glottalstop

Mt. Cameroon

2006-03-15T15:04:00.000+01:00

In early February I had the opportunity to return to Mt. Cameroon as a chaperone for my school's annual climb. Mt. Cameroon, at 4000 meters, boasts the highest peak in West Africa. It is an active volcano and the trail to the top is essentially a straight shot up the side. I've heard many people say that climbing Mt. Cameroon is memory best left and forgotten on the steep black slopes of loose and broken lava. I disagree.

Cloud forrest
Even though the forrest has been largely divested of the majestic trees and abundant wildlife that were once common, the remains of this once proud rainforrest are still jawdropping.

Vertical grasslands
Coming out of the forrest onto the endless slope of rough grass and shaggy trees is equally awesome. Clouds hang on the slopes.

Sleeping above the clouds
The first night is spent at Hut 2, high above the thick line of clouds. My favorite part of the hike is waking up to the rising sun.

The Magic Tree

The peak
The 'peak' is reached after a oxygen deprived walk through a moonscape of dusty lava - in which flowers miraculously manage to grow.

Wedding Pictures

2006-01-23T17:12:00.000+01:00

Yes, it has happened. I'm a married man. Here are some vistas from the wedding......

Before our Church wedding we had to be legally married by a local authority. Here I am declaring my option for a monogamous marriage.....

Here's a group shot of some of the guests wearing their wedding pagne, a tradition here in cameroon...

My recently ordained cousin Donald was able to come down to marry us...wonderful ceremony; we feel blessed tohave had him there.

Here is our favorite picture - leaving the church through bubbles. We weren't able to escape immediately to a honeymoon resort, but are looking into gorrilla tracking in the C.A.R. for spring break.

Settling into a new year

2005-11-02T18:15:00.001+01:00

So I've had a few complaints from people about the lack of recent updates. Simply regard this as a multiple update update.

1. Moving house. After spending the last year in the apartment of my discontent, grappling with cockroaches and watching paint peel from the ceiling, I finally moved. The new apartment is elegant, pleasing to the eye and soothing to the ear - I wake up to bird song every morning. Here are some views, from the bedroom balcony and the living room balcony respectively.

2. Spiritual retreat. I had the chance to spend a weeked at a silent retreat outside of Yaounde hosted by the local Opus Dei house. Good prayer time and especially good to be out of the city. Here's a view from an early morning stroll, the moist fog of the night just beginning to rise....

3. Getting engaged. As all of you already know, Amy and I got engaged in October, the 8th. At least I think it was the 8th. It's all been a blurr since then.

4. Finding a Church. After much searching, Amy and I finally settled St. Laurent, a francophone church that I think we'll call home for some time. This will also be where Amy and I get married

So, there it is: my 2nd Fall in Yaounde. Quite eventfull, I think you'll agree. The rainy season, by the way, has once again been simply spectacular.

BAHS Dreaming

2005-08-12T18:50:00.000+01:00

Approaching the end of my summer travels, I land in Plittersdorf, which might come as close as any place to being my "village" in the Cameroonian sense. Much has changed here since the capital officially moved away in 1991 and I've only started coming back recently - since my parents re-relocated a year ago. Pretty much everything I associate with my formative years in Bonn has disappeared - the movie theater, shopping center, teen club, library, and my old high school (BAHS) and the attached Rec Center. Admittedly, it all badly needed tearing down, but still I wince.

Over the past year or so, I've had time to digest the shock of it all disappearing. The old community compound, or Amerikanische Siedlung as it is advertised on Real Estate posters, has taken on a distictive flair of quiet nostalgia. The old bilingual parking signs have been left up, as well as some of the now deserted security booths. Lots of Germans have moved into the apartment buildings, but there is still a strong international presence and even a few old schoolers like my folks. Shapiro Field - where I once played Football - has been turned into a professional baseball stadium (home of the Bonn Capitals) and the fields next to the school play host to three other 'anglo' sports - rugby, cricket and American football. So I come "home" now to a place that isn't the home I once knew but in a strange way feels more like the home that should have been, a truly international community, open and integrated into the larger community .

For the few that might possibly be interested, here's a picture of the new school building (Bonn International School) taken from where the racquetball court used to be.

