Cameroon Adventure

Home at last!

2009-03-06T10:21:00.000-08:00

It's good to be home! I was welcomed home with a sign and with balloons - thanks, Pat. Splendid! Then in the office I was welcomed with a sign and more balloons - thanks Liz. And thanks to Carolyn for treating me to bangers and mash (with onion gravy) at The Plough in St Asaph.

I shan't easily forget the places I saw, or, more importantly, the people I met, in Cameroon. I remain in touch with many of them.

The images here, from the top, are of the pattern of a local costume from North West Cameroon I was given by Godwin, and of the costume made by Mary. The bottom one needs no description!

A few photos

2009-03-02T07:08:00.000-08:00

“Would you do it again?”

2009-03-02T04:01:00.000-08:00

“Would you do it again?” is the question I’ve been asked more than once, when I start to tell of my experiences in Cameroon. The answer has to be, “Yes, certainly!” because, despite the challenges, this country has a lot going for it.

The opportunity to spend time in such a different culture will probably not arise again for me, and I don’t regret taking up the challenge.

What’s good about this place? Well, the food is abundant and very good on the whole, the climate is generally good, and you can soon get used to the heat.

What’s not so good? Unfortunately, the corruption has to be mentioned. Of course, there is corruption everywhere in the world, but in Cameroon, it has almost become an art form. “People are confident they won’t get caught”, a lawyer told me. The press contains stories almost every day about officials misappropriating funds, but very few are ever brought to justice.

I’m writing this in Yaoundé the capital where I’m spending a few days before flying back. It’s interesting to compare Bamenda and Yaoundé. The capital is much more developed in turns of its buildings, its roads and its businesses. I can now see why citizens of Bamenda complain about being neglected by the big cities. The differences are compounded by the language barrier or linguistic differences. As is the case in Wales, while the country is bilingual, not all its citizens are, so Yaoundé looks both privileged and foreign to Bamenda people.

I have met some extraordinary and committed people in this country, such as the volunteers for charitable organisations who do not even receive travelling expenses for their efforts. I have also met people who live in very difficult circumstances – no water or electricity, no lock on the door – who smile and take delight in simple pleasures.

Regarding religion I have met Bahais, one Buddhist and with Christians of all colours. Many of the Christians take the commitments of their faith seriously, but I have seen evidence of ‘religiosity’ too.

I had a really good meeting with the High Commissioner this morning. He gave me 45 minutes - more than I expected and after talking about my topic, we moved on to discuss place names and Celtic languages.

The pictures show Desiree who came in to see me especially on Saturday morning to give me a gift, then the market stall at Santa.

Final thoughts

2009-02-26T01:55:00.000-08:00

My final workshop took place on Tuesday, on the topic of coaching and mentoring. There was a good take up, and every seat was full. People here have not become jaded as we are about events such as this. Indeed, people from the councils and the Civil Society Organisations took part with enthusiasm.

On Wednesday I was visited by a delegation from Bafut representing the epilepsy organisation CODEF. They were very kind, had bought a calabash of palm wine with them –and, most unexpectedly, a number of Cameroonian gifts. I really don’t think that I deserve them.

What conclusions can I draw about this vast, intriguing country after some eight weeks? I ought to say that I am fairly optimistic. This is a relatively peaceful country. Despite some disturbances a year ago, this is no powder keg ready to explode.

Dicky TV and Electrical Repairs

2009-02-23T05:18:00.000-08:00

A few more pictures of Cameroon, again. Sorry, Jayne, no lions or giraffes or elephants - although I have seen the last elephant shot in the North West.

These images are:

Parts of Rose's bar, Nkwen, Bamenda, with a gesture towards traditional construction!

Traditional hand-made bricks

A note in French from landlady Patricia warning clients of the consequences of ordering beer when they can't afford to pay for it

Dicky TV repairs.

The street outside the Dicky shop. It is wet, not after rain, but as a resault of putting their washing water out to keep down the dust.

Random thoughts

2009-02-22T04:38:00.000-08:00

Cameroon is not the place to be if you are not fond of dusting. Dust everywhere. While I was in Bafut last Monday there was a tremendous rain shower, noisy and sudden, but Bamenda had to wait until last night (Saturday) for some rain to keep the red dust down.

Water is precious here. Some many people do not have water supplied to the house, and you see people, including children carrying ridiculously large canisters from the water taps in the street.

Thursday’s workshop went well, and the group of seventeen participants, including three from the councils took an active part in proceedings. It is interesting how groups seemingly put together at random can vary so much. The same presenter, more or less the same content, but this group was much more participative.

I’m trying at present to work out where I am against the budget for my project in Cameroon. That is easier said than done, because I’m faced with bewildering confetti of receipts and other scraps of evidence. Some traders do not give receipts, and the taxis never do. A further complication is that the sums seem huge. With 655 CFA francs to the euro at the official exchange rate, the figures soon become gigantic. I’m beginning to understand the term "creative accountancy"!

There’s something intriguing about funerals here. They are noisy affairs. The hearse has a flashing light on the top and a siren, and the vehicles following it sound their horns repeatedly, while playing loud popular music. The mourners hang out of the windows of their vehicles, shouting greetings to passers-by.

Sorry, no image of a noisy funeral, only of group-work and collecting water.

Epilepsy

2009-02-18T02:58:00.000-08:00

On Monday I accompanied Kenneth, a representative of a Civil Society Organisation called CODEF on a visit to two people with epilepsy at Bafut. The first, Elizabeth, was sitting outside looking lifeless. She was wearing nothing on her top, and she had a recent, seemingly untreated burn wound on her right arm and shoulder. She had apparently had no medical treatment after falling in the fire, while having a fit, as she had on previous occasions. She had fallen into the open wood fire which is in the centre of the room, on this occasion when her widowed mother was out working in the fields.

The second epilepsy sufferer I visited was Evon, a young mother with twins of a year old. Sadly, she has not breastfed them, on advice from her mother, who fears that the epilepsy will be transmitted to the infants through their mother's milk. As a result the children are clearly malnourished.

