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May192009

From Africa, for one last time

…for this trip at least. In this post: Gabon, polygamy, the end.

I spent 9 days (6th-15th) in Libreville, Gabon working with my host-dad’s franchise of a multinational travel reservation company, Galileo Travelport. Our team spent the week negotiating contracts and setting up computers.

UNDP 2007 Per
Capita GDP in USD
Sub-Saharan Africa Avg.$1,998
Cameroon$2,299
Ecuador$5,584
Gabon$6,954
Mexico$10,751
South Africa$11,110
US$41,890

Libreville, the capitol of Gabon, is a very pleasant city. I tried to write a paragraph about it, but it came out as a list; here’s my thoughts/observations/research:

If you ever travel in Africa, make sure to bring along your immunization documentation —preferrably the orignals. As I found out upon arrival to Gabon, its often obligatory for traveling between countries. My boss paid the $40 fee and I was able to leave with out getting any shady immunizations at the airport. On my way back to Cameroon, the health official gave me trouble because I only had a copy that I had printed from my file server in Austin. However after standing patiently beside him for 10 minutes he let me go.

Overall it was a great trip. I’m happy to have seen a little bit of another African country!

May 1st was labor day here. Everyone from CEFA met at a restaurant where we ate and danced. After a couple of beers, one of my coworkers, an older man, leaned in next to me and said ‘You know, I’m a polygamist. I have two wives!’. Whoa. I’ve learned polygamy isn’t uncommon here, and only a little taboo. From my understanding, it’s much less common among the current generation as before, but still definitely in practice. In addition to my coworker with the two wives, I have another, younger coworker who is a supporter of polygamy. He says it’s European culture that has imposed monogamy upon his country. Polygamy also affects the dating culture as well; I don’t think it’s uncommon to have several girlfriends. Two (or more) wives sounds like a lot of work; monogamy is alright with me.

A few closing thoughts:

This is my last post before I leave for home. My itinerary is as follows (in local times):

Sunday 24 May
22:55 Depart for Zurich (Swiss (LX) 275)
Monday 25 May
6:25 Arrive Zurich
12:55 Depart for Chicago (Swiss (LX) 8)
15:35 Arrive Chicago
19:40 Depart for Austin (American Airlines (AA) 2491)
22:20 Arrive Austin

In short, I will get into Austin Bergstrom International at 10:20pm Monday May 24th. I go through 6 time zones, so I have almost 30 hours of traveling. Luckily, I fly Swiss Airlines all the way to Chicago which means free wine and chocolate.

Thank you so much for reading my blog. I felt really well supported by all of you who read and commented. One last time, please leave a comment.

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May012009

Yaoundé

In this post: Highway robbery, enchiladas, HIV healing, phototography superstitions

I spent the last week in Cameroon’s capital city, Yaoundé. I worked for the Aigle Voyages branch there during the day and stayed with my host-mom’s older brother at night.

On the bus to Yaoundé we got stopped by some guys in gendarme (national police) uniforms. They got on the bus and checked everyone’s ID. I passed the gendarme my passport; he told me there was a problem (that he didn’t specify) and beckoned me along with several others off the bus to the nearby 10ftx10ft security checkpoint hut. The guy there examined my passport and asked for my immunization record, which I don’t carry around with me.

‘It’s not necessary. The police in Douala say it’s not necessary’
‘You should carry it with you.’
‘You only need it to get your visa.’

I shot out a quick prayer for favor. Remembering a tip from my Cameroon travel book, I asked,

‘what’s your badge number?’
‘what are you going to do with it?’
‘Verify that all this is legal’

By this point they had let the couple cameroonians who had ‘problems’ with their ids go back to the bus and the bus’s co-pilot (there’s always someone who accompanies the driver) asked me to get my things off the bus. I knew it was time to take some kind of action or I would be spending the afternoon with the dishonest gendarmes on the side of the road. One of the gendarmes, an anglophone, told me to ‘speek een eenglish’ so I asked,

“Do you want a bribe?”

I was frustrated and had no intention of being subtle in the face of blatant corruption. He responded.

“I want to drink a beer.”

So I exchanged 2000CFA ($4) for my passport and stormed back to the bus.

“Voila les bandits” I said when I got back to the bus. One of the guys who had gotten off the bus with us said in defense of the gendarme ‘you should get your immunization card’. “C’est pas necessaire” I said as I went back to my seat to resume watching Flight of the Conchords on my iPod.

