Water Projects

Both of the water projects have picked up speed and seem to be nearing completion. Or at least I sure hope so. After months of delays and other hitches, it looks like we might actually have come out on top. This past week I divided my time between Nzimbeng and Akid, spending the nights in village to oversee the work.

The Nzimbeng people have been incredibly hardworking and motivated. They have finished the storage tank and are in the process of constructing the filters and catchment. They have been carrying materials, cracking stones, collecting sand, and digging pipeline. I’ve been very happy with their results so far. Hopefully the cement work will be finished within two more weeks and they can finish the digging and begin connecting pipeline. Its looks like we’re actually on schedule to finish by January. Of course, things on my end aren’t quite as smooth. I’ve been going back and forth between the village and my house, my house and a larger town to transport material, and have barely slept in my own bed the past week. The community does their best to welcome me, and my days in village generally aren’t too bad. I sit at the site watching the work, mostly there for moral support, while men cut up fresh pineapple for me and feed me. The other day I was literally sitting in the warm sun, reading my book, while men went into the bush beside the tank site and chopped up pineapples with their machetes for me to eat. Then I went back to my host’s house and was fed several meals. Not so rough. Sometimes I do pay the price however. For example, this past time I had to knowingly sleep in a bed that would give me bedbugs. To top it off, some sort of rat or animal had died in the bedroom during the day (but they couldn’t find the body) so the whole room reeked of decomposing meat. I had to just tough it out and enter the room and sleep encompassed in the smell of rotting carrion. But Peace Corps has increased my ingenuity, if nothing else, and so I simply smeared toothpaste under my nose (just like vick’s right?) before going to bed, and everything was fine.

The Akid project hasn’t been quite as smooth, but there have been fewer incidents of things dying in bedrooms, so at least that’s appreciated. The Akid community was disheartened after a few mishaps with the pump. A few pieces broke as it was being installed, and after that they became demoralized and didn’t want to work anymore. That has created some problems for me and has caused the project to last longer than necessary. However, the engineer came out this last weekend and finally installed the pump, so everything should work now. The people were happy to see things moving, and are now eager to work and the project should (theoretically) really take off. All that’s left is to connect pipeline and build the standtaps. They are saying they will finish by Christmas (which I rather doubt), but January seems like a reality. Additionally, this past weekend in Akid offered me the highlight of having a meal prepared for me exclusively by a man. That’s right, in my two years here, I have never had a man prepare food for me (unless I was paying someone—like the streetmeat men or omelet guys). I have been served many meals in Cameroon, but all of them have been prepared by women. That morning, a man cooked pancakes for me. Building water systems and breaking gender roles, one person at a time! Love it! Of course when we asked if he ever did this for his wife, he quickly said no. We’ll work on it. 

Nutrition in Schools

Elizabeth and I went to the local nursery school to do a follow-up nutrition screening of children under the age of five. When I first arrived in village, I checked children for signs of malnutrition, gather information on weight, arm circumference, and anemia. 

During that initial survey I found that a decent number of children were below their proper weight for age, many had low arm circumference, many were anemic, and many students reported low levels of protein, fruit, and vegetable intake. I then conducted nutrition lessons in the schools and within the community, educating 221 elementary school students and an additional 268 community members. I taught participants about balanced diets, proportion sizes, specific vitamins and minerals, and reviewed healthy meals made out of locally available foods. 

By doing this year’s screening, we were hoping to discover if that education made any difference. I’m happy to report that the children’s health has improved. Whether its due to our efforts and lessons is hard to say, but at least there has been a vast improvement in healthy weight and dramatically less cases of anemia. We still find that children are not eating enough fruit, so we plan to do further cooking demonstrations and are going to try to get the nursery school to start a snack program where they will provide fruit to students. 