And the Club? Still standing but in need of a buyer. Currently used as skater hangout.

Fortunately, some things don't change - most importantly Old Father Rhine, always good for an evening stroll.

El Camino

2005-08-09T09:45:00.000+01:00

The expat life in Cameroon also includes summers that are spent in distant, far away places. This summer found me hopping around the East Coast of the United States and Western Europe. Most of my travels belong to the non-edited version of this blog; I do want to share with you of my abbreviated (2 week) pilgrimage with my friend Matt through French and Spanish Basque country.

The trails we walked belonged, for the most part, to the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, or the Way of St. James, which is in essence a network of paths throughout western Europe that lead to the Medieval pilgrimage destination of Santiago (located in the NW corner of Spain). Most pilgrims take about a month to walk the most frequently traveled paths through Spain. Matt and I, with less than two weeks to spare, decided to stick to the routes that lead through the Pyrenees.

El Camino has become popular in recent years and an impressive infrastructure has sprung up to support the throngs of pilgrims that pass through every day. Trails are well marked and often reinforced with gravel. Refugios, places for pilgrims to spend the night, are hosted by local parishes or religious orders that provide large dormitory style rooms to accommodate the large number of pilgrims during the summer months. Walking long distances is an inherently solitary activity, but long days were always punctuated with the good fellowship of others following the same path.

The life of a pilgrim consists of routines. Dawn, around 6 a.m., brings the break of camp. Everyone in the dorm dresses and repacks quickly and silently to be on their way by around 6:30. The bulk of the day is spent walking. On “low impact” days we would arrive at our destination at or before noon and would get to relax, wash clothes and read or play chess through the hot afternoon hours. More often, however, we became stuck hiking through the blazing midday heat, arriving at our refugio beaten and crispy with just enough time for a shower and a quick nap before heading out to dinner. These evening meals usually consisted of satisfying three course “pilgrims menus” offered at a local restaurant at pilgrim prices. Lights out at the refugio was usually 10-11 pm, but most of us were asleep before that, resting up for a repeat performance the next day.

As I mentioned earlier, Matt and I walked an abbreviated pilgrimage. I found myself wishing I had more time to complete the pilgrimage properly instead of simply walking parts of it. Nevertheless, even in the short time we had, many pilgrim lessons were learned. The Top 10 Lesson are listed below. If some of them sound familiar, it is because others have gone before us.

Stick to the path
Talk to strangers
Walk through the pain
Pain is Joy

Look for the small signs that mark the Way
If you don’t see any signs, you’re not looking hard enough
If you ignore the signs, you’ll get lost

Take time to look back and enjoy the view
Take lots of pictures – a few of them are bound to turn out well

And finally, drumroll.......
10. The journey is the destination

And here are some other impressions from the road.....

An example of the exquisite agro-industrial landscape around Pamplona

The omnipresence of windpower dominated the skyline through much of the Spanish foothills.

Sun shining through clouds.

At the very end of our travels we spent two days in a small beach town on Cotê
Basque.

Panorama

2005-05-19T07:07:00.000+01:00

I came across these pictures of Yaounde recently. Panoramic shots don't really give an accurate impression of a place. Life is in the details. Still, they're nice to look at. The Hilton Hotel is one of the landmark buildings here and has an 11th floor lounge with some fantastic views, best enjoyed with a cool beer on a Friday afternoon......

2005-05-19T07:06:00.000+01:00

Same shot during the day.

2005-05-19T07:04:00.000+01:00

Taken from the top of Hilton near Centre-Ville.

2005-04-30T12:04:00.000+01:00

View of the beach

Driving in Yaounde Part III: The Road Block

2005-04-30T11:52:00.000+01:00

Driving in Yaounde has been an experience so unique for me that I will find it difficult to adequately convey. There are numerous aspects to driving here that simply don’t have a translation into “Driving in the US”.

I mentioned before that when the President or some other dignitary drives through town, the main road get shut down. These road closings are always unannounced and never have a fixed duration. However, they are anticipated by a special police force lining major intersections in the hours preceding the road closure. So, when members of this police force are spotted, word is spread that “the road will be closed”, meaning that at some point during the day, the road may be closed and if you need to go anywhere, it had better be sooner rather than later. There are times when such rumors don’t spread fast enough.

