It has been a while since I have blogged so I have a few stories that aren’t so current but that I would really like to share with you all. To start with, I want to share my experiences of traveling up to Meiganga, the village in which my Uncle Dean served as a Peace Corps Volunteer nearly 40 years ago. My best friend from Peace Corps training, Claire Hutchinson, was posted to the very same town in which he had served. I knew I had to find time to make it up to visit her and hopefully an opportunity to carry out a project together. So this past summer we began planning and organizing a girl’s empowerment camp and scheduled it to take place over a 3 day weekend in November. The day I was getting ready to depart Manjo and begin the 3 day journey I received some terrible news, my Uncle Dean had suddenly passed away. The journey took on even more meaning than it had before, I knew his spirit would be traveling along with me and I decided to dedicate my time in Meiganga to honoring him and to serve with the energy and enthusiasm that he carried through life. Below is a short article I wrote for our Cameroon volunteer newsletter about the camp.

As Peace Corps Volunteers who work with youth in a variety of different capacities and from vastly differing backgrounds, many of us have found that Cameroonian youth are given few opportunities for critical analysis, self-reflection or creative expression. Gender inequalities create an even greater gap for the young women in our communities as most are forced to spend any free time they may have focusing on domestic work. These responsibilities often inhibit young women from looking past their current situation and dreaming of where their heart wants to lead them. This past November, myself, Claire Hutchinson and Allison Sander (community health pcv) put on a girl’s empowerment camp in their post of Meiganga situated in the Adamaoua Region near the border of the Central African Republic.

The camp consisted of 14 young women who had received scholarships from A2Empowerment, an NGO started by a former PCV and her friend in the states. The girls represent each of the educational institutions in Meiganga from the local women’s centers to the lycee classique(classical high school) as well as the lycee technique(technical high school). These young women between the ages of 15-21, many of whom are orphans, live within critical poverty and yet continue daily to try to improve their own lives and seek to better their future as well as those of their siblings or children by continuing their own education. The focus of the camp was to provide these girls with an environment that permitted them to concentrate on their own individual future and to reflect on important health topics. We covered such topics as HIV/AIDS, STIs and STDs, gender relationships and decision making. The camp included a panel discussion in which successful women from the community came to share their life stories and to encourage the young women to continue to positively construct a positive life for themselves and their families. After the 3 activity filled days the girls organized a soiree culturelle in which they shared a few sketches, songs and dances they had created together. Amazingly, we witnessing an evident growth in the girls’ confidence level from the first day they walked into the women’s center to the day they left the soiree with their camp certificates in hand. Each of these young women has a powerful life story, a story that includes a past marked with struggle but each of them posses’ tremendous inner courage and strength. Through the camp we hoped to empower these young women to recognize the strength and courage that exists within them and to allow those qualities to shine as they continue to create their own paths through life.

Camp photo!

Myself and one of our campers with her daughter

Myself, Allison and Claire

Les Soeurs Lumieres

One of my projects here in Manjo as a volunteer in Small Enterprise Development is teaching business classes to entrepreneurs in my community. Cameroonians in general have a very entrepreneurial spirit. Everyone I know has some kind of small business project that they are personally involved in, from selling underwear on the street(my best friend in village sells underwear to create a small income for her and her two small kids) to managing large farms. However, I would say the majority of the population in this area does not have any business training let alone a high school diploma. This is why, in collaboration with the micro-finance that I am connected with, I started teaching business classes. The business classes have been highly appreciated in my community and I am hoping to branch out into a few of the smaller villages in the surrounding area. I have just finished teaching my second class on entrepreneurship. In the curriculum I teach basic accounting principles how to keep a cash book, a stock book, how to calculate profit margins, break-even points, and profitability. I also teach how one does a feasibility study before starting one’s activities, setting goals for a business, and writing business plans. Since this is also in collaboration with the MC2, my host partner micro-finance institution in my community, I bring in the director of the micro-finance to speak to the participants about the importance of saving and the credit opportunities that the micro-finance provides.

The students range in age from 18 – 60 and all are very dedicated to learning as much as possible so that they can better manage their own personal projects. I teach in a small cement building that sometimes has electricity and I use construction paper to write the lesson on the wall, all lessons are taught in French and thankfully I have finally reached a level where I feel confident teaching business principles in another language. There are always challenges, for instance the power being cut as night is falling, teaching to a group with varying knowledge levels(I realized towards the end of the last class that one of my students didn’t know how to read I hadn’t even thought of this possibility), and teaching in a different cultural context also brings its own unexpected nuances. For example, one class we spent a good 20 minutes discussing the effect of “le sorcellerie” (sorcery) on businesses within our community. Lesson learned: yes, sorcellerie can definitely have a major impact on your bottom line so you must treat your clients and your competitors with respect(I entered this within my lesson on customer service, a concept that does not necessarily exist here in southern Cameroon).

Well, this past week we had our “sortie des diplomes” where my students received a diploma from the Peace Corps for successfully completing the business class. As Cameroonians do not know how to do anything halfway when it comes to celebrating we threw a grande fête and invited the Sous-Prefet, the Mayor, the chief of our village, and the Commandant(I think closest relation would be chief of police), I gave a long grandiose speech thanking all of my students and wishing them the best of luck in all of their future endeavors and encouraging them to work towards the development of their own community. It is evenings like these that actually give me a concrete measurement of the fruit of my labor here. However, what I enjoy even more is seeing one of my students after having completing the course filled with pride as they are now putting their knowledge to work in their own projects.