This second interaction with the people on the bus frustrated me most of the whole situation. They didn’t seem to care that people wearing the uniform of a public servant are robbing people on the side of the road. The one man even went so far as to defend them and tell me to get my immunization card, even though that is not the law.

I ate dinner one night with Joe, Donna, Tyler, and Austin Rider, a family of Wycliffe missionaries who are connected to Grace Bible Church in Nacogdoches. Before them, I hadn’t talked to more than 2 americans since I arrived (and those for not longer than 30 minutes). As Donna brought the food out from the kitchen, she said “I bet you’re missing tex-mex” and she set a giant dish of enchiladas on the table. “ooooh yesss” I replied. The food was delicious and I got to hear about their experiences and work here in Cameroon. It was a night where I really felt at home.

My host-uncle Emmanuel Leunde, the guy I stayed with, hires a couple, Moïse and Odedt, to do the cooking and cleaning in the house. I spent some time talking to Moïse one night and he’s a certified pastor. He eagerly showed me his certificate and the stack of photos from his life. I got to go to his church on Sunday. His congregation consists of about 15 people that meet in the bottom floor of a house under construction. The house is owned by a Muslim woman, but she lets them use it for their church meetings.

Moïse also told me that when he and Odedt got married, he found out she had HIV. He showed me the two forms from two tests that were positive. So they prayed and prayed. He showed me a third test that showed negative. I’m not sure, but my understanding is that HIV false negatives are very rare, especially if the potential exposure to the virus wasn’t recent. False positives happen from time to time, but not false negatives. I also met a woman that Moïse explained used to be lame until they prayed for her in the name of Jesus. When I met her she was walking. I am encouraged to hear stories of what God is doing.

Due to the elevation, the climate in Yaoundé is much more pleasant than Douala. I would still probably prefer another 5-10F cooler, but at least sleeping without air conditioning you don’t sweat all night long like you do in Douala. One day after it rained it was cold enough for a long sleeved shirt. The only downside of the cooler climate is that it makes cold showers a little less tolerable.

Sunday afternoon I went with Mr. Leunde’s nephew (who is also named Emmanuel) to go take pictures of the city. We took a taxi to Mount Febe where there was a good view of the city. I found an excellent rock from which to take some HDR panoramas, but as soon as I pulled out the camera we got yelled at by a nearby soldier with a large gun. We hopped back in the taxi and took off. Apparently photography is not permitted there because someone could potentially take a photo of the presidential palace (which is about 1/4 mile away). Cameroonians (maybe other african nations also?) are very sensitive about photos. From what I understand it’s a cultural thing that goes back to superstitions that photos steal a part of you. In some cases, such as the one I encountered, they’re considered a security threat. Although if someone wanted a photo of the presidential palace they could find it on google. You could probably also find a good layout of the grounds on Google Earth. You can’t build an ornate building on top of a hill and then expect to keep it a secret.

Mr Leunde took great care of me. I had my own room and a number of delicious meals at his house. He works at the central african bank (BEAC) so I got to hear some of his thoughts on economics and development.

While I was in Yaoundé I also got my visas for Congo and Gabon. Marius and I will be in leaving next week (most likely Wednesday) for Gabon and then for Congo. We will be setting up networks for Geoges’s travel software company Galileo. I’m excited about seeing two other African countries if only for a few days. Georges is paying our plane tickets (which are ridiculously expensive for the distance) for which I am very grateful.

We have internet in the house now in Douala although it’s only 64kbps and costs the family 65000CFA/mo (~$130/mo). Surprisingly, this is enough to have a decent skype voice call. It’s nice to have internet, but really I’ll only be in Douala for another handful of days before I come home.

Thank you for commenting, please don’t stop. Seriously if you read this, leave a comment. I check them almost every day and it makes me really glad when I get one.

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Apr162009

Manengouba (almost won)

This past weekend: Climbed a mountain, saw a cow get slaughtered, went to a baptism. Written in an efficient list.

Friday:

Saturday

Sunday

Mount Manengouba was awesome, even if I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it. I was a little out of shape; it’s been rainy in Douala so I haven’t been playing tennis (my normal excercise here) much. When we got over the final crest and could see the crater-valley with its 2.5 crater-lakes and expansive grassy plains, it was all worth it.