Lost Cat

As if my latest display of spider killing was not embarrassing enough, we one-upped ourselves in the “How American Can We Be?” category two days after that incident. Elizabeth had found a kitten in one of the villages under our health district that she wanted to adopt. We spoke to the owner and he was ready to give it to her on the spot, but we were unprepared to take it home, so we asked him to drop it off at the house on the upcoming market day. Bright and early on Thursday, he showed up as promised, with a cat in a bag. The poor thing was clearly slightly traumatized from its trip in the bag and immediately ran for cover under the couch. We tried coaxing it out for a while, but eventually decided food would be the only thing to do the job. We went up to the market and got some food and a can of sardines for the cute little kitten. We poured the sardines into a bowl and then went out to find the cat. It wasn’t under the couch. We realized the door was open just a crack. We had been the proud owners of a cat for about two hours. We checked all over the house, looking under the bed, behind the bookshelf—everywhere—but came up empty. The cat had clearly escaped. We began to inform all of our neighbors. “We lost our cat, it ran out of the house,” we told them. To which they gave us blank stares, as if to say, “Yes, cats belong outside.” But they would kindly respond, “Oh, so sorry.” Still clearly thinking, “Crazy Americans, why would you even want a cat in your house?” Nevertheless, we continued to tell our friends that it was just a baby, we had just gotten it, it wouldn’t know to come back to this house, so if they saw it please return it or tell us. They were all very supportive and told us if they saw it, they would return it. We even got all the kids to go out and look around. The neighborhood was on high alert. Then, that evening, we heard meowing. We ran outside, looking all around the compound. Nothing. We asked our neighbor again, “Did you see that cat? Can you hear it too?” She responded, “Surely, it’s still in the house, it’s just hiding.” We told her no, we had really looked everywhere. But it really did sound like the meowing was inside… We did another check of the house, and there was the cat, under the bed. We had lost a cat that had never been lost, and “found” it again. It was not our proudest moment, but we were once again the proud owners of a cat. Now, when any of the multiple neighbors we informed ask if we found the cat, we just say yes and never mention that it was never lost in the first place. 

Spider Guts

I have seen my fair share of spiders in Cameroon. I have seen black widows, I have seen tarantulas, I have seen daddy long legs—and just about everything in between. It was no surprise to see the giant spider in the kitchen. But it was still gross. My postmate and I were sitting in the kitchen, eating cookies, when I spotted the spider sitting on the stool’s leg. It was one of those big, hairy ones, with a fat abdomen. It was roughly the size of a baseball with its legs included. Just chillin below our water filter. It looked disgusting and it looked like it could do some damage if it wanted to. We could not let it live. That was never an option. We began debating what to use to kill it. Our shoes were quickly removed as a possibility as that would require us to get far too close to the creature. It was in a bit of a confined space, being on the stool leg, so it was going to be a bit tricky to get the force and speed to kill it without it getting away. We finally decided on an empty plastic coke bottle. After hemming and hawing and making multiple “we are so grossed out” noises, I finally stepped up and into position. As I whacked the bottle into the spider’s location, two things happened simultaneously. First, the spider’s body went leaping off in the other direction, towards the wall—the thing just shot through the air. Second, something hit the back of my neck. As expected, this second occurrence took up most of my attention. I immediately slapped my hand to the back of my neck and wiped at what I had felt land there. When I pulled my hand away, I saw a brown goo. I then commenced the classic scream and dance. I began squirming around, shouting “get it off me, get it off me!” to Elizabeth. It was a scene straight out of the movies. Looking back, it’s hilarious. At the moment, it was very far from it. The best words I can use to describe my feelings at the time: absolute repulsion. It was disgusting to realize I had spider guts on the back of my neck. Of course, by realizing there were guts on my neck, I knew the spider must be dead, or at least mostly. But the fear that worried me was that there would be a half-living, angry, dying spider on my back, oozing guts as it sought to cling to life. I was also very confused as to how the guts ended up on my back, as it went against all laws of physics. I splatted a spider in front of me and its guts ended up not only behind me, but then 180 degrees around again, on the back of my neck. It made no sense. I was still trying to process all of this, while dancing around, but Elizabeth confirmed there was no spider on me. I didn’t fully trust her at first—if its guts could defy all possibilities, why couldn’t it? But eventually, she convinced me it was only its guts, which were also located in several other locations on my shirt. After I recovered from being beyond grossed-out (let me tell you—I do not like the feel of spider guts on my bare skin), we finally realized we hadn’t found the spider itself. We were pretty sure it was dead it its guts were all over me, but we had also seen it leaping off the other way. Thus ensued a manhunt, which was finally ended after several minutes when we found its head and deflated body. Incidentally, this was the day I decided I have been in Cameroon long enough and am really looking forward to coming home. 