I also had the opportunity of meeting a team of volunteers in the Bafut area, including the Deputy Mayor of Bafut, who have taken part in a survey of epilepsy in the region, recording some thousand names. The volunteers visit both the sufferers and their carers. Frequently people with epilepsy are socially isolated, and there , I'm sorry to say, a popular opinion that their health condition is caused by evil spirits. CODEF is trying to overcome this perception.
Epilepsy is not seen as a priority here, in the way that HIV / AIDS is. There is simply no provision. Even where drugs are prescribed (the only such drug seems to be phenobarbitone), they are not taken, because of the high costs, particularly in this poor area, which relies on subsistence farming.

You'll gather that I have been much moved by what I have seen and heard, and I am determined to do what I can on the personal level. so that the work of CODEF can continue and be expanded. A small sum goes a long way in an area like this.

On a lighter note I'll attach some recent images!

The end is nigh!

2009-02-15T10:18:00.000-08:00

My eight weeks and five days here are running out at great speed. The end is nigh!

I’ve mentioned before on this blog that I’ve met many interesting people during my time in Cameroon. These include Africans and non-Africans. I’ve been particularly impressed by two Austrian ladies, Gerda Themel and Bettina Leidl, whose small organisation Women's Cooperation International is making an important contribution to the education and training of girls and women. You can see something about that organisation (in German) at http://www.womenscooperation.at/index2.htm

Here are a couple of paragraphs about them.

"Poverty is female - in the rich industrial nations, but particularly in the poor countries in the world. According to experts' estimations more than one billion people live in poverty, 70% of them are women.

We at "Women's Cooperation International" think that "if we are so well-off in the rich countries, why don't we try to give some of it to others...? Why don't we try to strengthen women in the so-called Third World?" The principle is help towards self-help. In Sri Lanka it began in 2004... and it is continuing. In terms of international women's solidarity for the women in distant countries who are not so well-off."

I’ve been able to see first-hand some of the results of their practical interventions in the Bali area. They don’t give money, but after consultation with the women themselves, they do pay, for example, for adult literacy and numeracy classes, and for exercise books and pens, and for equipment needed by the women for their subsistence farming. Their work is really practical and inspiring.

It was with Gerda and Bettina that I went back to both Mankon and Bafut. Going back to a place previously visited after a gap of a few weeks was worth doing. Firstly, we were able to meet the Fon in Mankom – he had not been there on the previous occasion. the Fon boasted of having met the Queen ...

The pictures here, from top to bottom, show:

Bettina (left) and Gerda (right) with the Fon
The Fon on his throne
The Fon (left) and me
A live, squawking chicken being auctioned at Mount Carmel

Youth Day

2009-02-13T22:03:00.000-08:00

Wednesday was Youth Day here, the 43rd such annual event. I went north-east from Bamenda to Babungi, passing through Ndop (which does not mean “No Development or Progress” despite what some wag said). An amazing part of the day was a visit to the annual parade for Youth Day in Ndop. Readers in Wales might like to think of it as a combination between the Urdd Eisteddfod and a county sports event. Young people from four to eighteen marched in their school uniform into the arena in front of the local dignitaries, while judges with notepads, looking just like the judges at a small eisteddfod in Wales, gave them marks – for smartness, marching in time and so on. It was a bit too militaristic for my taste, but the children and their beaming parents and grandparents seemed to enjoy it.

Then on to the Fon’s palace at Babungo. I’m becoming quite an expert on the Fons of north-west Cameroon – I think I could answer some Mastermind specialist questions on the topic! I met some of the Fon’s wives. “There are too many (wives) to count”, said one of his younger ones.

On Friday I held another workshop on the Management of Change, this time for long-term volunteers, from Australia, Canada, India, the Philippines and Uganda as well as two local people. It was like a miniature United Nations Assembly.

The pictures here, from top to bottom, show:

Pigs at the Fon's palace in Babungo
One of the Fon's wives
Muslim pupils
Trying to win the big prize - a bottle of coca cola
Boy pupils prepare to march
The latest workshop. It's a challenge to present to such a multi-national group. Note that the Welsh flag has pride of place!

An African Market

2009-02-11T00:37:00.000-08:00

The market in Bali is a fascinating place. People come from their small farms to sell all kinds of things, including strange looking fruit, strange looking tomatoes, ginger, innumerable spices whose names are unknown to me, together with ... second hand clothes, clearly from Europe. There was a huge pile of sports socks which had clearly not been washed. People at the market were very friendly, and didn’t mind having their photos taken.

On Tuesday evening, thanks to a chance meeting, I was invited to dinner with an American family a couple of miles from Bamenda. The husband works for an educational and linguistic organisation called SIL. I remember it as the Summer Institute of Linguistics. Chris told me about the Kom Education Pilot Project, KEP, in which there is strong evidence that teaching through the mother tongue (Kom in this case) gives much better results than teaching in English. There is some information on http://pnglanguages.org/africa/cameroun/news/index_e.html

The following results are very interesting for the Welsh context:
• The top two schools were mother tongue schools
• 6 of the top 7 schools were mother tongue schools
• 5 of the lowest 6 performing schools were English medium
• Mother tongue schools outperformed English-medium schools by 23.3 points.
From the same report: “These differences are statistically significant, supporting the hypothesis that mother tongue education does indeed have long-term educational benefits”.

Bali, Bafut and beyond

2009-02-10T20:12:00.000-08:00

On Saturday I tried to get to Bali because there was talk of a music festival there. Not understanding how to get there, I failed, and spent a lazy day on the compound. On Sunday, after visiting the nearby Nkwen Baptist Church (about 600 people present and two choirs) I was pleased to meet two ladies from Vienna, Gerda and Bettina who were in the area to visit a project their organisation had been sponsoring – in Bali.

They had a local driver who had brought them from Yaounde, and thus it was that I was offered a ride to visit the Bali Women’s Union of Farming Groups (BAWUFAG). This group of women was being funded by the Viennese ladies who wanted to check that it really exists. Clearly it does, and funding will continue for literacy and numeracy for knitting and crotcheting classes and more. They women sang to us visitors, “Women are building a nation here” and songs in the Mungaka language before we left.