Catie Johnston wrote after she saw a sheep get slaughtered in Chile, “I think that anyone who eats meat should be ok with seeing it go from animal to meat.” I agree. They seriously just sawed through the neck of a live cow. Then they took him apart using knives and a hatchet. A hatchet! The group of ~15 men slaughtered ~6 cows in a small concrete building while we watched. I hadn’t eaten yet, and felt a little weak, but not enough to stop filming with my miniDV handycam.

The next night in Bafang I was sore from the mountain and emotionally tired: of not understanding, of being misunderstood (linguistically and otherwise), of being ordered around, of people yelling at eachother. I crashed on my stomach in the hotel and told God I loved him but didn’t feel like i was going to make it. I rolled off my bed and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth when I discovered there was hot water. Hot water! I was going to have a hot shower for the third time since I’ve been here. There was nothing God could have done that would have been more effective at meeting my needs at that moment.

Church, despite being 3.5 hours, was enjoyable. The services are very centered around music. There was a traditional marimba, drums, shakers, a trumpet, and some large kazoo-like instrument which I had never seen before. I had a strange run-in when we were about to take communion though. The guy on my right asked me (translated from french; I generally use ‘single quotes’ for translated/interpreted things and “double quotes” for phrases to the best of my memory),

‘are you going to take communion? are you a christian?’
‘yes’
‘do you have your card?’
‘my card?? you mean a card from the evangelical church of Cameroon?’
‘yes’
‘no I don’t’
‘oh, you need a card, we can get you one’
‘ok, can I just take communion? I follow Jesus.’
‘ehhh, yeah that’ll probably be ok’

The three ladies in front started to discuss with eachother and with Marius about how I needed a card to be able to take communion. Despite their protests, the guy on my right shuffled me along into a spot to take communion. It was wierd. Other than that, Church in Bafang was legit. There were people there genuinely worshiping Jesus.

My stomach has been doing a lot better since last week. I had my last debilitating stomach ache over a week ago. I think it was in fact the bichos and after 10 days of Flagyl, they are dead (Yippe kiy yay…). Next Tuesday I am headed for Yaoundé, Cameroon’s capital, for several days to work with the branch of the travel agency there. I think I am in fact going to get to go to Gabon and Congo (Brazzaville, not the Democratic Republic of) as well. I’m excited and doing pretty well here in Cameroon.

If you read this you must comment. Even if you just say ‘read’. It makes my day for sure.

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Apr072009

Kribi Weekend

I spent the weekend on the beach at Kribi with my friend Louis and her boyfriend’s cousin Gael.

We left Douala friday on the ‘noon’ bus which actually left at 2:30p. As I’ve noted in the past, the inhabitants of Douala are notoriously pushy and even though the guy at the door of the bus tried to take the tickets in the order in which they were numbered, the yelling mass of people tried to push their way onto the bus all at once. After some pushing of our own, we took our seats in the front of the bus, An optimal spot for picture taking.

The bus ride from Kribi to Douala was about 2.5 hours and costs a little over $4 (2000CFA).

In Kribi we descended from the bus into a crowd of taximen who tried to secure our business. Gael, very much a woman of Douala, was a jerk with most of them but chose a friendly looking man with a dilapidated taxi. We went to the Centre de Repose Sonel where we were to stay the weekend. The Centre de Repose Sonel is a private retreat for employees of the American-owned power company AES Sonel. Louis’s boyfriend’s Dad used to work for AES Sonel so he was able to get us rooms for free. The rooms had air conditioners that didn’t work and full bathrooms but no running water.

I watched the sunset over the Atlantic Ocean for the first time.

We went to the barcadere on the beach where Cameroonian women cook freshly caught fish. We ate, then headed back to hotel. Louis and I played around in the sand while Gael sat there. Gael rarely seemed to enjoy herself. I was still jumping around in the sand and Louis was sitting on a rock when a coconut fell a few meters away from Louis. While Louis contemplated the best places to stand in order to avoid death-from-falling-coconuts, I took it upon myself to open the thing. I tried several things unsuccessfully and one of the security guard came over. “Let me help you” he said, beckoning for the coconut. “No way this is my fight / Ca c’est mon lute” (I often respond with both English and French when people address me in English). He coached me through how to open it without any tools and Gael, Louis, and I enjoyed coconut in the cool night breeze. I waited out a stomach ache, then slept remarkably well despite sweating lightly most of the night.