Mosquito Net Distribution

Cameroon is in the process of distributing free insecticide-treated nets to its entire population. It’s not exactly an easy process, especially when you consider all of the normal difficulties of such a project and then try to have it carried out in Cameroon. In the South West region, the distribution was supposed to take place several months ago, for example, but had to be postponed because the cars could not deliver the nets to villages due to the road conditions. Also, the first company hired to distribute the nets ultimately refused to do the job. Eventually, however, the nets did arrive at our health center, and then we had to wait another month or two for every other health center in the region to receive their nets before we were allowed to give out our own. But, apparently as of several weeks ago, all hospitals received their nets because we were permitted to give them out! A census was done by community health representatives in the previous weeks to record how many people slept in a house and prescribe nets based on that number. The family was given a ticket, stating how many nets they should receive, and the following week, the family was supposed to come to the health center to turn in the receipt and collect their nets. It was a big day at the health center. 

Staff and volunteers were there to accept customers, record results, and distribute the nets. 

I gave several lectures about malaria and the importance of using mosquito nets, and health care workers demonstrated how to hang them. In all, we had four days of distribution and gave out nets to at least over 400 people on the two days I was involved. Most importantly, there was some pretty great style. 

Thanksgiving

I just spent my third Thanksgiving in Cameroon, and it was the best one yet! This year we got a group of volunteers together in the beautiful town of Bangem, which is nestled into the Menenguba Mountains, featuring twin crater lakes. We had quite the haul, from collective care packages, and a certain volunteer recently returned from a trip abroad. We therefore had brownies, cinnamon swirl cake, m&m cookies, pumpkin pie, chocolate pudding pie, stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, mashed potatoes, marshmallow yams, greenbeans, biscuits, salad (with ranch dressing!), quinoa, and hot wing sauce. Not necessarily your totally traditional Thanksgiving spread, but certainly better than anything we could imagine! 

We had a local mama make a chicken for us, and it turned out pretty great. To top it off, one of our favorite local Cameroonian beers was “winning” (Cameroon beer is owned by the Cameroonian government and its beers go through a cycle of offering customers the chance to win a free beer simply by looking under the bottle cap for the image of a beer, in order to promote beer sales, which is one of the few things that is taxed in Cameroon). We invited some Cameroonians over as well to participate, and while they did not enjoy all of the dishes, they clearly enjoyed some of them. We ended the weekend by hiking up to the lakes, hopefully burning off some of the Thanksgiving meal. 

Water Project

Nothing comes easy here, that’s for sure. If I hadn’t learned the lesson already, Cameroon sure seems to be doing its best to reinforce it now. This week I had all the pipes and plumbing parts for the Nzimbeng water project delivered. A man brought them to the closest large town, which is still about 30 km away. It was up to me to find transport to my village. Things seemed to be off to a good start— the man delivered everything the day he said he would, I was able to buy all the other materials needed in the town, and the Chief even bought me lunch. Now, all I needed to do was find a vehicle to carry the pipes and parts and cement. I saw a big truck that normally carries cocoa and has to go all the way past my village. It was perfect! He could carry my things and drop them in my village on the way. I spoke with the “moto boy” (the man responsible for making deals, loading and unloading materials, and serving as the general assistant to the driver) and struck a deal. He agreed to take everything for a good price and went off to the hardware store to start loading to truck. He would also be carrying some dry goods and things to a store owner in my village. They loaded those things first, then put all 30 bags of cement into the truck, added more things for the shop, and all that remained were the pipes. I was starting to feel really good about things, it seemed too easy! Just then, the driver of the truck comes stumbling up, raging drunk. He had clearly just been sitting at the bar all morning. He was not a calm or quiet drunk. Nor was he rational. He came up, shouting about time, and demanded that they unload the things for the shop owner. Everyone was very confused and all the poor men who had just labored to load those things tried to speak up to reason with him. He wasn’t having any of it. He began shouting that it wasn’t enough money. They called the shop owner and he agreed to pay more without a problem. The driver still began shouting that they should remove the supplies. Everyone was shouting at him, begging him to just take the stuff. But he was determined. He forced them to unload everything, including all of my water project materials. As he was shouting at them over and over to “unload the cement” he turns to me and says, “Don’t worry, I will take your cement.” I pointed out the irrationality of his statement, but it didn’t really matter. They unloaded every single item from the truck, and once that was finished, the man drove away, with an empty vehicle. He went empty all the way to his destination, losing out on nearly $200. At that point, I had spent all day trying to send the materials up, and no cars were left. It was very disappointing. Luckily, I found another truck the next day, one without a crazy driver, and all of the supplies made it to the village.