A Sunday evening a few weeks ago was such a time. I was returning home after a long afternoon of tennis when my plans to spend a quiet evening of study ran into a blocked intersection. It just so happens that the main road lies between school and my apartment. Determined to get home, I followed some back roads looking for a way through. Intersections were all blocked, as I knew they would be. Now, there is one point where the main road runs over an overpass and it is technically possible to drive underneath. However, as this is the only crossing point, you can imagine what the traffic is like: pure hell. I had a choice: go through hell or join some friends who were president watching at the Hilton for a beer. I wisely chose the latter course. Not only did I soon find my friends sitting comfortably in the lobby of the Hilton, in a prime spot to watch the passing of Brazil’s president Lula, I was treated to an impromptu drum performance by Gilberto Gil, who was traveling with the Brazil team as Minister of Culture. Studies could wait for another day.

2005-04-30T11:51:00.000+01:00

intersection is closed until further notice

Water/Power Cuts

2005-04-30T11:44:00.000+01:00

Part of daily life here is the possibility of electricity and/or water supplies being cut. Cuts happen at random times and have arbitrary durations – anywhere from a minute to a day, typically. At times, in cases of a shortage during the dry season, I am led to believe that this is a systematic procedure, where neighborhoods go out on a rolling basis. More often I would guess the cause is shoddy infrastructure. There are stories of water going out for weeks at a time, but this is fortunately something I haven’t experienced. Those of us with resources provide for alternatives: generators and water tanks. There is a large generator at school, and many homes in my neighborhood have them as well. .

Here at my place, the “teacher apartment building”, we have water storage on top of the building but no generator. The water tank lasts for about a day without being replenished, so often we don’t even notice when the water goes out. It has happened though, that I have come back in the evening after a long game of Ultimate, dirty and drenched in sweat, that there is no water left in the tank and I am forced to access the less than adequate barrel of water that is kept in the laundry room for such emergencies, forcing me to experience what it is like for most people here to bathe. Against power outages, there is no backup, which frequently leaves us in the dark and is really not as big a deal as it might seem. Flashlights and candles do the job just fine.

2005-04-30T11:40:00.000+01:00

A view of my apartment when the lights unexpectedly go out.

Pluto

2005-04-17T13:36:00.000+01:00

I was recently asked to dog sit/walk a dog whose owner was off to England for medical treatment. She needed to treat a dislocated shoulder or torn ligament caused by none other than my new charge-to-be, Pluto. Pluto is a very, very big dog who, according to his owner, likes to pull hard on his leash, which, if it happens to break suddenly, may cause the person on the other end of the leash to lose balance and fall and dislocate a shoulder. I was a little hesitant to accept her offer.

I did accept, of course. How can one refuse under such circumstances? I soon discovered that Pluto not only pulls hard when he sees other dogs, he has a very complex (though fortunately mild mannered) psyche, one which does not allow him to relate to strangers (me) easily. He won’t come near me voluntarily. When I picked him up for his first walk, he had to be dragged to the door by the housekeeper. I then had to drag him to my car. Fortunately, he’s one of those car-lovin’ dogs, the kind that will drive with their heads out the window, so there’s never a problem getting him into the car.

In all honesty, I volunteered to help dog sit Pluto in part because I imagined this would be a great motivation for me to get out and get some jogging in a couple of times a week. This wasn’t to be. In addition to Pluto’s immense size he also sports immense girth. Let me put it plainly: Pluto waddles like a giant sausage with long legs. I try to take him for a run and it’s me pulling him along. After two miles, he’s done. I’ve considered pulling him along for a couple more laps around the fitness track, but am haunted by the image of Pluto collapsing on me.

I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining. Pluto has a good, gentle soul. We’re getting used to each other; he no longer runs away when I call him over. And I swear he’s already lost a few pounds.

2005-04-17T13:35:00.000+01:00

Pluto, filling up the back seat of my car, feeling uneasy about the workout he's about to endure.

Views

2005-04-08T15:25:00.000+01:00

A couple of weeks ago found me in Douala, where I happened upon this striking view of an overgrown graveyard with luminescent green grass almost obscuring the tombstones. My handheld camera wasn't able to adequately capture scene, so a vague impression will have to do.

