The Secret of Marriage

Last week Matt and I had the opportunity to attend our first Cameroonian wedding. The plus side to having gained proficiency in French is that we were actually able to understand what was being said during the ceremony, which was priceless. There are three types of marriages in Cameroon: 1) traditional; 2) official; and 3) religious. The wedding Matt and I attended was an official marriage, presided over by the mayor of our district, and for a couple who have been traditionally married for over a year.

The mayor began the ceremony without the bride and groom, and it was only after great protest from family and friends that they decided to wait for the couple to arrive before proceeding again. As it turned out, the mayor was very long winded and after each little speech the wedding guests (some invited, some not) went wild cheering. There were ladies standing by to throw confetti on the couple after each announcement, but ninety percent of the confetti landed on the head of an ancient old man sitting next to Matt. The air was thick with the sweet smell of cheap alcohol and gave numerous attendees courage to ask questions and give comments during the ceremony in a sort of open mic format. At one point, the self proclaimed Baka chief, ran up to the front table where the bride, groom, and mayor sat, and threw down three 100cfa coins (about 75 cents), needless to say the audience went nuts. The same man had to be escorted off the premises three separate times.

Towards the end of the ceremony, the mayor raised his hands into the air with emphasis and demanded of the attendees "Do you want to know the secret of a good marriage?" I leaned forward with interest waiting to hear something sentimental or familiar like "love" or "respect", but no; the mayor continued with "Sometimes men go out drinking with their friends. When they come home and fall into bed, when they wake up they realize that they have pissed the bed." Then he practically yelled the next bit, "WOMEN, DO NOT TELL YOUR FRIENDS THAT YOUR HUSBAND WET THE BED, DO NOT TELL YOUR FRIENDS THAT HE WAS SO DRUNK HE DID NOT KNOW THE FISH HAD ALREADY GONE BAD. THIS IS THE SECRET OF MARRIAGE." Matt and I barely held it together and only did so by biting our lips and avoiding eye contact. The speech later ended with the mayor telling the couple "to never overseason the sauce", we are pretty sure that it was a metaphor, but we are still not sure for what.

All great parties in Cameroon have dancing and the wedding was no exception. Here everyone dances and dances well, from the smallest children who can barely walk to the village elders. The best part about the dance is that it starts with the DJ announcing partners, none of whom are actually couples. This is always slightly embarrassing for Matt and me, as we are picked for the first round and have to dance in front of everyone with enthusiastic local partners.

Finally, to end the evening there was a wedding cake auction. I baked the cake as a gift to the newly weds and to my surprise the dj announced that anyone who wanted a slice had to buy one. Since no one had money and it was getting awkward, Matt and I ended up buying the entire cake and then giving a little bit to everyone.

Return to Post

So, after some civil unrest we are heading back to post. The director of the Agroforestry program showed up last Thursday for what we thought was a routine site visit, but then he told us that we were being pulled out of Mambele. At first, we believed that he was joking because immediately after he announced that we had to leave he gave us both a round of high fives (note - he does have a tendency to grin and giggle over even the most serious subjects). Later that night we packed up our bags not knowing if we would be able to come back; both of us felt that it wasn't goodbye, but is was still emotionally trying to drive away from our friends and village.

After our traumatic departure we waited for news in Yokadouma for a couple days and started to feel better once we heard that striking had tapered off in the capital. We spent the rest of the week in Batouri hanging out at a friend's house, he is a volunteer from our same training, so we got to catch-up, eat "city food", and watch movies (and by movies I mean 10 episodes of the Office). Although we tried to downplay just how great our assignment is, we tended to talk of Mambele and the WWF nonstop. Our friend's jealousy peaked when a brand new WWF landcruiser pulled up, a/c on, to drive us to Bertoua.

We have been told that the rainy season starts mid-March, which is somewhat confusing because it has rained almost everyday for the past week and a half (in fact, it's raining right now). If the current rain doesn't count, I feel like we must be in for torrential downpours all day, everyday, until December (yes, our rainy season is 9 months long). We walked to the office this morning taking every precaution not to slip and fall in the mud, which is especially embarrassing because no one else seems to have this difficulty. Women in tiny, strappy sandals walk briskly, managing to somehow stay clean and balance giant loads on their heads (no hands).

We took some mint tea and omelets today and our favorite little hole in the wall (literally). The best part about breakfast was when the couple who runs the restaurant found out that we are working together and married, the husband let out a little cheer and clapped his hands with delight. Ah, the many unexpected benefits of marriage. I also got points for being named Sarah, think "wife of Abraham", so thanks Mom and Dad. Anyway, that is all for now, we should have internet connection again sometime in April. Enjoy the spring skiing!

-S

Better Late than Never or Official Meeting of the Chief

Last Sunday we had a community meeting with the chief of Mambele. Also in attendance were a dozen or so important village delegates. I really have no idea what certain people do, for instance one delegate is the chef de post (chief of the post), he has an office that we have never seen open and if it were to be open we don't know who would go there and what, if anything, would be accomplished. But back to the meeting, despite Matt's assurance that he knew where the chefferie was, the chefferie was not to be found in town. We received some vague instructions from local villagers that consisted of it's "down the road." And again later every person would passed would indicate to continue down the road, that it was "further still," then they would smile knowingly and shake their heads at us. Over an hour later, six kilometers away, we arrived covered in dirt and sweat at the chefferie. We were told later that the chefferie is the center of Mambele and it is the boutiques, guest houses, school, offices, and soccer field that are a long way out of town (go figure).