The next day, we lounged around at the beach. I built a sand sculpture which I enjoy doing. And we laid around at the beach. We ate at around noon and called our taximan (taximan is what they are called here, even by the francophones) to bring us to the Chutes de Lobé (Lobé Waterfalls). These waterfalls are some of the few in the world to fall directly into the ocean. We hired out a pirogue, a small wooden canoe, to paddle around the bay for a better view of the falls. The girls wanted to go out that night so we rested the rest of the afternoon at the hotel.

I watched the sunset over the Atlantic Ocean for the second time. Then slept.

When I woke up and got ready, there was a guy I didn’t know with Gael. His name was Patrick. He was from Douala, liked to talk a lot, was rather boisterous, and I don’t think ever fully sober. I assumed he was a relative or a friend of Gael. He came with us to eat fish at same fish stalls and went with us to the nightclub. Louis told me the next morning that he had said that ‘he was paid to be there for our protection’. Louis and I, who paid for the trip, didn’t pay him. So it turns out we don’t have any idea who he was.

At about 11:30p we left to go out. The night club was an experience. On the moto, Patrick asked me if I was alone in my room. I told him yes and he told me I was going to taste/try (gouter) an African. I very akwardly told him no and he reassured me that if I used a condom it would be fine. I felt especially akward but he ceased to press the point. We got to the club and I told Louis, “hey I think Patrick tried to sell me a prostitute.” .

Louis told me she’s heard that when a group of women goes out by themselves to the nightclub, they are usually prostitutes; Marius confirmed this when I asked him last night.

We got to the club, Java nightclub, which is inside a hotel. They almost didn’t let us in because I was wearing sandals. I’ve noticed that shoes are the most important article of clothing here. I’m sure I could have gotten in with a t-shirt as long as I was wearing nice shoes. We were seated at our booth, served a half-bottle of whiskey with a bottle of coca-cola, and Louis and I made sure we had enough money to pay for the four of us. We danced for a while to various kinds of music: some African, some American, and even some salsa which made me glad. At around 3am, I was dancing by myself and reflecting on how glad I was that I was not a woman and therefore didn’t have to dance with Patrick, when some woman just started dancing with me. She was real agressive, so much so that I physically pushed her away several times. After a few minutes I asked “are you a prostitute/vous etes prostitute?” She answered (in English) “I like to have fun and party and be free.” (yes). Where I had been repulsed and generally wierded out, the holy spirit gave me a moment of God’s compassion and I responded, “God has so much more for you / Dieu a plus pour vous.” I don’t know if she didn’t understand or didn’t care but it didn’t seem to process and I escaped to the bathroom. When I left the safety of the bathroom, I found a seat at the bar and sat there tired and traumatized. I grabbed Gael to see if she was ready to go but she said it wasn’t safe to leave before morning. So I continued to sit there. The same woman came and talked to me briefly as she was leaving. Then some other woman came and told me “I have to dance with you.” to which I politely refused.

These women have worth; God loves them. Jesus befriended them (It is not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick!). I don’t want to treat them like trash; they are not trash. But I wanted them to leave me alone. I responded pretty sternly.

I went to go sleep in our booth where I was awoken by a third woman who asked why I was so sad in a booth by myself. She left me alone after 5-10 minutes of suprisingly normal conversation. The DJ played “Men in Black”; I was too tired/tramautized even to dance to Will Smith. At 5:30 Gael woke me up to leave.

Back at the hotel God gave me a beautiful lightning storm over the Atlantic ocean. Further south down the beach the platform that fills tankers from the end of the Chad-Cameroon oil pipeline lit up the sky with its bright orange flame. I watched until the sun started to light the clouds and then laid on top of my bed, stretched out so as to maximize heat dissipation, and slept.

I woke up a few hours later and wen’t down to the beach to spend some time with God and process the night. I ran into a couple Germans, Tobias and Henriette, who I had met briefly the day before. They are two very pleasant medical students from Munich who have been in Yaoundé for the last 6 weeks on a medical exchange. Tobias (if not also Henriette) is a Christian. We talked for several hours about our experiences, impressions, ideas. They gave me a bottle of German SPF25 to replace my African SPF60. I was so grateful to have them to talk to in the morning. It helped remind me that I wasn’t crazy.

We caught the 2:00ish bus back to Douala and made it home before sunset. I showered, and ate, and slept.

It was a crazy weekend. Keep commenting please. My stomach has been doing better since Saturday. I’m taking Flagyl for 10 days to try to kill the bichos. If that doesn’t help than I think it’s probably not in fact the bichos. I’m going to the west this weekend for a baptism. I think I’m going to get to climb a mountain. Heres a final few photos.

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