Once again, its been ages since I've updated. Remember the good ol' days of weekly updates?

I guess it's only natural that my blog updating frequency should decrease since I havent had email access in my village for over 3 months. In fact I haven't had ELECTRICITY in my village for oever 2 months. I still write though. I write everyday in my journal. I think I will soon fill up all 500 pages in my journal. Not bad.

I am a little more inspired than I was yesterday, so lets see if I can dish out some real substance in this entry.

I spent the night vomiting. I had a fever. It continued into the morning. My bones ache, my head hurts, my stomach is twisted into knots. This could be my first bout with the legendary illness known as MALARIA! Quite frankly, I’m ecstatic about it. I think it’s comparable to surviving a gunshot. Sadly, Malaria leaves no scars, but my story will echo in the halls of eternity.

SCHOOOOOOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER! SCHOOOOOOOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER! Hells yea. Professor Banick has some time off. That teaching 6 hours per week really took a toll on me. I’m going to spend the next three months, traveling, sitting under the mango tree, and just appreciating all the beauty and frustrations this marvelous country has to offer.

My dear old friend Stan (80 yr old post mate) has decided his time in Cameroon is up. He will be ending his service and returning to the States next Friday. Its really sad to see him go, I’ve had a lot of good times with the guy, he may be the funniest and most clever SOB I’ve ever known. I’m happy for him, though, he knows its time to go, and he’s got three wonderful kids to be with in the States. Stan, Richard and I have spent countless evenings sipping gin, and playing scrabble at Stan’s mansion (by PC standards). Good bye old friend! There is a great picture of Richard, Stan and I (the Nanga-Eboko crew on Richards website, this was taken at Stan’s 80th b-day party, click here)

The volunteer group that arrived a year before me is gradually heading back to the states. A new group arrives next Saturday. The winds of change blow once again. Hard to believe, I’m just a year away from my return to reality. Occasionally I think about what I will do when I get back, a very commonly pondered topic among volunteers. My plan involves Hollywood, fame, and piles of money, which I will donate to Africa.

Okay, that’s all for now. Stay healthy

Good Afternoon, Bon Soir, and Beum Beu Goré as they say here in Nanga Eboko. I have started taking Ewondo (local language) lessons for which Peace Corps will reimburse me. The lessons are given by neighbour, Achille. When I leave this country I will be QUADRILINGUAL. I can just imagine sitting through a job interview back in the states while the interviewer reads through my resumé: “Oh, I see that you speak several languages. French, okay…Spanish, uh huh…wait! YOU SPEAK EWONDO!? Mr. Banick, this is great, we have been looking for an Ewondo speaker. Its such an important language in the world market. PLEASE accept our offer. How does 2 million per year sound?” “Full benefits?” “Of course, Mr. Banick, this is America.” “6 months vacation per year?” “Well, I don’t think that’s p-” “Do you want an Ewondo speaker or not, buddy?” “yes, um, agreed, 6 months vacation. So can we have you?” “Ma di coupe. That means I eat chicken, in ewondo. And no, you cant have me, I cant stand working 6 months out of the year, that’s rediculous. Good bye NTANGEN (White man)” Ah, what an interview that will be. Anyway, back to reality. Yéyé, the little 3 year old who lives in the house behind mine came up to my door the other day. She was just standing on my porch, seemingly doing nothing, with a completely uninterested look on her face. When all of a sudden, she started to urinate on my door step. She’s just standing there, urinating, on my doorstep, like its nothing. I yell “Yéyé! Qu’est que tu fait? (what are you doing?)” She just stares at me, giving me this look like “what does it look like I’m doing white man? A little privacy please!” When she finished she just walked away, casually, like it was nothing. Does she pee on everyone’s doorstep? Is this a facet of Cameroonian Child Culture that I have yet to discover? No, according to her 5 brothers, she just pees where she wants to. So as I’m trying to clean it, my little cat (named black man) comes over to have a taste…just crazy I tell you, the things that can happen on my front porch. Luckily I removed Black Man (my cat) from the puddle before he got to drink it. The gender of my cat (named Black Man) has been determined. White Man’s cat is indeed a male. Black Man is a male. Thanks for the gender determination tips GMA and GPA. I know, you are still waiting for pictures. Here’s the deal: I have no AA batteries for Camera at the moment and the one’s they sell here are too weak to power it. I figure, since Blake will be here 2 weeks from today (WOOOHOOO, its about bloody time), and since he is a professional photographer with a full arsenal of high powered photographic weapons, I will let his pictures do the talking. He is going to take MANY MANY MANY pictures of our grand adventures all over Cameroon, and they will all be posted. You can count on that. Please trust me here. As long as Blake hasn’t screwed up his Visa Application, or lost his Yellow Fever Vaccination card, there should be no problems. Please, don’t screw anything up buddy, please. What else. Oh, I’m getting really good at carrying buckets of water. Its becoming my daily workout. Trekking down the old dirt path to the water source. The best time to go is around 10 a.m. when kids are at school, otherwise the place is like Water world (the water park). Children everywhere, waiting in line to get water, bathing, cleaning, having water fights, staring at me. One of my buckets is labelled “Laundry” in black marker. I was at the water source the other day when I overheard a little girl tell her friend “see, the white man’s name is ‘Laundry’, its written right there on the bucket.” I had to clarify things for these confused little girls. I can handle being called ‘white man’ all the time, but I will not be known as ‘Laundry.’ That is unacceptable. Since my house is on the dirt road that leads to the high school, I am treated to a parade of gawking high school students everyday around 3pm as they walk home from school. Some of them just stare at me. Some of them make comments about me which I can hear (Either they think I don’t understand French, I am deaf, or they just don’t care). I hear things like “look, the white man cleans his dishes.” Or “I hear the white man keeps his cat INSIDE the house, like a child.” Or, “who is this WHITE MAN?” Sometimes they just yell “BLANC!” or “WHITE.” I tend to ignore or just stare back at everyone, except for the yellers. I always talk to the yellers. They say “WHITE!” and I say “BLACK! Come over here for a minute.” They are usually a bit taken back by my demands, but they always end up coming over. I give them a little lecture about me having a name, that it isn’t White, or Blanc, just as their name isn’t ‘black’ or ‘noir.’ They listen with open ears, and they are usually very good about calling me Allen every time they see me thereafter. That is one of my Peace Corps projects, and it is quite a success. My other projects involve cleaning my house (a never ending process, the second I finish, the dishes somehow get dirty again, dust builds up again, and all the stuff I put away has found its way back to where it shouldn’t be. I am a very messy neat freak. My house is either a disaster area or it is immaculate.) I also play a ton of SCRABBLE with my post mates Richard and Stan. We play SCRABBLE all over town, usually at a bar in the company of a cold beer. I also read a ton. There is a great library on the University Campus where I will be teaching that Richard is working on organizing. There is a whole selection of books in English and French, covering all subjects. I am really enjoying myself in Nanga Eboko. I haven’t really started doing much ‘real peace corps work’ here, but I am quickly realizing that ‘real Peace Corps work’ is the stuff that isn’t ‘Real Peace Corps work.’ It really involves hanging out with the neighbours, knowing the culture, communicating, sharing ideas. People are getting to know me and my culture, and I am getting to know them and their culture. It’s a great exchange and I am learning a lot from it just as they are. I have IST (In Service Training) week after next. I will be at a hotel for a week, and rumor has it, they will be showing the super bowl there, and there is a swimming pool. That will be FANTASTIC. Five days later, its HELLO BLAKE NOLAN. For the next month after that, it’s the craziest adventure ever embarked upon. You will read and see all about it. PEACE

Whats happenin people,

Its been a while, you look older, as do I. I am a bit dusty after the long journey to the Peace Corps office from my dusty old cow town. Before I wash up, let me update this blog, it been a while.

I may have stated this before, but the trip from my town, Nanga Eboko, to the capital, Yaounde, is done in old beat up prison buses. These things were built by the french sometime in the 60's and they are now used to cover the 150 or so mile stretch of dirt road from my town to the city. The road is dusty and treachorous, very dangerous. The beat up old vans speed around corners at high speeds swirving around herds of cattle and lumber trucks. I always tie a hankerchief around my face to avoid inhaling the massive amounts of dust that fly in the windows. Its the dry season here and that means dust and heat like its nodbody's business. On my way here I was treated to two blown out tires, which is an average day on the road. It took about 5 hours this time. If this trip were done on an American highway, it would probably take about 1.5 hours, no kidding. The amazing thing is that these beat up old buses actually still work. They are never really inspected before they go anywhere, they are just fixed when something breaks, and something always breaks. Luckily there is always a teenager on the bus whose only job is to fix stuff and he is usually pretty good.

Anyway, besides the travel, my new post is FANTASTIC. My house is pretty much set up now. I had a local guy make me all kinds of furniture, I painted the walls sky blue, I painted a mural of a pacific ocean sunset on one of my walls (I miss the ocean soooooo much, even though I havent lived by the ocean in 10 years). I got a little cat who I named BLACK. The cat is actually black and white and grey, but I named it BLACK because everyone in town calls me WHITE. Its name is really "Evindi" which means black in the local language. I am called "ntangen" which means white. So now all the little kids in my neighborhood run around screaming "evindi" looking for my cat. I call the cat "it" because I dont really know if it is a "he" or a "she" The gender of the cat is TBD. When I find out I will get it SPAYED/NEUTERED because I dont want my cat sleeping around, thats not cool. My cat is very nice. Sometimes it thinks its a dog, it licks my hands and it comes running to me when i whistle.

I take a bucket bath once a day to keep myself so fresh and so clean. In exactly FOUR WEEKS I will be teaching BLAKE NOLAN how to take a bucket bath. Blake is from L.A., I think this bucket bath business might be a little intimidating for such a pretty boy, hahahaha, he has NO IDEA what is coming.

My neighbors are all very friendly. The guy across the dirt road from me is my best friend in town. He takes care of everything. He spends his days sitting outside of his house making clothes, yes, he is a taylor. he uses an ancient sewing machine and a REALLY OLD iron that is heated by COALS. Yeah, he puts hot coals insde the iron, and IT WORKS. Straight out of 1870. John also takes care of my cat when I leave, he washes my clothes and he scrubs my floors (dont worry, I pay him well). I like to go out for beers with John, everyone in town knows this guy, it makes me feel cool and not so white.

I bought a t-shirt the other day that says "CRACKER" on the front, I wear it everywhere. Nobody really understands it here, but I think its hilarious. The second hand t-shirts you can buy here are great, and they only cost about a dollar. I got another one that says "Porn Star" Again, people dont understand it here, but as long as I am entertained!

I have started tutoring students in English. I havent started teaching at the high school, I wont start until the third trimester which starts in March. But get this, how does "Professor Allen Banick the Third" sound? Thats right peole, I have been contacted by the local UNIVERSITY to teach english. I havent accepted the offer yet, but they have offered me a very lucrative deal which includes: access to the internet cafe and to a cafeteria which serves large portions of not-so-good food at excellent prices. Hard to resist! I will let you know.

What else? I like kids, and thats good because there is a constant flow of children in and out of my little house. They are very easy to entertain, I must say. they come in and play with my can opener, my nail clippers, and they read through my newsweek magazines. In exchange for my kindness, they get me water from the well, they clean my shoes, and they fetch me beer at the store. its quite an arrangement I tell you.

All in all, my life in dusty old Nanga Eboko beats my life in Bafoussam, although I do miss my friends and tennis in bafoussam. I am quickly making new friends in Nanga and I have two outstanding postmates (Richard and Stan) with whom I play many exciting games of scrabble. Scrabble has become a favorite passtime for me, African nights in the village would be a little boring without it.

Its been a while since my trip to the beach, which was one of the most relaxing weeks I've enjoyed in a LONG TIME. I spent most of the time with Jen, laying in the sand, eating fish and shrimp, drinking expensive beer (prices go up by the beach), and doing nothing. I want to buy property on the coast here before I go. Apparently you can purchase beautiful beachfront property for a whopping 1000 dollars an acre in some areas. yeah thats right. If anyone is interested in investing, let me know.

For those of you who have sent me packages, I have some news. I still havent received any packages and I just found out that all mail is being held up in the port city of Douala due to some postal strike or something. this is good news really because it means the mail isnt lost and that I MAY ONE DAY SEE IT.

Thats all for now. I will be updating more frequently, especially after BLAKES VISIT! WHOOOHOOOO, BLAKE NOLAN come on down. Yeeeeeeahh.

Peace

(This blog entry was formerly in the form of a mass email to all my family and friends...)

Ho Ho Ho

I can't believe that time of year is already upon us again. I look outside and nothing is different. It's still hot, the palm trees still have leaves (do palm trees have leaves?), the shopping malls are the same as they always are (non existant), and life is good.

Here's wishing you a happy holiday season from the armpit of Africa. I know some of you have been expecting emails from me for a while, others dont care to read this email, and others are pissed because I havent been updating my blog.

I have been quite busy here in the past month or so. It all started with me switching posts and moving from the dirtiest loudest most aggressive city in the world, to one of the dustiest, quietest, most peaceful little towns in the world. This is one of the better decisions I've made in my life as I am a thousand times happier now. Starting in January I get to work with kids, tutoring them in English and possibly taking on teaching high school english classes. This is a daunting task consdering class sizes range from 80 to 120 students. I look forward to the challenge and it will be a great relief from sitting in corrupt banks preteding I know what im doing. My new town is called NANGA EBOKO (no relation to EBOLA VIRUS). I still have my cell phone for those of you who care to call. Unfortunately internet access may be more rare for me, so those blog updates may not come as often as i would like them to.

For Christmas I am heading down to see my host family with whom I lived for my 2 months of training when I first got here. I look forward to it, apparently the beer and food and festivities and family will be plentiful. I do miss the holiday season in the states, where I would normally be watching Bronco games with my Dad and going to Reno to visit my lovely sisters. Not to worry, I get to do all that good stuff again in '06.

For New Years, if any of you are cold, you can think of me, as I will be spending 5 nights in the beachside resort of Kribi Cameroon. White sandy beaches, cold beer, warm water, and a new years buffet. I will be accompanied by a lovely young lady named Jen. I am tanned already, I will be a true african after this trip. Then its back to NANGA EBOKO to teach. Then I only have to wait a month for my bEST BUDDY BLAKE NOLAN to come on down to the armpit for a month of exciting adventures roaming this chaotic country.

MERRY CHISTMAS, HAPPY CHANNUKAH, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Love Al, Allen, Abay, Mr. Banick, Alain, etc.

Its been a very very long time. Even since I teased everyone with my last entry.

Let me explain myself because I can. Actually, we'll just start this off at the beginning. Rewind back to Thursday, November 18th 2004. This is where is all began.

I was in Bafoussam, feeling sick as I had been for the past month. Sore throat, coughing, sneezing, itchy eyes, typical allergy symptoms. This is really nothing to complain about, but since it had been a month straight of constant fatigue and overall feeling like crap, and since the doctor in Bafoussam didnt do anything helpful, I decided to take a trip down to Yaounde to see the peace corps doctor here.