The meeting went rather well, all things considered, and went something like this (translated in parts):

Matt: "Bonjour tout le monde"

Everyone: "Bonjour"

Matt: "We are Peace Corps Volunteers"
applause

Matt: "We also work for the WWF"
applause

Matt: "I have a wife"
applause

Matt: "We do not have any kids"
awkward silence

Sarah: "Bonjour"

Everyone: "Bonjour"

Sarah: "Thank you for attending"
applause

Sarah: "We are very happy to be here"
applause

Sarah: "We will be here for two years"
applause

Sarah: "We are volunteers, so we do not have money to give out"

Villager: "We know you don't have money because you walked all the way here"
applause

After the meeting we took a beer with the chief, who insisted on sitting covertly behind the bar so no one would see him and ask for money. Well, we liked how he was thinking so we had a cheers to that. Then the chief, taking one last swig of his 24oz beer, smiled a toothless grin and announced "Je suis votre pere"(translation "I am your father.")

Thus, we have begun our integration.

-S

Bonne Année/Happy New Year

We are still here, still alive, and still healthy. The past month has been a whirlwind of meeting villagers, trying out our French, ants, monkeys, birds, and bucket baths. Luckily, the first two weeks were quiet and allowed Matt and I to settle in to village life. We had plenty of time to read, write, bake (see statics below), bird watch, and play cribbage (note to my dad - "the hands even out"). Our neighbor, Lilliann, had a baby on January 4th whom she named Sarah after me, I was extremely honored and touched. Matt is called "patron" by the villagers, to his chagrin and my amusement. In contrast, the past week and a half has been packed full of introductions, meetings, travel, and well. . . work.

We have had numerous visitors come by our house, some are the quite type and just sit there looking at us, others bring their babies and are not shy about whipping out a breast and nursing on the spot (this never fails to embarrass Matt). New Year's day brought neighbors and friends bearing beautiful bouquets of leaves and flowers for us, a tradition we love already. In general the learning curve for etiquette and village life has been steep. We now eat shrimp with the shells on, don't hesitate to drink palm wine even when ants are found floating in it, and pop tums pre-emptively.

Thursday night Matt and I both woke up to noises coming from the kitchen. "Is someone in the house?" I asked sleepily. Matt answered that he didn't think so and we went back to sleep, end of story almost. The next morning Matt discovered a rooster, alive, in the cupboard below our kitchen sink. Our house guest had been spared the fate of the other two birds, whom we had eaten for dinner, it was a special occasion as the director of the project and other staff were visiting (note - Matt and I had no part in the purchasing, killing, of preparing the roosters). While eating breakfast the next morning the director commanded us to "free the cock." So, the "cock" was freed and spent the rest of the day wondering around our open yard in complete bliss.


note - for the non-French speakers le cock is rooster in French, the quote was however, spoken exactly as I have written it above.


Items we have baked thus far:

3+ times

banana bread (5 to be precise)


2 times

upsidedown cake, tortillas, pancakes

1 time

brownies, gingerbread, cinnamon rolls,
biscuits, buttercake, bagels



We have been missing snow, food, friends, and family, but we are happy to be here and look forward to hearing from all of you!


-S

and then we ate rabbit

caution - sensitive persons should skip to paragraph 3


After an insane week (or two) we are officially Peaces Corps volunteers. The night before our swearing-in ceremony our host family decided to make a feast of sorts for us. I left the house at a very inopportune moment to meet a friend and saw my host brother and sister holding a white rabbit down with a giant knife to its' throat. Now as most of you know, although not a vegetarian I did have pet bunnies growing up and thus it was quite unfortunate that I stumbled upon the scene. After sprinting past, one hand blocking my vision, I heard the rabbit utter its last, yet very loud screams.

The whole experience was rather like killer rabbit scene in Monty Python Search for the Holly Grail, except of course the ending: Dinner was served, guests were invited, and then we ate rabbit. (yes, I did manage to choke it down. . . Matt thought it tasted like chicken, but I beg to differ).

So swearing-in was pretty incredible. The US ambassador to Cameroon was there along with the Country Director and some ministers, etc. We all wore matching fabric that is the design of the local Bamileke people. After the ceremony, there was a dinner with the families, one last meal at our favorite omelet shack, and a neighborhood party. I got to dance with all of my favorite kids to the same four songs, which played over and over the entire night. We will miss everyone in Bangangte, but we are ready to start the real adventure!

-S

Real Men Wear Jellies and Carry a Machete

Our jungle guide was a real man. I don't know if I was more surprised when he twisted a leaf into a cup and drank directly from the stream or when he stuck his fingers in a pile of elephant dung to see how fresh it was. He tracked gorilla prints through the forest mud and every so often he would freeze, listen, then point emphatically towards some dense foliage. Some words I recognized: les gorilles, l'elephant, le serpent, and other needed no explanation for instance les singes were obvious enough because the monkeys made a lot of racket and could be seen swinging from branch to branch.

In other news we will actually be spending two years in a small village called Mambele.

population: 500
stores: 2 (maybe)
food: sardines and bread baby
attractions: Lobeke National Park (our backyard)
birds: 300 species
mammals: 50 species
fish: 121 species
trees: 211 species
butterflies: 215 species
distance: 800km from Yaounde (2-7 days travel)

note - we are back from site visit (3 days out, 3 days back, 2 days at post)

-S

And the Post is. . .

Exciting News!

We received our post this week and we will be spending the next two years in Yokadouma, which is in the East Province of Cameroon. Although we will be doing some agroforestry, our main project will be working with both the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) and USAID on natural resource conservation and park management. Our guidebook describes Yokadouma as being sort of like a Wild West frontier town (except of course in the jungles of Africa.)

Anyway, we are thrilled and will get to check out our post for a week starting tomorrow. Well, almost a week because it will take us two days to get there and another two to get back. Enjoy that Colorado snow for us as were heading to the rainforest!

Best,

-S