After giving our project presentations at the Inter-Service
Training for new volunteers in Bamenda (Northwest region) in mid-March, my
friend Megan and I decided to do a loop through the Western regions of Cameroon .
Check out a map of Cameroon, and you can track our route: after
Bamenda, we spent two days at the black sand beaches in Limbe (Southwest region),
headed back into the jungle for three days at Nkongsamba (Littoral), stopped in
a village just outside of Bafoussam in the West region for a night, and
finished in the chilly mountains above Bamenda in the villages Belo and Fundong. Then Megan returned to Yaounde ,
and I headed back to the coast town Buea to summit Mount Cameroon
It was our first time traveling outside of the Northern
regions (aside from a few field trips around Yaounde during training), and we
were struck by the contrasts between the North (Adamawa, North, and Extreme
North regions) and the “Grand South” (meaning the lower half of the country, or
everything South of the Adamawoua region).
There are huge differences not just between North and South, but even
between villages within hours of each other in the South! Cameroon
is so incredibly diverse; it truly is “Africa
in miniature.” Which makes this blog
post hard to write, because while I am tempted to make sweeping generalizations
and lump the cities I visited all together as “the Grand South” for the sake of
brevity, they really must be treated distinctly first.
We’ll start in Bamenda, Northwest region. The Northwest is moist and wet and green and
cool. I’ve heard volunteers compare it
to Ireland or New Zealand . I woke up in Bamenda on the first morning of
my vacation and savored the delicious feeling of being COLD again after months
in the arid North. I went out for a run
and I could see my breath! There was fog! And steep hills! They actually have grass on their soccer
fields! Not in the North anymore.
The three volunteers we visited outside of Bamenda- Laura,
Claire, and Sam- were all in isolated villages tucked into the
mountainsides. The roads to reach them
wound twisting, serpentine up and down narrow mountain passages with beautiful
views over terraced fields, red mud paths, mountain meadows, pine trees, and
dense forest.
Everything was chilly and wet wet wet. We saw waterfalls pouring over almost every mountain
ridge, reduced to trickles since March is their “dry” season. We enjoyed gentle rainfalls on beautiful
hikes alongside clear cold mountain streams.
Nothing dries. Northwestern
volunteers are constantly fighting mold and damp. Your newly-washed clothes will still be wet three
days later, and will mold quickly if you’re not careful; some volunteers are
forced to iron every garment. While we Northern
volunteers dig deep wells just to find water for our communities, volunteers in
the NW help their communities capture the excess surface water they have
year-round, creating water catchments and protecting watersheds.
Thanks to their wet climate, we ate very well while in the
NW. In the North, fresh fruit and
vegetables are rare and expensive. In the
Grand South, by contrast, there is a year-round abundance of fruit and
vegetables, most of which are twice the size and half the price of our Northern
produce! The North has a reputation for
having (relatively) “nothing to eat.” That’s
not entirely true- we have mango season and carrot season and cashew fruit
season and cucumber season. But each
season doesn’t last long, and you end up eating way too much of one thing, only
to be deprived of it for the rest of the year.
During dry season we survive mostly on tomatoes and onions.
Our complaining about this scarcity had apparently reached
the South, because all the Southern volunteers behaved as if they needed to
fatten us up! “You poor starving Northern volunteers we need to feed you well!
Eat while you can!” Megan and I were spoiled
at every stop with delicious homemade guacamole, salad, lemonade, melt-in-your
mouth bananas (literally, the best bananas I’ve had in my entire life- I don’t
even like bananas!), ice cream, s’mores, smoothies, cinnamon rolls, etc.!
The Northwest region has not only an entirely different
climate but a different language. It’s English-speaking,
and most inhabitants speak a Pidgin English.
They could understand our American English, but we couldn’t understand
them. I had gotten used to the power of being a fluent French speaker, so I
felt stripped of a weapon in the Anglophone region. Listening to Pidgin is frustrating because
it’s like English, so you feel like you should be able to understand everything
they’re saying, but since it’s Pidgin, you understand nothing at all. After a while it becomes grating because you
feel like they’ve completely butchered your native tongue! For example: “Bo how you day?/How is it?”
(Friend, how are you?) I waka fine. (I’m fine) “I do go for Limbe” (I’m going
to Limbe) “Which side you go?” (Which way are you going?) “I want chop something”
“I want drink something” (I’m hungry/thirsty) “He don chop my money!” (He stole
my money!) “We don flop this car.” (The car is full). “I don see my wife.” (I’ve found my wife)
“You my bo” (You’re my friend). “Give me a dash.” (Reduce the price). They speak very fast, with a Jamaican-esque
accent. People call each other “brother”
and “sister” a lot too. They’ll give
their kids names like “Marvelous,” “Precious,” “Conscience,” and "Good
Luck.”