With those materials, we will construct the tank and filter. The community has already dug the pipeline through their village and cleared and dug an area for the water storage tank. Everything is ready for construction! Unfortunately, the latest person hired failed to show up this past weekend. We'll try someone new and hopefully that person will come to work next week. It was still worth our efforts to go out to the village, however, because the head engineer had the chance to finish mapping out the pipeline and found a good site for the catchment area. And the community was as dedicated and hospitable as ever. They fed me seven meals in one day, three of which were back-to-back-to-back. Literally, one Ma would bring out a spread of food, clear it away, and the next Ma would enter with her own meal. So other than being uncomfortably full, the weekend was a success! 

Brush With Death #357

Since joining the Peace Corps, I’ve probably had more close encounters with death than I would have if I had stayed at home. This is my latest experience. I was traveling, which is always risky—the cars are older than I am, no less than seven people are crammed into a car meant for a maximum of five, drivers pass one another in daring stunts at high speed, and the roads are in poor condition, to say the least. I thought I had managed pretty well for myself. The car I took was a small sedan, there was no “petite chauffeur” (the person who normally sits under the driver in driver’s seat), and I couldn’t see the ground through the bottom of the car. We were cruising along, making good time, without driving too crazily. I was happy. The driver wanted to buy potatoes on the side of the road, so he pulled over and got out. Some of the other passengers also got out to look at the food options.  Unfortunately, the driver forgot to put on the emergency brake when he left the car. Also unfortunately, we were parked on a giant hill. As he began loading the bags of potatoes into the trunk, the car began to rock. He slammed another huge bag into the back, and we began rolling. The woman sitting next to me opened the door and was literally about to jump out of the moving vehicle. I wasn’t sure I exactly wanted to do that. I was still debating which option to take as I started to move up to try to pull the brake. Luckily, before it came to that, the crowd of people watching were able to jump behind the car and grab it and bring it to a halt. The driver jumped in and activated the brake himself at that point, laughing hysterically as he did it. The other passengers entered, all cracking up at how funny it was the car almost plummeted downhill with two of us inside it. One of the passengers then went on to tell us that this was the exact scenario in which his cousin had died. I’m just glad I survived the ordeal and escaped death yet another time in this country. 

