Hey everyone,
Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. I meant to post this a little while back, but I didn't get around to it. It is just a short little list of things about Cameroon that strike me.
Considering we just got back from our Spring Break excursion to the Extreme North, I have a lot to write about, but it was such a mind blowing experience, I need a little more time to collect my thoughts. However, expect it hopefully within the next week or so.
Enjoy!
Andrew
- What drove me to come to Cameroon?
-Desire to see the opposite of what I had growing up
-Desire to find connections and common ground with people here.
-Desire to understand the social injustices that have been forced on Africa as a continent, and Cameroon as a country.
-To reaffirm my knowledge that Africa isn't a hopeless continent.
-To understand, appreciate, and learn to use my natural-born privilege for the greater good.
-To test myself and grow exponentially
What pushes me to write:
-The desire to eternalize my experiences, seeing as it will be one of the most important experiences of my life until now.
-To flesh out the daily dose of overwhelming emotions which I am confronted with.
-Because I may want to pursue a career in foreign journalism at one point or another, and here it is good practice.
What I've learned so far
-The three Americas
-The value of not being more than a tourist
-My deep-seated humanitarian desires and sufferings
-What real corruption is, and the many different sources of that corruption, both foreign and domestic
-How to deal with being a walking zoo
- The value of patience
-The ability to internalize a single moment
What I love about Cameroon and Cameroonians:
-The strength of the women here, despite their endless social oppression
-The ability to laugh, sing and dance, even when things are bad
-The cooking...OH the cooking!
-The dignity of even the poorest and most destitute of people
-The concept of family here
What I struggle with here:
-The ideas about gender and sexual roles
-The false assumptions about me because I am American
- What it means to live in a dictatorship, especially when we come from the "transparent" American democracy
-the depth of injustice
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Heal The World
So it has been a while since I last posted, and much has happened in that time. I'll give you a particularly memorable snippet. This past Saturday, a few of the people in the group and myself went to this barbecue/open-air concert that Mr. Teku's personal assistant/friend of the program Elité's brother, Jackson, was helping to run. We arrived at around 9:00 to find about 50 chairs set up, as well as a whole band ready to play, complete with drums, guitar and bass, microphones, and a computer for extra sound effects. Pretty freaking cool. So just as the band was preparing to perform (and the food was about to be served), the sky opened up and we had to rush all the equipment and chairs inside to wait out the storm. It would have been much more frustrating had it not been for the wine/whiskey we were given, as well as Jackson's willingness to play Bob Marley songs on his guitar while we attempted to sing along. It was all well and good, and I was having a great time, and then the rain stopped. We went back outside, put the chairs back, and they got the concert under way. Just as I was finishing up my food, Jackson got on the microphone and called Eric and I up to the front to sing No Woman No Cry. At first we thought he was kidding, but turns out he was absolutely serious! I have to admit, it was a pretty surreal feeling to be singing, in a group of altogether five people on two mics, one of my favorite songs of all time, and having the entire audience sing along encouragingly. And, what's better is that Grace got it all on video, so look forward to that in July!!! However, the night got better, for as soon as we sat down, we were standing right back up with the entire crowd singing along to Michael Jackson's We Are The World. There was something so magical and wonderfully fitting to that whole experience. I can hardly describe the connection we all felt to everyone there as we high-fived, thumbed up, and cheered on perfect strangers joining together like that. When it was all over, Jackson put his hand in the air and said "Pour Haiti," which warmed my heart even more. That whole night was one of the best I've had in country yet, and I am so thankful to have met everyone I did that night.
So a few days have passed since then, and we are all preparing for our huge trip up to the Far North, which begins saturday. Needless to say, we are all PUMPED for it, despite how wary we are of the 105+ temperatures which awaits us. The area of the country we are going is predominantly Muslim, with a very different landscape and culture than down in the tropical areas where we've been so far. Scheduled activities include visiting Waza Wildlife Reserve where we will go on Safari, taking a canoe in a lake with Hippos, and culminating at a natural rock formation along the Nigerian border in Rhumsiki (which you should Google if you haven't seen it already; it's amazing). It is always a favorite of the Dickinson group, so as long as we all stay well hydrated and apply much sunblock, I'm sure we'll have a blast.