On the long bush taxi rides, one has plenty of time to think, especially when there isn't anyone trying to sell you herbal miracle cure all medecine. As the man seated next to me started to nod off and rest his head on my shoulder (acceptable here, in fact you cant really get away from it), about an hour into the trip, I started to realize some things. I realized that I was getting very tired of Bafoussam, very quickly. I realized that I didn't come to the Peace Corps to play tennis which is what I was doing 5 times a week. I realized how happy I was everytime I got to leave Bafoussam to spend time in a village. I realized how much I like the peace and quiet and clean air as opposed to the constant rumble of diesel engines and all the wonderful smells they create. I realized I really hate sitting in an office without any real purpose. I realized there is no use wasting my time here if I am the least bit unhappy. I realized that I really like Cameroon, the people, and my potential contribution to development here. I realized I wanted a change of scenery. I only get this one opportunity in my life to really live a rural african lifestyle, so why not take advantage of it. Quite frankly, when you remove all the awkward scenery, life in bafoussam wasnt much different than life in any american city (granted its actually very different, but playing tennis and surfing the internet can be done in any american city).

When I arrived in yaounde, I spoke to my program director who was very supportive of my decision and he said he would begin to search for a new post for me. He said it wouldnt take longer than a few weeks to get this thing done. I also visited the peace corps doctor while in town, she gave me claritin and my allergies dissappeared. All of a sudden I was feeling great, full of hope and optimistic, free of allergies.

Now it's Saturday November 20th. I decided to visit my friend jen before heading back to post in Bafoussam. Jen doesnt live far from Yaounde and her village is especially small and remote. What was supposed to be a 1 day visit, turned into a 5 day visit. I had a great time experiencing more of "the simple life." Many things happened in this village while I was there. I met a bunch of cute little kids who love candy. I gave them lots of candy which is bad for Jen because they now expect a bunch of candy for doing nothing. she usually makes them fetch water from the well to earn the candy. I also attended a few of the classes she teaches, as she is a TEFL volunteer (english teacher). I had a great time in the classes and the experience made me want to try out teaching for myself (the pieces are all coming together). She let me teach one of her classes. I had no lesson plan, so I resorted to teaching the (clean) lyrics to "Ain't nothin' but a G thang" by snoop dogg and dr. dre.

1 2 3 and to the 4

snoop doggy dogg and dr dre.

is at the door

ready to make an entrance

so back on up

etc...

It went over pretty well. By the end of class I had all 25 students standing, rapping, and waving their arms like they just dont care. I asked myself "what in the hell am I doing working in a bank?" I realized my calling in the world.

Another thing happened at jen's. A baby was born. My first son. Yeah, a lot can happen in a week. Jen is very close to the baby's parents (she's close to everyone in the village for that matter), and they wanted to name the baby after her. Unfortunately the baby turned out to be a boy. Since I happened to be with Jen when we walked into the house to visit the newborn baby, they decided it was only right to name him after me. Allen Jean something something is a healthy little newborn and I am proud to be his "godfather." the scary part is that the whole family thinks that I am going to take this kid back to the states and provide for him. I have some explaining to do upon my return to that village! I did offer him diapers, a little sweater, and some other baby stuff that jen picked out. I cant wait to teach him how to play baseball and take him fishing and camping and stuff...

Okay, time is running low...

After all that I went to this town called Nanga Eboko for Thanksgiving. A bunch of volunteers got together there and we had a wonderful TURKEY dinner (slaughtered the day before by our friends). I also spoke to a fellow volunteer who is posted in this small town who happened to be moving to a new town for various reasons. I saw her soon to be vacant house in the quaint quiet vollage, and I fell in love with the place. It is such a change from dirty smelly bafoussam. The town is small and reminiscent of the wild west, dusty, run down, saloons, you name it. I live in a little neighborhood with many children and a well where I fetch water (or send kids to fetch water). I love the place and I love the peace and quiet, this is the peace corps I expected. The trip to Nanga from Yaounde, the capital takes four hours. It is done in VERY OLD BEAT UP 4x4 mini buses, it is completely unpaved, the buses break down EVERY TIME (a tire blew out on my last trip). Needless to say, getting there is a pain in the arse, but it is well worth the struggle.

So I have been there a week now. I still have cellphone service (so you can call me) and there is an internet connection at the university where two of my fellow volunteers are working. I should be able to keep updating this blog at least every two weeks (not as frequently as in Bafoussam where I was surrounded by internet cafes). I wont be able to play tennis anymore :( But I wont risk my life everyday getting hit by cars :) You win some you lose some, but in this case I win more than I lose.

I will take pictures, I will post them, I will write more about my post, I promise. For now, I can tease you with this one picture of my new house.

Time is out,

gotta run. Thanks for your patience this time, I know its been forever!

A bientot!

Its been a long CRAZY time since my last entry.

I dont feel like writing now because the crazyness has yet to end. It should be all settled by tuesday.

Here's a little preview:

Cameroonian baby is born, I am chosen as his God-father (and his parents name him after me which means he is Allen the 4th and I dont have to name my first son Allen!).

Tales from a week spent in the village of all villages

My first experience teaching (involved me teaching and performing a song by Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre to a class of 10th grade Cameroonian village kids)

Watching a mob of people attack some guy, police pull out guns.

Catching a man in the act of pick pocketing me at a train station, screaming at him, and then watching him get attacked by security guards.

Getting scammed for 5000 francs (10 bucks)

Riding in a Cameroonian train.

Thanksgiving CAMEROONIAN style

and last but not least A MAJOR CHANGE IS TAKING PLACE for me (details to come)...

Stay tuned

I went to FOUMBAN today.

You ask “What is FOUMBAN? And who cares if you went there?” “Well,” I say, “FOUMBAN is a place, 50 miles north of Bafoussam. And I’ll tell you why my going there is a big deal, just relax, OK?”

Yeah folks, I went to FOUMBAN. Let it be known that on November 15th, 2004, I went to FOUMBAN. I’ll tell you about this fascinating destination in a moment. But I want to give you a little background information first.

The day started like any other Monday in Bafoussam. I woke up. I ate some eggs. I drank some coffee. I listened to the radio. At about 8:00 am, Pat and I left the apartment for our 7:30 meeting which usually starts at 9:00. So, as usual, we left a half an hour late for our meeting, which would get us to work 45 minutes early for that same meeting. We are such overachievers, always a half an hour late for meetings that start an hour and a half late. Cameroon.

And, like 3 out of 4 Mondays per month, this particular weekly meeting never happened. Our “counterparts” didn’t show up, as usual, and we sat around. I distracted myself for about an hour with a funny book. At about 9:30 we decided to leave. On our way out, the secretary said that they probably wouldn’t show up today. THANKS for the info.

With nothing else to do, I went to the internet café, a typical Monday morning destination. After that, since I still had nothing else to do, I went to “Sweet Home,” my favorite little neighborhood restaurant. At Sweet Home, they never serve what’s on the menu, but there is always something to eat. Pat and I are regulars there. If we are too lazy to cook and don’t feel like taking our chances with street food, we go to Sweet Home. In the morning, you can eat omelets there, for lunch you can usually get rice, tomato sauce, lukewarm chicken, soggy green stuff, and if you’re lucky, white beans. In the evening, you’re lucky if you can get rice and tomato sauce. Sweet home is the ONLY restaurant that we know of in Bafoussam that consistently has food. In Cameroon, there are many places with signs that say “restaurant,” but nine times out of ten they don’t serve food. The signs are probably left over from a better era in Cameroon when they actually had tourists to fill the restaurants.

After eating my second breakfast (it’s always a good idea to have two breakfasts because you never know if you will be able to find lunch, unless you go to Sweet Home), I went home. On the 1.5-mile walk from Sweet Home to the apartment, you always pass by the “Foumban boys.” The Foumban boys are a group of men that harass people into going to Foumban. “Why would they do that?” you ask. Well, let me explain how travel works here, in Cameroon.

In Cameroon, you travel by “Bush Taxi.” I’ve explained what these Bush Taxis are in previous blog entries (dirty old beat up 15 passenger vans that are stuffed with 25 people). In large cities, such as Bafoussam, there are several “Gare Routieres” (literally, “Road Stations,”). These are departure places for the Bush Taxis. There are different Gare Routieres for different destinations. The Gare Routiere for Foumban and everything North of Bafoussam happens to be down the road from my apartment. At each Gare Routiere, there is a group of men (like the Foumban boys) who fight each other to win customers for the particular travel company they represent. These guys can get pretty aggressive, their competitive spirit often brings them to the brink of all out brawls. I have yet to see them fight, though. In Cameroon, people often seem like they are about to start throwing punches, but they don’t, and five minutes later they are laughing and buying each other beer. These men also like to GRAB your luggage right out of your hand. They fight each other to be the first to GRAB your luggage . I don’t particularly like this luggage grabbing business. On one particular journey to Yaounde, I was forced to bust out a Judo move I learned when I was 11. One of the luggage grabbers wouldn’t let go of my backpack, so I stuck my long leg out behind him, and tripped him, Judo style. He fell backwards onto the pavement and released my bag. Onlookers laughed. I turned away and took my bag to a company OTHER than the one represented by the rude baggage grabber looking up at me from the pavement. Anyway, back to the Foumban story…

So, on my way home from Sweet Home today, I passed the “Foumban Boys” who yell “FOUMBAN?!?! FOUMBAN?!?!” to everyone who happens to pass by. As I passed them, I thought to myself, “today would be a perfect day to give in to these people and go to FOUMBAN.” I figured, “why not see what all the commotion is about?” So the plan was to go home, read a little more out of my funny little book, and then head off to FOUMBAN at around noon. Theoretically, it only takes an hour to get to Foumban. Leaving at noon would have me there by 1:00 with plenty of time to see all the wonderful things the town has to offer.

I went home, read for a while, and then I fell asleep. I didn’t wake up till 12:50, which had me behind schedule already, but I didn’t really expect to leave at 12:00 anyway. At 1:00, I packed my backpack with:

A bottle of water

A funny little book

My CD player

A notebook to take notes about Foumban in.

And some cash to get to Foumban

I left the apartment with a great attitude. “How exciting,” I thought “I’m finally going to Foumban.” I was relieved to be getting out of the sewer of a city I live in to experience the unknown treasures of a faraway land.

I scurried down the street to locate my favorite of “the Foumban boys.” He is my favorite because he is one of the few that knows I live in Bafoussam and that I don’t want to go to Foumban (usually). On most days, instead of grabbing my arm to shove me in the next van headed to Foumban, he shakes my hand and gives me “the snap.” (The snap is the Cameroonian “you’re cool” handshake. It is a classic handshake followed by a snap of the opposing index fingers. Everyone does it. If you don’t know it, you’re not cool.) I figured I would go make my favorite of the Foumban boys happy today by actually going to Foumban for once (the Foumban boys get paid to find passengers). My friend didn’t seem as excited as I thought he would be. Instead of shoving me into the next van to Foumban, he dragged me down the street to a van that didn’t fill up for 2 hours.

2 hours later, I left for Foumban. I literally sat in a hot, sweaty, dirty, smelly van across the street from my apartment for two hours.

I was a little frustrated at this point. I know travel in Cameroon is difficult, but I figured this little trip to Foumban would be a walk in the park (pun intended). I mean, it seems like this whole city is going to Foumban judging from the amount of harassment we get on a daily basis from the Foumban boys. I guess I was wrong.

I arrived in Foumban at 4:00 pm. This is bad because I wanted to leave Foumban at 5:00 to be home before dark. It is unsafe to travel in Cameroon after dark. Actually, its unsafe to travel in Cameroon period, its especially unsafe after dark.

I had fantastic plans to visit the “Sultans Palace” (a supposedly, magnificent palace, home to the king or sultan of the “bamoun” people, the local tribe in the Foumban area). Unfortunately, it was too late for any such visit. I will see the Palace on my next visit. Instead of visiting the Sultans Palace, I visited one of the local “beverage stations.” They serve the same beverages they serve everywhere else in Cameroon, but for some reason they tasted better in Foumban. I also sampled some of the local “Soya.” Soya is Cameroonian bar-b-cued meat. It is usually quite good, but in Foumban it was AMAZING. Delicious, tender, strips of beef. Great qualiy and quantity. In Bafoussam, you get the quality, but the quantity is enough to feed a baby. Foumban has Soya, and plenty of it, mmmmmmm. After the Soya, I motioned for one of the children selling food to come over. This little kid was carrying “beignets” on his little head. “Beignets” are fried dough. Very greasy, unsweetened donuts, basically. Delicious. The little kid was happy to sell to me.

I must say, I was immediately fascinated by the beauty of Foumban. It is clean. It has pine trees. The people are friendly. The streets are paved. Just a great little town. The kind of place to settle down and raise your kids in, you know? I will have to come back to Foumban one day. I have to see that Palace.

I returned to Bafoussam with a full stomach and a tired body. It only took about an hour for the van to fill this time. I had to travel in the dark, but I survived. I am now here, back in my lovely apartment, writing this.

tomorrow is Tuesday. What kinds of adventures await me tomorrow? Will I venture towards another far away land? Will I play tennis? Will I WORK? Only time will tell. Peace Corps Cameroon is an unpredictable day-to-day adventure, full of surprises.

I had a pretty long blog entry written out, but I have erased it. It was written on Monday, November 1st, it had something to do with my hopes for the election, my optimism for the outcome, but that is all forgotten now. Remind me not be so optimistic next time. I wrote a brief little comment about the elections as my previous blog entry. Its funny how that emotion has worn off so quickly. I felt those feelings immediately after it all happened, but those feelings have all but disappeared in me. In Africa I have other things to think about, I guess. I'm sure I'll get to deal with all the problems this new fundamentalist christian government has to offer as soon as I return home, I can't wait!

Today was a long, Cameroonian day. It was a cultural day. I attended the burial ceremony of the father of the director of the NGO I work with. I never knew the man who died, and I hardly know this director I speak of. That’s how it works here. You go to all kinds of ceremonies for people you don’t know. I think its funny to imagine doing the same thing in the states. Imagine just walking into a random funeral for someone you never knew. Funerals are a lot more exciting here, so I guess it makes a little more sense to do it here. I’ve known about this ceremony for about a week now, but I was not planning on attending. It wasn’t until yesterday (friday) that I changed my plans. Apparently everyone expected Pat and I to be there. In the words of our friend Guy, the manager of one of the banks we “work” with.

“It is important that you attend this event. When the people in the village see that there are white men at the event they will realize that the director is an important man. The director will be very happy. You MUST attend.”

Ok. I guess we are going.

So that’s how the decision was made. I don’t regret going to this event by any means, I enjoy the cultural events and customs that I am fortunate to witness here. I just thought that the reasons for our attendance were interesting and funny. White men, who are these white men and why must they be so damn important? Personally, if I were Cameroonian, I wouldn’t view them as such. But I am glad they do because it makes me feel welcome almost everywhere I go. It can be a little overwhelming though. Sometimes I feel more like a decoration. Peace Corps volunteers are a bunch of fancy American decorations donated to developing countries to make their ceremonies look nicer and more important. That’s one way to look at it.