Anglophones are a small minority in Cameroon , limited to the Northwest
and Southwest regions. Cameroon is
supposed to be a bilingual country, but in reality few Francophones can speak
English. Most Anglophones speak fluent French, so that they are better able to get
jobs, government assistance, etc. As an
aside, the NW region is also the center of political opposition to President
Biya’s party. Another cultural tidbit about
the NW: We saw village chiefs wearing crocheted caps with circles on top and
colorful blue and red embroidered outfits, which were chosen as the attire for
the Cameroonian contingent at the London Olympics Opening Ceremony.
 |
| Olympic attire |
Descending in a westerly direction from the mountains of
Bamenda, you reach the fertile coastal plains of the Southwest region, which
encompass the beaches of Limbe and Mount
Cameroon Cameroon . Huge banana (or plantain? I still can’t tell
the difference), pineapple, papaya, and rubber tree plantations went on for
miles. I was floored to see that the
plantations even had modern irrigation systems like we do in the US . I haven’t seen anything close to such
large-scale monoculture elsewhere in Cameroon . It’s odd to see a forest of banana
plants. They’re not quite tall enough to
be real trees, so it’s not quite a forest, just hills and hills of primeval,
over-sized tropical shrubs. Pineapple
plants are also odd-looking, how the fruit just kind of nestles on top of the
plant as if it was placed there.
Which leads me to one of the best parts of traveling in the
South: SO MUCH FRUIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s like
being in a Willy Wonka factory of fruit.
You can pluck luscious tropical fruits from the very walls. Huge pineapples, ginormous avocadoes (sorry
people, you have not tried a real avocado if you’ve only tried them in the US ) and papayas
everyyyyyywhere, even small ones called “pawpaws” that taste like carrots. At every roadblock on our trip to the beach,
mouthwatering fruit was thrust in the windows at us.
Add to that list coconuts, which were plentiful by the
beach, and palm trees. Palm oil is big
business in the Southwest/Littoral regions (but also almost everywhere West of
Yaounde). It’s the primary cooking
oil. Volunteers complain that everything
their Cameroonian friends offer them is totally drenched in palm oil. Everywhere you travel you see big jugs of it
being sold (or rather not sold because there’s such an excess) roadside. Palm wine is also a huge part of culture in
the Grand South. Volunteers told us of
not being able to get people to come to events or meetings without offering
wine. Drinking palm wine is a crucial
part of daily village life, the equivalent of our village beer “bilbil” in the
North.
We had a wonderful time in Limbe, a big tourist destination
in Cameroon . The beaches are black volcanic sand; you can
actually see ancient lava flows on your way down to the water. It’s directly below Mount Cameroon L.A.
The water was turquoise blue and clear, but very warm. The air was also very warm and very humid,
such that you couldn’t really tell the difference whether you were in or out of
the water! Looking back at the shore,
you see nothing but thick dense jungle, with mountains looming dimly through
the fog over the tree canopy. There were
plenty of jungle streams emptying directly into the ocean.
Each night, we dined on fresh seafood waterside,
brought in each morning by traditional wooden boats that are still widely used.
We also went to the Limbe primate reserve where we saw gorillas, baboons, chimpanzees, mandrills, etc.
Climbing Mount
Cameroon Buea , slightly East of Limbe. The four of us climbed with a Cameroonian team
of one guide and four porters, who packed all our food, carried our packs, and
cooked all our meals. The landscape
changed seemingly every hour that we hiked upwards; we began in dense jungle,
with vine-covered giant trees, elephant ears, and exotic flowers, rose quickly
to rocky meadow, and then to bare rocky highlands where we spent our first
night in shacks on the mountainside. Our
ascent was so steep that we were already above the first layer of cloud cover,
turning back every so often to look at the coastline faintly in the distance. The first day had required an easy 5-6 hours
of hiking.
The second day was the most grueling. We spent the morning ascending to the summit,
past rugged terrain battered by cold winds.
The last few kilometers to the summit were a black lunar-like landscape
of lava rock. We couldn’t see anything
from the peak due to the white vapors whipped around by high winds. Descending down the other side for the rest
of the afternoon, the landscape was even more diverse. We passed large craters
smelling of sulfur, and crossed dried lava flows and bare grasslands. Much of the path was loose rock and hard on
the ankles.
By nightfall, we had already returned to tropical jungle.
The last few hours we had to pick our way gingerly through the jungle in pitch
dark using headlamps, over tree logs slippery from a recent rain. Our legs were so tired we were barely putting
one foot in front of the other. We started
giggling deliriously trying to make light of the fact that the day had been was
so much longer than expected. We had
hiked for 12 hours straight, from 7am to 7pm!
We camped in tents in the middle of the rainforest, served a
hot meal by our Cameroonian guides, who were no worse for the wear. They had practically skipped up the mountain,
despite being weighed down by our packs and having no formal camping gear of
their own. Most of them were wearing
jeans and plastic market shoes, and carrying their possessions in grain sacks! They stayed up most of the night by the fire,
while we
could barely crawl into our sleeping bags.
could barely crawl into our sleeping bags.