In other news, I am now officially an editor of a book about the Civil War. Fittingly random, I guess. Today when I walked into my Orality, Landscape and Creative Writing course, there was a white woman and a younger metisse man, who turned out to be her son, wearing a cowboy hat around his neck and a flashy horse belt buckle in our professors office. Once we sat down, the professor introduced us, saying that this woman, Annette, was originally from Germany, but had married a Cameroonian many years ago, and had opened up a horse farm nearby. She was a writer and a poet, but she did not speak very good English. Despite that, she had written an Youth book, in English, about the experiences of a family with slaves during the Civil War. However, because her English is not very good, she wanted someone to edit it and make sure that it was grammatically and structurally sound, at which time everyone's eyes in the room drifted right towards me. I was happy to take on the albeit very random project for her, despite the vast amount of work that needs to be done on the manuscript. But hey, it can't be a bad bit of experience for me, right? Plus, I'm getting paid for it, so I won't complain.
Well, I have to wake up early tomorrow, and I want to get some rest.
Take care everyone, and I hope all is well in your neck of the woods!
Yours truly,
Andrew
So a few days have passed since then, and we are all preparing for our huge trip up to the Far North, which begins saturday. Needless to say, we are all PUMPED for it, despite how wary we are of the 105+ temperatures which awaits us. The area of the country we are going is predominantly Muslim, with a very different landscape and culture than down in the tropical areas where we've been so far. Scheduled activities include visiting Waza Wildlife Reserve where we will go on Safari, taking a canoe in a lake with Hippos, and culminating at a natural rock formation along the Nigerian border in Rhumsiki (which you should Google if you haven't seen it already; it's amazing). It is always a favorite of the Dickinson group, so as long as we all stay well hydrated and apply much sunblock, I'm sure we'll have a blast.
In other news, I am now officially an editor of a book about the Civil War. Fittingly random, I guess. Today when I walked into my Orality, Landscape and Creative Writing course, there was a white woman and a younger metisse man, who turned out to be her son, wearing a cowboy hat around his neck and a flashy horse belt buckle in our professors office. Once we sat down, the professor introduced us, saying that this woman, Annette, was originally from Germany, but had married a Cameroonian many years ago, and had opened up a horse farm nearby. She was a writer and a poet, but she did not speak very good English. Despite that, she had written an Youth book, in English, about the experiences of a family with slaves during the Civil War. However, because her English is not very good, she wanted someone to edit it and make sure that it was grammatically and structurally sound, at which time everyone's eyes in the room drifted right towards me. I was happy to take on the albeit very random project for her, despite the vast amount of work that needs to be done on the manuscript. But hey, it can't be a bad bit of experience for me, right? Plus, I'm getting paid for it, so I won't complain.
Well, I have to wake up early tomorrow, and I want to get some rest.
Take care everyone, and I hope all is well in your neck of the woods!
Yours truly,
Andrew
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Journée des Femmes
Bonjour Tout le Monde!
So, I've had a couple intense cultural days lately, particularly yesterday. March 8 is "International Womens' Day," a day of parades, beautiful fabric, and all-night partying for women. Sounds great, right? Let's put it this way instead: it is basically a weak band-aid; an invitation for women to forget, for just one day, that they basically have no rights in this country,and that they are just as oppressed as ever. It's similar in concept to the United States' "Black History Month": So what, we've got one month for black history (the shortest month, furthermore), and the other 11 months is all white history? Same shit.
People have asked me if we celebrate Womens' Day in the United States. Naturally, I always say no, explaining that, in my opinion, half the population shouldn't be relegated to celebrate who they are only one day a year; ideally, every day is Womens' Day (or more appropriated "People's Day") to which many Cameroonians scoffed, particularly the men. It is interesting: in our group, two out of the three guys (myself included), as well as all of the women, has clothes made for the day. However, when we got downtown, I counted, altogether, 10 other Cameroonian men who were sporting the clothing. TEN! The patriarchy here is so ingrained that men really believe that it is a day ONLY for women, and that they have no part in it, except to reinforce the original system once they get home from partying. There are even men who think it is a ridiculous holiday which only gives women the excuse to cheat on their husbands, which is altogether crazy. Even young boys would walk past me and Eli and yell "It's not Men's day! It's not Men's day!" There's just no gender sensitivity here, and it really gets to me sometimes.