Anyway, Pat and I were told to meet Guy at the bank at precisely 8am, no later. We arrived, precisely at 8am. I don’t think he expected us to be there on time because we didn’t leave the bank until 10am. We should know better by now, we really should. One two and a half-hour car ride, several u-turns, one flat tire, many dirt roads, one dead snake, and many village children later, we arrived at the site of the ceremony. I must say that this is the furthest into the Cameroonian countryside I have been thus far. It was strange, one minute we’re in the middle of nowhere, seemingly lost, the next minute we’re still in the middle of nowhere, except now, we are surrounded by a few hundred other people. The ceremony was rather brief by Cameroonian standards. Maybe it just seemed brief to us because we arrived a few hours late. We weren’t too late for the buffet and wine and beer, though. It was a good time after all. It took about two hours to get back. Four hours of travel for about three hours of ceremony. Not bad. The ride home was a little less planned. For the first leg of the journey, we shared a bus that was rented out by some rich drunk folk from the capital city. For the second leg, we rode in a BEAT UP station wagon of some sort. I had to share the front seat with Guy who is a big man. At some point during the ride home, the front seat we were sharing gave out. After enduring years of abuse this old seat decided to stop supporting Guy and I. The seat fell backwards slowly, and gently crushed Pat, who was sitting behind us. For some reason, Pat and I found this to be hilarious and we laughed pretty hard. The owner of the vehicle didn’t seem to care.

I am exhausted now, to say the least. It’s not like I did anything exhausting today, I think it’s all the travel that really gets to you in Cameroon. It’s always interesting, and the stimulation really wears on the body and mind. When fearing for your life, enjoying the strange scenery, sharing a broken front seat with a big person, and laughing your ass off at everything, your mind and body wear pretty quickly. Pat and I were invited to ANOTHER burial ceremony tonight in BANA. We are way too exhausted to embark on another three-hour car ride under the cover of darkness. NO WAY, PAS CE SOIR. Not tonight, maybe next time. People seem to be dying quite frequently this time of year, so I’m sure there will be another opportunity in the very near future to attend a ceremony.

Tomorrow, I may have the day to do nothing but read Hemmingway and play tennis. Man, that sounds really snobby and un-peace corps, but that's what Sundays are for, right? What a relief tomorrow will be.

I’ve been pretty tired and kind of sick lately. I’m allergic to something here, every morning I wake up with a stuffed nose, a sore throat and a bad attitude. The bad attitude goes away, but the nose and throat problem persists. Oh, well. As they say in Cameroon “Ashia.” Ashia means “oh, well” or “too bad” or “sorry about that” or “man, that really sucks” or “that’s life buddy, deal with it.” Ashia is great for Cameroon, it applies to many circumstances.

Here’s some incredibly good news (for me, at least): My best friend Blake Nolan is coming to visit! He is coming in February and I can’t tell you how excited I am about this, I’m losing sleep over it. Just so you all know: WE ARE GOING TO HAVE AN AMAZING TIME. I just hope we manage to stay out of trouble for the extent of his stay because we tend to get into trouble when we are together. If anything, we will boggle many people’s minds, which we tend to do no matter which armpit we find ourselves in. Blake also has a blog, and if you want something interesting to do in February, you should read both of our blogs, and compare. Africa: experienced simultaneously through the eyes and minds of two mind-boggling maniacs. Blake is going to take some pretty tiiiiiiiight pictures, too. You see, he is a photographer by trade, and he’s damn good at it too. Check out his blog: http://blakejnolan.blogspot.com/ to see some pictures and read about his adventures in London. He is breaking into the photography scene, and he’s gonna make it. I’m proud of him.

Anyway, we will get to do all the crazy things that this country has to offer:

We will stay in 5 star resorts (peace corps volunteers houses, or whatever we can sleep on). We will cruise the streets in a pimped out, fully loaded ‘05 Escalade (a beat up ’87 Corolla taxi stuffed with 9 people). We will eat caviar and filet mignon (grilled fish and beef on a stick). We will drink copious amounts of Champagne (beer and what have you). We will mingle with celebrities (Cameroonian villagers), and play golf (apartment basketball), all in the company of Beautiful European Super Models (peace corps volunteers). Pretty nice, huh? But WAIT! That’s not all Bob! Blake will be treated to a complimentary six week supply of Mefloquine, to keep those sneaky little Malaria bugs from invading his liver and killing him! WOWZA! All I can say is, WATCH OUT! Seriously, though, this is going to be a great time. When that’s all over, I will be sad, but excited because in November of 2005, my pops will visit, stay tuned for details! I am very happy and very fortunate to be able to share this experience with a best friend and my dad. It will be interesting to see how they react to all the things I try so hard to write about. All I know is that neither of my visitors will EVER forget their experience here. It’s something else, it really is. Most volunteers don’t have friends and family with as much curiosity and bravery to experience Africa. Thanks Dad, thanks Blake.

We are well into November now. In a few weeks I will hit my six-month mark in Cameroon. That’s pretty strange to say. I’ve been in Africa for six months and already I feel somewhat normal here, as normal as a stranger from a strange land can feel here. Sometimes it seems like yesterday that I arrived and sometimes it seems like ages ago. I know I often make this same reference to time, but it really is strange. I have lost my American concept of time here. It’s not a day-to-day life here. It’s one long show. The days blend together. Years from now, when I am old and famous, I will look back at this time of my life and I will think “Wow, that was ONE LONG DAY. What a long day it was.”

I don’t know what to make of it all so far. I’ve learned something, I’ve grown somehow. I don’t know how yet. I probably won’t know how until I return to the States and I compare my Post-Cameroon behavior and attitude in the U.S. to my Pre-Cameroon behavior and attitude. I need that benchmark. There are going to be differences. What will they be?

I spent some time a few weeks ago reading through all of my previous blog entries. I certainly noticed a change in my outlook and my way of relating my experiences here. I feel more realistic about it all now, whatever that means. It certainly isn’t the fantasy world it was when I arrived. I’ve grown accustomed to the scenery, now I am noticing more of the details. Nothing here is as I expected it, nothing ever is, I guess. Reality is a little harsher than my imagination makes things out to be. That has been my biggest lesson thus far. Life is full of lessons, I hope to learn them all someday. Being here is teachiong me a fair share of lessons. I was still a kid when I left the States, and I will still be a kid when I get back, only I will be a really WISE kid.

That’s all for now. Back to Hemmingway and Caviar. Tomorrow it’s tennis and Hemmingway, then on Monday it’s back to Peace Corps. The Show goes on.

John Kerry lost. FEAR wins. What is wrong with my country?

I like being in Africa a little more now.

This isn't a politcal blog, so I will be brief.

Thank you to everyone who faught for change in the U.S. I have several friends there who worked campaigns from California to Florida. I'm sorry your efforts didn't quite payoff this time, but I am always hopeful for the future. Kerry would have been a change in the right direction, it didnt happen. It WILL happen next time, and the change will be a lot more drastic, it's got to be.

I've received many emails from friends, family, and people I dont even know expressing their disappointment. Hard to believe that these people represent a "minority" in the states.

Apparently God himself is now a resident in the White House. george said so himself. That's great, God has picked sides. Apparently he only cares about 51% of Americans. Apparently, He hates the rest of the world. One nation under God? With liberty and justice for all? COME ON PEOPLE!! When will the other 51% start to THINK?????????

I'm writing a more extensive, non political blog entry, and I will post it later this week. Just had to share my DISAPPOINTMENT.

Hello hello. Good evening ladies. And gents.

First off. I have posted some new photos. Unfortunately some of my more recent photos are still in my camera which is Bafoussam which is stupid because it should be here with me for me to upload the photos. I hope these will satisfy you for the time being until I get more. There are pics of my friends in Bafoussam, my trip to Limbe (the beach), my host fam, and some random stuff. The link to the pics is at the end of the entry, you have to READ before you look at them!

I am in the capital city, Yaounde. The internet is free. Other than that, I miss BEAUTIFUL ugly smelly dirty Bafoussam.

Let me reminisce (I had to check the spelling for 'reminisce', it is indeed spelled R E M I N I S C E, don't believe me? click here).

I am in Yaounde at the Peace Corps Headquarters. My 'official' reason for being here is "SED Steering Committee" which is the committee that designs, plans, and organizes the SED program. It's been interesting, but I don't really enjoy "committees" because I work better alone. And because I don't like to sit around and pay attention for extended periods of time. Despite this, I enjoyed these meetings. I've really enjoyed this FREE internet. I've been "chatting" with Blake (in london) on a daily basis. Fun, very fun. Blake has some EXCELLENT NEWS that you will soon hear about.

When I can't chat with Blake, I think of all my friends in Bafoussam, that I miss so dearly. I've never really written about them, so I will do that now.

Here are some of my friends from Bafoussam, click on their names to see a photo:

Name: Johnny

Tribe: Bamilike

Languages: French, native language, and funny english

Profession: Guitar player by night, street walkin beer drinker by day

Hobbies: See profession

Johnny plays the Guitar

Monday thru Wednesday he plays at the "New Sheraton bar." There is nothing "new" about this bar, and it looks nothing like "the sheraton." Thursday thru Sunday nights Johnny plays in the "Akwa" district of bafoussam. This is where it all happens. The nightlife of bafoussam revolves around Akwa. I usually see Johnny in Akwa on thursdays and/or fridays.

I like Johnny because:

He plays guitar. He plays the blues like a champion. He speaks the language of music fluently, but his english is lacking. Here are the lyrics from Johnny's version of "Hey Joe" by Jimmy Hendrix.

Hey Joe

where you goin with that gun in your hand

I said I'm goin danna shoome o kama

Shimmy sham damn

O kamma jitty

I mean ah, Hey Joe!

Where you goin with the gun in your hand

I said a pooly can fimmy slap

Curmmy manananananananna...

etc...(he doesnt say "etc...")

Or "I wanna love you" by Bob Marley

I wanna love you

And treat you down

I wanna love you

Every day and kamarey houn

We'll be together

With the room shum itty balo

etc...

Johnny sure can play that there gUItar though, I'm tellin you. When he sees me or pat, he interrupts his own song and says, "hello, my american friends." Sometimes we are his only crowd. Johnny. One man, one guitar, one microphone, and a broken amp. There is a picture of him in my latest photo collection which I will post today or tomorrow.

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Name: Killian

Tribe: I forget

Languages: French, English (Pidgin)

Profession: Bartender

Hobbies: Killian has no time for hobbies because he spends 14 hours a day, seven days a week working in a bar, making hardly a dime.

Killian chose his own name. His village name is "Yong" which he doesn't like because he claims it sounds too chinese. I like his village name and I use it, which embarasses Yong. Killian is a bartender at the place across the street from my house. I know some of you family members are thinking "Al must spend a lot of time at that bar if his friend is the bartender." yes, yes I do. I dont drink there all the time, I just like to hang out with Killian and Palmer. There is also a pinball machine which I play frequently and I am starting to master (Dad: We will play, and I will defeat you, especially after you have one of those "special" Guinness beers. Killian speaks english well, he was born and raised in Bamenda in the Anglophone region of the country. Killian's favorite lines are:

"No Allen, there is no problem" He says this frequently because I ask him if he is ok. He often looks sad and tired. I would be too if I worked as much as he did for practically nothing. The owners of the bar dont even pay him sometimes. Employers have the upper hand in Cameroon, jobs are so scarce that they dont even have to pay employees when they are supposed to. When he does get paid, Killian makes 40000 Francs CFA. That is about 80 dollars. For one month. For 98 hours per week. This salary is small even by Cameroonian standards. I feel for the guy.

Another Killian line:

"We are together" This is a very common line for all Cameroonians. The French speakers say "Nous sommes ensembles" This is purely in a brotherly, friendly sort of way. It is a testimony to the amount of brotherhood that exists here. People really support their friends and family and would do anything for them.

---------------------------------------

Name: Michael

Tribe: Bamilike

Profession: Tire shop owner, bar owner, and he occasionally helps his mother grill vegetables.

Hobbies: Chasin the ladies. Posing for pictures. Taking care of business.

Physical Age: 5

Mental Age: 35

Michael is the youngest success story in Cameroon. This little guy works his little tail off. He runs around, tells people what to do, and he still has time to smile for the two white guys at his bar. What a man/kid.

Ok, I don't know if Michael actually owns these businesses. But you better believe he works. He works like many young Cameroonians that we see in bafoussam. Many kids here dont go to school. Instead, they work, and they work hard. They grow up very quickly. At 5 years old, Michael has many adult like manurisms and one heck of an adult like work ethic. Its very cute, and sad. The kid is cute as can be. I just feel bad he has to be forced into adulthood at such a young age. He doesnt seem to mind though. He never wines. In fact, none of the kids wine here. They never cry. They never fuss. (Grandpa, you would like these kids).

Pat and I have found a match for Michael. Her name is Denise. (We actually picked names for these kids, we dont know their real ones. Michael looks like a michael, and Denise, well, you get it). Denise works just as hard as michael. She helps her mom run a grilled fish stand. She puts the piment on the plate, delivers the plate, smiles, washes the plate, and sometimes she even cleans the fish. She is a little older than Michael, about 7, but Michael likes older women. She has her act together. The two of them would make a power couple, more powerful than Bill and Hillary, Brad and Jennifer. A lot cuter too. We are arranging a date for them. Its difficult to work around their busy schedules, but we will make it happen.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

That is all for now. I have more friends, but talking about them makes me sad because I am in yaounde now and they are all in Bafoussam. Stay tuned for descriptions of: Alain the Tennis Champ, Palmer the business owner who likes my music, Bissi Mag the musician who released a CD and who wants me to be a special guest on his next Album (A 3WB/Bissi Mag collaboration).

I played pool last night at this place in the heart of Yaounde. I am really starting to appreciate this city. It is huge. There is great food. There are many things to do and see. Its strange because my first impressions of this place back in june as I cruised through the city in a Peace Corps van after stepping of the plane and setting foot onto this strange land for the first time were:

"Holy Shizzy! This place is dirty, scary, intimidating, and chaotic. There is no way in hizzle I will ever like THIS place." Its funny, after spending significant time in Bafoussam, and the villages around it, Yaounde seems like a modern Western metropolis. It is a relief to be here, sometimes.

Anyway. Back to the pool story. I played pool last night at this place in the heart of Yaounde. I went with some American friends. Pool tables are RARE in Cameroon. I played horribly but I still went undefeated (5 victories, 0 losses). I would have lost had I played against the Cameroonian pool sharks sitting amongst the observers. I can say this: I have never had so many people watch me play pool and laugh at me. I can also say: I don't care about being laughed at anymore (cause I used to).

To all my 3WB people, and to ALL the 3WB fans in the world. You will be proud to know that I participated in a freestyle RAP session with this Cameroonian dude and Peter (a volunteer) at the pool hall. I did well, especially when I busted out the FRANGLAIS rap. Thats right I freestyled in a combination of languages and it made no sense but it RHYMED and that is what counts. Peter played "beat box" and he is good.

**To all my family and friends who dont have a clue what I am talking about**:

- 3WB is a Hip Hop Group formed by me (Abay), Blake (Blano), and Sean (Shoco). The group was formed in February of 2004.

-"Hip Hop" is a form of music some of you know as "rap" although there are differences that I will not get into now.

- The first 3WB album was a huge underground success in Boulder.

- The album's hit song Bring the Funk topped local charts for many weeks. Here is a sample of the wizadry that went into the lyrics of Bring the Funk:

Yo! I'll bring the Funk

Anytime I want

The Funk is funky

The funk is UP

This is a clean sample. Some of the other lyrics may be offensive to some poeple. Listener discretion is advised. Not suitable for small children. There are some good love ballads on the album also.