World Teacher’s Day

This past Monday we celebrated World Teacher’s Day. And, boy, do the teachers here deserve a little appreciation. They work with large classes of unruly students without many of the classroom luxuries we are accustomed to in the U.S. The teachers accordingly went all out for their celebration. They had clothes made out of a national fabric made purposefully for the holiday. (It had lots of numbers and letters covering it, interspersed with drawings of classrooms and school items with “International Teacher’s Day 2015” written sporadically across it, all on a background of bright yellow). The teachers canceled classes for the day so they could take full advantage of time to celebrate. They rented a dance hall in town and invited all the teachers and other community leaders. The event, like any typical event in Cameroon, involved a lot of food and drink. They served plantains and a local soup and giant pieces of antelope. You know the food is fresh when you find buckshot in your meat. Let me just say, my food was very fresh. I mean it’s not a party until you’ve pulled buckshot out of your mouth, right? That was just the start of my surprises that evening. After finishing the meal, I was called upon to give a speech to the assembly of people in the hall. “And now a speech from your Peace Corps!” rang through my ears as I looked up bewilderedly from the remnants of my meal. Had I known I was to give a speech, I probably would have planned at least an outline in my mind of what I intended to say, but I think I pulled it off pretty well given the circumstances. Following the speeches, the program called for dancing. Once again, I probably should have foreseen the events slightly better, but still managed foolishly to be caught off guard. “And now, to open the dance floor, three couples will be selected…” Guess who was picked to participate in one of those honored couples? Yup. I had to get up and dance alongside the headmaster on the wide-open floor while the room looked on. However, the sound system broke out halfway through the song and I was able to escape, and for that, I am truly thankful. All in all, in was a great celebration and I am glad the teachers get some credit at least one day a year because they certainly deserve it! Happy Teacher’s Day!

Nzimbeng Water Project

We officially began the water project in Nzimbeng this week! The same engineer who volunteered to help in Akid has agreed to continue his service in Nzimbeng. He came out for the weekend to begin our plans for the system.

This village is the most remote in the entire clan. To get there we had to take a motorcycle to a certain spot inside the forest, and from there we had to trek. We crossed several streams and rivers, some of which we crossed by using bamboo bridges, and some of which we had to wade through. There was also a lot of mud involved. By the time we reached the actual village we were tired, dirty, and very thankful to be welcomed with a meal.

With the help of several villagers and their eager children, we began to plot out the path the system will take. This involved hiking into the jungle to look at different streams to determine a water source. We have identified two streams that would serve as good sources. One contains purer water and would be a more ideal source, but it is smaller and might dry up during the dry season. The second is larger and will flow in every season, but is slightly farther away. The best news that the engineer gave us is the fact that by using either of these streams, we will not have to use a pump. Gravity will power the system, which is much better for the sustainability of the project. After identifying these sources, we tracked out the pipeline through the village and calculated the necessary pressure needed for the system through a series of measurements involving a hose full of water, a measuring tape, and many people. We also marked where the tank and filter will stand and where the spigots will be located.

Ultimately, the water will be collected from the source river and then flow, through gravity, down to a filtration tank and storage tank. From there, it will go to four separate spigots within the village (one at the school, and one in each of the three neighborhoods). I am very excited to finally start this project, and I know the village is also incredibly happy to begin the process that will bring them water. 

Fufu Explained

Seeing that fufu is such a main part of my life and diet here, I have decided to explain it in full. It is the staple food here in the South West. It is eaten with any and all soups that people prepare. If you ask someone what their favorite food is, 90% chance they’ll answer “fufu.” They won’t even qualify a soup or something to go with it. It’s just a gooey ball of starch with a bit of a twang, but people here love it, and I must admit, I’ve become rather fond of it as well.

Making fufu is one of the most laborious, most intensive, most ridiculous endeavors that I have ever seen. The process lasts over 6 days. That’s right, over 6 days to prepare just one portion of your meal. Talk about commitment. The women here do it around the clock so that their families have a continuous supply of fufu.

First, you harvest the cassava plant. These plants take 2 years to mature (again, see previous comments about commitment). They have to harvest roughly 8 square feet of land to produce one vat. Cassava is a root, and is similar to other tubers. It is elongated like a yam, with a thick brown skin and a white flesh. This is what will eventually become fufu. To start the process, you clean and peel the cassava. Then you soak it in water for 3 days. It sits in a giant pot, near the fire during those days. From time to time you stir the contents of the pot and mush the cassava. 

After three days you strain the remaining chucky cassava from the cassava water. You throw out the leftover root and keep the starchy water. You put this strained mixture into bags and again let it sit for 3 days. Then you strain the excess water out of the bag and keep a gooey cassava paste. This is then pounded and it becomes a crumbly, clotted dough. To prepare this, you mix it with water over the fire. You then remove it from the fire and pound it, adding water as needed. 