Yesterday was an interesting day for me for other reasons. While we were downtown, we were walking through a crowd and I felt my camera slip out of my pants pocket by the strap. Without thinking, I turned around, spotted the person who I knew had to have taken my camera, spit a few lines of angry English swearwords at him, and he gave me back my camera. Little shit. Granted, I was very lucky not to have been successfully pick-pocketed, but it still kind of shook me up a bit.
However, the rest of the day and night were great! We had dance class from 7-8, but since it was raining really hard, we had to stay at the studio for another 45 minutes until I got fed up and got some people to come back to the apartment with me, where I had decided to stay the night, on account of the late hour. I just hung out with a few friends and joined in the festivities for a bit before I crashed. While I consider "International" Women's Day a bit of a sham holiday, it was pretty cool to see all those women out, dancing, and having a good time without a care in the world.
Well, I have to do some of my homework, believe it or not.
Until next time!
Andrew
So, I've had a couple intense cultural days lately, particularly yesterday. March 8 is "International Womens' Day," a day of parades, beautiful fabric, and all-night partying for women. Sounds great, right? Let's put it this way instead: it is basically a weak band-aid; an invitation for women to forget, for just one day, that they basically have no rights in this country,and that they are just as oppressed as ever. It's similar in concept to the United States' "Black History Month": So what, we've got one month for black history (the shortest month, furthermore), and the other 11 months is all white history? Same shit.
People have asked me if we celebrate Womens' Day in the United States. Naturally, I always say no, explaining that, in my opinion, half the population shouldn't be relegated to celebrate who they are only one day a year; ideally, every day is Womens' Day (or more appropriated "People's Day") to which many Cameroonians scoffed, particularly the men. It is interesting: in our group, two out of the three guys (myself included), as well as all of the women, has clothes made for the day. However, when we got downtown, I counted, altogether, 10 other Cameroonian men who were sporting the clothing. TEN! The patriarchy here is so ingrained that men really believe that it is a day ONLY for women, and that they have no part in it, except to reinforce the original system once they get home from partying. There are even men who think it is a ridiculous holiday which only gives women the excuse to cheat on their husbands, which is altogether crazy. Even young boys would walk past me and Eli and yell "It's not Men's day! It's not Men's day!" There's just no gender sensitivity here, and it really gets to me sometimes.
Yesterday was an interesting day for me for other reasons. While we were downtown, we were walking through a crowd and I felt my camera slip out of my pants pocket by the strap. Without thinking, I turned around, spotted the person who I knew had to have taken my camera, spit a few lines of angry English swearwords at him, and he gave me back my camera. Little shit. Granted, I was very lucky not to have been successfully pick-pocketed, but it still kind of shook me up a bit.
However, the rest of the day and night were great! We had dance class from 7-8, but since it was raining really hard, we had to stay at the studio for another 45 minutes until I got fed up and got some people to come back to the apartment with me, where I had decided to stay the night, on account of the late hour. I just hung out with a few friends and joined in the festivities for a bit before I crashed. While I consider "International" Women's Day a bit of a sham holiday, it was pretty cool to see all those women out, dancing, and having a good time without a care in the world.
Well, I have to do some of my homework, believe it or not.
Until next time!
Andrew
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Orality Class Response
I wanted to share with everyone my first reaction essay I wrote for my Orality, Landscape and Creative Writing Course. I didn't expect us to share them today in class, but after I got fairly good reactions from the group, I don't feel as shy about it anymore, so here it is! Feel free to send feedback my way if you wish!
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Andrew Verrier
Orality and Landscape
Professor Mutia
2 March 2010
Everyone Has a Life
Since I was young, whenever we were in an airport or a crowded restaurant, my mom would lean over to me and whisper, “You know, Andrew, everybody has a life.” Being young and uninterested in such complicated concepts, my usual response was “yeah, yeah, Mom, I know,” rolling my eyes, and that was that. Nothing out of the ordinary for a child, I’m sure. Being young, it was easy, and easily forgivable, to put it out of my mind. Yet as I grew up, it was increasingly impossible for me to ignore that fundamental, humbling truth. In fact, in many ways, it was this timeless insight that drove me to choose Cameroon in the first place.