Below is a photo from the "Sortie des Diplomes" on the last day of the business class, in front of the micro-finance along with all of my students as well as our community's Sous-Prefet and Mayor

I don’t know how many of you may know, but I have a twin brother. You may be surprised, and yes I was surprised too seeing as for the first 25 years of my life I had never met him! Over a year ago as I was moving in to my new house and trying to adjust to my strange new world as a foreigner in my African village when who would God lead up to my front door but my long lost brother!

Bakari, born July 9th 1983 just on the other side of our world and as fate would have it we were bound to meet shortly after our 26th birthday in the village of Manjo, Cameroon. His family lives just outside of here in a smaller village called Namba but here in Manjo he has an adopted family(very typical of Cameroon, the family structure is much more fluid than our very narrowly defined and constrictive family unit in the west) the family here in Manjo quickly became my family. I spend most all of my free-time with them carrying the little ones around in typical African mama fashion (attaching them to my back with a piece of fabric) cooking and eating meals together, allowing my sisters to do my hair and dress me in typical Cameroonian style and asking mamma Rosa to sew my clothes. I couldn’t be more thankful for my family here and what an integral part of my life they have been.

Last week Bakari’s young sister who lives in the village of Namba was sick and in the hospital fighting malaria and typhoid at the same time. We went to visit her and spend some time sitting and keeping his mother company who had been staying day and night with her daughter. As from my previous blog you may know that the hospital is not my favorite place, but when not the patient it is not quite so bad and I can in fact almost enjoy the social gathering place that it becomes.

So we passed the time sitting and hanging out in the room crammed with about 10 beds while the IV dripped into his sister’s arm. After school had let out for the day Bakari’s younger brother Vincent walked the 5 km down to the hospital to come visit and to bring a surprise gift for his sister. Vincent had saved up every 100cfa(equivalent of 25cents) that his mom and dad have given him over the last week because he knew that his sister needed that money more than he needed it to eat during the school day. I didn’t even realize what he had done until we left the hospital and Bakari looked at me and I realized he was almost tearing up and he said do you realize what my sweet little brother did? When I said no he looked at me and said “that boy is an angel” his little brother had seen the struggle of his family to pay for the medicine to heal his sister and he did everything in his power to share the small resources that he had. I think this is probably one of the most beautiful examples of the spirit I most love here in Cameroon, that of giving and sharing no matter how scarce the resource.

Bakari and his little sister at the hospital in Manjo

Vincent on the route back from the family fields after we had spent the morning picking fruit and planting corn in the pouring down rain.

This last week I hopped in a bush taxi and drove up to Nkongsamba, a larger town just 30 minutes outside of my village in Manjo. I had a package awaiting me at the post and also looked forward to doing a little bit of shopping in their market which is a bit more plentiful than the daily choices my market mamas sell in village.

When I know that a package or even a letter awaits me at the post I am filled with anticipation and excitement like a kid on Christmas day. So as I arrived at the post and realized my package was being held ransom by the women in the post office for a total of several hundred US dollars you can imagine how quickly deflated and distraught I become, knowing that the value they were asking me to pay was much more than the worth of the package. Now I have to say this has never happened to me, I have never once had to pay what was being called a “typical customs tax” and this may have to do with the fact that listed on the inventory of the package was that electronics where packed inside. So please don’t think that if you ever were to send me a package in the future I would run into these problems, just make sure you list magazines or chocolate rather than anything that may be of value;) Anyway, I quickly began to question the women demanding the money and asked for all of the official paperwork as to why I was suddenly being taxed when neither myself, nor any of my friends had ever been taxed for receiving a package, let alone at a ridiculous price of several hundred dollars. When they refused to allow me to make copies or to even take a closer look at the “official papers” I quickly realized the issue at hand was more of an issue of where the money would be going. As they say here, someone was trying to “mange l’argent” literally translated to “eat money” a term used to describe issues of corruption that unfortunately are all too common place. When I mentioned my suspicions and frustrations with viewing issues of corruption in this country (while trying to be careful that they didn’t think I was specifically blaming them)the women became very argumentative and quite retaliatory telling me if I see corruption as a problem to “rentre chez moi” or “go back to where I came from.” I literally was so frustrated at this point I thought I was going to cry and decided I needed some time to calm down before I could decide what my next course of action would be.

So, from the post office I walked to the boulangerie in town that has a small café to sit down and have a cup of tea and begin to calm down. When who would walk in but my village fou(crazy) who had apparently followed me up to Nkongsamba and then into the café where he sat down next to me and began yelling loud enough for all around to hear how he had filed paperwork at our town hall for our marriage. Oh my goodness could this day get anymore ridiculous!?! After ignoring and pretending I didn’t hear him speaking to me, my crazy finally left and I took the long route back to find a bush taxi so we wouldn’t end up in the same one. After arriving back in village that afternoon I must admit I treated myself to a few hours of silence and solitude on my balcony reflecting on the crazies and the corrupt who each in their own way create a colorful and captivating life for me here in Cameroon.

