Manengouba (almost won)
This past weekend: Climbed a mountain, saw a cow get slaughtered, went to a baptism. Written in an efficient list.
Friday:
- Left 4:30am for Nkongsamba with Marius and Dimitri
- Arrived Nkongsamba ~7am, picked up Alain, a cousin
- Set out towards Bouroukou, from which we would start our ascent of Mount Manengouba
- Purchased bottle of wine for Bouroukou’s traditional village chief
- Arrived Bouroukou, hired the first person we met as a guide, hired someone else to watch the car
- Chief wasn’t in so we gave the bottle of wine to someone (I think they gave it to the chief)
- Started climbing Mount Manengouba and a brisk pace
- Almost passed out
- Ate breakfast (why did we start climbing a mountain with out eating yet?)
- Made it to the Top after 3-4 hours of hiking
- Saw two beautiful crater lakes: lake ‘Male’ and ‘Female’
- Climbed down
Saturday
- I was woken up at 5:30 by Marius’s brother to go watch cows get slaughtered
- Watched men lead cows into a concrete room, knock them over, saw through their throats, and disassemble the cows part by part.
- Almost passed out (but it was awesome)
- Went to Nkongsamba’s ‘Marché B’ — a traditional market
- Ate breakfast
- Headed to Marius’s sister’s house in Bafang
- Slept in a hotel that had glorious hot water
Sunday
- Church (Marius’s relatives were getting baptized)
- Danced and ate things
- Back to Douala
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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