Therefore, our trip last Wednesday was exactly what I had been looking for: a window into the lives of everyday Cameroonians; a glimpse of how their experiences define the person they are today, just as we all have been shaped by the lives we’ve been given, simply by the miracle of birth. Obviously, owning a restaurant in the heart of Yaoundé and attending a top liberal arts school in the United States are two very different things, yet our interactions with these two amazing women served to reaffirm our common humanity.
Ever since arriving in Cameroon, the people that I’ve met have intrigued me to no end. Everyone from the professors, to the street vendors, and even the “charming” men who try tirelessly to woo the women in our group, they all have a story. I grew up being taught that, no matter how different someone might seem, you can always find something in common with anyone you meet. So, being in a place that is admittedly a world away from where I grew up, I have wanted the opportunity to affirm that assertion. And that’s exactly what I got last Wednesday. The first woman we met, Hortanse, owned a modestly decorated eating-house near Polytechnique (ironically contrasted by the tricked-out Hummer sitting outside.) A single mother of one daughter in secondary school, she moved from a village outside Bamenda to Yaoundé in 2002, hoping to gain a visa to the United States. Sadly however, her dreams fell through, as so many such requests do, so she decided to use her skills to rent some land and set up a small eatery in Yaoundé. However, just as business was becoming stable, the city decided to pave a road literally through the middle of the restaurant, effectively halving her business. What’s more difficult for me to stomach, she was not even compensated by the owner of the land, let alone the city, but she has kept subsisting and kept strong nonetheless. When we talked to her, despite her hardships her voice was not one of pitiful struggle, but one of strength through circumstances and character, and the dignity of having to live day to day just to support yourself and your family. No matter the cards you are dealt, the only choice you have is to continue on as best you can.
The same goes for the next woman we met, Edith Timbong (my spelling is most likely way off). While she was more successful, relatively, than Hortanse, she is the only person in her business who knows how to make all the dishes, do all the finances, which means that she needs to be at the job every day by 9 a.m. with materials for the days work. By the look of her restaurant, with its rotating fans and laminated menus, it is obvious that she does fairly well for herself and her family. However, as she readily admits, business “only works when you’re there,” leaving her intimately tied to her work, with little wiggle room for a life outside her job.
We only met with each of our subjects for, at most, 30 minutes. However, the window we received into their lives was invaluable, shedding light on two women who would otherwise have just been faces on the street to me. If I had the time and the agency to get just a little window into the life of everyone I met, I readily would, but even with our lives being run by “Africa Time,” there still isn’t enough hours in the day for that. However, I will always keep in mind that ultimate truth which my mother instilled in me so long ago.
----------------------------------------------
Andrew Verrier
Orality and Landscape
Professor Mutia
2 March 2010
Everyone Has a Life
Since I was young, whenever we were in an airport or a crowded restaurant, my mom would lean over to me and whisper, “You know, Andrew, everybody has a life.” Being young and uninterested in such complicated concepts, my usual response was “yeah, yeah, Mom, I know,” rolling my eyes, and that was that. Nothing out of the ordinary for a child, I’m sure. Being young, it was easy, and easily forgivable, to put it out of my mind. Yet as I grew up, it was increasingly impossible for me to ignore that fundamental, humbling truth. In fact, in many ways, it was this timeless insight that drove me to choose Cameroon in the first place.
Therefore, our trip last Wednesday was exactly what I had been looking for: a window into the lives of everyday Cameroonians; a glimpse of how their experiences define the person they are today, just as we all have been shaped by the lives we’ve been given, simply by the miracle of birth. Obviously, owning a restaurant in the heart of Yaoundé and attending a top liberal arts school in the United States are two very different things, yet our interactions with these two amazing women served to reaffirm our common humanity.