What else?

Well, let me see. Stan is here. Stan turns 80 in February and he is an incredible man (don't tell him that, he doesn't take well to flattery). I think I mentioned Stan in a previous entry. He fought in WWII and now he is a Peace Corps Volunteer in Cameroon. He is HILARIOUS. He may look 80 but he acts 24. He teaches creative writing at a University here, and he loves it. Go Stan.

I ate an all you can eat chinese buffet on sunday (grandpa). It was pretty classy, this chinese restaruant. The food was actually excellent. There was a swimming pool in the middle of the dining room. There were also quite a few FOREIGNERS eating there which made me feel uncomfortable. I can only handle so many at a time.

click here to see the new photos.

Ok, I miss you all.

LATERS

Good evening once again.

How are you?

I am fine. Thanks for asking.

First of all, thanks for the comments, they make me happy. Last week’s comments were excellent, I’ve responded to them if you care to see.

This blog entry should be FUN.

Last Monday was election day here. That seems like an eternity ago, let me try to remember what happened…ok. Instead of hearing from me, I will give you a (slightly) edited version of my roommate/co-volunteer/friend Pat’s report. I have pasted that report at the end of this blog entry, it is accurate and quite funny (cause it’s true). Pat had the wonderful idea to write an hourly report on election day. You have to understand, we DID NOTHING on election day, because EVERYTHING was closed. Stay tuned…

What else happened this week?

I helped people, people helped me, I got sick, I played tennis, I listened to music, I read books, I ate eggs and potatoes and fish, and I saw a movie (“Troy”-pretty good, but the most interesting aspect was the movie theater itself, which I will have to discuss another time).

Playing tennis is my favorite stress relief, even though I get destroyed EVERYTIME I play (Today, for example, I lost 6-0, 6-0, 3-0, the extra three games were played because I was disposed of before either of us broke a sweat. The #3 ranked Cameroonian, is VERY GOOD. I am getting very good too, just not THAT GOOD….yet) Normally GETTING DESTROYED at any sport would not relieve any stress because I hate to lose, but I have learned how to lose here, and I am getting better at tennis, so its ALL good. I will now list some of the Other forms of stress RELIEF employed in times of stress and other Peace Corps related EMOTIONAL conditions:

1) Running. Either for exercise or to escape from my problems. I run away from many things. Any form of exercise is nice, it helps to clear the mind. It’s also fun to see how many people you can surprise in one day. There is nothing more surprising than a white man running down the street, NOTHING like it. You should see. I actually tripped and fell once. The people didn’t laugh. They were more surprised that I was a white man running, falling down is just details.

2) Chopping vegetables. Especially onions. Sometimes I like to cry, onions help me get started. It hurts, it really does. If the onions make me cry too much, I get revenge by FRYING the little bastards with my eggs and potatoes.

3) Listening to music. Thursday was a wonderful day because I found a charger for my CD Player. I happened to be on my last pair of AA batteries, needless to say I was worried. The charger is functioning well. Music is playing as we speak (write). Track 11 of the “Black Star” CD. The song is called “Respiration,” it is my favorite on the CD.

4) Reading. I’ll say this again: Reading is an adventure, man, it is AMAZING. Even though I have hit a couple of CRAPPY books lately. I still want to struggle through them because it gives me a sense of accomplishment. I like to finish what I start. I would tell you about these books, but they are not worthy of any MENTION. ok, here is one review:

“This book is a complete waste of time, but I had nothing else to do.”

Allen Banick, reader of Crappy books since last week.

5) Internet. I love reading emails, writing emails, checking out ESPN.com, following all the wonderful sports I miss so dearly. GO RED SOX, too bad they’re down 3-0 as we speak, ouch. Speaking of emails, I contacted my best friend from WAY back in the day (When you have a lot of time to think and ponder, you begin to REMEMBER things). His name is Gabe (hey buddy!) we went to elementary school in L.A. together, and we went on many camping trips in the Mojave Desert, sadly we lost touch when I moved to France. Gabe is doing very well, which is great.

6) Writing, perhaps the best stress relief of all. I love writing this blog, I love writing in my journal.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ALWAYS stressed or in some sort of mental pain. I’m generally pretty happy no matter what’s going on. I will admit this: I spend, on average, 2 days per week NOT wanting to be here. That means that 5 times out of 7 I am satisfied with my situation. Most Peace Corps Volunteers experience these same mood swings, so don’t be alarmed. If I ever reach a point of spending more than 50% of the week wanting to be somewhere else, I’ll consider taking action. I think about this quite often. I also think back in time and I realize:

No matter where I’ve been in the world, no matter what I’ve been doing, there has ALWAYS been this “2 days per week wanting to be somewhere else” feeling. I bet most of us feel that. Most Cameroonians want to be in the States. I know many Americans that want to be in Canada, Spain, or Mars. I am learning another lesson: how to enjoy the NOW, the PRESENT PLACE, the CURRENT SITUATION, and the people IN FRONT OF ME. No place is perfect, but I have the power to make it better, by ENJOYING it (at least those aspects that are enjoyable). This is not an easy concept to grasp, but I am getting PLENTY of practice.

I realized something today at 12:25 when I was thinking about this blog. I realized I never really write about DEVELOPMENT, which happens to be my (official) reason for being here. Before I arrived in Cameroon, I didn’t really think much about it. I knew it was important. We should help the poor, disadvantaged of the world, because we humans are all roommates sharing the same house, called Earth. I never stopped to think about, HOW we should help develop, or WHAT people really need. Should the whole world be like the USA? No, if the whole world were like the USA it would be boring (what would be the point of traveling if every place/person were the same?), and I believe natural resources would be depleted pretty quickly (consumption has gone SLIGHTLY TOO FAR). There are aspects of the USA that SHOULD be universal, such as BASEBALL, freedom of speech, food for everyone, clean water, adequate health care, and OPPORTUNITY. But there are things that people don’t need (in my opinion). I won’t list those things, because there is no need for them.

I am still developing my own opinions on the matter of development, and I will try to include them in future blog entries. Here is one problem to ponder:

In Cameroon you cannot get clean water out of the faucet. It is often contaminated and it is the source of ALL SORTS of illness, especially for young children. YET, you can have a COKE (imported), and 10 different types of (imported) beer practically ANYWHERE, bars are BIG business (BARS are almost EVERY business). I am troubled by this problem. Many (if not most) people here can’t afford coke, or beer, so they drink dirty water, or they drink beer, which they can’t afford. I don’t really know who I should point my finger at, if anyone, or what should be done. I can’t POINT at GLOBALIZATION because that is a concept/trend as opposed to a PERSON. The people here choose to drink beer and coke, and most of them can boil water, which decontaminates it. Still, something isn’t right. That is why I presented this as a problem to PONDER. If you would like to comment on the issue, please do, I like COMMENTS and new ideas. It’s not an easy issue, if it were, there would be no Peace Corps. How do you feel? This is frequently a topic for discussion between volunteers who don’t spend their time spreading useless gossip about OTHER volunteers (see last blog entry).

Time for the NEWS report from Pat (which he wrote in his journal and emailed to his friends and was kind enough to let me share), this definitely beats CNN. This may be the ONLY international report ever released regarding the Presidential Elections in Cameroon. Pat is brave…

….all times were kept by the clock on my (cell!!!) phone…for those of you that are paying attention, you will see why this info is important…

Election Monday 11/10/04 (that is October 11th, we are using international conventions, not everything revolves around the u.s.)

and we’re live folks, welcome to election monday in Cameroon…. who knows what will happen?… truly anything can happen….most likely nothing will happen.

8:18am

all is relatively quiet on the western front (or eastern or southern, I don’t know which direction my balcony faces - I’m not a damn compass! let’s see, the sun is to my left, so I must be looking south. yea, let’s call it all quiet on the southern front. and for that matter, as far as I can tell, east and west seem ok too. I can’t see the northern front, I sure hope all hell isn’t breaking loose up there)….

ways to tell that today is a very different day:

1. bucket man is not working (sorry, you would have to read another journal entry to really understand the bucket man comment - there will be pictures of him soon, I hope, because you have to see this to believe it)

2. car/truck/anything you can possibly want washed wash place is not open

3. no other business in view is open

4. I have not seen one person selling things off of their head in the (at least) ten minutes I have been out here

5. foot traffic is way down

6. truck traffic is nonexistent (so this is what fresh air smells like)

7. taxi traffic is nonexistent

8:32am

time to go for a little walk to see what’s what

9:12am

return

more ways to tell that today is a very different day:

8. one can hear birds chirping, at least intermittently

9. all of the marches (markets) are closed, which is e-e-r-i-e

10. no one is yelling ‘le blanc’ or ‘nsada’ (a local, patoisish word for whitey)

11. no one is going to foumban or foumbot or anywhere else for that matter (unfortunately another reference to another part of the journal)

I saw 4 roving vendors (as opposed to literally hundreds on a normal day) and 1 bakery cart (as opposed to tens)…. The only thing open is the gas station. Actually, all of the gas stations are open. (does oil rule the world?)…. sweet home, my favorite restaurant, is also closed, so this reporter is off to make his own three-egg omelette.

10:32am

omelette was delicious - onions, celery, green pepper, garlic and, of course, the ubiquitous maggi cube (solidified, delicious msg)

- home fries were a little too fried because I have the attention span of a gnat - but there was enough oil, salt & pepper to cover up my slip

no new news, all still calm

over and out

11:49am (really????)

and we’re back

and we’re bored as sh#t

jeanah just texted me; she wants to know what an interlocuter (sic) is…like I have time for that, I am in the middle of an election here….not to mention a possible evacuation…ok, so I do have the time, truth be known… so I wrote her back with my made-up definition (which was correct)… man alive, ‘watching’ an election sans (without) tv is boring…this is almost inhumane….

jeanah texted me back in response to my question of what was transpiring au village (in the village)…I received the response at 11:44am…. i am a little more than concerned…. because I feel as if we might be going back in time….that’s all I need right now….anyway, here is the response (exactly as it appears on my teeny-tiny phone):

(journalistic integrity is very important at times such as these):

It’s like a ghost

town

outside(… )

thank you jeanah for that report from the field…next time, please don’t include any of those little symbols…frankly, I can’t stand them; they aren’t professional and I have no idea what the hell any of them mean….

I currently have 384F cfa credit left on my phone….that is really going to inhibit obtaining more reports from the field…stupid lack of planning….

ok-at least we have something to look forward to -

1:43pm (really 13:43)

the day continues to crawl at a snail’s pace

we just heard the end of a report on RFI (radio france international)…

ahhhh, the frogs….translation from allen:

- election off to a slow start (no freaking kidding)

- rdpc (main party) and sdf (main opposition party) both have strong representation at the polls

- polls close at six (really 18:00)

action is allowed to start at any time, I am waiting

ciao

2:07pm

allen parts (franglais) the maison (house/home) to play tennis

files report over text message at 2:24 pm (even though my phone says it is only 2:17; I am now ridiculously concerned about the space-time continuum)…the report says:

Live in

Bafoussam…it is

so f*&%ing eerie

out here.

thank you allen for the fine report….had to clean it up a bit because this is a family publication…

I am going for a run now… (2:20pm)

a riverderci

3:32pm

back home and showered…ran past the commissariat; many, many officers were standing outside….on the ground in front of the building were approximately 25 shields with helmets on top of them…giddy up…now we’re talking…

4:03pm

allen returns from playing tennis…he explains to me that he has just been harangued (my word, not his) by an undercover policeman for taking pictures….he simply wanted to capture the empty streets, which will most likely never be this empty again in our stay here…the policeman accused him of taking pictures of people without their permission…that is a serious offense here (no kidding)…allen was able to escape this time, undoubtedly thanks to his frenchy mcfrench perfect French….the noose seems to be tightening at our headquarters…we could be heading underground, no telling when the next report will be filed…if we are never heard from again, tell the world our story….

sayanora

4:35pm

we learn that Christopher reeve has died…

and also that 155 of 200 registered voters in bengui have voted….

activity on the street is picking up, but as of now there is no indication of a riot in the making…allen says, “it is only a matter of time. something doesn’t feel right.” on verra, young alain, on verra. we shall see

6:15pm

tension is rising…allen is pacing and surreptitiously glancing out the window to the street below…the polls are closed…

7:57pm

darkness has thus far been our friend….not a creature seems to be stirring…the frogs tell us (in french again) that we will have more (or any) information at 11pm…

10:42pm

there is calm…there will be no news at 11…surprise…fatigue has set in during this long day of nothingness…time to call it quits…

THANK YOU, Pat, for that fine report. I did have to edit some information that some people may find detrimental to our image here in Cameroon. But you got the gist of it: NOTHING HAPPENED. No evacuation, no action, no complaining, the election is over, life goes on. Nothing more can be said. And by the way, I WAS stopped by a Police officer for taking photos of the eerie, quietness of Bafoussam. I don’t blame him for stopping me and questioning me. What would you do? Picture a DESERTED African city…deserted except for a tall, goofy white guy with a tennis racket in his backpack, taking pictures of a ditch. Sounds suspicious, huh? Well I was just trying to capture the essence of Dirty Bafoussam, and nothing shows it better than a Ditch full of sewage and trash. (The pictures are coming, this week). I don’t know why the undercover officer accused me of taking pictures of “people” without their permission. There were no people in sight. Wait till you see the pictures, just wait.

That’s All for Tonight,

As always the pleasure is mine.

Bonne Nuit

Good evening ladies and gents,

It is a lovely evening and I happen to be in the mood to write for a little while. Welcome back to the Armpit of Cameroon in the Armpit of Africa, a place that is beginning to grow on me, kind of like a dirty fungus, but it is growing on me nonetheless. Pat (my roommate) and I, comically refer to this place as a HEAPING STINKING DIRTY PILE OF S**T. (I put the * for all you kids and grandparents out there). As one of my friends here says all too often “It’s funny cause its true.” Please don’t ever say that to me, my friend who says it, says it way too much. But I can’t blame him because a lot of things in this country are “funny cause they’re true.”

The title of this blog entry has nothing to do with anything that has actually happened. It is the title of a book I just finished reading and it happened to be on my mind when I had to write the title of this blog entry. The book title is great, and the book is even better. Check out these reviews:

“ ’The Curious Incident of the dog in the night time’ by Mark Haddon is an excellent read. Dark, funny, sad, and uplifting, this book will keep you laughing, crying, and entertained for hours.”

-Allen Banick, Peace Corps Volunteer

“I was illiterate just a year ago, and I managed to finish all 226 pages in one day, that’s how good this book is, and easy to read too.”

-Allen Banick, Reader of books since August 5th 2003

This book is written through the eyes of an autistic teenager, one of the really intelligent ones, like Dustin Hoffman’s character in Rain Man. It is great, and there are math problems to do in it too. Blake James Nolan if you are reading this, read that too.

Ok, enough about the book. I started reading Catch-22 this morning. It is funny as well.

It’s been a long week. I am enjoying a giant cold bottle of Guinness Foreign Extra. They call it “Foreign Extra” because it really is “Foreign” and it has all kinds of “Extra”. It is “Foreign” because they only make it and sell it in AFRICA which is foreign to the country where Guinness originally appeared back in 1759, a country we all know as IRELAND. It is “extra” because the alcoholic content of this particular brew is 7.5%, which happens to be about 2% greater than your typical NON “Foreign Extra” bottle of Guinness for little babies that you find in THE REST OF THE WORLD.