My head was pounding and my body aching among other problems and though I detest going to the hospital here I decided it was probably necessary. So, early that morning I set out for the 15 minute walk to the local hospital I changed my mind as I saw a motorcycle passing by and decided that would be a much better way to go so that I could avoid greeting every person along the way(not exactly what you feel like doing when you are sick). I felt as though my head was going to explode as the moto bounced along the rocky path to the hospital. I arrived and was greeted by the caretaker of the hospital Ashley, you are here (Francophone Cameroonians love to speak in the present obvious), yes I am here, you are sick, yes you are right I am sick. Nothing in the hospital was seeming to be in the right place…”we are doing some renovations” he explains. I look out into the open courtyard (if you can call it that) where about 15 hospital beds lay strewn about, looks like they must be making good progress on those renovations, I thought to myself. He then explains that the staff is not in yet and I can wait with all of the others who are there to see the one doctor that serves our village as well as several other smaller surrounding villages. After about half an hour another worker approaches our growing group of sick people in waiting. The man says “oh you are all waiting to” (once again the present obvious) “well the doctor is not in yet but we have now changed the check-in area follow me.” The group of mostly women and children and I follow him about 50 feet away to a different bench not long enough to hold all of those waiting to get checked-in. I sit on the bench in great discomfort from my body aching all over and then decide to stand thinking that would be more comfortable. The moment I stand someone takes my place on the bench which is also the line and order in which we are supposed to see the doctor. I argue with the individual and get my spot back on the bench and thus in line to see the doctor. An hour more of resting in the same place and no one has even entered the consulting room where the man who should be checking everyone in is instead arguing over a family issue with a friend who stopped by to see him at work. Outside the consulting room we sit in the open air and wait some more, I sit among a boy who has a gaping wound on his bloody foot which he has just sliced open with a machete while working in the fields and a young girl who is sweating profusely and looks like she is drifting in and out of consciousness, but there are also those who have less pressing needs one woman who I know well tells me she is there because she had a cramp in her hand. The hospital with our one doctor is the only place to go to get any sort of medical attention without driving to a bigger town and thus the whole spectrum of medical problems appear.

Sometime mid-morning the director of our hospital arrives to work, sees me sitting on the bench and says Ashley you are here, yes correct again I am here. I tell him that their system is very disordered and very slow (I would never say something like this to someone back in the states but here being straight forward and sometimes what we would consider as rude in the states is the manner of conversing here in french, just like the present obvious). Just a half hour after this comment was made I finally got through to the consultation room and then immediately in to see the doctor. The first time I had been to the hospital the doctor diagnosed me without doing any actual tests to confirm his hypothesis, when I asked him about this he said that was normal because most people don’t want to pay for the actual tests, I told him I would pay just to be certain that whatever he believes to be wrong is actually in fact what I have. So automatically this time he ordered the few tests our hospital is equipped to do, blood and stool, and after a few hours more of waiting I am sent home with medicine to rid me of the typhoid and amoebic dysentery I have somehow been lucky enough to contract at the same time.

This time I walk home and by the time I make it back to my house everyone I greet along the route knows I am sick and they have each promised a visit. One thing about being here you are never alone and though visitors while I lay in bed may not be exactly what I want, I do appreciate the way that people care for one another here.

While in Garaoua in the Northern province of Cameroon we met up with some friends who live in the area to go to the river that travels through town where a man has trained a few of the hippos that live in the river. I don’t think any of us actually knew what we were getting ourselves into when we met up with the “hippo man.” I believed that we were going to go out in one of the dugout canoes in the river and would see the hippos from a distance but once we were out on the water the distance gradually got smaller and smaller between us and the hippos until we docked in the shallows of the river and our friend then called his friend “Afrique l’Hippo” over to where we were standing outside of the boat with a few sweet potatoes and ground up corn flour. Before I knew it I was standing in the shallows of the river watching the sun set over the African planes and watching the hippo rise out of the water for its evening meal(hoping it would not be me).

HUNGRY HIPPO

Probably not a good idea...

Yeah, may not have been the smartest thing I have ever done! Being that close to such a powerful wild animal was an adrenaline rush that I don’t think I will experience in quite sometime and I am just thankful that we all got out of there with all of our limbs intact and of course some great memories.

Another highlight of the trip up north was hiking along the Northern Cameroonian/Nigerian Border outside of the village of Rhumsiki in the Extreme North Region of Cameroon. The terrain in this area is unlike any other area of Cameroon and reminds me some of Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs with jagged rock faces jutting up from the valley.

We reached the village by taking a van from the Extreme North capital of Maroua and arriving in the village of Mokolo where we then took motos for another 2 hours along a small dirt road and although the village is an effort to reach it is absolutely worth the travel. Once there we spent two days hiking through the valley and eating amazing food each night at a favorite Peace Corps restaurant The Vegetarian Carnivore. Kodji, the owner of the restaurant is a good friend to many Peace Corps Volunteers from over the years, each volunteer he meets he tells us (in impressively good English I might add)about his experience of having a PCV English teacher in his village when he was in high school.

Kodji with his famous homemade bread

Everything he makes from scratch with a lot of ingredients that he has grown in his fields. Four courses cooked over a fire, by far the best meals I have had in Cameroon!

Below is a photo of some women we met on our hike while just over the border on the Nigerian side, they are carrying bread from one market to sell in another. As we walked with them the woman in the green decided I should stay with them because I looked strong and would be a good worker in their fields, which she decided made me the perfect candidate for marrying her son.

My new “mother-in-law” and I at the entrance to my new compound

A trip to the village of Rhumsiki would not be complete without a visit to the revered crab sorcerer.

For generations and generations the power of reading one’s future by communicating with a crab has been passed down within the family lineage of this 97 year old man.

Receiving the Crab Sorcerer's blessings

The Clairvoyent Crab himself

I really enjoyed my time up north specifically the calm, more laid back environment that the North provides. In the south people are generally a bit more aggressive and when in village as the only foreigner for miles there is a bit of the spotlight effect on your life so honestly I enjoyed the anonymity of life that the travels provided. I did however miss the abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables that seemingly grow over every inch of the south. I realized what a blessing it is to live in such a fertile land and one that has water readily available, though not always clean we do have a constant supply of water. One of our friends villages we visited the villagers dig holes in the dried up river bed during dry season just to reach water and though we were there during the rainy season the river bed was still dried up. Though I have thought much more over this last year about water conservation and water purity than ever before in my life, I couldn’t have ever imagined the lengths at which some people have to go daily just to seek the most vital element to life.