We went on with local people from the project to an audience with the local traditional ruler, the Fon of Bali. The Fon had lived and studied in Germany, so he spoke German fluently. He spoke German to me and the Austrian ladies. Indeed the entire audience took place bilingually in German and Mungaka. Protocol tips to anyone intending to visit a Fon. Don’t cross your legs in his presence, don’t try to shake his hand; instead greet him with a slow rhythmic clap.

I’ve made a few more visits to a range of organisations to discuss mentoring and coaching issues. A visit with my colleagues Eric and Paul along dirt roads to a youth organisation in Bafut was a particularly stimulating one. They offered us lunch, and for the first time I ate – and enjoyed – yam in pepper soup.

The pictures are of:

Interior of the Fon's palace

A local butterfly - I know I won't win any prizes for wildlife photography!

Artwork on a wall at Nkwen

The Baptist Church at Nkwen

Bits and pieces

2009-02-07T11:36:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking about race and racism lately. Although there are a number of white people in the Bamenda area, it still often happens that I am the only white person in a meeting or the only white person in a street. As Joseph Harker said: "Some "non-racists" like to pretend that racial differences don't exist - they even proudly claim not to notice skin colour. This is manifest nonsense. Purporting to be "colour blind" is as ludicrous as suggesting you wouldn't notice a person's gender. What's important is what you do, not what you see." Yes, I do stand out. However, I haven’t been abused racially at all. The occasional child has said “Hey, white man”, acknowledging the self-evident fact that my skin colour is different to theirs. And I have been asked to pay ‘white man’s prices’ from time to time, because being white is seen as being automatically rich. Nevertheless I have had some small insight into what a black, Asian or Chinese person might feel in a North Wales town.

Last night I dreamed of ... sausage and mash. Thanks to Steve for putting that thought into my mind. It just won’t leave me now. I’ve also been thinking of cereal with fresh milk, of angel delight and ice cream. There are plenty of good foods here, but sometimes one longs for the taste of the familiar. On Friday I bought a pack of digestive biscuits, in a bilingual Arabic and English box, and manufactured in Dubai. They really are delicious.

On three occasions today people have approached me, started up a conversation, then asked for money. Tonight while I was eating at Sam’s just near the Baptist centre, a lady of, perhaps, fifty, came in and sat at my table. She told me her story then asked for money to buy water. As it happened I had 200 francs in small change in my pocket, then nothing but a huge note. She accepted the contribution and left. How should I react? Suggestions, please!

A couple of random images:

1. Children lining up to go into school

2. The seeds of the palm tree

I am working here!

2009-02-04T16:16:00.000-08:00

I haven’t reported much on work issues, so I’ll record something to show I’m not a tourist here. Last Friday I gave a presentation to the AGM of NWADO (North West Association of Development Associations). I talked about the use of management standards (which they can find on the net if and when they have an internet connection). Then I went on to talk about the Investors in People framework as a tool for managing change and for self-assessment. It seemed to go down well – but maybe they were being polite.

On Monday I held a full day of training on the management of change, with thirteen representatives of the leading Civil Society Organisations. The content focussed on both change within organisations and in the wider society. The biggest such change on the horizon is decentralisation, although the government in Yaoundé seems to be dragging its feet. The feedback sheets were positive and will help me in delivering the same workshop again, but with some changes. I'm putting together a pack for trainers on the management of change to leave behind me.

Oh, yes, Cameroonian time. There is a local tendency here to be very, very, flexible about timing. The bus bringing me from Douala was scheduled to leave at 9,00 am but in fact left at 11.30 am. The training session on Monday was meant to start at 10.00 am but started half an hour late. Participants, like some bus travellers assume that things will start late.

A young woman was taking her pet monkey for a walk at the Baptist compound yesterday. The monkey seemed to be well cared for.

The frequent power cuts here can be annoying, to say the least. There was sudden darkness several times yesterday evening. Access to the internet is also patchy. Finally the quality of the telephone network is less than ideal, with calls being cut off sometimes, and the sound quality being less than ideal at all times. Local people put up with all of this with few complaints.

I am dreaming of the mountains of my home

2009-02-03T09:21:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking about a song which Stan Roberts has performed at concerts. It’s called, I think, “My little Welsh home”. It starts, “I am dreaming of the mountains of my home.
Of the mountains where in childhood I would roam. I have dwelt 'neath southern skies.
Where the summer never dies, But my heart lies in the mountains of my home”
The summer never dies here. Indeed, it’s strange to be in a country without what we know as seasons. Another hot day (31 degrees) here today.

Late on Friday I took the night bus to the fleshpots of Douala in order to ... attend the AGM of the Cameroon Esperanto Association. The meeting was held entirely in that language, and a new chairman and committee were elected. The meeting opened with a lusty rendering of the Esperanto hymn “La Espero”, a practice which has faded away a little in Europe. After the meeting we went to have a drink, and the disagreements of the AGM were forgotten, as people laughed and joked in the sunshine.

As usual, my hosts Victor and Dhome were kind and attentive – maybe too kind, because I was taken to a nightclub until 3pm on Sunday morning, having had no sleep since I got up on Friday morning.

The pictures show Victor Nto Nto, new President of the Esperanto Association of Cameroon and some of those who attended. And I can't help adding one of two children playing in the street in Douala. They do have shoes, but chose not to wear them.