I am sitting at the oak table in my apartment, which can easily accommodate 10 people, but there are only two people sitting here right now. Myself, obviously, and my roommate Pat who is listening to music and doing crossword puzzles, oh never mind, he is writing in his journal. He’s probably writing:

I am sitting at the oak table in my apartment, which can easily accommodate 10 people, but there are only two people sitting here right now. Myself, obviously, and my roommate Allen who is listening to music and using my computer, I wish he wouldn’t use my computer so much. He’s probably writing:

I am sitting at the oak table in my apartment, which can easily accommodate 10 people, but there are only two people sitting here right now. Myself, obviously, and my roommate Pat who is listening to music and doing crossword puzzles, oh never mind, he is writing in his journal. He’s probably writing:

This is called a loop, and if it weren’t for me intervening, it would have gone on forever and ever and it would have clogged up the entire blogosphere (you like my use of “blogosphere” Mike?)

I realize that none of this nonsense has anything to do with Cameroon or Peace Corps YET, but just follow me through this, you will understand later…

So as I was saying, I am sitting here listening to Dizzy Rascal writing this blog when all of a sudden I think “Wow, I am writing in the present obvious.” The present obvious is a very interesting Cameroonian phenomenon that I am going to tell you about now.

In Cameroon, as in most every place in the world, I presume, people make small talk. In the States it is often sounds like this:

Two strangers are caught in an awkward moment together, suddenly, in an effort to make it less awkward, Bob decides to make small talk.

“Howdy,” says Bob

“Hey, how’s it going?” replies Sally

“I’m fine,” Bob pauses for a second, struggling to keep the awkwardness away, “how about this heat wave?” Nice one Bob, you really came through this time.

“I knooow. It is sooo hot. I can’t remember it ever being this hot in Colorado, and I’ve been here for like 3 years!”

“Me neeeither, wow! Okay, have a nice one”

“you too, and try to keep cool.” replies Sally as the two strangers continue on their paths that will probably never cross again.

In Cameroon, the weather rarely changes, it is either wet or dry, so that particular topic makes for some pretty boring small talk. In Cameroon the small talk is done in what has been termed the present obvious. It goes something like this: (I have underlined the present obvious)

“Good morning,” says Jean Phillipe Simo Kamga (People in Cameroon have excruciatingly long names.)

“Good morning, you are here?” asks Marie Claire Fotso Kamdem, who is standing directly in front of Jean Phillipe Simo Kamga, and who isn’t blind, and who can see that Jean Phillipe Simo Kamga really is there. (This is where we get the term present obvious. Marie is asking about a present situation that is obviously true.)

“Yes, I am here” he replies, “did you sleep well?” (Another common question, especially in the morning.)

“No, I didn’t.” Another common answer. People here ALWAYS answer small talk questions with the truth, which makes it better small talk than most small talk in the States, because in the States the answer is always “I’m fine” because if you were to respond to a complete stranger “No, I feel terrible,” the stranger would probably not want to talk to you because it is weird when a complete stranger tells you that something is wrong, but not in Cameroon, and that is one of the reasons this place is starting to grow on me.

That is the lesson on cultural differences between where I am and where most of you are.

I did a lot of traveling this week. I went around to several VILLAGES in the area to visit the small banks and to teach them how to use the COMPUTER and how to keep the mouse still when you click and how to shut down the computer properly. I really enjoy these village excursions. The people are so friendly and hospitable, and the scenery is nice. It is a great relief from this HEAPING STINKING DIRTY PILE OF S**T of a city I live in. The bank I went to in a village called BAFOU was particularly peaceful and relaxing until I heard a pig squealing in the bar/convenience store (all businesses in villages are bar/convenience stores) downstairs. The pig stopped squealing after they slaughtered it, which made me happy and sad. Happy the thing stopped making noise, sad because I had just lost a friend. That pig greeted me earlier in the day when I arrived at the bank, so he was my friend.

I also enjoy the villages very much because I get to ride on motorcycles (with a helmet of course, it is PC policy and it is safer than not using one). I went to visit my friend Allen (yes he has the same name as me. He is the one that says “its funny cause it’s true” way too much). Allen lives in a village that is way up on this mountain and you have to take a 30-minute moto taxi ride to get there through beautiful countryside and over muddy dangerous roads. The funny part (funny to you, normal in Cameroon) was that there were three of us on the motorcycle. I was sandwiched between Allen and the taxi driver. This was the order of our seating arrangement:

Moto taxi driver ---- Allen B ---- Allen K

Please don’t laugh at me. It was very uncomfortable, but in Cameroon you do with what you have. We had one motorcycle.

The elections here are scheduled for Monday. I met someone who said he was able to register to vote in two cities. THAT’S DEMOCRACY BABY! One man, two votes. This should be interesting, I will let you know what happens. I love elections in Cameroon because I get the day off and they are SOOO democratic.

bush vs KERRY continues tonight. The debate airs at 2am on VOA (Voice of America, a short wave radio station). I will attempt to stay awake until then. I wonder if Kerry will give a “shout out” to his friend in Cameroon.

Okay, on a more serious note: Let me tell you about the The Peace Corps Gossip Network.

This is truly a sad sad reality in the Peace Corps. In this day in age of CELL PHONES and EMAIL, information really flies. This is even true in Cameroon where cell phones are a lot more prevalent than clean water and fair elections.

A side comment: people answer cell phones here anytime, anywhere, like today, one of my Cameroonian coworkers who was running a meeting of 30 people answered his phone AS he was talking to everyone, without moving from his seat or saying anything, and this is normal here, I CANT WAIT to get a phone call while I am giving some important speech or something.

So as I was saying, everyone has a cell phone, including every volunteer. Many volunteers LOVE to spend all their time writing “SMS” messages on their phones to other volunteers. They LOVE to chat with people who aren’t in the present place at the present time. So they text each other every “interesting” detail of everybody’s life. It is like the telephone game, in fact it is a telephone game. Information often gets DISTORTED and people think you have done things which you HAVE NOT done, or that you are thinking things which you DO NOT think. I do not enjoy gossip, it has invaded Peace Corps Cameroon, and quite frankly I do not enjoy it. I don’t talk about your business, so please stay out of mine. The Peace Corps Gossip Network is sooo powerful, that people in the States get information about me without ever hearing it from me. This happened with a former volunteer who emailed me that she had heard that I did this and that and that I was thinking about going here and there. All of this is false false false. Don’t believe information unless it comes from the source.

Okay to sum things up:

-The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time by Mark Haddon is a wonderful book and I read it in one day.

- I live on a HEAPING STINKING DIRTY PILE OF S**T that is starting to grow on me.

- Guinness Foreign Extra is bigger, stronger, and colder than the stuff you get.

-VlLLAGES are NICE

-Pigs die, even the ones that you are friends with.

-I rode on a motorcycle sandwiched between two men and I did not like it one bit but I didn’t have a choice.

-This place is SOOOOO democratic it makes me sick. On Monday somebody will vote twice.

-The Peace Corps Gossip Network is a tragedy, and you mustn’t believe SECONDHAND information.

I guess that does it. Oh yeah, one more thing, I hope I am not offending any Cameroonians who may be reading this. I love this culture, I am just trying to point out some comical facts to my CRAZY American friends. And most of them don’t like Bush, so they’re cool.

This concludes my blog entry for tonight. I hope it was long and not boring.

The next morning:

Before I head to the Cyber Café to post this thing, I figured I would update you on all the crazy things that happened to me between the times I finished writing last night and right now.

After I signed off last night I ate some leftover spaghetti. It wasn’t your typical leftover spaghetti because I did not heat it in the microwave because that sort of machine does not exist here. I have become an expert spaghetti sauce chef and if you ever visit me I will knock your socks off with my cooking.

After the spaghetti I drank the rest of the beer, which I described to you last night.

Then I stayed up and continued reading Catch-22, but the story was starting to drag and my ADD kicked in and I just couldn’t focus.

It was 11pm when I grabbed the short wave radio and attempted to locate the frequency for VOA, which would be broadcasting the presidential debate. Unfortunately, after 90 minutes of searching the airwaves I was unsuccessful. I did locate about 20 CHINESE stations, though. There are only about 2 Chinese people in all of AFRICA, why must they be treated to 20 Chinese stations when I cant even get ONE American station? Huh?

I guess none of that mattered because I fell asleep on the couch soon after my failed attempt, a sleep which was inevitable and which would have caused me to miss the debates I was so excited to listen to.

During the night I dreamed of horses and wild flowers.

I woke up this morning and I walked to the market in the rain, where I purchased:

1 Watermelon – 500 Francs (about 1 dollar). The Watermelon is very sweet and delicious here. That brings me to a story that is “funny cause it’s true.” During training, one of my fellow trainees was asked by his family what he wanted to eat for dinner. He replied “fried chicken and Watermelon,” because the fried chicken and the watermelon here are excellent. His host mother’s response was, “white people sure love fried chicken and watermelon!” Gotta love it.

I also purchased:

4 medium sized onions – 150 francs (about 20 cents).

5 large potatoes – 100 francs (17 cents).

1 tube of Colgate Fluoride toothpaste – 700 francs (about 1 dollar 25 cents). Which brings me to another story. My best buddy Blake James Nolan wrote a funny little piece in HIS blog about brushing his teeth in London, and how he misses his SONICARE ELITE toothbrush, which truly is the GREATEST thing to happen to dental care since Charles D. Floss invented the toothpick. Anyway, like Blake, I miss my Sonicare sooooo much, I am going to have it shipped to me by my lovely family in Colorado as soon as they send me another package. I had completely forgotten how to brush my teeth the OLD FASHIONED way. I think over time, my tooth brushing muscles in my hand started to deteriorate because I no longer had use for them thanks to my SONICARE ELITE.

Anyway, back to this story.

I took all my purchases home and I cooked:

Fried potatoes with onions.

3 scrambled eggs.

and I ate them, then I brushed my teeth the OLD FASHOINED WAY.

You are thinking, “that’s not so crazy?” Well wait till you hear this:

I ate fried potatoes with onions and 3 scrambled eggs for the 12th CONSECUTIVE MORNING! and I STILL ENJOY it. That is why I had to write this morning, to tell you about the breakfast I LOVE to eat.

Good day to you.

Today is Sunday. Another week has passed, hard to believe it. The time is starting to accelerate here. It’s October already. Normally, I would know it is October because I would see it and feel it. Leaves turning colors, hints of winter in the cool air. You don’t get those hints in the tropics. In Cameroon there are only two seasons, rainy and dry. It is still rainy season now, another month of it remains. Then 6 months of dry season. It gets hot and dusty during the dry season, or so they say.

Last week was probably my most successful yet since I arrived in Bafoussam. I did quite a bit of traveling to the village banks in the region to help them fill out an excel report. It turned out to be a lesson in computers for most of them. One of the banks is still learning how to turn the computer on, and hold the mouse still when they click. I never thought it could be such a challenge to hold the mouse in one place. When they click, they freak out and throw the darn thing across the table. “Relax,” I say, and everyone laughs. It is quite funny. I came to realize that the people in the villages really want to learn computers and they have nobody to teach them. I am going to start traveling to different places each week and giving them computer lessons. I have also started working, with my Cameroonian coworker, on a village computer school project. The idea is to start computer schools in the remote villages that don’t otherwise get the opportunity to learn this valuable tool. The kids there can’t afford to come into the city for training, but they really want it. We are going to start with one village as sort of a pilot, and if it works we will start more in other villages. The first challenge is getting computers. I know there are NGO’s and Corporations out there that donate computers for good causes such as this. If you know of anything, I welcome your input.

I forgot to mention in my previous entry that I shaved my head completely down to ¼”. That is very short. I also do push-ups every day. What is this, the army? Sometimes I wonder myself. The Peace Corps isn’t all tree hugging long hared hippies like some may imagine it to be. I would hug trees myself, except there aren’t any trees to hug in this concrete jungle I live in. Plus, all the Cameroonian men keep their hair very short, I’m just trying to blend in. I’m still missing something though, because I still look a little different than them, I just can’t put my finger on it…Pat also shaved his head, people honestly think we are twins, hilarious, they often think I’m him, he’s me, who’s who?

I finished reading two books in one week. Pretty impressive for me, considering I was illiterate just one year ago. I am starting to read Catcher in the Rye. What a funny book! I’m sort of gonna finish it today. I sort of like it a little too. At this rate I am going to run out of material fast and I will have to resort to the 1-year-old sports illustrated magazines that have been left in this apartment. Speaking of sports, I really really miss baseball, go Dodgers, they clinched the West!

In case I haven’t told you or you didn’t read it through someone else’s blog, there was a pretty bad accident involving 14 volunteers in Cameroon about 2 weeks ago. They were all riding in the back of an empty Guinness beer truck that was going way too fast and rolled over. Many of them were ejected from the truck and injured quite badly. Luckily, there were no fatalities, I spoke to one of my friends who broke her collarbone, and she said they are all very lucky to be alive. It was pretty shocking news considering many of those involved were friends of mine, some of them were from my training group. One girl was knocked into a coma and had to have emergency brain surgery, I don’t know her status as of now, but she was in critical condition last week. Another friend’s leg was crushed by the truck and he won’t be back to Cameroon. That sucks. I guess he is in good spirits though. There were also collarbones and ribs broken by other people. Many of them were transported to South Africa and Washington D.C. where they can receive better treatment. I think most everyone should be just fine and back to Cameroon soon enough. My thoughts are with them.

On a brighter note, it stopped raining outside which means I can go out and do stuff. I am typing this blog entry on Pat’s computer, which arrived here last week with the new group of trainees. My computer was supposed to arrive with this same group but I have not yet heard anything about it. It must be there somewhere, and I will have it soon enough.

Many of you have requested more pictures. I have been pretty lazy with the camera, I apologize. The main problem is that the camera attracts so much attention, as if I don’t get enough already. But I don’t care anymore. I have decided to go on a mission. I am going to walk around this town for an afternoon with camera in hand and I am going to take every interesting picture I can take, and believe me, there are many. I hope you don’t mind nudity because you may get it. If one of the crazy naked guys happens to be out that day, I’m gonna have to get a pic, I’ll try to blur out the stuff you don’t want to see.

Oh yeah, it is election season in Cameroon as well. The elections here take place in about 8 or 9 days. It should be interesting. They haven’t been very “democratic” in the past, but apparently things will be different this year. The current president has been in power since 1980 and he has frequently been accused of changing the constitution and rigging elections in order to keep himself in office. You would think that this sort of behavior would really anger people, but most of them don’t really seem to care. The way they see it, Cameroon has been one of the most stable, prosperous countries in West Africa since he was elected, why mess with a good thing? Stability is all they can really hope for in this part of the world, I can’t blame them for having this kind of attitude.

The main political differences lie between the Anglophone regions of the country and the Francophone regions. In case you didn’t know, Cameroon has two official languages, French and English. There are 2 provinces in which the people speak English primarily since the British originally colonized them. The other 8 provinces consist of mainly French speakers. The current president is a francophone. Many of the anglos don’t like him, they feel that they are neglected, and many of them want independence. That is where most of the opposition stems from in this country. If anything interesting happens during these elections it will happen in the Anglophone provinces, meaning the North West or the South West Province. Stay tuned for details.