2005-04-08T15:24:00.000+01:00

Douala Graveyard

Things Fall Apart (Part I)

2005-04-03T09:22:00.000+01:00

Yes, its true. One important way things fall apart has to do with the high level of humidity that we always have. Two mundane examples from my apartment:

2005-04-03T09:21:00.000+01:00

I live in a very well-maintained apartment. Even so, it doesn't take long for the humidity to work its magic

2005-04-03T09:19:00.000+01:00

Here I tried to capture the layer of mold that grows on virtually anything that has been left lying around for any length of time. In this case you see my formerly black wallet.

Lariam Dreams

2005-04-03T09:13:00.000+01:00

I am asked periodically whether I am taking a Malaria prophylaxis. The answer is both yes and no.

Marlaria is endemic to Cameroon, with common varieties being of the kind that burrow deep into your liver and stay with you for the rest of your life. Needless to say, the prospect of having a parasite holing up in my vital organs for any length of time wasn’t too appealing, so before I came I went on Mefloquine (also known by its brand name Lariam). Mefloquine has gotten a bad rap for having side effects ranging from violent dreams to psychosis. The other options presented to me were A.) Long term antibiotics – not an option in my book or B.) a new drug (Malarone, I think) said to be effective with fewer side effects, but taken daily at $US 5 a pop, and so not in my budget.

Anyway, I get here and discover that the only foreigners taking prophylaxis are employees, either directly or indirectly of the US government. (and to be fair, those attached to agencies of other governments take it as well.) It seemed that nobody at my school was taking any special precautions. Certainly people who live here for any length of time don’t take any. A popular opinion was: “the prophylaxis is worse than the parasite. Better to get it and treat it.” And there do seem to be drugs that treat malaria effectively, as long as you catch it early. Coartem® was the emergency pack handed to me after I stopped taking Mefloquine. Yes, about a month after coming to Cameroon, I stopped taking prophylaxis.

Then, several things happened. More accurately, one thing happened again and again: one by one, all of my fellow foreign hire teachers got Malaria. Yes, this was inevitable, you say, and perhaps it was, given the odds. I had the chance to experience vicariously what the disease was like. Consensus: “I was ready to die.” One of the teachers had such a bad experience that she went on prophylaxis after she recovered (of course, she’s leaving in a couple of months.) I did notice, however that all of the bad cases of Malaria seemed to come after trips to Kribi, Duala or Limbe, destinations at lower elevations where Malaria is both stronger and more prevalent than up here in Yaounde. So back in November I decided to compromise. Before and after I leave Yaounde for warmer climes, I go back on Mefloquine, as a tourist might. In fact, I’m on it right now, having just returned from a trip to Duala. This strategy seems to have worked for me so far.

Have I enjoyed any psychosis as a side effect of taking Mefloquine? No, I haven’t, at least not that I’m aware of. I have had a couple of strange dreams, though. One I am sure was directly caused by the medicine because it came the night I took my weekly dose and is too unusual. In the spirit of the blog, I relay it to you now, as it was recorded in my journal the next morning.

I wake up in the morning and find a long nail hammered deep into my forehead. I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and slowly pull it out, realizing only as it comes out how improbably long it really is. A little blood comes out of the hole as the nail pops out. I feel no pain whatsoever, only the dull sensation of pressure. I become anxious. How did this nail get into my forehead? Who would want to do this? How was a nail hammered into my head without my waking up? I must have been drugged. How can I sleep again knowing that someone is after me? At this point I wake up, shaken but without nail.

They Fly!

2005-03-22T13:48:00.000+01:00

No account of life in the tropics would be complete without exaggerated stories of oversized roaches. I came fully expecting to find these giant creatures crawling all over the place. To my surprise, the garden-variety roach here isn’t much bigger than some of the bugs we have in DC and they don’t seem to multiply as fast. What I wasn’t prepared for was their bizarre self-destructive behavior.