It’s been a while since I have blogged, but I am currently on vacation and out of my “routine” life in village and have thus been inspired to try to capture some of the absurdities that I begin to view as normal.

The vacation started last week when I left my village in a bush taxi at 6am in the morning. Bush taxis are always fun in that you never know how many passengers you may be crammed in alongside or what type of passengers they may be(co-passengers may include pigs, goats, chickens, large gas tanks that look as though they could explode with too much jostling, and there will definitely be jostling). Typically you will have at least 7 other human passengers than yourself(kids under the age of 10 don’t count as 1 human passenger only if there are 2 of them can they equal 1), then you are jammed in the “car” I also use this term loosely as these are really just old rusted junkers that you wouldn’t imagine could still roll down the road. I should also mention that 2 people share the driver’s seat in the manual cars, this is a feat that I don’t think I could have imagined as possible before this last year but has now become so normal to me I am surprised when the driver is by himself in the seat. I arrived in Nkongsamba, the closest larger town to me where I met up with my friend Ben a fellow PCV with whom I am traveling through the North. He had already loaded the bus and was waiting for me as I arrived taking the spot behind him and next to the a sweet grandma who would provide great entertainment to me throughout the ride with her fabulous singing and dancing skills. Before the bus would take off though we had one last chance for shopping in Nkongsamba, shopping meaning various vendors stepped on the bus with an array of goods perched on their heads. The Grandma next to me bought a classic meal of baton de manioc (a smooshed stick of mashed cassava molded into a banana leaf)and pistache (a blend of dried fish and crushed pumpkin seeds). Soon the driver started the bus and put the world cup songs on repeat Shakira’s This is Africa and the Wave Your Flag song, I felt like we were a soccer team getting pumped to drive to our big game. After hearing that on repeat several times surprisingly some of the Cameroonians got sick of it (this is highly surprising as the music that is played constantly outside my house is the same 4 or 5 Cameroonian songs 20hours a day, no exaggeration!) Those in the back of the bus who were complaining called for Bakosi music traditional music from the area, the driver surprisingly obliged and our bus quickly turned into a dance hall with all the passengers singing along. Another hour down the road a fight errupted in the back of the bus, which was really just a small disagreement between two people but turned into a screaming match between the whole bus (this is quite typical, I don't even remember what this argument was about but often times Southern Cameroonians just like to yell for no reason). Another half hour passed and the same people that were screaming at each other were back to laughing and dancing with one another, and this typifies my average transportation experience, even when taking a short ride from one village to another. Eight hours later the bus pulled into Yaounde where we would stay for the night at the Peace Corps office/transit house to prepare for our train ride the next day.

From Yaounde the only route to make it to the Northern Regions of the country is to take the train and just like everything else the process is made especially difficult. Thankfully we had our friend Justin who lives up north and will be traveling around with us over the next 2 weeks to take care of the tickets for us. The rule is you have to book your tickets 3 days in advance in person not before, not after, then on the day of the voyage you must show up early in the morning to show that you have booked 3 days in advance with your receipt and then you will be assigned a real ticket. Thanks to Justin the process was shortened to us just waiting the Wed. morning by playing musical chairs with the Cameroonians(this was their process of waiting in a line everyone would shift 1 chair forward as 1 person finished the process). Finally that evening we arrived at the train station and were once again en route to the North. Fifteen hours on the train made for a beautiful way to explore the forrested hills of the Center Region, soon though the sun sank below the plains and gave rise to the lights of small villages in the distance, then complete darkness. I woke up several times during the night as the train came to stops and out of the darkness I heard the voices of women and children yelling l'eau, l'eau, l'eau(water, water, water) baton, baton, baton (same food the grandma from the bus enjoyed). The next time I woke up we had already arrived on the lush green plateau that is the Adamaoua Region. The train arrived in Ngoundere late in the morning to pouring down rain. Which brought rise to one of the funnier scenes thus far on my trip as the old lady walking next to me through the rain decided it would be a better idea to just take her clothes off rather than allow them to get soaked by the rain...hmmm is this normal? No one else seemed to be staring at her or finding this as out of the ordinary as I. So, on we continued as we caught the next bus of our trip to the capital of the North Region of Garoua after arriving in the late afternoon we found motos that took us into Justin’s village. Finally Thursday evening at sunset we arrived in Justin’s village of Gashiga after nearly 59 hours of being en route. Gashiga is a small village along a dirt road that leads to Nigeria composed of thatched roofed mud huts sitting in front of red rock mesas…beautiful! I can already see the North is a different world and I am excited about all the opportunities for exploring a new part of this incredibly diverse country!

Whether you are aware or not, March 8th is International Women’s Day. I for one did not even know of the existence of Women’s Day until moving here to Cameroon where it is one of the biggest national holidays. Here in Manjo, we kicked off the festivities March 1st with a women’s walk. Somehow, even though I have never participated in a women’s week in my life, I was named to the organization committee for the planning of the week’s festivities. I was President of the sports committee and on the board of a group who discussed and debated the evolution in women’s equality here in Cameroon and throughout the world. I honestly had no clue where to begin in organizing the fete, and would often get discouraged from all the responsibility given to me with my lack of understanding. But, as the week has come to an end I can say all of the frustrations and moments of feeling discouraged that things weren’t working out as I had imagined where erased by all of the great memories created everyday over the past week.

