Not Yet

I was sitting in the backseat of the Kumbo West District Medical Officer, Dr. Yota’s truck a couple of weeks ago listening to the conversation with his driver.  We were on our way to the health center in Kitikaium for a focus group discussion when we passed a signboard for the Government Bilingual High School.  “Ay-yah, these people are having a bilingual school?  Are they getting French teachers?” Dr. Yota asked.  “No, the teachers have not yet come,” the driver responded.  It was at that moment that I realized how often I hear the phrase, not yet.  The women for the focus group have not yet come, the electricity has not yet come back, the internet is not yet working, the taxi is not yet full of people, the food is not yet ready.  As I stop to think about it, the words “not yet” imply a waiting in expectation, hopefulness.  After hearing so many stories about the poorly functioning education system and the rift between the Anglophones and Francophones, I realized that if I was asked about the likelihood of a Francophone teacher coming to teach at a small village in the Northwest Region my answer would not be as hopeful as the driver’s.  I wonder, does growing up in a country where not yet is part of daily life make Cameroonians inherently more patient people? 

My mom took this picture in Cameroon last June.  Many taxi bumpers have similar hopeful sayings.  We both smiled when we walked past this man  as we realized he was certainly being very patient.

I know that while I am here I am forced to become a more patient person as I often have no other choice but to wait for the women to come, the taxi to fill, the electricity to come back, the internet to work, the food to be prepared.  Usually I do not mind waiting except when I get very hungry or have to use the toilet.  Regarding the latter, I try to hold out as long as I can, but when things get desperate and have to ask someone where the toilet is, I usually get the question, “Do you want to piss or shit?” as this determines which latrine I can use.  I am still practicing the art of answering questions about my bodily functions in public. 

On a deeper level, I have been pondering what does not yet mean for me spiritually.  The Princeton Theologian Gerhard Vos taught that the Kingdom of God is “already, but not yet here”  This means that we see glimpses of the Kingdom of God around us through miracles and gifts of the Holy Spirit, but we also still have poverty, war, sickness, and death because the Kingdom of God has not yet fully come.   However, unlike simply waiting for the women to come or the taxi to fill with an acceptance that there is nothing else to do but wait, I can co-work with the Holy Spirit to bring forth the Kingdom.  So now the question for me is how do I bring forth the Kingdom in my work here?  After conducting multiple key informant interviews and focus group discussions, it appears that my outcome variable for my research will change.  Originally, it was going to be intention for women to exclusively breastfeed.  However, based on our interviews and discussions it appears that almost all of the women have the intention to exclusively breastfeed for six months and we would not see much change because of our intervention.  I certainly have seen glimpses of God at work through and around me, but we have not yet found an alternative outcome variable.  This week we will begin analyzing all of our qualitative data and I am hopeful that we will find another way to further the Kingdom of God in this place. 

Waiting patiently in expectation is the foundation of the spiritual life

Simone Weil

Mt. Cameroon 2011

I like doing things a second time. I always have. I remember as a child on the rare occasion that we rented a VCR and a movie, I always wanted to rent a Haley Mills movie even though there were so many other choices. I think it comes from wanting to know what to expect. So I guess it isn't a surprise that I have returned to live in Cameroon a second time or that I recently hiked Mt. Cameroon a second time. The first time I hiked Mt. Cameroon was in 2007 with other Peace Corps Volunteers. This time I hiked it with Shirin and her boyfriend, Shaun. I met Shirin in 2007 when we were both working in Bafut. She has also returned to work in Cameroon for a few months and is based in Bamenda. At 4090 meters, Mt. Cameroon is the tallest peak in West Africa. It is a volcanic mountain which last erupted in 2000 and located next to Buea in the Southwest Region. Hiking Mt. Cameroon was one of my favorite experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer because of the physical challenge and majestic views. I still remember when I was preparing for my last trip, Eunice said to me, "Sister, how are you preparing your mind for that mountain?" Well, thankfully with the aid of four porters and a guide I didn't have to do too much preparation. Below are some of the pictures from our three-day trek. More pictures can be found at: https://picasaweb.google.com/Kate.Reinsma/MtCameroon2011?authkey=Gv1sRgCOWL5qugs8KfWQ

View of Buea from the base of Mt. Cameroon

Starting the ascent from Upper Farms

Our first resting place: Hut One

Out of the forest and into the savannah

Hiking above the clouds

Our dinner of rice and stew the first night

The windy summit!