My first week here, I woke up in the middle of the night to find a cockroach crawling on my arm. Why? Why is this cockroach crawling on my arm? Does it think I’m food? Is it looking for a little warmth? These questions kept me up the rest of the night. I’ve since come to the conclusion that they simply don’t have a natural fear of people: they fall on top of me when I come in the door, they flutter around cars while I’m driving, they fly into me while I’m sleeping, they try to lay eggs into my carefully folded slacks (the ones I wear every week). The roaches I’ve known in northern climates are masters of the escape. The roaches here, instead of running away when they are surprised, will come running at you, presumably seeking a hiding place under your foot. They seem to be controlled primarily by their appetites, rather than any sense of survival. Leave a partially empty glass of juice standing on the table, and you’re bound to find the next day a roach that has downed itself in an overnight feeding frenzy. I once found a roach that had managed to squeeze its way into an empty beer bottle. Fortunately, weekly spraying of my apartment seems to keep them away, so incidents have diminished. Still, you never know……

2005-03-22T13:47:00.000+01:00

Here's a fellow who had the great misfortune of colliding with my cheek one night. That's a US quarter, for size comparison.

Destination Kribi

2005-03-22T13:37:00.000+01:00

On long weekends, when overcome with the need to get-away-from-it-all, many in Yaounde with the means to do so will jet off to Kribi, Cameroon’s beach destination. I was there twice in the fall. What the Kribi beaches lack in size and grandeur, they make up for in isolation. Beach resort isn’t really the right descriptor for Kribi, as it is really just s small town with miles of beach along which are scattered a few hotels. You’re as likely to encounter local fishermen in their hollowed out boats as you are other beach goers. Pictures tell the story best. Again, these were taken by a friend of mine, as I'm still without a camera.

2005-03-22T13:36:00.000+01:00

River cascades into the ocean just south of Kribi

2005-03-22T13:34:00.000+01:00

Yours truly walking with a friend along Kribi Beach

2005-03-22T13:30:00.000+01:00

Rainclouds gather

2005-03-22T13:29:00.000+01:00

A fisherman casts his net

2005-03-08T21:04:00.000+01:00

Flowers like the rain

2005-03-08T21:02:00.000+01:00

Bananas for Sale at every corner

2005-03-08T21:00:00.000+01:00

The Mokolo Market

2005-03-08T20:59:00.000+01:00

The ubiquitous yellow cabs

2005-03-08T20:58:00.000+01:00

Candy Vendor

2005-03-08T20:55:00.000+01:00

A gated apartment building.

The Town

2005-03-08T19:49:00.000+01:00

Before I go much further, I should say a little something about my new home. Yaounde is located in the southeastern part of Cameroon, surrounded by rainforrest covered rolling hills, connected to the outside world via a small airport sporting a couple of flights a week to Europe. There are pretty decent roads leading to other destinations in the country, about which I will write later. Yaounde is a big city, with around 1 million people (?), but feels very much like a small town. If there is a bustle in the streets, it is that of ordinary undertakings, rather than grand plans. The biggest event seems to be the occasional and unexpected closure of the main road due to the passing of the presidential convoy.

When I arrived in August, the big rainy season was just beginning, and it was rain that defined Yaounde for me during my first couple of months. If you've ever lived in the tropics, you know what I'm talking about. If, like me at the time, you haven't, think of the intensity of the biggest downpour your ever experienced, the kind of rain that blots out vision, and then think of it lasting for hours. Think of roads turning into rivers and intersections into small lakes, and this daily. I would shout my way through my afternoon classes trying to compete with the hollow pounding of rain on our corrugated tin roof. Right before dusk, the rain would fade away and clouds would gently settle around the hills. Wow!

There is much more to say about Yaounde, other than that it rains a lot in the Fall. Instead of rambling on, let me show some pictures of street life in Yaounde, taken by a friend of mine. Enjoy!

2005-03-06T21:45:00.000+01:00

View from porch

The story

2005-03-06T21:03:00.000+01:00

I arrived here in Yaounde, Cameroon back in August 2004, having taken a leave of absence from my school in the District of Columbia. As transitions go, this one went smoothly, but still, lots of new things to get used to. Half a year later, I look back and think: there's gotta be a better way to document my time here other than sending out the occasional group e-mail. So this is the story of my blog. I'll try to backtrack a little, to make up for lost ground, but not tonight. I leave you with a view from my back porch, taken my first week here. Note the direct line of sight to President Biya's Palace.