I still haven’t received my absentee ballot for the U.S.A, so it appears as though I won’t be voting this year. That sort of hurts. It seems as though it has been a pretty interesting battle out there. I’ll have to admit, I think both candidates are worthless, but I still want to pick my poison. How did the first debate turn out? Any clear winner? It must have been fun to watch those two clowns go at it! I wonder which puppet will win. In Cameroon, most people want Kerry to win. But there are a surprising number of Bush supporters. There are people here who know more about the American elections than their own. I even listen to French news radio, it’s crazy how much the U.S. elections dominate the headlines. It really shows how much of an influence we are in the world. You sort of forget how much of an influence we are when you are lost somewhere in the middle of the giant machine. And believe me, it really is a GIANT machine, you should come over here and get a good view of it sometime.

I am going to run for president when I get back. My campaign starts now.

Until Next time...

I have 18 minutes left on this internet time so I decided to use it and type my thoughts as they come to me. Most of my previous entries were premeditated, this is raw emotion, here it goes:

I changed the title of this blog, becuase that is what this experience is becoming. A rollercoaster ride.

Today was emotional to say the least.

6:30am: wake up. I'm sick of the alarm tone on my phone, so I will change it soon. Once you become tired of a particlular tone, you no longer get excited about waking up.

6:45: Hop in cab with my addidas pants a white tee shirt and my tennis racket. "100 francs, tennis club" I yell. In cameroon when taking a cab, first you yell the price then the destination. If the cabbie accepts your offer and there are fewer than 7 people in a car that seats 4, then he honks his horn which means "get in where you fit in." This morning I was lucky to get a cab on my first attempt.

7:00-8:00 - Tennis with Alain. Alain is the #6 ranked player in Cameroon, he kicks my a** everytime and I pay him 1000 francs to do so. It is a great workout. I broke my strings for the 3rd time in 3 weeks, that sucks because it costs money. I then traded my racket with the ball boy whom I pay 500 francs to run around and pick up balls. I do not choose to have this ball boy, i guess my whiteness pre determines the existence of a ball boy.

8:15-9:00 - morning preparations. I take a cold shower in the dark as the power is out once again. I eat a banana and left over potato soup and coffee.

9:00-12:00- work, sort of. I go to work with the intention of making excel spreadsheets, but the power is out. This is a widespread blackout and it looks as though this will be an all-dayer. I spend my time in the office reading and finishing "the celestine prophecy" which I recommend to anyone interested in the meaning of life. I also chat with Cecile the secretary who spends her time looking out the window and thinking of nothing.

12:00-4:00pm: I go home with no intention of returning to work since the power will not be back till 6pm according to the local radio. 6pm really means 9pm. I eat more left over potato soup and start reading "brave new world" by aldous huxley. I also started reading "the sun also rises" by hemmingway. I like to start several books at the same time, eventually I settle on one. I read, then I lose focus so I turn on the radio to RFI. This is the French equivqlent to bbcnews radio. I listen to stories of decapitation in Iraq and flooding in haiti, and what have you. Same old depressing news. It is great for my french though, it is high level professional french which you dont hear in cameroon.

4:00- pat, my roommate returns from work. We go have a beer across the street. We always go to the same bar. The bartenders name is killian, he is great and he is from the anglophone region of cameroon. Nice to hear english although it is somewhat distored. Its like jamaican english.

8:40pm- NOW. I have 3 minutes left so I will leave this free flow typing session where it is. I will have my computer in two weeks which enable me to produce more premeditated writing.

Later. Wait, I'm back

Its pooring rain outside and I dont feel like getting drenched today so I purchased more time. This leaves 15 minutes of more raw emotion live from the heart of allen in the heart of africa.

Lets see...okay here we go:

Let me describe the feeling of walking down the street in bafoussam.

The act of walking down the street sounds rather simple and uneventful. But its different here. Close your eyes open to read this):

Imagine a very busy street. Imagine no sidewalks. Imagine many cars going in all sorts of directions; left, right, up, down, sideways not making an effort to avoid you. Imagine scores of kids pushing carts full of bags of rice not making an effort to avoid you. Imagine 1000's of people walking up and down this street not making an effort to avoid you. Imagine trash, dog sh*t, puddles, mud, that you must make an effort to avoid. Imagine all this, all at once. Kind of like playing "frogger" on the computer, many things to dodge. Now imagine being 4 inches taller than everyone and being the only person with your particular skin tone. Now imagine all this chaos of people staring directly at you as you pass. Imagine them yelling "BLANC!" or "WHITE!" or "NASSARA!" or "DOC" (all meaning "white"). Imagine some of them hissing and motioning for you to come over to them. Imagine THAT!

That is my 1.5 mile walk to work in a nutshell. It used to scare me, then it irritated me, now I dont even notice it. I walk tall and I walk proud. "I'm rubber you're glue, everything you say bounces off me and sticks to you"

This is what keeps me going. I am learning, i am growing more confident everyday.

Okay, 15 minutes are up. It is still pouring rain, but thats life. Potato soup awaits me. It is dark out, so people wont yell at me.

Enjoy the peace and calm your neighborhood. If it ever gets boring, come to bafoussam.

I did a lot of traveling last week. It all started in Nkongsamba which is located south of Bafoussam. I spent a few days there working with another volunteer who is involved with the same NGO and Micro banks that I work with. The two days spent there were helpful to say the least, as they gave me more of an idea of what I can actually do here. I’m still a little confused as far as my purpose working with these banks and in which areas I can contribute. But there is plenty to be done on the computer side of things which is where I see myself fitting in. I can create spreadsheets to track account info, stats, and other data, and then I can bring a copy of those spreadsheets to the village banks and train them on how to use them. Most of the banks are not computerized AT ALL. They may have a computer, but most of the time it does nothing but collect dust. Every transaction is done by hand; there are boxes full of cards with each person’s account info, everything by hand. It’s often extremely disorganized. I thought I was disorganized, but this is ridiculous.

This is truly the Wild West. We visited a village bank with bullet holes in the walls from a robbery that occurred earlier this year. Armed robbers aren’t the only ones after money here. Corruption is out of control. Bank presidents are stealing money. Cashiers are stealing money. Accountants are stealing money. Everyone knows about it, but nobody seems to care enough to do anything about it. They can’t afford to fire people. Corruption is a part of life in this country; it is accepted and rarely questioned. It starts at the top of the chain and it works its way all the way down to the cashier at the village bank. HOW DO YOU STOP SUCH A WIDESPREAD INFECTION? If you can answer that, come here, you are needed. I am doing what I can, but they won’t listen to me unless I slip them a couple hundred francs.

On my way home from Nkongsamba, I stopped in Buea. This is the town situated at the base of Mt. Cameroon – a 12000 ft. volcano that sprouts out of nowhere and borders the Atlantic coast. It is supposedly beautiful, but I couldn’t see it as it was engulfed in clouds the whole time I was there. I plan on climbing this mountain in December, during the dry season. There is supposedly a great three day trek you can take to the summit. In February of each year there is a world renowned RACE to the top of this volcano and back down and it is sponsored by Guinness. It is a grueling race. Apparently the descent is the most difficult part. The people who make it down alive are usually covered in blood after they tumble down half of the mountain. SOUNDS AWESOME! I have decided to take part in this race in February of 2006. This will give me time to train and familiarize myself with the course. The fastest time to date is about 5 hours, I will do it in 4. The race is followed by FREE Guinness to ease the pain of open wounds! WOOHOO.

After Buea, I visited Limbe, a beautiful coastal town situated on the other side of the volcano. Try to picture a black sandy beach, palm trees, and a 12000 ft volcano backdrop. The water was perfectly warm, and the grilled fish was delicious. If it weren’t for the prostitutes harassing us, the trip to Limbe would have been perfect. Once we told them we were volunteers who did not make money, they left us alone.

I am also planning a solo adventure through the remote countries of the Sahara. I will start in Cameroon, head north into Chad, continue heading north through the barren desert into Niger. Upon arrival in Niger, I will jump up and down screaming “I’ve made it to the middle of nowhere!” I will do this entire trip by bush taxi and whatever other means of land transportation I can find. If I have to ride of camel, so be it. It will be the cheapest, most exciting trip ever taken by man. The travel ban to Libya has been lifted, if I can fit Tripoli into my itinerary, I will. Khadafi loves me. This journey will happen sometime in March of 2005, I think. Wait till you see pictures and read about that adventure!

As you can see, I’ve been doing plenty of planning. Aside from thinking about the future, I do a lot of reading. No TV = plenty of books. There is a great network of book exchanging between volunteers in Cameroon. Hemmingway is great. I am also memorizing every single world capital. I am doing two each day using the map on my wall. Today’s capitals:

Niamey – Niger

Ouagadougou – Burkina Faso

Once I get through Africa, I will start working on Southeast Asia, which seems to be the area I know the least. The plan is to eventually travel to each one of these capitals, in alphabetical order. I think I would have to start in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, then head to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Though, I could be missing one of the A’s in there somewhere.

I am thinking of bringing back a bunch of kids to the states. Let me know if you want one or two, they are incredibly cute. They work very hard, and they never complain. Cutest darn little things you have ever seen. Most of them spend their time carrying peanuts on their head walking from bar to bar trying to make a living. I’m sure they’d be more than happy to see the States.

I may start teaching English to 6th graders next week. I don’t know how I got sucked into this one, but it sounds fun and challenging. I am also setting up computer schools in villages across the region; I just need to find funding and donors. Bill Gates, if you are reading this, send me an email.

I miss a lot of things and people still. Sometimes it gets pretty sad. I’m in this huge city surrounded by 500,000 other people and a roommate, yet I feel lonely. The best remedy is keeping busy, reading, and listening to music. Other days I feel wonderful. The rollercoaster ride continues.

I am eating potato soup for dinner. The best part of living in a great apartment in a large city in the Peace Corps is the fact that you get many visitors who cook food for you. Tonight, Jeanah is cooking potato soup, a very large pot of soup, enough to last a week.

DIINNER IS READY! GOTTA GO.

I’m back in Yaounde, the lovely capital of this lovely country. I’m at the Peace Corps office taking care of some business, then its back to lovely smelly dirty Bafoussam. Next week I travel again, pending approval from my APCD (i.e. the man in charge of knowing my whereabouts), to Nkongsamba which is located in the littoral provice between Bafoussam and Douala, pull out your maps if that means nothing to you. I will be going there on work related business, unfortunately there is no business class on the bush taxis.

The bush taxi ride to Yaounde this morning was interesting and uncomfortable as usual. I got a window seat, but I was sitting next to a very large woman who basically took over the territory on the seat intended for my body. I was also treated to a live, in van, infomercial. There was this guy along for the ride who was selling various ointments and creams meant to cure just about anything. He stood up in front of the van and screamed for about 1hr all the wonderful things his products do. “It cures bronchitis and male impotence,” he explained. At the end of his sermon people actually started waiving money in the air. 500 Francs a tube! How can you say no? I guess there were impotent men and women with bronchitis on the bush taxi this morning. My leg fell asleep at some point during the 4 hour ride, and my buttocks were very sore indeed. But now I am here, and enjoying this wonderful high speed internet with American keyboard.

Yesterday I went to work with Mr. Leopold the chicken farmer. He resides in bandjoun which is a nice village outside of Bafoussam. This village is clean and there are street lights thanks to Mr. Victor the rich man who’s mother’s funeraille I went to a few weeks back. I really enjoy working with Leopold. I find more joy working with chickens than sitting in little banks all day. I am working on a feasibility study for Leopold who is trying to expand his chicken farm to accommodate 2000 more egg layers. Its pretty fascinating seeing all those fat chickens, I like to hold them too, they are so cute. I will get pics soon, its worth seeing. Leopold also has banana plantations, peanuts, mangoes, and coffee. Needless to say, he gives me lots of goodies when I visit!

Okay. Life in Bafoussam is going well, on most days. I have integrated into the tennis club and I play about 3 days per week. I play with the #8 ranked player in Cameroon, and he is GOOD! The number one player plays there too, and he is the best tennis player I have ever personally known. He is Pro material, only problem being that he cant get a Visa to go to the States or Europe where he can get better training. Really sad, the gov here wont sponsor tennis players for visas, they only care about soccer. I also play basketball on Saturdays (as of next Saturday). I am friends with “Monaco” who played for the national team here for five years. He is 7 feet tall. Lots of fun. I think he is the only person in this city who stands out more than I do! Its nice not being the center of attention for once.

Okay, gotta go, line is getting long, volunteers are getting impatient for computer.

So, here qre the new photos. I may have to do this in two days since the connection is so slow, we'll see what happens. I recommend opening a new browser so you can view the photos and read the descripition at the same time from this blog. The numbers I list should correspond to the labels of each photo.

Open this site in a separate browser: http://photos.yahoo.com/allenbanick3

The descriptions:

I just realized I may have ommited some of the photos described here, just pay attention to the numbers...

364: The view inside a bush taxi, usually its a lot more crowded than this.

369: Pat (my roommate/friend/coworker in Bafoussam), Pats brothers, and me at the talent show.

382: Cameroonian singers at the talent show.

391: Cameroonian karate master in action!

400: Dancers

409: Stan (aged 79 and still livin like a 24 yr old) performs poetry at the talent show.

438: more beautiful sunsets at training

463: Host Papa, Diane wearing my bike helmet

465: One of the many puppies, this one can score goals too.

4 70: Me and host fam on our way to family appreciation dinner, my first occasion to wear the Booboo. You will see this booboo often. I really feel like I belong in a booboo.

487: Some cousin hiding from me

488: Little Alex after I gave him matchbox cars, he was sooo excited to have these toys. He stared at them for two days before he had the guts to actually play with them! I also gave him that hat.

489-493: Swearing-in ceremony photos. This was the culmination of training, aaaah at last.

508: This is a bad pic of me giving my speech in Ewondo. The person who took this didnt know how to use the zoom...It doesnt really show the crowd of people I was talking too, but you get the point.

515: Raise your right hand and repeat after me...

521: Me with host papa and mama at swearing in, our last day together.

524: Pat, Jen, host fams

533: A final dinner with all my friends at the White House in Yaounde, we left for post the following day...

535: The ride to Bafoussam, we rented a bush taxi all to ourselves, talk about comfort!

537: Some views from one of the west province villages. So green, so nice. This is the best province in Cameroon, now you know why!

538: This is the funeraille I talked about. Look at all the fancy material people wore.

539: Me, Pat, Leopold the chicken farmer, and the Artists, at the funeraille.

542: Guns were fired in celebration..BAAM!

544: Lots of dancing

545: Pat and I joined the dancing, can you see the only white guy in the crowd?

546: The woman in front of the line is holding a pic of the deceased woman.

548-551: People and stuff

556-561: Drumming and dancing

566: The kings who were present at the ceremony. If you want to talk to them, you have to bow, and clap your hands together 5 times or something. Once I figure it out, I will talk to them.

571: Even the kids came out!

573: The banquet dinner

575-576: Shots of my apartment living room. This place is a source of jealousy on behalf of many volunteers...the tile work is nice, so is the fireplace, so useful on the equator! Actually it can be quite cold, if we find some wood...or some trash maybe we'll try it out.