As for the events that took place during the week: we started the week with a walk through town singing the women’s days hymns, the other sports activities included a handball tournament, a soccer tournament and a second walk where we climbed one of the hills outside of village calling it “The Ascension de Manjo” after the famous race here in Cameroon called “The Ascension de Mt. Cameroon.” We chose two mornings where women would meet in specific areas to clean-up the village, we created two sessions where women would teach each other small income generating projects by making and selling lotions and soaps, women’s rights/empowerment discussion, “Soirée culturel” (glorified village talent show, as I think of it), carnival(where we dressed up in costume and danced around town for money(yes, me included I had a crown of plantain leaves and my face painted black w/charcoal and danced through town to help earn money to pay for the fete), an exposition of local art work, and finally the culmination of all the events the défilé which is similar to a parade.

My women’s sports club marched in the défilé together carrying a plaque that they created reading Club de Sport Ashley de Manjo (Ashley’s sports club, Manjo). I wish I had a video of the defile, because it cannot fully be described without seeing. Women line up with the groups that they are a part of in town and then march together in military fashion all wearing the same dress made of the same women’s day fabric(though my group broke the norm andwore our sports clothes), they march in front of the “place des fetes” where all of the town dignitaries(village chiefs and government officials) sit and watch. Some groups stop in front of the place des fetes and may do a short song or dance that has significance to their group. My club de sport decided that we needed to do an exhibition of ab exercises during the middle of our march. The march was serious business and quite formal to everyone else around me, I personally couldn’t help but crack up as I, in unison with my club, flaunted our expertise in ab exercises to the village chiefs and government dignitaries. I guess that is one way to celebrate women’s empowerment!

A few weeks ago I hosted 3 of my other volunteer friends Dan, Ben and Abbie who live in nearby villages to join me for Thanksgiving. We didn’t get to indulge on the typical favorites of cranberries or turkey, but we did make some good homemade mashed potatoes and a random assortment of other Thanksgiving meal creations. Typically back home my family, friends and I would either watch a football game on tv, or go watch a basketball tournament or else I would be playing in a basketball tournament. Here as we ate dinner on my porch we watched the kids play soccer in the path in front of the house. One of my favorite things to do over thanksgiving weekend back home is to spend some good time outdoors with friends and family skiing or hiking. Discussing this with Ben we decided that we should make a hiking trip walking to each others villages, crossing the mountain in between and spending the night halfway at Dan’s post.

So the morning after Thanksgiving, we set off walking out of my village to hike the 20 km up to Dan’s village at the base of Mount Manengumba. Dan’s village is quite isolated having only one route in and out that isn’t always passable during rainy season, but it is a beautifully quaint agriculturally driven village. From his village we set off the next morning to meet two friends of Dan’s who live in the neighboring village along the route up the mountain. The two of them joined us to guide us up through the many paths traversing across the mountain. It wasn’t like climbing mountains back home where the paths lead to the summit, summiting typically isn’t the goal of individuals here. Rather, the paths become a maize leading from one families field to another where everything from café, macabo, taro or medicinal plants are grown. This mountain is well-known in the area for the two stunningly beautiful turquoise crater lakes that rest just below the summit. We sat along one of the lakes and ate our lunch of grilled fish and baton du manioc a typical Cameroonian dish that Dan’s neighbor had packed for us to enjoy along our trek. After leaving the summit we descended down the other side of the mountain passing the huts of the Fulbe cow herders that live atop the mountains raising their cattle. It was The Fete du Mouton an important holiday for the Muslim Fulbes and as we hiked past one of the huts a young boy came out dressed in a suite to chop wood to prepare for the celebration. (I will try to upload a photo of this boy). It was a very contradicting scene standing atop the mountainside regarding the impressive patchwork of the thatched roof and out walks the boy in his suite and tie. That is how life seems to be here though, always contradicting itself and yet I never cease to be surprised and awed.

The region of Western Cameroon in particular is rich with culture, specifically in the tradition of village chiefs. In October I had the honor of being invited to join a couple of my other volunteer friends to attend the installation of a new chief in the village of Badenkup in the West Region of Cameroon. I have now taken part in some incredible ceremonies and celebrations here in Cameroon, but the enthroning of a village chief has no comparison in terms of the magnitude and magnificence of the ceremony.

Every village chief from within the West region of Cameroon attended the ceremony along with dignitaries, government officials and the whole community of Badenkup. We arrived with the chief of the neighboring village, where my friend Kareen is a volunteer, we were sat close to the throne of the new chief and had prime space to view all that was about to take place. This was quite lucky as thousands of people were in attendance at this ceremony, kids had climbed up trees surrounding the field to get a view of the action.

To give a little background, the chief of a village is the traditional leader of a community and the title of chief is passed down within a family from generation to generation. Before a chief passes away he has already told his notables (chief’s advisory counsel) whom he has chosen of his sons to replace him as village chief. The very moment a chief passes away the notables search the chosen son and whisk him away to the secret house where in tradition the notables spend nine months teaching the replacement all the ways of the chiefdom. Also important during this time passed within the secret house the soon to be chief is with his new wife so they can conceive their first child around the time that he will become enthroned. However, for some reason that I didn’t understand the 9 months has now been changed to 9 weeks at least in the circumstance of the new chief of Badenkup.

Imagine, the son of the old chief has just lost his father and has immediately been given the most powerful position in all of the village, now imagine this for a 17 year old boy as in the case of the new chief of Badenkup. At the moment the young chief walked through the entrance leading to the palace grounds the crowd of thousands surrounding the open field erupted with shouts, cheers, song and dance. The young boy kept his face serious and raised his arms in gratitude for the great welcome, but I wondered what was really going through the head of this young boy who had suddenly become the most powerful man in his village while a few weeks before he was just another young boy in the local high school. Now the young boy was standing in the midst of thousands carrying the hopes of a whole village and facing the challenge of carrying the traditions into the modernized world.