Local music and local food

2009-02-02T10:50:00.000-08:00

On Friday when I was being shown the local trees by Penny, I heard the distant sound of singing floating over the landscape. It was coming from the Presbyterian church in Ngyen-Mbo. We went down to the source of the singing, a sturdy church hall belonging to the Presbyterians.
There local people (mostly women but some men) had gathered in this building with no windows, no piano and no electricity to learn some items for a singing festival. The song or hymn they were singing was in the local Bali language called Mungaka. No one was using paper or sheet music. (In fact the literacy rate for this language is fairly low. It is very much the language of the heart and hearth, and used within the community.) The conductor presented the four parts himself, teaching words and tune at the same time. I was witnessing “note bashing”, that very first introduction to a piece. He sang, then the people with that voice followed on copying him – sometimes an octave higher. I’d like to see Trystan practice this technique with the Conwy Valley Mixed Choir or with Cor Meibion Maelgwn. It worked! The singers were used to this approach, and they responded positively. The sound was breath-takingly good. They were very disciplined too, in focusing on the task in hand. Penny and I applauded them, then on a whim, I sang them Calon Lan as a solo (no sniggering there!) and they were polite enough to applaud. One lady just in front of me was even picking up the melody and humming along.

Then we went on to a wake in the village at the house of a highly respected local man who was interested in the betterment of his community and had recently passed away. Badges showing an image of the dear departed were sold to raise money for the food – traditional African food. In the back yard women were preparing and cooking all sorts of ingredients. This was clearly a cheerful, co-operative activity, and although this was a wake, there was much merriment. Coco-yams were being pounded in a wooden trough-like mortar. The resultant white mixture is wrapped in palm leaves, then cooked. The result is a sort of gelatinous mashed potato-like substance which served with njama njama, made from huckleberry leaves, palm oil tomatoes, and onions. Women were preparing fish – the head is the best bit - while men chopped wood for the fires. Oh, and I had my first taste of palm wine - and I can't remember much after that.

Pictures show the brother of the deceased, the teamwork preparing food and the choir.

Crime, Grime and Cameroonian Time

2009-02-01T12:04:00.000-08:00

Well, it’s happened. I’ve become a victim of crime. On Thursday, when I was returning back from work to my accommodation, I was beckoned into a yellow taxi. There were already three passengers in the back but only one – a young man probably in his twenties - in the front passenger seat. I squeezed in beside him. Soon the young man began complaining that he didn’t have enough room. He and the driver suggested that I help them to push the front seat back. Some energetic pushing by me and the young man did not achieve anything – or so I thought. The driver suggested that I get out and catch another taxi. Ever helpful, I got out, only discovering as my feet touched the pavement that my wallet was missing from my left pocket ... I shouted out as the taxi disappeared at speed. Too late. Someone was a richer man by about ten thousand Central African Francs, 20 Euros, and my plastic cards, and I had to walk the rest of the way home in the heat and dust.

Those ten thousand francs were not as much as they sound, and I’ve cancelled the cards, but it was an unpleasant experience. I was angry with myself as much as with the driver and young man who had obviously spotted a likely victim. I’ve had plenty of learning experiences since I arrived in Africa, but this was one I had not sought.

Commissioner Michael Ndjok, Commissioner of the 4th district, came to take my statement. I don’t think I’ve met a Police Commissioner before – it’s certainly a grand title. He was sympathetic, but described my experience as a frequent one. Ah well, c’est la vie, as they don’t say here in Anglophone Cameroon.

There are frequent power cuts here in Bamenda. It seems that there is loss of power more often here than in Douala or Yaoundé. There is an unexpected consequence. If you are just a few yards away from the main road, and away from car headlights at night, the darkness has an intensity I have never seen before. At the same time, the stars are intensely clear and bright against the utter blackness.

On Friday afternoon, I was invited out to a wake in a village called Ngyen-Mbo - more of that tomorrow. On the way there conservation NGO director Penny showed me some of the local wildlife and a tree nursery and a tree planting project she had set up. The countryside was beautiful and everything was in bloom.

I've decide I've been a bit negative, so I'll save the crime and Cameroonian time for a later blog.

The pictures here show:

1. a frequent wild flower. Does anyone knows its name?

2. Penny examining a recently planted cashew nut tree.

3. The local cattle - for the farmers in the choir!

4. A man from the Mbororo trible looking after the cattle. People like him drive this animals along dirt roads for many miles

Spills and Skills

2009-01-28T12:48:00.000-08:00

I’ve been very busy lately preparing a course I’m delivering on the managing of change. The usual stuff: PowerPoint presentation, flipcharts and handouts. I’ve tried to allow space for participants to interpret my pearls of wisdom in their own context.

You’ll remember that I’ve mentioned the issue of waste disposal before. The local council has reacted to criticism of its waste disposal policy by putting up signs on either side of the stream into which market traders routinely push all their unwanted material (maize husks, plantain peel, and rotten oranges. In the photo you can see the consequence of the brand new signs. In my presence people carry on using the stream for disposing of their rubbish.

I’ve met some impressive people since I’ve been in Cameroon. The long-term volunteers show a quiet determination to make things happen. I am particularly impressed by the commitment of the VSO volunteers located far from Bamenda. In the past week I’ve also met Penny Fraser, Director of the United Africa Association, with a strong interest in conservation work, and a clear lover of Cameroon and its people.

I remain amazed at skills demonstrated by local craftsmen. Here I don’t mean the manufacturers of wooden masks for tourists, but local furniture producers, who work in the open air, turning out wooden and even cane furniture. The photo shows the cane worker.

The first picture shows a craftsman - wearing a top with a Dutch company name - and the second shows his raw material. The third shows a rubbish sign, with rubbish on it!

Mankon and Mount Carmel

2009-01-25T06:09:00.000-08:00

I've had my hair cut at a ‘Barbing Salon’ – I suppose that barbing is what a barber does.

I’m determined to see a little of the country while I am here. Yesterday I travelled out to the palace at Mankon. A sort of nation-state, Mankon has a clearly defined territory, a population (of various origins) organized into clans and political lineages, perfectly defined institutions and once had a military force directed by a sacred sovereign, the fon (chief, king).

I and a Dutch lady were shown around by Vincent, a son of the Fon. Vincent is a teacher of French, but also acts as curator of the museum. The museum was built and arranged by an Italian organisation, but no one is updating it now, or working on preserving exhibits. It’s that issue of sustainability again.

Back to Mount Carmel Baptist Church again today. I got a really warm welcome - as if I'm a regular! Again, the singing was absolutely delightful. The church is in the shadow of a mosque which is beginning to dominate Old Town.