577-581: Balcony views of the apartment. These were taken on a sunday afternoon, there wasnt much traffic. But you get an idea of the stuff we spend hours watching from the balcony. Today I saw a man with a single small punpkin on his head. It was so strange, and funny.

That is all I have to share for now. I hope these photos help you understand all the crazyness that is Cameroon. I need to go now, I will update soon.

If you are thinking of visiting me, think no more, just do it!

I know its been a very long time since I’ve updated this blog. I had written a very long, beautiful piece of work, unfortunately the floppy disk I saved it on doesn’t work anymore. That happens a lot here, it must be the humidity. It’s really a shame, what I had written can never be replicated :(

I am sitting in the village bank I work with, using the computer in hopes it wont crash and there wont be a power outage. If all goes according to plan, I will save this onto a disk and bring it to the internet café tonight and cut and paste it to my blog.

Yesterday was simply a fascinating day. I attended the « funeraille » of the mother of the richest man in Cameroon. I wore my African clothing, called a booboo. A booboo is basically a long robe a some matching pants made out of fancy African material. My host family had one made for me, and it is probably the most comfortable article of clothing I have ever owned. Oddly enough, all the African men at the event were wearing Western style suits. We toured the rich mans compound, which includes individual houses for each of his 30 wives. Yes, he has 30 wives, some say he has 50.

Pat and I showed up around 11 am only to see that the ceremony had already begun. This was the large public portion of the event which includes dancing, prayers, speeches, etc. There were about 3000 people in attendance including several kings, diplomats, and the rich man himself. When we got there, we were quickly intercepted by a large, bouncer like man in a black suit who told us he would escort us to our seats. We followed him to the large covered area of seating, walking right in front of all 3000 of these people. Most of them were probably wondering what this white guy was doing in a booboo. Each section of seating was labeled. Somehow, Pat and I were placed in the «Elite» section directly behind the rich man. Why we were placed there, I don’t know. Maybe we looked more important than we are. The religious portion of the ceremony lasted about 2 hours and there was a lot of sitting down and standing up and sitting down and standing up ; I’m guessing it was a catholic event. After that, there was dancing. Lots of dancing. Ceremonial African dancing, and drumming. It was all amazing to see. Stay tuned for photos. This was the cultural stuff I had imagined seeing before I came. Everyone was wearing a different type of material which represented the group, or village from which they came. All of the rich man’s immediate family had a special material, and there were many many family members. When he has at least thirty wives, there’s no telling how many kids he’s got. Leopold, the man who invited us, made the comment «it’s impossible to distinguish his wives from his daughters, because some of his wives are younger than many of his daughters.» Wow.

Pat and I were among the 400 or so priveledged people to be invited to the lunch/dinner feast held inside the banquet hall of the palace. We ate like kings, and drank french wine and champagne. We were the only white people in the place. We were sitting with two artists, a singer/songwriter and a poet. The singer had recorded a song dedicated to the woman who died. He got to perform it in front of the crowd and he gave a copy to the Rich man himself. Apparently, it’s not easy being an artist in this country, because the singer later told me that he had been waiting 9 years for this moment. He also said that this was all made possible by our (Pat’s and my) white skin. Since he was with us, he was able to get in the banquet, and since he was sitting with us, everyone assumed that he was a legitimate artist. This is in his own words. It’s very strange how people perceive westerners here. They give us this label of importance, and affluence. They are often so honored when we just say hello to them. Sometimes it’s flattering, but usually it makes me feel akward, I just want to say «hey buddy, you’re just as important as me.» Then again, a lot of people in the streets yell at me and call me “cracker.” Maybe it all balances out in the end.

I’m at the cyber café now, and I found one that may enable me to upload my pictures, and there’s even a CD burner that I can use to save everything to! Technology is coming to Cameroon...Now, I just have to wait for that laptop which should be here next month. Thats when this blog will start to get interesting, cause I’ll have the time to write more thorough entries from the comfy confines of my apartment.

Until next time...

Not much internet time left, so this will be short.

I live in a beautiful apartment surrounded by crazyness. The apartment is large, well furnished, basically above and beyond your "typical" peace corps home. then there's bafoussam. I don't think this town is for everyone. It's big, dirty, agressive, and somehow I really like it. I could write a book about the things I see from the balcony of my apartment.

Bafoussam is the third largest city in Cameroon and home to the Bamilike people who are known for their entrpreneurial ways. EVERYTHING is for sale here. You could sit on my balcony, or in a bar, and eventually someone will come up to you with the item you are looking for, balanced on their head. I'm talking EVERYTHING. Its pretty fascinating to see. They have really cool clothes here too. The kind of clothes that would sell really well in the states at one of those vintage clothing stores. It would be a great business really. Buy the stuff dirt cheap here, sell it in the states for a fortune where it is considered "classic" and "retro". I didnt think I woul leave Cameroon looking "hip", but I just may.

There are some "fous" or "crazies" in this town. There's one guy who strolls around buck naked with a big grin on his face. I see him everywhere, unfortunately.

I had lunch with the "sheriff", that's what he calls himself. he's head of the police in town. He's got a big bushy mustache, and he loves Westerns.

The countryside outside of Bafoussam is absolutely gorgeous. Its very mountainous, lush, green, and peaceful. I have some friends posted in villages in the area, they will defnately be my escape from the madness of the city. Its really two different worlds.

The food is plentiful. This region is the bread basket for all of Cameroon. So many fruits, vegetables, fish, everything. I'm learning how to cook, which is good. I made great fish the other night.

Despite the excitement here, I still get homesick from time to time. I miss a lot of people, family and friends.

I start volunteering on monday at the NGO I'm working with. I'm very excited to learn more about the work I will be doing. I will keep you posted

OK, gotta go. Until next time...

I don't know how much time I'm going to have to type this blog entry as I sit in the Peace Corps office waiting for the vans to pick us up and head to my new apartment in Bafoussam...

Before I talk about me, let me respond to your excellent (as always) commentary:

Dad: Thanks for the Hilton invite, you won't be dissappointed. The best part is the all you can eat breakfast buffet. I went there this morning ate like a champ and puked it all up. Yup, I'm in Yaounde, I get sick, thats how it goes. Don't worry though, it's not the foods fault. Read more about this later...

Mel: Thanks for the support, I love you too, say hi to the fam for me.

Mike: Yeah, we'll wash the dirty volunteers, some of them need it too! I wish I had more time to follow the elections more. All the blogs out there, so little time...aaaaaah. I really miss having 24/7 high speed internet; that and ice cubes, I REALLY miss ice cubes.

E: It sounds like you've been reading Adbusters!! Those were some strong words from a strong woman. Send me an email, we'll chat about the subject more deeply.

Grandpa B: I would love to share my blog with the elementary school in Albuquerque. There is actually a Peace Corps program called "World Wise Schools" where the Peace Corps hooks up volunteers with elementary school teachers and their classes to share the Peace Corps experience. If you send me this teachers info and the name of the school, I may be able to set it up with them. Otherwise, they can just use the blog anyways...Let me know. Say hi to grandma for me.

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Okay, back to the crazyness.

I'm in Yaounde, waiting for the bus to Bafoussam where I will live for the next two years.

This morning I took part in my biggest adventure yet in Cameroon. My friends Tiffany and Nick and I decided to jog from the Peace Corps Office, through the crazyness of yaounde, all the way to the Hilton hotel where we would reward ourselves with an all you can eat buffet breakfast.

We woke up before dawn and headed out around 5:45 am. The streets were still dark and fairly empty. We knew the general direction of the Hilton, but we had not planned out any route for getting there. We ran, and we ran. Down busy streets, past yelling people. We ran accross sketchy wooden bridges, we ran along railroad tracks. All along the way, Cameroonians were helping to point us in the right direction. They were very friendly and very encouraging. I think they were amazed to see these three white people running through the crazy city at the crack of dawn, with no sense of direction. We were told to go this way, we were told to go that way. Over the hills, across the busy intersections, through the round abouts, down the dirt paths, over the trash piles, past the shouting street vendors, dodging cars, trucks, buses and even trains.

50 minutes and 5 miles later the Hilton appeared behind some tall buildings. Getting there was the biggest accomplishment to date for me in Cameroon. I think it was for all three of us. When I first got to this city, I was scared to death, its big, its fast, its intimidating, but this morning I conquered this city, and now I have no fear. It was a very symbolic moment. The run through the city really represented all that I have been through so far in this country. Ups and downs, friendly people, accomplishments...

Then I ate breakfast buffet at the Hilton, then I threw up. The buffet was delicious though, really delicious. My throwing up was a result of: exhaustion, lack of sleep the night before, and eating too much too quickly. I'm o.k. now. I ate a full meal since then and managed to keep it in my stomach. Talk about highs and lows: one minute I'm celebrating at the finish line of a fantastic crazy marathon, eating an omelette and smoked salmon, the next minute I'm leaning over a toilet bowl watching my rewards swimming in the toilet bowl. Aaaaah, Peace Corps. What else is there to say.

Oh yeah, I swore in as a Peace Corps Volunteer on thursday. The swearing in ceremony was held in our training town. Amongst those in attendance: Many current volunteers, myself, the homestay families, and many "important people" from the American embassy, the Cameroonian ministry of education, and all the local authorities.

As I mentioned previously, I was selected to give a speech in Ewondo, the local language. I stayed up half the previous night practicing this speech getting the pronounciation down to a tee. To my, and every Ewondo speaking person in the crowd's surprise, I delivered a smooth, short, sweet speech. The crowd loved it, and they cheered after every sentence. It was a pretty cool feeling being up there and being cheered on by all these African people speaking in a language I have never really spoken before. It's funny, after the ceremony, I was approached by a bunch of people who, thinking I was fluent in Ewondo, starting talking to me in Ewondo, and I had absolutely no idea what they were saying. I only know my speech, and I know how to say "hello", "good morning", "good night", "fish", "chicken", "child", "eat", "white", "native", and "I'm tired."

After the ceremony, I gave about five interviews to various television, radio, newspaper reporters. My name must be all over this country now.

I said goodbye to my host family yesterday. It was harder than I thought it would be saying good bye. I guess when there are 12 people to say good bye to, your bound to be somewhat saddened. Not to worry, I will visit them at X-mas, and they want my Dad to meet them when he comes. Hey Dad! They make great food, it will be fun.

Ok, what else...Oh yeah. I've taken a lot more pictures since the last posting, but I'm still trying to find a way to get them posted. The wait will be worth it when I finally ge them posted, so hang in there.

Ok, its off to Bafoussam. I live near many internet cafes, so I should be able to keep this sucker updated more often. Next week I relax a little and get to know my new hometown. A week from monday, I start what I came to this country to do: volunteering. Sometimes, I forget why I'm here. Once I start working, it will all make sense again.

Until next time...Beum beu mos ntangen (Ewondo for, "have a nice day white guy")

Hello from beautiful Yaounde, Cameroon!

I've been in the capital city of this crazy country for the past 2 nights attending what they call "counterpart workshop." It was basically a two day event where we (the Small Enterprise Development volunteers) got to meet the people we will primarily be working with during our 2 year service (called our "counterparts"). Aside from getting sick (I only get sick when I come to this damn city, when we stay in a nice clean, hotel, and eat good food, go figure...) and puking my brains out, it's been great. I'm over the illness now, and enjoying some FREE internet time at the "Case" (the Volunteer "dorm" at the PC office in Yaounde). You can really see the Peace Corps budget cuts in action here, some of the beds are older than the Peace Corps itself. It's kind of like a frat house, lots of noise, and loudness at all hours (although it is quiet right now). Our, Pat and my (Pat being my roommate and coworker for the next two years) counterparts seem to be great people. They are very excited to have us and it seems like they have plenty for us to do. I was a little nervous they wouldn't be so excited about us coming to replace two of the best volunteers this country has ever seen (seriously). But they are great, and we already started developing a nice friendship (they're in their early thirties, so we get along great). One of them said "Nous sommes ensembles, et nous sommes d'abord freres, apres collegues" meaning, "we are together (a cameroonian saying), and we are first brothers, then coworkers.) Sounds like a great time to me, they said they have much to show us in the big city, where we will be moving in just ten short days.

When we got to Yaounde on Saturday, we made a point to check out the Hilton in town, supposedly one of the nicest hotels in country. It was like being in Miami for the afternoon. I honestly forgot I was in Cameroon. We had some friends staying the night there, and they snuck us into the pool. I ate (a really expensive) pizza, drank a pina colada (or two), and swam in the pool with exotic parrots staring at us from their little cages. We then went up to the very top of the building (the 12th floor) and played pool and watched Lance Armstrong win the Tour de France. It was nice to see civilization again, but it was, in the end, a waste of time and money. I'm sure that a year or so from now, I will be dying to spend a few nights there. (Dad, if you're reading, I've already made reservations, bring your credit card ;) )

I went to the White House last night. I ate fish with my hands, and drank beer with my mouth. The president was quite amused. The white house is actually a restaurant in yaounde (had you fooled, didnt I?) where they serve grilled fish and chicken. Really good food, and a favorite hangout for volunteers. I met some more volunteers who I will be seeing quite often in the West province where I will live. Should be fun...I have a feeling, in fact I know, we will be getting a lot of visitors at our apartment. Being in the provincial capital, and having a guest bedroom, a lot of volunteers will be stopping in to stay there. We will charge a small fee per night, and turn down people we dont like (there are unfriendly people in the Peace Corps, believe it or not, not that many though,). Everyone keeps saying "ooooh, you got that apartment in Bafoussam? It has hot water! I hate you! I hope you like visitors!" It's starting to get really old.

I went to a Cameroonian talent show last week. It was organized by the Cameroonian communty center in our training town, and some of my fellow trainees performed in acts such as: Cross dressed performance of that one song from the movie "Grease", a poetry reading by Stanley (the coolest 79 year old in the world), a salsa perfromance by Richard (aka Ricky Martin), some blues singing, and many more acts. Many of the Cameroonian acts were good, but there was this one group who performed about 6 times throughout the show. Two guys, a girl, and an old synthesizer. Horrible voices, horrible songs. But I was rooting for them because they were getting hissed and yelled at (Cameroonians dont actually say "booo", they just yell and tell you how they really feel). The audience was quite large and very loud.

I've been following the Tour de France. I think it gets more coverage here in Cameroon than it does in the states. Lance Armstrong is the most amazing athlete ever. People here love him, how could you not? 38 years old (or so), he beat cancer, and has won 6 times in a row. Thats amazing, no matter where you watch it from.

It's 12:20am and I'm really tired. Not much sleep in the past few days, and I just used whatever remaining brain power I have winning a game of scrabble. Tomorrow I tour the headquarters office of ADAF-the NGO I will be working with. Bonne nuit.