Well, I wrote this blog update a few weeks ago thinking I would get to the internet. However, that didn’t happen as soon as I thought it would but yet since I am here today and will post it anyway and will try to post another update with more stories as soon as I get the chance. Unfortunately, I don’t currently have the internet in my village which has made communication a bit challenging, but know that I think of everyone often and wish I could talk to each of you but will continue to update whenever I get the chance.

“Well, now what?” my friend Ben said as the van carrying us and everything we owned arrived in his new town. The doors opened we unloaded his few items into the empty walls that comprised his new home. He spoke exactly what I was feeling. The question is something I ask myself several times a day and each time the answer comes… keep your eyes wide open and be ready for anything.

What does Peace Corps Volunteer in Small Enterprise Development really mean? One thing I can tell you is it is a title left incredibly vague, but I am coming to realize it is left vague for a reason as we were taught in our training as volunteers “your Peace Corps experience is what you make it” (I would add, as with all things in life). That applies to everything from the personal attitude, your personal characteristics and your personal skill sets and ideas that you bring to the community where you live over the two years. Through our training we were taught and given many different tools as far as what as business volunteers we can possibly do within the community. We were also given the very good advice of take your time and get established in the community learn first off just how to function as a member of that community which includes everything from learning to live on your own in a completely different society (can’t begin to capture all of the details of this but I will say I am just beginning to get the “hang of life” here after just over a month), continuing working on language skills, meeting people and examining the current social and economic climate of the area. We are also each given a partner within the community as a basis and an entry into the business atmosphere, mine is a micro-finance institution. So currently my time is spent with several days a week at the institution understanding how they function, continuing taking language lessons with a tutor who is a teacher in the local high school and my favorite project thus far creating a young girls sports group.

I don’t know how to capture all of the details of this last month but everyday is a something new and I never truly know what will happen as I step outside of my door but I guess that is one of the things that I love the most.

Here is what I wrote in my journal while sitting on my front porch...just to give you an image of what I see.

I have a balcony with a view that is incredibly serene tremendously large palm trees stretch from the rolling green hills into the tropical jungle routes that line their way to family’s fields where they grow all types of fruit, vegetables and tubercules. To my southwest the clouds are breaking slowly revealing the summit of Mount Kupe, the sun is hitting the top at this very minute and highlighting the clouds floating in behind. Yes, sitting up on my second floor balcony seems like a dream site, and it is, it is a welcomed respite but as with all here I am living in a world of contrasts for at this very moment I am also looking across at two older men who seem to be having a peeing contest on the wall of the house in front of mine. This isn’t just any house it is also a palm wine shop (bars that only sell one drink the fermented juices from the palm trees) and from what I can tell there are typically about 15 people within the small wood paneled shack, this includes about 7 kids who range in age from around 6 months to 7 years old. This is just one of 4 palm wine shops that line the other side of the route to my house. While I hope that I have visitors here in Manjo from the states, I know that not many of you will get a chance to sit on my balcony with me. Anyway, hope this gives you somewhat of a visual.

My time here in Bangangte has quickly come to an end and it is with so many emotions that this week culminates. I am proud to have completed the intense 11 weeks of Peace Corps training, excited for what is to come as I become a Volunteer and move into my new community, but sad to move on from all the memories and relationships that have been created here in Bangangte over the last couple of months.

The past few months have been full of huge life adjustments moving from Colorado and flying to Philadelphia for pre-service training where I met the 29 other volunteers who will be serving throughout Cameroon over the next 2 years, then leaving Philly to arrive in Yaoundé for our first week of in country orientation, and leaving Yaoundé to move in with my host family in Bangangte where all 30 of us have completed the intense language, culture and technical training for our role as volunteers. Now, we find ourselves getting ready to make the biggest transition yet: on Thursday the 20th each of us will part our separate ways to different regions of the country where we will serve in our own community over the next 2 years. Throughout each of these adjustments one learns to role with the punches, patience in all situations, excepting of uncertainty, and that laughter is always the best medicine.

My move this week is filled with uncertainty as I have just a small idea of what my life will be like over the next few years there. However, along with the uncertainty comes the certainty of new friendships, new experiences and new adventures yet to be had.

I think it is now officially rainy season here in Bangante. I had been told it was rainy season when we arrived in Cameroon, but I guess that was the light rainy season. Now it pours everyday and the dirt roads turn to pools of mud or sometimes rivers of mud. The season lasts until around December when dry season begins. This past Saturday started off to be so beautiful and after finishing class at noon I was convinced that it would be a perfect day to take my new mountain bike out for a test ride. Test ride it definitely was, after convincing three other Peace Corps trainees that it would be a great day for an exploration ride outside of town we departed under sunny skies. About 40 minutes out the clouds stretched in and the skies immediately opened up on us leaving us on the red dirt road in the pouring down rain. I loved it! Well that was until my bike refused to go any further because the chain ring was so full of mud that it couldn’t turn itself any more and kept derailing. We made it back to town soaking wet and covered in mud only to find out that the electricity in town was cut off as usual. When the electricity is cut off unfortunately the water is as well. So here we were covered in mud soaked to the bone and no way to clean off. Luckily when we arrived at the Peace Corps house, where we have our training classes, there were a couple buckets of water sitting on the balcony just enough for all of us to share for a bucket bath. Good thing, as even though there is nothing comparable to the boue (mud in French pronounced boo) of Bangangte the Cameroonians are terrified of being dirty.