The images here are, from the top:

1. Mosque going up above the Old Town, Bamenda

2. Barbing salon

3. Mankon

4. Wearing an ingenious contraption to keep the sun off while leaving the hands free

The Word in Pidgin

2009-01-22T10:31:00.000-08:00

Pidgin English is no longer a makeshift language it once was, and has grown to maturity, as a language can, and satisfies the complex linguistic needs of the many people here who need a common tongue. To my surprise I came across the New Testament in Cameroonian pidgin this morning. It is entitled: Gud Nyus Fo ol Pipul (I think you’ll be able to work this out!), and this edition was published in Yaounde, in 2005.

Whilst there is a clear resemblance to English, the structure of the language is definitely African. The first verse of St John’s Gospel reads:

“Fo fest fest tam, yi weh na de Tok e bin dei: de Tok e bin bi witi God, an de Tok e bin bi na God.”

It’s clear that Tok comes from the English talk and that fest is first and tam is from time, but the structure is un-English. I'm starting to understand it, but it's not easy.

The pictures here are of:

1. The New Testament in pidgin. The banana is of no significance!

2. and 3. Roadsigns!

Visit to Babessi

2009-01-21T23:33:00.000-08:00

Yesterday (Wednesday) I went with my trusty girl Friday (Desiree) on a long trip to the council in Babessi, some 75 kilometres away. The road was a difficult one. It took three taxis and 3½ hours to get there from Bamenda. I’ve written before about the unique public transport system here. Two of the three taxis had broken windscreens and needed to be bump-started. The Cameroonians take all of this in their stride. Indeed, it could be argued that taxis of this type offer a solution to complex journeys at limited cost. The last part of the journey is on bumpy, unasphalted road, and the car windows have to be kept shut because of the choking red dust.

The Mayor of Babessi wants me to find some second-hand road-making equipment. They need a grader and a front loader. They’re willing to pay shipping costs and could collect from the port of Douala. Ideas, anyone?

I’ve tried to avoid too much detail about what I’m doing here, because I know that some people’s eyes glaze over when I talk about SWOT analysis or STEP. I know, I know, but these are useful tools in analysing where an organisation stands. This journey was the last of my information gathering visits linked to the management of change. I’m now trying to put together a report which will inform (I know, jargon again) the training course due to take place on 3rd February.

The journey was through some beautiful mountainous countryside. It’s volcanic rock, I think, although Graham Potts may know better. There are resemblances here to Snowdonia. There is almost no tourist industry here. I’m sure people would pay to visit these beautiful mountains to look at the wildlife – I saw some large birds of prey yesterday.

The pictures here are of the countryside between Ndop and Babessi.

Cooking and cooking the books

2009-01-21T11:30:00.000-08:00

The cuisine of Cameroon is one of the most varied in Africa due to its location on the crossroads between the north, west, and centre of the continent; added to this is the profound influence of French food, a legacy of the colonial era. The national dish of Cameroon is ndolé, a stew consisting of bitter leaves, nuts and fish or goat meat. I’ve eaten it in Bamenda and Douala, and its consistency and content seems to vary.

Staple foods here include cassava, yam, rice, plantain, potato, maize, beans, and millet. The French introduced French bread which is seen less in this Anglophone area than in the francophone parts.

The soil of most of the country is very fertile and a wide variety of vegetables and fruits, both domestic and imported species, are grown. Common vegetables include tomatoes, bitterleaf (aptly named) and cassava leaves. Today (Wednesday) I saw some rice fields and a tea plantation on the road to Befussi.

It is no secret that there is corruption in Cameroon. Someone here called it “a monstrous slimy hydra” – what a good phrase! Only yesterday I was given a specific example of the misappropriation of funds – an example which it would be unwise to detail here. These comments should not lead to the conclusion that everyone is doing it. The question "Why can’t the Cameroonian people do anything about it?" contains the answer to the puzzle: because there is no such thing as "the Cameroonian people", only a wide array of disparate peoples who happen to live within common borders. Civil society is very weak here. All those pressure groups (like PTAs, single-issue campaign groups, trades unions ,which keep an eye on government activity) are weak here.

We've had some heavy tropical rain - warm rain - which has kept down some of the dust.

Signs and wonders

2009-01-20T22:39:00.001-08:00

I sat with a group of Cameroonians yesterday to watch the inauguration of President Obama. There is tremendous enthusiasm for the man here and hope for the future. I hope that they are not disappointed.

It seems to me that Africa gets a lot of Europe’s rubbish. Most of the taxis I have ridden in so far have been imported from Europe, mostly from Germany and Holland, when they are no longer good enough for use on the roads of those countries. Cars which can no longer be used on the roads of Europe because they do not meet environmental demands are clearly good enough for Africa.

I looked at a stall of electrical products today. These too are all old fridges and other electrical goods which have been shipped over by the container load. One has to wonder how environmentally friendly these fridges are, and whether the electric kettles are safe to use.
Another aspect of this concerns men’s clothing. You see lots of younger men here wearing t-shirts bearing logos and wording which do not relate to this part of the world. Many have texts on them in German or Dutch advertising schools or garages in small towns. I even saw the name of the electrical company Philips printed with the first “i” missing!

I have also been looking a lot lately at the signs by the roadside. They reveal a different sort of English from that spoken in the U.K. The two signs here are on the road which I walk down every day from my workplace into the town centre. The third shows a mechanic's shop near Douala. Note the spelling.

A quick word of thanks to those who have sent emails and made comments. Thank you! Dioch! Dankon!

Signs and wonders

2009-01-20T22:39:00.000-08:00

Visit to Douala by the sea

2009-01-19T10:54:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend I went to stay with Victor Nto Nto and his wife Ndome Julette Ebongue in the port city of Douala. It was a long journey, with Vatican Express, a curiously misnamed company in more than one way. The route is through beautiful country, the road being fine in some places and very poor in others.