Ever since arriving in Cameroon, the people that I’ve met have intrigued me to no end. Everyone from the professors, to the street vendors, and even the “charming” men who try tirelessly to woo the women in our group, they all have a story. I grew up being taught that, no matter how different someone might seem, you can always find something in common with anyone you meet. So, being in a place that is admittedly a world away from where I grew up, I have wanted the opportunity to affirm that assertion. And that’s exactly what I got last Wednesday. The first woman we met, Hortanse, owned a modestly decorated eating-house near Polytechnique (ironically contrasted by the tricked-out Hummer sitting outside.) A single mother of one daughter in secondary school, she moved from a village outside Bamenda to Yaoundé in 2002, hoping to gain a visa to the United States. Sadly however, her dreams fell through, as so many such requests do, so she decided to use her skills to rent some land and set up a small eatery in Yaoundé. However, just as business was becoming stable, the city decided to pave a road literally through the middle of the restaurant, effectively halving her business. What’s more difficult for me to stomach, she was not even compensated by the owner of the land, let alone the city, but she has kept subsisting and kept strong nonetheless. When we talked to her, despite her hardships her voice was not one of pitiful struggle, but one of strength through circumstances and character, and the dignity of having to live day to day just to support yourself and your family. No matter the cards you are dealt, the only choice you have is to continue on as best you can.
The same goes for the next woman we met, Edith Timbong (my spelling is most likely way off). While she was more successful, relatively, than Hortanse, she is the only person in her business who knows how to make all the dishes, do all the finances, which means that she needs to be at the job every day by 9 a.m. with materials for the days work. By the look of her restaurant, with its rotating fans and laminated menus, it is obvious that she does fairly well for herself and her family. However, as she readily admits, business “only works when you’re there,” leaving her intimately tied to her work, with little wiggle room for a life outside her job.
We only met with each of our subjects for, at most, 30 minutes. However, the window we received into their lives was invaluable, shedding light on two women who would otherwise have just been faces on the street to me. If I had the time and the agency to get just a little window into the life of everyone I met, I readily would, but even with our lives being run by “Africa Time,” there still isn’t enough hours in the day for that. However, I will always keep in mind that ultimate truth which my mother instilled in me so long ago.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Limbe and More
Well, it certainly has been an eventful past week. This past friday, we left Yaoundé for Limbe, a coastal paradise in the Southwest region of the country. We stayed at the Holiday Inn Resort, which was pretty nice, at least by Cameroonian standards. It even had a pool, and swings! (which we took FULL advantage of!). The next day we woke up early and took drove to Buea (pronounced Boy-ya), a smaller town literally on the foot of Mount Cameroon, the 13,000 foot active volcano, the tallest in Western Africa. We met this amazing artist named Max Lyonga (I think that was his name, at least), who owns his own studio/shop in the shadow of the mountain. His work was gorgeous, though very expensive. It is something I am considering saving up for, however, because we want to come back to Limbe/Buea later on in the trip. The rest of the day was spent at the black sand Seme Beach, frolicking in the waves and trotting on horses up and down the side of the beach. It was, without doubt, the most beautiful place I've yet been in Cameroon, and I am looking foward to going back (and possibly climbing Mount Cameroon!)
In other news, it's been just about a month since we've been in Cameroon, and boy have things changed. First of all, when we first got here, I felt like time went by incredibly slowly, and I couldn't quite get myself grounded. However, it's been a month, and even though I have learned so much about myself, about Cameroon, about the french language, I still can't believe that so much time has passed already! While I realize that, no matter what people say about Africa Time, this trip will go by quicker than I would want, I am sure that i will make the very best of it.
Well, i must be going. I am working on my first homework assignment of the semester, a reflection for my Orality, Landscape and Creative Writing Class. It's not too hard, but after so long of not doing academic work, it's a bit hard to motivate myself haha.
a bientôt!
Andrew
In other news, it's been just about a month since we've been in Cameroon, and boy have things changed. First of all, when we first got here, I felt like time went by incredibly slowly, and I couldn't quite get myself grounded. However, it's been a month, and even though I have learned so much about myself, about Cameroon, about the french language, I still can't believe that so much time has passed already! While I realize that, no matter what people say about Africa Time, this trip will go by quicker than I would want, I am sure that i will make the very best of it.
Well, i must be going. I am working on my first homework assignment of the semester, a reflection for my Orality, Landscape and Creative Writing Class. It's not too hard, but after so long of not doing academic work, it's a bit hard to motivate myself haha.
a bientôt!
Andrew
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