Finally, it is ready to be molded into balls. You finally have your ball of fufu, ready to eat. One batch lasts about a week or two, depending on how often you substitute other starches for your meal. 

More On the Water Project

The project in Akid is truly almost finished now! It feels like I’ve been saying that to myself for quite a while now (because I have been), and I don’t want to get my hopes up too much, but I think it’s really within sight now! We’ve had to adapt our plan yet again, but hopefully it will make for a more sustainable and lasting system. The river we initially wanted to use has become to powerful for people to enter it to manipulate to our purposes, and it looks like the dam will sustain damages every rainy season. Therefore, we have decided to use a nearby smaller stream as an additional source. This stream dries up in the dry season, but is clean and pure and is sufficient in the rainy season. We will hook it up to the system so that in the rainy season, the small stream (which they have named “Albert Mndep” or Albert Water) will provide the water to the filter, but that in the dry season, when it is workable, the larger river will again be responsible for supplying the system. In some ways this is preferable because if one source fails, the other will serve as a backup while the community fixes the problem, and the smaller stream provides better quality water anyway. The people have already made the initial connection of the small stream. They have also created a holding pool for the water and a place for the pump and finished all the pipeline. Our last steps will include installing the pump and laying the pipes and then building standtaps. 

How I Once Spent Three and a Half Hours Trying to Send an Email

This is the true story of how I spent an entire morning attempting to send a single email. I was in the big town, where they have stale baguettes, yogurt, several bars, and, most importantly, internet. Needless to say, it’s a pretty exciting place to visit. I had some work to do and was planning on using some of that precious internet. I left the house around 8:00 am to go to the internet café. The ma was just setting the place up. I had to wait for the computer to turn on and then the ma activated the internet key. After several minutes, the home page loaded and I signed in to my account. I noticed one particular email that was important to respond to, and started with that. I began writing my response (it was a bit lengthy), when about half way through, the power went out. The computer shut off and I lost everything I had written. It was a bit disheartening and frustrating, but what could I do? I’m sorry to say, I did not learn from my mistake. After waiting for the ancient computer to start up again and reactivating the internet, I began working on my response for a second time. I figured since I already had the main ideas worked out form the previous attempt, if I just wrote it quickly, things would be okay. Unfortunately, I did not write quickly enough. Just as I was wrapping up the email, the power shut off for a second time. I lost every thing again. Now, I was just plain frustrated. By now, over an hour had passed. (Which the ma kindly reminded me as she demanded I pay for internet use). I might have been fooled once, but by this time I was smart enough to learn form my mistake. I decided to go and write the email from my own computer at home and then put it onto a flash drive and email it. I went home and wrote out the email without any hitch. Great, I thought, now all I have to do is upload it onto a computer and send it, it’ll be over and done with in just a few minutes. Wrong. I really should have known better, I should not still be so naïve. I went back to the internet café, flash drive in hand. Power was back on, but now the internet network was down. I waited around for about ten minutes to see if it would come back on, but I eventually had to give up. I then went to a different internet café to see if they had a working connection. The place was open, but no one was in. I called the number written on the shop to let them know I was here. The auntie said she had stepped out, but that she would come right away. I sat down to wait. Some little kids came up to me and played with my hair and sang songs to me. That was nice. They did that for over half an hour, because that’s about how long it took for the auntie to show up. She came and switched on the computer and set me up. I plugged in my flash drive and opened up the internet. I went to log in when the computer froze. I had to relocate the auntie, who had disappeared again, and after tampering with the machine for a bit, she decided it would have to be restarted. I waited for the computer to restart. When that was finally accomplished, we activated the internet again. I tried to open the home page, but nothing happened. Her credit for the internet had finished. She would have to add credit to her account. She removed the key and went off to purchase more credit. This also took about half an hour. She finally came back and then went through about ten minutes of activation procedure. She plugged in the key again and the internet worked. I logged into my account, copy and pasted my email, and pressed send. At last, I had finished my mission. My mission of sending one email. It was now past 11:30 am. And that’s how I spent my entire morning trying to send an email.