Victor and Julette live in very modest circumstances, but they shared with me what little they have. It was a privilege to share their lives, albeit briefly. They have very few possessions, no computer, no car, no hot water for washing themselves and no luxuries except a black-and-white television. Victor earns the tiny salary of a schoolteacher, and Julette is unemployed, in a society where there is no social security system. Ah, the next time I hear teachers in Wales complain about anything, I’ll get very cross. I made a brief visit to the school where Victor teaches. The classrooms have no windows and a bare uneven clay floor. The pupils sit on long wooden benches. The only audio-visual method is chalk and talk.

I was able to hear some fine live music in Douala. I’m collecting languages like mad, and at one cabaret the songs were sung in Douala and Erewondo.

Worrying that I might fall prey to sundry ne’er-do-wells, Victor put me in the care of a soldier riding shotgun on the return journey, in the way that you might put a small child in the care of a guard on a train. This soldier took his duties very seriously shadowing me and enquiring how I was from time to time. He felt his country’s reputation was at stake. This big man even bought me a beer. On this very long weary 7½ hour trip from Duala to Bamenda, at a refuelling stop, I ate grilled goat’s meat, served in a piece of old newspaper. Very tasty, until I went round to the back of the stall, where the goat’s head and feet were laid. The head seemed to reproach me.

Today I went to meet the mayor of the nearby town of Santa. That reminds me of some other strange place names. On the road between Yaoundé and Bamenda is a village called Tonga. There’s also a place called Bali. And don’t mention Menchum.

The pictures here (from the top) are of:

1. My bodyguard on the bus. You wouldn't argue with him!

2. Victor's sister washing clothes in cold water in their courtyard. Her smile says it all.

3. View of Victor's school and a classroom

4. Lizard in Douala

5. Boatmen ferrying dredged sand on the river at Douala

On the road

2009-01-15T08:30:00.001-08:00

My thoughts today have turned to the sustainability of sustainable development. I recently visited a lively development organisation in Bamenda. They had provided a lot of services to their members, including the services of a fieldworker. They published three glossy magazines in 2007, funded and bearing the logo of a funder, but none at all in 2008, when that funding ceased. In other words, activity funded by development money cannot always be maintained when the funding source is no longer there.

Today (Thursday) I went to visit a local organisation in Belo, a small market town some distance (about 30 miles) from Bamenda. This organisation trains and supports beekeepers, among other things, and the area is renowned for producing the best honey in Cameroon. The landscape around Belo reminded me of north Wales, except for the tall papaya trees!

On the way there we (Desiree and I) took a local taxi to a field on the edge of Bamenda which served as a sort of bus station for taxis. Then a crowded taxi (with eight people on board)drove along the winding highway to Belo. On the way back I think we made a world record, I think: ten people aboard a family-sized car. There were four adults in the back (me and three Cameroonian ladies), one small child and a baby, then three men sat squashed in the front passenger seat with the driver. The boot was full to bursting with farm produce including a real-life squawking chicken-in-the-basket!

The pictures above show, from top to bottom:

A market stall in Belo
The importance of the little town in the hills - note the satellite dish
The Obama snackbar in Bamenda, renamed recently for some reason
HQ of development bodies in the town

On the road

2009-01-15T08:30:00.000-08:00

Pictures again

2009-01-14T12:08:00.001-08:00

All sorts of things

2009-01-13T11:52:00.000-08:00

People here certainly work hard, from early morning until nightfall and beyond. Mary, the very competent gardener here at the Baptist Centre uses her evening to sew, by hand beautiful tradional wear, and she has kindly let me wear one.

A new chief in Bamenda!

I’ve come across another language, and bought a diary in it. It’s called Moghamo (or Muywi, Iyirikum, Widekum, Batibo). A number of the languages here have more than one name, to complicate things for anyone interested.

Just a little more about pidgin: When I was asked what I will write as “How for skin?” I thought they were asking about my mosquito bites (increasing in number thank you!). In fact “How for skin” (no jokes, Dafydd Mazda or Lloyd!) means “How are you?” The correct answer, by the way is “Skin de fine”.

The mosquitoes have sent around the drum message that tasty white meat is available, so my skin's far from fine. I’ve been bitten quite a few times – I won’t say where! It might help if I close the windows at night.

This morning I visited three development organisations all around Bamenda. They all have flat structures, and work hard at encouraging local organisations to work in partnership for the common good. The issue of good governance has arisen again. This society has some internal splits, such as tribal loyalties to overcome.

Pictures, and more pictures

2009-01-12T07:40:00.000-08:00

It has occurred to me that my regular readers won't want to read about strategies and plans, and overcoming resistance to change, so I thought I would send a few pictures instead. From top to bottom you can see:

The son of the Fon of Bafut with a stone used in tribal ceremonies, but I think it's a recycled megalith
Me outside a ceremonial building at the Fon's palace
Smoke from rubbish fires rising above Bamenda
Desiree outside the headquarters of development body NWADO. Desiree has accompanied me on my visits. She laughs and thinks I'm joking when I say that Desiree is a type of potato in Britain
Dancing and singing in the Baptist church, with naive image behind

Church and other topics

2009-01-11T06:14:00.000-08:00

You wake up some mornings here to the smell of smoke from burning rubbish. Sadly the waste disposal system is not advanced here. Rubbish often lies where it is dropped, before being gathered into piles and burned. On the other hand, the Cameroonians are good at some practical recycling. Plastic bottles and containers which have served to carry palm oil for example are used to carry water. Tyres serve a number of purposes , e.g. as the bottom part of sandals.
I still can’t get used to bartering or haggling over the price of everything, and I’m actively looking for items with prices on them.

There’s a strong woodworking tradition here. I’ve bought a piece of craftwork made from a hard red wood. The carver has produced a chain out of one piece of wood. It's strange to see coffins being manufactured uin the open air!

This morning I went with Rose to Mount Carmel Baptist Church in the Old Town. It was quite an experience. The service lasted from 8.3o a.m. to 11.30 a.m. The service didn’t have a clear beginning, and people kept arriving until the place was completely full - not a single seat left. Outside the Sunday school children met in two groups (one is shown here), while the adults had their Sunday school inside the church. Mount Carmel Baptist Church sits under the shadow of a huge mosque under construction. It is a one-story building with some naive art on the front wall.