Hilary, one of our porters, with Buea in the background

View from the summit

The craters from the 1922 and 1999 eruption

Another crater

Relaxing at the beach at Limbe

Fish from down beach in Limbe

You are Making Sport?

The hills of Kumbo

Perhaps nothing exemplifies my life here better than my morning runs.  While running I am invariably asked the question, “You are making sport?” This phrase demonstrates how Pidgin English is a conglomeration of French and English as it comes from the French phrase, faire du sport and how Cameroonians make small talk by stating the obvious.  Thankfully, I have gotten used to this way of greeting and the sarcastic side of me no longer wants to yell back, “No I’m not making anything, I’m running!” Instead, I usually respond with, “I de try-oh!”   My typical route is out- and –back, usually lasting for an hour.  I meander through narrow paths alongside people’s mudbrick homes and farms.  The narrow path opens to a wide road that I follow up and down hills, through forests of eucalyptus and conifer trees, cross over streams, pass many goats, and the occasional cows.  I have moments of complete solitude and feel like I could be running in Ute Valley Park in Colorado Springs or Hulda Crooks in Loma Linda.  And then the silence is punctuated with repeated shouts of “White man!” or “Kimba” and transported back to Cameroon.  Kimba is the Lamso (the local dialect) word for white man.  These words usually come from small children as they are walking the long distances to school or outside their houses scrubbing pots and dishes from the previous night’s meal.  The only way to stop the incessant shouting is to yell back, “Good morning!” or “Black man!”  The latter tends to silence them faster as they sit in a state of shock from my unexpected response.  I pass older women, walking with backs hunched over and wrinkled faces after spending years planting and harvesting by hand, slowly making their way to their farm.  Occasionally they stop, look up at me, and clap their hands.  I greet them with a quick, “Ashia!” as I know the work I have to do in the coming day is nothing in comparison to what they will accomplish in their daily striving to feed their children and grandchildren.  Young men on motorcycles quickly pass me honking their horns warning me to move out of the way quickly.  Other people just stop and stare and usually a quick “Eranewa” (Lamso for good morning) either causes them to laugh or leaves them pondering at what I just said as I poorly attempt to speak the local dialect. 

As I am greeting everyone I pass, dodging motorcycles, goats, cows, and chickens I gaze at the hills around me and the path before me.  In the last week rain has fallen transforming the dusty trails to soft dirt.  Where I started running here a month ago I used to return to my house with ankles completely brown from the dust.  Now they are speckled with mud.  I reflect that in the same amount of time the loneliness I felt a month ago has been transformed to growing companionship from new friendships.  As I am running my mind drifts to various topics.  I think about my research and offer a quick prayer of thanks that we are moving forward and a prayer for discernment to know how to balance the needs of the community, the funder, my research assistants, and my doctoral committee.  I think about how grateful I am to have the health and the ability to be in this place, at this moment, living once again in Cameroon.  I think about my previous running partners, both physical and spiritual, that have accompanied me on runs in different parts of the world, and know that their strength is still with me even though not physically present right now.  I think about the new relationships I am forming here in Kumbo.  Such as with Doris, my housecleaner.  Her quick friendship, big smile, funny statements, and help in my house sometimes remind me so much of Eunice it brings tears to my eyes.  I think about how hard it will be to leave this place in seventeen months and pray that I may find the balance between my fear of the pain of separation in the future and my calling to be open and present in the here and now.

