copy for years), but couldn't complete the task- or even get more than 50 pages into it. After finding a tattered copy here, I decided that now is the time to make it happen, and I did. I can see now why it was perhaps the biggest novel of the 1980's. It screams all of the 80's themes of greed, hidden agendas, racism and social justice. Reading it some 20 years later, it was a bit dated (especially the descriptions of New York City), but still interesting. It may have been THE book in its time, but in my opinion, its time has passed.

'The Killer Angels' by Michael Shaara

Maybe its my impending return to the south, or I just have a taste for all things American now, but I really enjoyed Michael Shaara's, 'The Killer Angels'. The book, a factual, almost hourly account of the two sides of the battle of Gettysburg is by far the most readable book centered on combat I have every come across. I learned a lot, felt like I understood their thoughts and concerns, and came out with mixed feelings about the outcome, leading directly to the end of the Civil War. Even if you're only mildly curious about what actually happened, I would recommend it. For people like me who had history-fanatic parents and who were dragged (half-willingly) to battle sites all over the east coast (including Gettysburg), it fills a gap, and makes you appreciate those hours in the car and the used bullet you bought at the gift shop.

'What should I do with my life?' by Po Bronson

One of my best friends in this world, Frankie, has been through as much wondering about what to do in this world as anyone. When she sends me a book called 'What should I do with my life?' by Po Bronson, regardless of how cheesy the title might seem, I'm going to read it. It also coincided nicely with my own struggles of what direction to take upon my return to "the greatest country on earth" (as volunteers here call the US after about a year of service). The book is a lot more targeted than it claims to be- I would recommend it for those with at least several years out of college, but with a good 15 years or more before retirement. Since I happened to fall in that category, I found it helpful. More so because it asked the right questions than because it provided the right answers. Numerous times I felt compelled to put the book down and write out thoughts as they came to me. It was, in effect, exactly what I needed to force me to make decisions about what I should do, if not with my entire life, at least next.