The service was a seamless and joyous mix of prayers, hymns with a leader introducing the words and tune, then the congregation joining in. The two choirs, one using English on the front right, and one which sang in languages other than English, such as Oku, on the front left. Two or three drums were used at various times. There was no organ, but the singing was superb. I'm told that they learn to sing using the sol-fa method.

Just a few comments for fans of ecclesiology: there were practices which seemed a bit Anglican, such as the choirs processing in, singing, and the “passing the peace” (shaking hands with everyone within reach), while the spontaneous nature of the singing seemed a bit Pentecostal to me. For the hymns they used a hymnbook of Ida Sankey. What struck me was how much the congregation formed a family or a close community. A member who needed a blood transfusion was given blood donated by four church members, for example. A curious thing happened at the end of the service. Some worshippers were too poor to have any collection money, but they had brought things from their garden or store cupboard, three prickly pears and a bag of maize, for example, then these things were auctioned to raise real money for the church.

I went to visit Rose's home (pictured) - a one-roomed house, with a curtain dividing the room. She has the minimum of possessions and no running water in the house, but is contented, even cheerful. She also took me to meet her parents and her blind grandmother.

The Welsh Dragon in Bamenda / Y Ddraig Goch ym Mamenda

2009-01-10T11:54:00.000-08:00

Organising a training day here means that you have to think of things that we don’t have to consider much at home. We have had to budget to contribute to the travel costs of participants, i.e. to pay for the famous yellow taxis. Paper is expensive here, so there needs to be a budget for agendas, worksheets and so on. The cost of flipchart paper is astronomical. All this certainly concentrates the mind. We are so wasteful of materials in Britain.

The North West Association of Development Organisations is a tiny organisation which brings together and co-ordinates the work of a number of small bodies involved in the development of the North West province of Cameroon. It is run on a shoestring, and uses the service of students on placement as well as volunteers. Attached is a picture of its coordinator Eric Ngang. I presented Eric with a Welsh dragon flag (thanks, Elinor) as you can see in this photo. It will have its place on the wall of the new training room.

I’ve been finding out a little about the indigenous languages here. Most people here are at least bilingual. Some speak their mother tongue such as Yamba, then the pidgin (pidgin English, which has its own structure and is not just a funny form of English), standard English, and French. Although this is bilingual country, not everyone speaks both English and French. Levels of literacy in the indigenous languages are very low. Indeed, some speakers questioned the need to have written materials in languages spoken by a small number of villages. The Bible exists in a number of languages including Bafut. I’ve managed to get hold of a 2009 diary with days of the week in the Yamba language. Attitudes to the languages by their speakers vary, with some people calling them a ‘dialect’ or ‘a patois’.

Today I went out using taxis, of course, to see the palace of the local ruler, the Fon. The Fon of Bafut is the fon (traditional ruler) of the town of Bafut and its adjoining areas in Cameroon which comprise the erstwhile Fondom of Bafut. Presently, the Fon of Bafut is still a local ruler, but under jurisdiction from the Government of Cameroon, and a board of Fons. He retains a local court of justice too. The Fon of Bafut was, and to some extent still is, the "supreme fon" of the region, who presides over neighbouring fons.

The original palace was built out of wood and liana. The complex and the central shrine were burnt to the ground by the Germans in the Bafut Wars, but it was rebuilt over the period 1907 - 1910 with help from the German colonists after the signing of a peace treaty. Its buildings represent both colonial influences and indigenous vernacular architectural styles, and are mostly made of fired bricks covered by tiles.

Only one building from the original palace stands - it is supposed to shelter the spirit of the Fon's ancestors. It is the Achum - the old palace, and has a striking architecture with its pyramidal thatched roof. Only the Fon and some village notables are allowed entry into the Achum.
It’s nearly 8pm on a Saturday evening and there has been yet another power cut. Fortunately for me my laptop screen continues to light up the darkness, although it begins to attract all the flying bugs and moths from miles around. The laptop screen provides just enough light to enable me to locate my handy wind-up torch.

Life in Bamenda

2009-01-08T12:36:00.000-08:00

As the plane lands in Douala and in Yaoundé, you can look down at an apparently random series of lights. The same is true when you come over the hills towards Bamenda. These pattern-free lights are not there when you land in Manchester, Liverpool or Heathrow. Nor are they when you travel along the A55. We have long strings of lights, which enable you to pick out the roads and streets. There is no street lighting here in Cameroon, so that the random sprinkling of lights reveals no pattern at all. When there is a power cut, as happened yesterday and tonight, everything becomes pitch black – the only lights coming from car headlights. It was in such a minute of blackness that I fell last night, grazing my arm, tearing the sleeve of my Van Heusen, and staining shirt and trousers with the red sand and gravel so prevalent here. I’m none the worst after applying a plaster, but the red stains won’t wash out!

The work is becoming ever clearer. I’m grateful to Canadian volunteer Paul Mercer for his insights. You’ll find him on one of the pictures. I’m hoping to attach pictures of Rose, who looks after the Baptist accommodation, and some of the place where I’m working. The building is a bit spartan from a U.K. perspective, but it does have some modern equipment.

I’ve had more experience of the yellow taxis. I’ve sat in two with holes in the floor and two with broken windscreens. On the way home tonight I had to share the front passenger seat with a young Cameroonian woman. She didn’t complain, and nor did I!

Work starts!

2009-01-06T09:49:00.000-08:00

The road from Yaoundé to Bamenda in the north-west is a long one, with five police or army checks on the way. Along the way Ibrahim and I dined on grilled fish and grilled plantain served at a roadside stall - see photos. I saw a tree containing the nests of the weaver bird - you'll have to believe that that's what's in the picture.

Today I have agreed my detailed plan of work with the Northwest Association of Development Organisations (NWADO), with whom VSO has strong links here. so I now have some idea how to move forward. We’ve agreed dates for training sessions, but I need to speak to a lot of people before putting the courses together.