One of the favorite words in the Rule (Of St. Benedict) is “run”.  St. Benedict tells me to run to Christ.  If I stop for a moment and consider what is being asked of me here, what is involved in the act of running, I think of how when I run I place first one foot and then the other on the ground, and let go of my balance for a second and then immediately recover it again.  This is risky, this matter of running.  By daring to lose my balance, I keep it.

Esther De Wall, Living with Contradiction: An Introduction to Benedictine Spirituality

Na woman where don give bobbee

 I’ve heard that Pidgin phase a lot this past week.  We started interviewing different people in the community to find out what their current beliefs and practices are surrounding breastfeeding.  Nancy came up from Bamenda and she interviewed four people in Pidgin English on Friday.  I’m finding that the process of recruiting the interviewees has been just as interesting as their answers to our questions.  One of the beautiful things about interviewing people in Cameroon is almost everyone is willing and has the time to talk to you.  They find it quite strange that we ask them to sign a consent form prior to the interview.  One man insisted that he write his telephone number on the form as an additional way to identify him, even though the whole point of the consent form is to explain that we will do our best to protect their anonymity.  Later, Nancy and I were walking towards the Junction, as it called, looking for a man to interview.   We saw a Muslim man and thought he would be a good candidate.  Nancy approached him and asked if he had some time to answer some questions.  He looked at me and said, “Sure, if she’ll be my wife!”  I looked at Nancy and said, “Oh no, I’m willing to make sacrifices for this project, but I won’t go that far!”  Then with a big grin that revealed his missing two front teeth, he said, “But I have most of my teeth!” 

Regardless of the forays of recruiting interviewees, we are starting to collect some interesting information surrounding breastfeeding, such as the belief that a breastfeeding mother cannot have sex because it will spoil the milk for the child and that if a pregnant woman breastfeeds her child the child will get “runny stomach” (diarrhea).  Adhering to the first belief is problematic because the men will not abstain from sex for that long and they usually will have sex with other women during this time.  We have four more key informant interviews scheduled for this week and two focus group discussions, including one with Muslim men which I think will be particularly interesting. Too my surprise all of this is happening much faster than I expected and anticipate that we will begin our second phase by the beginning/middle of April. 

With all of these discussions about breastfeeding and childcare this past week I am reminded again of the silent strength and resilience of Cameroonian women. I watch Franklin’s mother hoe her farm by hand and admire her fortitude and grace of this fifty-something woman.  She left her abusive husband years ago and has raised her six children by herself in addition to her granddaughter and 2 nieces and nephew.  I also am in awe of Doris, my housecleaner, who cheerfully comes to my house every Monday and sings while she washes my concrete floor by hand.  She works full time at the LAP center, cooking and cleaning all day, before returning to her mud brick house where she is also raising her six children by herself.  My hope and prayer is that I can continue to understand what life is like for these women so that we develop an audio program that truly is beneficial and relevant.

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.  I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

Oriah, The Invitation

Finding the Rhythm

There is a rhythm to life.  I know this. That is partly where the name of my blog came from.  But the rhythm in Cameroon has a different cadence than in America.  I like forming a rhythm to my life by following a daily routine.  I try to go to bed at the same time, wake up at the same time, eat the same thing for breakfast each morning—oatmeal with bananas and peanut butter (of course!).  After trying to balance work, school, and personal obligations I have spent years planning each day so I use my time as efficiently as possible.  And then I return to Cameroon.  A place where there is always enough time and efficiency isn’t a high priority.  I know this, yet often the American beat inside me clashes with the Cameroon beat surrounding me.  Last week I was trying to arrive in Bafut by 10 am for the start of Youth Day.  I knew that I would have to be at the taxi park by 9 am to wait for 6 other people to arrive and fill the circa 1990 Toyota Corolla for the 30 minute drive to Bafut.  I left the place where I was staying, looking at my watch while walking down the road, and trying to determine how much time I had to find a place and eat breakfast.  As I was walking intently down the road when a man yells at me, “You pass and do not greet?”  Ah yes, how quickly I forget the obligation to greet every person on the road with a “Good morning-oh” or “How for you?” or “You sleep fine?” of just simply, “Ahia” when I am worried about keeping time. 