We are coming to a close with Peace Corps training and will officially become volunteers on the 19th. As we reach the end of training our schedule remains intense this week we have each given 30 minute presentations on anything culturally Cameroonian and I am in the process of working on a report for a small business I have been consulting with over the last month I am currently on my 8th page (in French) hence the break of typing a blog! Being a bit tired I did what I know best to be rejuvenating for me, I went out on a run. This was my first one in Bangangte that I was not joined by either Karen my Peace Corps running partner or Stefon my Cameroonian running partner. I ran out to a village several miles away and allowed myself to escape all of the stresses of completing training and arranging moving across country to my new post within the next 10 days. On my way back, following the small dirt path that led from the village into the town of Bangante, I came upon a hill and had my heart sink at the site of two men standing in the middle of the trail with their arms up in the air, one clenching a machete the other a wooden bat. The two of them yelled something at one another and it didn’t sound to me like either French or Pidgin, though I wasn’t sure with their rushed harsh voices. I stopped in my tracks hoping maybe they haven’t seen me I have time back away, then I noticed them glance down at the same moment and that is when I caught a glimpse of what was causing the ruckus…a green snake stretched across the path, and at that moment the machete came down right on its head. Well, that was the end of that situation. The two men looked at me and started laughing, I thanked them telling them I don’t like snakes and that they saved me and ran off. Endless adventures around every corner!

Well, that covers the snakes and machetes that I mentioned in the title…now what about the marriage proposals you may ask? Well, passing a week here and not receiving a marriage proposal may cause me to look back and wonder what went wrong in that week. This week though was extra special as during one of the marriage proposals my friend Sequoria decided to make it into a game and see how much she could “sell me for” apparently I was worth 100 chickens, 50 head of cattle and 25 goats…nothing like a boost in confidence than to be told you are worth more than 175 animals!

The mention of marriage proposals also ties nicely into my day yesterday as I had the honor of meeting a chief who has 150 wives! All of us Peace Corps trainees were invited to the palace of the village chief of Bamougoum. This was quite the experience. We arrived at the palace of the chief to groups of dancers surrounding the entrance chanting and dancing their welcome to us. We were then given a tour of most of the palace grounds, though that did not include viewing the “secret forest” which most intrigued me. Afterwards we got to feast with the chief and a select few of his wives. I have had the opportunity to meet several chiefs thus far during my time in Cameroon but the chief we met yesterday was my favorite as his dynamic and welcoming personality radiated to each of us making us feel right at home on his palace’s grounds. Not too at home though...I definitely don't want to become the 151st wife!

This photo was taken in Manjo, the town where I will be working over the next two years. While there visiting last month I was invited to the ceremony for the new mayor and got to see my first traditional dance with the chiefs of the surrounding villages. The man dressed in red and black is one of the village chiefs.

My host mom and I on my birthday wearing the new outfit that she sewed for me. She was quite proud that I looked like a vraie Cameroonaise wearing the traditional pagne and fular.

Mon petit frere Luic helping prepare dinner in our backyard.

Time seems to fly by quickly here even though basic life functions (i.e. washing one's shoes I still haven't gotten that down to under an hour) don't happen at quite the same pace as in the states. I am sitting in my room writting this post out on a piece of paper using light from my valued headlamp right now. The power seems to go out regularly here in Bangantem though unpredictably, and truthfully there are times when I kind of enjoy the silence that the dark drapes over the town. Though it seems taht the power is cut literally every time I get a few spare moments to walk to the internet in town or else once I begin to create a post it is lost with the connection. Hence the reason for starting to handwrite this post.

So much has happened since my last post, I celebrated my first of three birthdays that I will spend in Cameroon and it was probably one of my best days since being in country. It began with a sunrise run with my friend and fellow volunteer Karin and my Cameroonian friend Stefon. Afterwards I dressed in my new Cameroonian dress (will try to post a photo of that soon) which my host mom had sewn for me. The morning at school was filled with excitement as our gropu of small enterprise development volunteers had a ceremony in which we each found out where we will be posted for the next two years once we finish training. I will be working in a small town caleed Manjo in the Littoral Region of Western Cameroon. I spent the week following my birthday traveling to my new post exploring the area, meeting with the micro finance institution who I will be partnering with and staying with the current volunteer Autumn who I will be replacing at the end of August.

It was the first time I had left the area around Bangangte in over a month. I was excited to get out and see a new part of Cameroon, though I have to admit I was also a little nervous as it was my first time heading off on my own trying to find my new town and relying on my developing French skills add to that the confusion of traveling within a developing country and you have quite the adventure. The typical means of transportation here in Cameroon include motos, bush taxis(cars that look like they should have been retired ages ago and are meant to seat 4 but are crammed with 8), and autobus which looks like a slightly larger 14 passenger van. You never know what you may see on one of these wild rides. Typically cargo will include pigs, goats, chickens or motorcycles loaded on the roofs of these vans and if you are lucky the animals will share the space in the van with you. The van often pulls off to the side of the road seemingly in the middle of nowhere then suddenly the van becomes surrounded by kids selling food from baskets on their heads the windows on the bus are all opened for the bartering process to begin.

I had no idea what to expect of my new post, two days before when I had received the sheet of paper with the name of my new town I had to walk to the map to seek out its location within the country. As my bus descended down the valley into the agriculturally driven town of Manjo I was happily surprised by the landscape as mountains reach out of tropical palm tree filled land. I am also located just several hours from the black sand beaches of Limbe a coastal town from which Mount Cameroon rises. My week spent in Manjo was filled, I got to attend the ceremony for the new mayor of the town where I witnessed my first traditional dance put on by the chiefs of all the surrounding villages. Drums played and the traditional chiefs danced in a circle all while being chased by some costumed creatures. I don't know how to describe exactly what I saw so I will just have to post some photos of this experience. I also have to admit that I am already feeling a lack of writing skills when it comes to English as I have now begun learning my second language here other than French. I ahve currently begun to learn Pidgin and am being taught Pidgin in French. Many of the villages surrounding Manjo speak Pidgin and I hope to have the opportunity to work with some groups in these villages. Needless to say between taking in the two new languages and continuing to adjust to my new surroundings my mind seems to be a bit jumbled at the moment.