Saturday, July 03 2004

I went home last night, after a long day of training, to find my papa, mama, about 6 or seven of their “sisters” (cousins are also called “sisters”), grandparents, and some other random people sitting around in the courtyard of the compound. One of the ladies yells to me “come over here baby, and have some of this Guinness!” So I did. As I approached the group, I noticed many empty bottles and old grandma started talking to me in a slurred speech. Yes, it was a big day at the compound, many beers, and a few boxes of wine were consumed. I sat around with the family, listening to them speak. They were talking local language, so I couldn’t really understand what was going on, but I could tell that it was pretty serious. I probably spent about two hours, eating fish and manioc, listening to all these people speak in some African language, and it was great. I didn’t understand a thing, which made it all the more relaxing. My brother, Antoine, showed up a little later and filled me in on the story. Apparently, earlier in the day, they had the “levee des corps” ceremony. This translates to “the moving of the bodies”. The day before a funeral, there is a procession from the morgue to the funeral site. This procession was for the two men that died last week when Papa’s truck crashed in the forest. Papa forked out all the dough for the operation including: special clothes for the body, transportation for the bodies, fees for the morgue, food and drink for the funeral, and other expenses. All in all he spent about $2000, which is a huge sum of money in this country. Since the men were his workers, and they died on the job, it was his responsibility to cover all expenses related to the funeral. The reason for all the commotion last night was that certain members of the dead men’s families were blaming my papa for their deaths. I felt bad for him, accidents happen, and there wasn’t much he could do about this one, he wasn’t even there. We were all supposed to attend the funeral today, but we’re not going to now for fear of Papa’s safety. That’s ok, I have lots of homework anyway.

Later in the night, my little sisters tried to braid my hair. They wanted to make me look like R Kelly, but my white man hair is too slippery to braid. Today they will try the Craig David look. I’ll take pictures if it looks good.

Thursday July 1st

I’ve been spending the morning listening to music and trying to read this book that I’m going to do a presentation on at the end of training. I had trouble focusing as the music played and started bringing back memories. I had my first episode of reminiscing. I thought about friends, Boulder in the summer, skating down the hills, driving buses, Frisbee golf, concerts, baseball, keystone light, my little bro, camping, gett-CLICK-song is over, back to reality. I’m in Africa. Trying to read this book. I’ve been here a month, it feels like a year. For my friends and family in the States, I’ve barely left, yet I feel as though I boarded that plane in Denver ages ago.

I don’t know what to write about. I’m still seeing crazy things, but they just aren’t that crazy to me anymore. I still eat strange creatures, but they aren’t as strange as they used to be. I guess I’m adjusting to life in Cameroon faster than I had imagined. So that leaves the question: what do I write about? Do I write about the things that people in the States expect to hear about? The bugs, the strange food, the poverty, the rain, the heat, the beauty, the dirt? I could write about that, but that’s all normal to me now, and it would bore me to keep writing about it. My life is becoming normal again. Normal, but still very interesting and exciting. Now, it’s about the people I know, the work I do, the stuff you probably wouldn’t care to hear about. We’ll see.

Last night, was my friend Pat’s birthday. We (5 of us) went out to dinner and ate “poisson braisé.” It’s Cameroonian grilled fish, and it is delicious. We had a great time. When I got home at nine thirty my host papa acted kind of strange, and my family sort of ignored me as if they were disappointed in me for not eating at home. My sisters even asked me where I was and why I hadn’t been home for dinner, even though I told everyone three times the night before what I would be doing. Strange. This morning, everything was fine again; I guess they don’t hold grudges for very long here, or they have poor memory.

Unfortunately I didn’t really sleep last night, there was a lot of commotion outside my room, as about twenty of my papa’s workers were busy moving logs and loading them into a truck. Some sort of clandestine wood trafficking operation under the cover of darkness. That went on until three in the morning. I finally fell asleep with my headphones on.

I forgot to mention my radio appearance last week. I was selected, thanks to my brilliant French skills, to represent the PC Trainees for a local radio appearance. The only local radio station is called “Radio Femme” which translates to “Woman Radio”. Ironically, the station manager, and the radio show host were both men. Go figure. So, I showed up, with a statement prepared in the local native language (not French). The host of the show hogged the mic for most of the show, but I did get my opportunity to read my statement. I think they understood me, and I got a nice round of applause from the people at the station, and later from my host family who was listening. I really wanted to bust out some freestyle rap flows, but they didn’t give me the time, maybe next time…

The education volunteers found out where they will be posted for the two years. We small business people have to wait another 4 weeks. Everyone is really anxious, including myself, to find out where the hell we will be living for the next two years. There are rumors floating around, but they seem to change everyday. I still think I will be in the west province, but I’m not so sure anymore, things are changing everyday. The latest rumor has me living with another volunteer in some large city. It’s very very rare that Peace Corps would place two volunteers together, unless they are married. The volunteer in question happens to be my best friend in training, so it would work out. We would have a large house/apartment so I would still get my personal space. Of course, this may not even happen, but its fun to think about.

Tuesday, July 29th

Anteater tastes better than porcupine. It is really delicious, the best part being the tail. I invited my friend Jen over for lunch last Sunday, and she enjoyed it just as much as me. She is probably the only trainee that will try just about anything that appears on her plate, so I figured she’d be a good choice to invite. I think I’m going to invite people over more often. When there are guests, there is beer, wine, an abundance of food, and just a great time. Plus, it’s fun to share all the craziness with someone else who understands. That same night, I went to Jen’s house for dinner where we ate grilled fish, fried plantains, and lots of fruit, all this with our hands, mmmm. The grilled fish is amazing; probably thanks to all the MSG they sprinkle on it. Its crazy to see how different two families can be, just like in the States. I guess I imagined all Cameroonian families would be very similar in their general habits, but that is not true! At Jen’s house we played UNO with her 6 little sisters, at my house we drank Guinness with my momma, papa, and various aunts and uncles. I think it would have been smarter to start at Jen’s house playing UNO, then finishing the night at my house with Guinness. Oh well! It was still a very enjoyable Sunday.

Last night, we listened to Celine Dion. My little 8 year brother knows every word to just about every song, and he sings with confidence and pride. It is absolutely hilarious. Then we listened to Bryan Adams; remember him from the early 90’s? Well, he’s still topping charts in Cameroon, at least at my house.

Training goes on. Same old, same old…

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Happy Independence Day! We are having a Bar-B-Cue on Sunday Afternoon. There will actually be hamburgers, something I haven’t seen in a month. There will also be music and cheap Cameroonian beer. All this for $5 per person. You are all invited.

Okay, this blog entry was written over a five day span, sorry for any confusion regarding references to time. “Yesterday” may be referring to last Sunday, “tomorrow” may have already happened.

I’ve been posted! On Tuesday morning, our trainers, Fran and Ted finally informed us of our posts (our hometown and work for the next two years). The decision was based on our performance in training, language and technical ability, and our own input. Let me say this: My post represents the exact opposite of what I envisioned my Peace Corps service to be, but that is fine, I’m actually very excited about it. I imagined a small village; I’m in a large city of 500,000 (the third largest in Cameroon). I imagined a simple little house with a pit latrine; I have a large (very large) apartment with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, hot water, lots of furniture, a refrigerator, a four-burner stove, and two fireplaces (really useful for the equatorial climate here). I imagined solitude (being the only American for miles); I got a roommate (who happens to be a good friend from training). I imagined grassroots level, low impact work; I got something a little more high profile than that…

The story behind the story: Fran and Ted (wife and husband) are current Small Enterprise volunteers in Cameroon, and they have been in charge of our training. They are a year into their service and after training they were supposed to go back to their post for the remainder of their service. Before announcing our posts to us yesterday, they informed us that they would be leaving Cameroon at the end of training to be with their family, thus ending their service early. It was very sad news for all of us; they have been great resources and great trainers. They were sort of parental figures to most of us young trainees, helping us and advising us through any difficulties. They chose Pat and I to replace them at their post; which is an honor for me, personally.

Why it’s a big deal: The post we have been given is considered to be the highest profile post in the country. The other Small Enterprise volunteers are assigned to work in small micro finance institutions (like credit unions designed for the poor, rural populations) in medium to small sized cities. Pat and I will be working for the NGO (called ADAF-Appropriate Development for Africa Foundation) that is in charge of overseeing 28 of these institutions, basically a headquarters office (albeit, a small HQ office). We will assist people that are high up in the chain of command, some of them holding PhDs. We will travel around our Province auditing many of the institutions. We will basically assist in overseeing all these little banks. We will be moving to Bafoussam in August to take over Fran and Ted’s apartment and their work at the NGO.

Why me? Good question. Fran and Ted have about 80 years of business experience between the two of them, me: about 0.5 years. Pat holds an MBA and about 10 years experience working in banking in the States. They chose us based on our performance at training, and just their personal judgment on our ability to perform at this post. This assignment will be a huge challenge, a great learning experience, and it will certainly open many doors for me in the future. The combination of my language ability, and Pat’s experience should make for one great volunteer!

We will have a guest bedroom, visitors are welcome!

I can’t express how much of a relief it is to be posted. It has been on everyone’s mind for sometime now. The fact that I have such a great post makes it even better! They also placed most of my best friends from training in my area. Pat is my roommate, the other Allen is about 90 minutes away, Stephanie is about 30 minutes away, Tiffany is about 2 hours away, April is about 3 hours away, and last but not least: the volcano and the beach are just 4 hours away (down a nice, paved road-a luxury in this country).

The West is the BEST! My province is known to be the most beautiful, with rolling hills, many chefferies (chief’s palaces), cool weather (60’s at night), and access to many tourist sites. Also, my town is a commercial hub, and the market is supposed to be great with many excellent fruits and vegetables. I think Pat and I are hiring a cook (yeah, this is Peace Corps) to prepare all this great food.

Back to the now. We have about three weeks left of training, of which one week (next week) will be spent traveling around visiting current Small Enterprise Volunteers. I leave on Tuesday and return next Sunday. This will be my first experience traveling extensively in Cameroon; I hear it’s always an adventure. Long distance travel is done in what they call “bush taxis” which are basically big 15 passenger vans that are stuffed with about 30 people, goats, chickens, and anything else that needs to go anywhere. I’ve heard many stories about these bush taxis, I’m sure I will have some of my own to share soon enough. This will be one of the few times I will say, “it sucks to be tall!”

We had a great 4th of July party last Sunday (I hope you enjoyed yours!) We ate hamburgers (sort of…the meat tasted funny, and the buns were strange), watermelon, beer, and some other stuff. We also danced. Good times were had by all who attended. The Cameroonians really enjoyed the hamburgers; it was the first time eating them for some. The leftover meat was donated to the underfed dog that guards the training house, his name is Shasky, he is very dumb, but very friendly. He really enjoyed those burgers.

Let me talk about some things I’ve noticed:

There is no such thing as vehicular safety. I see Toyota Corollas packed with 3 people in the front, six in the back seat, and 4 sitting in the trunk. I see motorcycles with one man driving, followed by a young child in the middle, and finally a woman riding on the back with an infant strapped to her back. Helmets are non-existent, in fact people laugh at us when we put them on (PC policy requires us to wear one). As crazy as the driving is here, I have yet to see an accident, knock on wood.

People watch the same crap on television here as they do in the states. They don’t watch nearly as much television, but when they do, it’s horrible. Most of the sitcoms are from the states, and it’s sad to see that their impression of the U.S. comes from these stupid television shows. One of the shows (a big hit) is called “Top Models.” It airs nightly around 7pm. Before I actually watched it, I thought it was one of those beauty pageant shows. Boy, was I wrong. “Top Models” is “The Bold and the Beautiful.” Go figure. They translate an English title into another English title and it’s supposed to make more sense. They also watch Dynasty, V.I.P., and some fighter pilot show called Pensacola. The only thing I will watch with them is soccer. My family here thinks I’m strange for refusing to watch television; how could an American not want to watch American shows? I would explain, but I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

There are so many intelligent people in this country with nowhere to use their brains. Unemployment is astronomical, and it’s very difficult to gain admission to university. Books are too expensive for most. I want to get some books for my host brother, Antoine, who is so bright, and curious about everything.

The kids here are incredibly cute. They are all so friendly, and they make me smile no matter what kind of mood I’m in. I would love to bring a few back to the states with me. They always smile, and laugh, and wave. Some yell “bonjour”, some yell “hello!” Some even yell “ciao” or “bonjourno,” thinking I’m Italian for some reason. I play along and yell “bonjourno!” right back at them.

I’ve been jogging every other day with my ENTIRE host family. I’m talkin’ papa, mama, four brothers, little sister, everyone comes along at 6:30am to run around the soccer field at the high school. It’s great fun. Hopefully this physical training will pay off in the next soccer match tomorrow (Business vs. Education). Last time we played, I practically passed out from exhaustion and heat stroke (after 2 minutes of playing, and after I scored one goal!). I think my problem last time was playing on an empty stomach (the only thing in it was Malaria medication). I will be sure to eat this time!

Wish me luck!

See you next week.

Ladies and Gentlemen,



The moment you've all been so impatiently waiting for, my first selection of photos are ready for viewing...



The link to my photos is: http://photos.yahoo.com/allenbanick3



I'm at the Peace Corps Office in Yaounde using high speed, free internet, and uploading photos. I'm actually not supposed to be using these computers until I am officially a volunteer, so this is a risky operation...



I wont say much in this blog entry, I'll let the photos speak for themselves. They are in chronological order from the moment I arrived till yesterday.



I've spent this past week travelling around the country visiting current volunteers and seeing what their life is like. I will give more details later. But I can say that no two volunteers, cities, or volunteer houses are the same. Traveling on bush taxis in cameroon is interesting to say the least, and very uncomfortable for tall people such as myself. But it is entertaining and I got into some really interesting conversations with my cameroonian co-passengers. On one of the buses there was this guy trying to sell "magic potion" that helps: lose weight, lower cholestoral, clear acne, cure malaria, typhoid and AIDS, and increases male potency. What a product!! Believe it or not, I think about 5 people ended up buying the stuff...go figure.



I will also say that I spent one day traveling on the back of a motorcycle on muddy dirt roads, going around blind curves at speeds exceeding 55 mph. This was almost as exhilirating as long boarding down the hills of Boulder, Colorado. It would have been more exhilirating had I not been wearing a helmet. The motorcycle trip ended up in this small village. The type of village I envisioned seeing in Africa before I actually came here. Naked children, goats, mud houses, and people who LOVE having their pictures taken as you will see in the photos. You will also notice some photos of this really really old looking woman. She is 105 years old. Amazing, considering the fact she's lived in this tiny, remote, backword village for her entire life. It is my favorite picture yet.



I ate pizza, kanga fish (giant river fish). I met interesting people, including bank presidents who I will be auditing and reviewing in the near future (I am SOO powerful!).



It was great to get out of training for a while, and its crazy to think there are only three weeks left before I get sworn in as a true Peace Corps Volunteer. Believe it or not, I was selectd to give a speech in Pidgin English at the swearing in ceremony (attended by many Cameroonian dignitaries and the American Ambassador to Cameroon). Since I already speak french, I have begun taking pidgin lessons while my fellow trainees continue to learn french. Pidgin is a language spoken all over Cameroon. It is basically what i would call simplified, dirty english, with a touch of french, portuguese, and german, and topped off with a lot of cool expressions and proverbs. My favorite is "small small, catch monkey" which translates to "little by little, we can achieve our goals." Also "walka fine" which means "take it easy dude." Hopefully, I will be able to better understand Reggae music once I get this pidgin thing down. Bob Marley would be proud.



For now, enjoy the photos, I will write a more extensive entry when I get a chance. Thanks for all your support regarding my assignment. I miss everyone, and I will email you individually as soon as possible.



PS: Any photos of animals that you see, ended up in my stomach, including the worms.



Walka Fine my kombehs (take it wasy my friends)