Then I went to visit the commercial part of this sprawling town with Kharsum, a brave volunteer from the Philippines. I thought it would be good to go on foot so I could make some kind of mental map. Big mistake, I was really sweating in the persistent heat, and the red dust arose from the road as we walked along. The persistent hooting of the taxis mingled with shouts of children and roadside sellers. Eventually we were forced to take one of the rickety yellow taxis (200 Central African francs per journey within the town) which serve as public transport here.

Things that we consider standard are not so here. For example, there are no post boxes at all here and no delivery by the postal services to private homes. The water has to be filtered before being drunk.

I am impressed by the enterprise and inventiveness of people here. There’s a furniture workshop near here specialising in producing very impressive domestic furniture from wood no longer needed for other purposes

I hope to add to this blog some photos from the last couple of days, and showing where I’m living now. Let’s see if I can manage it!

Last day in Yaoundé

2009-01-04T23:51:00.000-08:00

The wildlife here is stunning. Yesterday and today I’ve seen lizards running back and forth. I’ve seen large yellow butterflies with black spots too – nothing like we have at home, and we would not have them in January,
I’ve been talking to anyone who is willing to talk to me – that’s people selling, working in restaurants, VSO staff. No one has told me to mind my own business – amazingly – and people have been courteous and helpful. These conversations have n given some insights into what lies behind the current situation here, in addition to what I have heard and read from previous volunteers.
A briefing by today by VSO staff has made things even clearer. This is a country rich in natural resources, but there is a very weak civil society, and the people are too busy surviving to demand good governance and an end to corruption.

Alproksimiĝas la fino de mia restado en Yaoundé, ĉefurbo de Kamereno. Hodiaŭ mi ekveturos al Bamenda, en la nordokcidenta province de ĉi tiu geografie granda lando.

I've arrived!

2009-01-04T01:36:00.000-08:00

Here at last! I arrived in Yaoundé, the capital of the Republic of Cameroon on Friday night at 8.25 pm, But there was no one to meet me as I stood there in 30 degrees! My appearance with a lot of luggage attracted interest from the local rogues and my mobile is useless here, but after an hour I was able to call to a VSO officer who eventually came to pick me up. All’s well that ends well. I'm staying here in the capital to get my bearings before moving on to Bamenda on Monday.

This morning, Ibrahim who heads VSO operations here, a delightful man, gave me a tour of the city. It really is hot here, with everything green, and plants in full bloom in January. This is a bustling, dynamic city with a variety of religions. On the street you here French and local languages.

What strikes me at once is the red soil, the number of small bars almost like little huts by the roadside, the fact that people carry all sorts of things on their heads, like a bunch of plantain, without needing their hands to steady them. Another striking aspect of life here is the strength of religion. Catholics, Muslims and various Protestant denominations exist alongside one another.
I'm becoming clearer what is expected of me here. I'm going to do some sort of Training Needs Analysis to start with. I certainly need to talk to volunteers and the organisations they work with to see what the need really is.

I had my first Cameroonian meal today: a lunch of chicken and plantain chips, with a spicy (not too spicy) sauce. My evening meal was of grilled fish. They seem to eat a lot of fish here.
An intriguing aspect of life here is the system of little yellow taxis. They exist in great numbers, prowling the streets looking for customers. They squeeze in five people, each of whom pays the standard fare of 200 local francs. They are often very old and battered, but clearly still roadworthy. I took a taxi with Joseph into the centre of the city to buy a new mobile phone. Thanks, Orange in GB, for arranging for my mobile to be useless here.

It's a long haul ahead, so I'm pacing myself,

The mists are clearing

2008-12-14T05:12:00.000-08:00

Things are becoming more and more clear. I’ll be working in Bamenda and other parts of the North-West for “United Cities and Councils of Cameroon”.

Among other things, my role as a volunteer will be:

· To train volunteers and partners on coaching and mentoring to help them acquire skills for driving change forward

· To train volunteers and partners on change management

The major outcome should be new training modules on coaching, mentoring and change management appropriate for circumstances there, as well as partners and volunteers trained on how to better respond to the change needs of the councils and other partners.

This work fits into a wider project on Participation and Governance, whose objectives include:

1. To and strengthen the capacities of civil society organizations to improve their governance and advocate for the rights of vulnerable groups to quality basic services

2. To strengthen the capacities of local decision makers and state agencies to engage in transparent practices that promote good governance and increase access to quality basic services

I've had the jabs (ouch!), and I'm about to start the anti-malaria tablets.

I fly out on 2 January, first to Zurich, then to Yaoundé, the capital of Cameroon. I’ll be returning, arriving at Manchester airport on 4 March. Please keep in touch. I don't want to be "out of sight, out of mind".

Where? Why? What?

2008-11-30T12:44:00.000-08:00

When I told colleagues that I am going on a short placement under the auspices of Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO) to Cameroon, a frequent reaction has been to ask where exactly that is. So a brief explanation follows. The Republic of Cameroon, French: République Camerounaise, is a unitary republic of central and western Africa. It is bordered by Nigeria to the west; Chad to the northeast; the Central African Republic to the east; and Equatorial Guinea, Gabon, and the Republic of the Congo to the south. Compared with other African countries, Cameroon enjoys political and social stability, I’m glad to say.

As things stand, I will be working in Bamenda, in the North-West province, training people in coaching and mentoring skills.

I think a few linguistic challenges lie ahead. The major spoken languages are French and English but a multitude of more than 200 ethnic languages are also in circulation, with various tribes populating the country.

I am very much aware that I have a lot to learn about the country and its people. It's exciting to be facing these new challenges.

I must say how impressed I have been with the quality of VSO staff I have met so far. I only hope I won't let them down!

Now for the 'Why?' I have a few noble aims, I think, but I am sure I'll learn a lot, seeing how training and development is undertaken in a very different society.

These are my first thoughts. Let's see if I am sufficiently self-disciplined to keep this up!