On a similar note, if you ever feel like I’m not communicating with you enough or I don’t write often, please, it’s nothing personal. It’s to preserve my own mental health. 

RADD Graduation

On this past Wednesday 17 students graduated from my Riders Against Drunk Driving program. It was a very successful event. I was incredibly happy to have so many participants and to have all of them do so well. 

The program covered the effects of alcohol, ranging from its effects on driving to risky behaviors like unsafe sex and violence. The number of riders who reported never drinking after driving went up 20% after completing the program. Similarly, the number of riders who reported never carrying passengers after drinking also increased. 100% of riders stated it was unsafe to drink after driving. The amount of participants who reported using contraception increased. In fact, there was a 20% increase in people who reported always using condoms, with 0% reporting never using them (compared to 18% before the program). Additionally, a total of 69% of participants reported using a condom the last time they engaged in sexual activities, an increase of 22%. Previously, over half of the participants reported not using a condom the last time they had had sex; this number dropped to only four people after the class. Upon completing the course, the riders received certificates and bumper stickers to put on their bikes signifying that they were graduates of the safe driving program. I’m incredibly grateful to the riders who attended the program for being so engaged and making it such a success! 

Akid This Week

The engineer for the water project has returned to Cameroon after a month break and things are back in motion. We went up to Akid and stayed there from Friday to Monday to do work. Unfortunately, the water project has suffered several setbacks recently. The main problem is that the river from which we are supposed to collect water is incredibly strong as it is now rainy season here. It pours every singe day. This makes it very hard to create the stone dam necessary to divert the river water to the filtration system. The people of Akid have created the dam several times, only to have the river break it apart in the following days. The engineer worked with them to correct the dam and altered the building technique slightly so that it won’t fall again. We were only able to start the corrections, but the community should be working on it for the next week or so to complete it. We also discovered a problem with the constructed water filter. Our local technician slightly misinterpreted the plans, and put a pipe in the filter where it is not supposed to be. He will have to patch it and put the pipe in the proper location. Not exactly what we wanted, but at least it’s easily remedied. Other than those alterations, we were able to map out a new part of the pipeline near the dam site and were able to design a path that saves materials. The community will also continue to dig and modify the existing pipeline. Hopefully the work won’t take too long and the engineer will be able to come back soon so we can connect everything and finish up!

Truth be told, however, my favorite part of visiting Akid is not the project, but rather the level of hospitality shown to me and the knowledge I learn while there. I walk up there almost everyday of the week, but the people are always especially excited to have me stay the night. They never disappoint. This time, a child killed a viper on Friday, I saw a chameleon on Saturday, and I had my hair braided by a group of girls on Sunday. 

Whenever I stay the night, I stay with the family of the Chief’s brother. They have a traditional outdoor kitchen, a plank house, and an open-air latrine. The village is without water and without electricity. I normally sit in the kitchen with the children and the mother and “help” prepare meals. Mostly I just sit and stay warm, as they don’t want me to work, and, let’s be honest, am not very good at pounding fufu. At night, I share a bed with the mother. They heat water for my bucket bath, which I take behind the house in order to bathe. They are some of the most welcoming people I have ever met. They are unbelievably kind and friendly and attentive. They always try to prepare my favorite dishes and collect my favorite fruits from their farm. The father is always willing to discuss local traditions with me, which is a good thing because I’m always fascinated and ask a thousand questions. This time, he told me about the ancestors.