We have now passed the halfway point of our time as trainees with the Peace Corps and I have to say it is great to now hold in my mind a vision of my new community. I am able to approach the rest of my training with a more clear idea of exactly how I would like to take all that we learn in training and put the concepts to use and practice in my new community.

Bonjour tout le monde

I have officially been living in Cameroon for 3 weeks! Communications has been quite difficult so sorry for the lack of blogs I will make the best effort to stay in contact but it is definitely more difficult than I thought. Though I have to remind myself I am just figuring things out here!

Well, I am currently in my fourth week of Peace Corps Training and starting my third week in Bangante a town in the West Region of Cameroon. With this being my first blog entry in country I find it difficult to begin! Every moment of everyday is something new especially with living with a Cameroonian family who doesn't speak any English. No better way to understanding the Cameroonian lifestyle than to live with a family of 8, 9 including me the new "blanche" sister!

Well before going into the many stories that I have I figured I should give you all a little bacground on the country in which I will be living for the next several years so when you read this blog you can have an idea of where I am writing from.

Cameroon is a country of about 18 million, located at the convergence of the West African countries and those of Central Africa. It was colonized by the French and the British and composed of 10 regions; 8 Francophone and 2 Anglophone. French is spoken by over 80 percent of the country and there are another 239 languages spoken throughout Cameroon. This being one of the reasons that Cameroon received its nickname of "Africa in Miniature." Many tribal groups call Cameroon home including the Pygmies down in the south and the east regions. The geography of the country varies greatly from rainforest, savanah, jungle, desert, game parks to mountains (Mount Cameroon is the tallest peak in W. Africa which I cant wait to climb!).

Peace Corps Training is quite similar to the concept of the Block Plan at Colorado College, intense submersion. We have class 6 days a week and typically 8 hours a day. We have classes on the economic and political landscape, history, culture and of course French. I must say the French spoken here takes a lot of getting used to. Even those fluent in French before arriving have had to adjust to the completely different accent and vocabulary used.

The land around Bangante is quite beautiful with green rolling hills, fruit trees and more red dirt/mud than you could ever imagine. My favorite part of my days here have been my morning runs. The clouds settle in the hills and from the soccer field close to my house you can look over all the town. My mom and two of my sisters and my neighbor have joined me on separate occasions and they all absolutely love how much I like "faire du sport." I am greeted on my runs with shouts of "du courage" However, there is one down side to running here and that is all the dirt/mud coupled with the fact that in Cameroon it is highly important to keep one shoes clean. I am talking white as new clean even with running shoes! Everytime I return home after a run my mama tells me "tes chaussures sont tres sales" if she had her way I would wash them everyday. We have now come to the agreemenat that once a week for each of my shoes is good enough. It is quite the affair to try to get the shoes clean and took me an hour to clean them to where they passed the inspection of my sisters and neighbor who watched over the fence and laughed while I struggled to clean them yesterday.

Well, I have plenty more stories compiling from entering a family with completely different customs, living arrangements and of course language than myself. For now I will just say that I found myself laughing often or digging deep for patience.

In less than 2 weeks I will found out my "post" for the next two years! All of the Business Volunteers find out on July 9th, my bday! Should be a great bday present to actually know where I will be living while in Cameroon!

Hope all is well for each of you...I have gotten a cell phone here which surprisingly is more reliable than the internet access! My phone number is 01123775523720 so if you ever want to text or call feel free! Calling from Skype is the cheapest option that I know of thus far. My address is Corps de la Paix, Ashley Johnson Peace Corps Volunteer, B.P. 215 Yaounde, Cameroon.

Lots of Love!

~Ashley

I am sitting here in Philadelphia outside a restaurant enjoying my last true American meal replaying the steps that have taken me to this place. Tomorrow I enter pre-service training as a Peace Corps Volunteer. The application process to become a volunteer began at the beginning of July this past year when I decided the time had come to stop dreaming of this grand adventure and begin to pursue it. I would actually say that I started down this past many many more years ago as the kid who would run along bear inhabited trails in Alaska trying to tackle the greatest challenges and explore the furthest places. I can say one thing in life that God has certainly blessed me with is an Adventurous spirit!

After many months of waiting in the uncertainty of the application process and awaiting medical clearance (that's right all of those surgeries did not hold me back;) I received my invitation to become a Small Business Development Volunteer for The Peace Corps in the country of Cameroon in West Africa. I was thrilled to receive my invitation to serve in Cameroon for many reasons, one of them being that my Uncle Dean served in the Peace Corps years ago in Cameroon. I am just amazed at the fact that I have been placed in the same country as he volunteered.

I am excited for all that this opportunity has to offer me including the chance to offer my service to my country as well as the country of Cameroon. I hope that my time in Cameroon will prove to be a time of growth for myself and for those that I have the chance to work alongside. I would appreciate all of the prayers, support and encouragement that you can provide me throughout the next 27 months. I also want to thank each of you for being such an important part of my life. I can honestly say that I am surrounded by the most amazing individuals who love and care for me so well and who continually challenge me to reach outside myself and seek to leave the world around a better place. Thank you for being a part of my life and thank you for your support as I embark on this great journey!

God Bless and Take Care I will miss all of you tremendously!

~Ashley