And I know that this will not be the only time I experience the syncopation of rhythms. This past week we had our first meeting with all of the local research staff.  It was quite productive, and I am so thankful to be surrounded by competent, supportive people.  Following the meeting I had to print of a 119 page document on Protection of Human Subject Participants and make three photocopies.  Because industrial-sized printer and copiers are not available this took over five hours to complete.  The next day I arranged with the District Medical Officer, Dr. Yota, to plan for our four focus-group discussions.  We determined where the focus group discussions would be and who would be invited and he then drafted a letter to the area health clinics.  After the letter was completed he guaranteed me that I would have the 24 women and 24 men I need for this phase of the study.  Both of these events reminded me that some things are a lot harder here and some things are a lot easier than in America.  I know that to print and make photocopies in America would take 15 minutes, yet trying to recruit and plan for four focus group discussion would take much longer then my 30 minute discussion with Dr. Yota. 

Local Research Team: Ghislane, Hope, Marianna, Nancy, Dr. Fonteh, and myself.  Not pictured: The Men, Dr. Okwen and Dr Yota

Since arriving in Kumbo many Cameroonians have said to me, “But this is not like in America.  In America do you have this much dust?  Do you have these earth roads? Do you have electricity failures?”  And I tell them no, we do not, but we also don’t have time or solidarity with our neighbors.  Yesterday I was working on updating the protocol for our study and the electricity went out and the internet went down.  With that occurrence I decided there wasn’t anything for me to do in the house and I went to visit Franklin’s family.  Not long after I arrived I was given a huge plate full of njamajama and asked to remove the stems.  After I finished that task I sifted the corn, added it to the boiling water, and started stirring over the open fire in the outdoor kitchen to make fufu corn.  When I woke up that day I had no intention of learning how to make the local staple food, I wanted to finish writing the protocol, but there I was, desteeming, pounding, stirring, and cooking much to the delight of Franklin’s mother and sister.  And its moments like that, moments that happen both unexpectedly and expectedly like watching the sun rise from my loft window, or the sun set from my kitchen window while preparing dinner, or taking the first bite of the sweet and juicy pineapple, where I experience sheer contentment of being here.  Thus the task of coordinating American and Cameroon rhythms continues, but I’m thankful for the moments of grace that propel me onwards.  

   Don’t we often look at the many events of our lives as big or small interruptions, interrupting many of our plans, projects, and life schemes?  But what if our interruptions are in fact our opportunities, if they are challenges to an inner response by which growth takes place and through which we come to the fullness of being?

Henri Nouwen, Reaching Out

         

Family, Foufou, Fowl, and Fainting

In addition to Youth Day, last week also had other adventures and laughter.  Last Sunday I visited my friend Franklin's family.  I met Franklin when I was in Bafut and now he is preparing to enter seminary.  Every year I give him a little bit of money to help with his school fees.  His family lives just behind my house in Kumbo.  When I met his mother she kept repeating, "You are welcome! You are welcome!" and "You are there!"  I wasn't expecting to be so well received.  She thanked me for the support I'm giving to Franklin and said that I should consider her my African mother.  She has such a beautiful smile and excitement to her voice that I'm honored she would consider me to be another daughter.

Franklin's brother, mother, and two cousins

After the exchange of greetings multiple times, she served me the Northwest specialty of foufou and pumpkin leaf.

Eating foufou and pumpkin leaf with my hands

And then I was quite surprised when Franklin's mother brought me a fowl!  Considering all the work that goes into raising a fowl this was quite the gift.  And of course ironic since I'm vegetarian.  After she gave me the fowl she insisted that I hold it and take a picture.

My fowl.  Haven't thought of a good name for it yet.