People here believe in the spiritual powers of their family’s ancestors. They pray to them and ask them for guidance. We had been discussing a traditional remedy for being poisoned, which included some sort of terrible sounding step in which you created a system of dots in your skin with a razor and then filled them with the venom of a stinging caterpillar. I joked that if I were ever poisoned I did not want that treatment and he should just take me to the hospital instead. He said that that type of poison witchcraft wouldn’t work on me anyway. This then led to the discussion of why I would be immune, which led us to the ancestors. He told me that I would not be poisoned because the ancestors would protect me. They would not allow it to happen. They would not permit the poison to work. I have my own ancestors, but while I am here, the ancestors of this village are also responsible for me. My own ancestors do not fully understand or cannot fully protect me, and so the ancestors of his own family or other families here team up with my own ancestors to aid me. Any time that someone is poisoned or harmed, it is because the ancestors allow it to happen. The ancestors here know that I am important to this village and won’t allow harm to happen to me. He communicates to his ancestors during dreams, and they have asked about me, and he has explained my role and what I am doing. He even had to ask their permission for the water project. Ultimately, they approve of me and my work and will take care of me while I am here. When I go back to the US, my own ancestors will take over again, and I will no longer be under the protection of his own ancestors. The way he explained it, it’s like they don’t have jurisdiction there. 

Best Day Ever!

I just had an awesome day and figured I’d let you know what constitutes “awesome” out here. I woke up and had a cup of hot chocolate. Power was on. I got to watch a TV show. I had sunflower seeds for breakfast. It stopped raining! I hiked out to my water project site, which is about and hour and a half away. It was all misty and beautiful and not hot, which makes for the best walking conditions. I met a bunch of people I knew on the way and even got two marriage proposals (along with the offer of a plot of land, should I accept).

            “What did you bring me?”

            “Nothing, what did you bring me?”

            “I have a plot of land for you! You can garden it.”

            “You know I don’t know how to farm.”

            “That’s why I’ve told you to marry me already. I will teach you how to farm your plot when you marry me!”

Then I reached the village and the entire community was doing labor for the project! Every single person was working! Then a boy killed a viper! They cut it up and cooked it and I got to eat it and it was so nice! Then, the Chief and a few other “big men” (very important people) showed up! I was given a glass of wine. They took me back in their car! I got to ride in a car! They gave me bread! And 5 cans of soda! Then I went to see my counterpart and she had prepared me my favorite local meal, ndole! It was fantastic.

Also, I can’t wait for the days when some bread and soda aren’t the basis for an awesome day. But for now, it’ll do!

Riders Against Drunk Driving Program

After a long wait, I have finally unveiled my latest project—one that combats drunk driving amongst motorcycle riders. I have wanted to work with the drivers, or “okada men,” since I arrived, but, as usual, faced several setbacks along the way. The okada men are a very important group to work with because they are considered an at-risk population. As young men with a certain amount of income and a means of travel, they are more likely to engage in risky behaviors. They are often known in communities as big drinkers and players. Often they have not completed school, but are still young and are open to information. They also interact with many people every day, and can serve as a source of education to others.

They are also responsible for nearly all transport in and out of town, and carry many people every day. Despite this fact, they have a strong penchant for drinking. Often while still on the job. It is not uncommon to see a driver gulp down a beer so that he can jump on his bike to take the newly arrived passenger— or even to see a rider with a sachet (a baggie of hard alcohol) hanging out of his mouth while cruising around. The fact is, most people in Cameroon have very little alcohol education. Growing up they never get any lessons in school on the subject— certainly no “Every 15 Minutes” simulations. They don’t even receive any campaigns against drunk driving or the affects of alcohol. There are no TV commercials condemning it, no billboards denouncing, not even any prosecution by law enforcement. Many don’t realize that certain alcohols have higher concentrations than others. And while they certainly have experience with alcohol, they have never had its affects laid out for them. They don’t know the health affects it has on the body. They haven’t specifically been told the influence it has on driving abilities. And they haven’t necessarily stopped to think about it before.

I have started a program with them that covers attitudes towards alcohol, the affects of alcohol on the body, the affects of alcohol on driving, the health affects of alcohol, the economic consequences of alcohol, alcohol myths, and related risky behaviors associated with alcohol (like violence, unprotected sex, HIV, etc). Around 20 men attend the weekly sessions. The lessons are discussion based and interactive, but also have some lecturing involved. So far, the okada men seem very interested and appreciative. After each class they thank me and have told me they have learned something new, or that I have given them something to think about. Ultimately, I hope that drunk driving will decrease, but at the very least that these men will be able to make informed decisions regarding their lifestyles and that they will increase their knowledge on how their actions affect their health.