The other adventure of the week was visiting a rural primary health center.  My house is located on the compound of the Life Abundant Primary health care (LAP) training center that is operated by the Cameroon Baptist Convention Health Board.  Each day a nurse goes out to visit one of the rural primary health centers to provide vaccinations and check on the trained birth attendants and health promotors.  I asked to go along on one of these visits and Wednesday I went with Nurse Winfred and Driver Joe to Kouffassam.  This is one of the closer health centers to Kumbo and it took about 2.5 hours to get there because our Land Rover had car problems and we had to come back to the LAP center and change vehicles.  We finally got there at about 10:30.  When we got there kids were playing in the field nearby.  I don't think any of them had seen a white girl before because as I approached them they all started screaming and running away.  Some finally were brave enough to touch me and then others joined in and it became a game to touch the white girl and then run away.  After that fun, I accompanied Winfred in seeing patients.  The first was a mother who wanted her 2 week old son circumsized.  We were in a delivery room like the one below and I was trying to soothe the crying child when I started feeling hot.  The next thing I knew I woke up and on a cot in a different room. I had fainted!  I was quite embarrassed by this as I came to assist and then had to be the one assisted.

Maternity room with trained health promoter

But Joe the Driver held my hand as I woke up and was very understanding and told me that it happened because "I wasn't used to" and "Such things don't happen in America."  I appreciated his sympathy and a little later managed to give my Pidgin nutrition talk to the mothers who brought their children for vaccinations.  Unfortunately because of the confusion with the health center staff, there were no vaccinations available that day and the white girl attempting to speak Pidgin was the only thing they received after a very long walk to the health center.  Too bad I didn't have my fowl to also offer them.     

Youth Day 2011

Cameroon has two major political holidays.  The biggest is National Independence Day on the 20^th of May and the second is Reunification Day on the 11^th of February.  The day is supposed to commemorate when the two Cameroons, the area in the Northwest that opted to join Nigeria after a UN-sponsored referendum and the rest of Cameroon, formed a centralized United Republic of Cameroon.  This unification was hotly contested by the citizens in the Northwest Region who believe that because of linguistic and cultural differences a true and fair union is not possible and they have become second-class citizens.  In an effort to prevent political dissension the 11^th of February has been reinvented to Youth Day and very little is mentioned about unification.  

On Youth Day all of the school children gather in various fields and stadiums across the country and march in their school uniforms past a panel of judges.  The judges determine which school’s children march and look the best.  After the march pass, the children have races and engage in traditional dances.  It’s a big day for the children as they practice for days their marching, songs, and dances before the actual day.  On the day of the event, they wake up very early to wash their uniform and look as neat as possible, which is not easy at this time of year as everywhere is covered with thick, red dust which worsens with each harmattan wind blowing through in the afternoon.     

This past Tuesday I decided that the best place to spend Youth Day would be in Bafut.  This was not an easy decision because transportation is unreliable and the roads to get from Kumbo to Bafut are terrible.  Going to Bafut for Youth Day would require me to leave Thursday afternoon for Bamenda, stay the night there, go to Bafut on Friday, return to Bamenda  Friday night, and come back to Kumbo on Saturday.   But I knew Eunice’s children would be marching in Bafut and like a true auntie, I braved the journey to see Lord, Babila, and Kate.  I also figured it would be a good opportunity to see everyone in Bafut again and tell them that I am now working in Kumbo.  Once I was there and saw the children proudly march past and then spend the afternoon with them I knew it was well worth the trip. 

Lord, Kate, and Babila before the March Pass

Kate holding the sign board for the Pre Nursery Class at Sacred Heart Preschool and Primary School.  I have no idea why the kids are wearing crowns made out of construction paper on their heads.

Babila in the middle, marching past

Kate playing with me after her march finished

All of that marching and playing makes Kate very tired and she fell asleep in my arms

This was from Youth Day in 2006 when Babila held the sign board for the Pre-Nursery Class.  Its been neat to go back to Bafut and see how the children have grown and changed after five years.