The final day was an easy 3-4 hour hike over flat land back
into town. The next three days we were
so sore we walked around like old women.
Before our hike, I had considered participating in the Mount Cameroon
Race for Hope, hosted in Buea each year (see documentary Volcanic Sprint). In retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t, given my
fitness level at the time- racers have to handle 38km of steep inclines and
loose rock at high altitude, sometimes in driving rain!
En route back to Bamenda, we passed through the West region
and its capital, Bafoussam. We spent a
day assisting a group of volunteers in sorting books for the “Books for Cameroon ,”
which distributes thousands of books from donors to local schools in multiple
regions. The West region is known as the
home of the wealthy Bamileke tribe, who are reputed for dynamic entrepreneurs. Throughout Cameroon , if you drive a hard
bargain at the market, the vendor will say “you are Bamileke!” because the
tribe is famous for fighting for every penny.
We unfortunately did not have much time to spend in the West, but I
really want to find out more about the Bamileke because they are very
influential in Cameroon ’s
economic development. People in the
North speak of them with admiration, as if they believe that they too could get
rich by imitating the Bamileke. They say
that perhaps the Bamileke have found a development model that could work for
the whole nation.
The final region Megan and I explored was the Littoral
region, which includes Douala , the biggest city
in Cameroon . We visited Health volunteer Tess in Nkongsamba,
one of the rainiest places in Africa . On our way to her post we passed broad, deep
rivers dotted by pirogues and fishermen.
The rivers kept catching me by surprise; in the North, our riverbeds are
sandy almost year-round, you almost forget so much water can gather in one
place! The area was rich in wildlife,
judging by the bushmeat (armadillo and cane rats) held up to our windows at each
roadblock.
On either side the jungle was so thick with undergrowth that
if you wanted to pee you’d probably have to just go on the side of the road; I
swear you’d be hard put to penetrate the foliage far enough to hide yourself. Again, so much greenery is the polar opposite
of my region. In the North we have to
create forest from the desert; in the Grand South you have to protect the thick
rainforest that is already there.
We did get to brave the jungle, however- near Nkongsamba
there is a huge waterfall in the rainforest that was actually filmed in the
1980s version of Tarzan. It wasn’t the
season for it to be at peak flow, but it was still an impressive amount of
water and overall a very enchanting, exotic spot. It was so humid my hair curled (my hair never
curls). It is easily accessible to
tourists, although to get in we had to be very stubborn with the park officials
about refusing to pay the extra fees they try to force on unsuspecting
visitors.
Now that we’ve dealt with some of the specifics of each
region, I will dare to make a few generalizations about the “Grand South”:
1. Travel is chaotic.
This applies to all of Cameroon ,
but especially down South. For some of
the legs of our journey, we were lucky enough to be on large buses. These were relatively tranquil, except for the
salesmen hopping on and off trying to sell traditional medicines. They would yell in Pidgin for hours a couple
hours at the front of the bus, claiming to have easy cures, make a few sales,
then hop off. However, for most of the
way, we traveled using a barely organized system of hitchhiking in random, rickety
vehicles. You get out at a pick-up point
on the side of the road where other hitchhikers are waiting.
In the usual scenario, some guy who may or
may not be working there grabs your bags despite your protests, and before you
know what is happening you’ve been herded into a different vehicle that is no
less shoddy or broken-down than the first, squeezed between two fat mommas with
a kid on your lap and a chicken under you seat, hoping that your bags are on
the roof and that the car is going to your destination. Or alternatively, you wait on the side of the
road, running back and forth yelling in the windows of cars that slow down, and
having elbow fights with the other hitchhikers every time seats are free.
We were lucky enough to have PCVs in each area giving us
tips about how to navigate each stop, and we got through without too many
hitches. Still, you have to relinquish a
lot of your control over the situation and just jump in the next run-down,
overloaded car that comes along because some dude is yelling at you that it’s
going where you want to go. What’s scary
too about traveling in the South is that they have paved, single-lane, two-way roads
with apparently no speed limits. Drivers
have no qualms about hurtling into the oncoming lane to get around slower cars,
and you pass the skeletons of past car accidents all the time. In the North it’s calmer, since sandy routes often
limit speed and there are usually travel agencies to get to villages instead of
a random assortment of unidentified vans and cars.
The second generalization I would make is that 2. The South
has a higher standard of living than the North.
This is partly due to climate and geography – food is more plentiful in
the South. Northerners are lean, skinny,
shorter, while Southerners are bigger, thicker, more muscular, etc. The animals are bigger too. We ate chicken in Bamenda and it probably had
three times the amount of meat as Northern chickens! It was refreshing to see fat cows again; in
the North, especially in hot season, you can always see their bones sticking
out.
This derives also from proximity to the nation’s capital and
seaports. There are bigger, denser
population centers, thus more jobs, more economic opportunity, more investment,
people are better off. Infrastructure is
better; as I mentioned earlier, there are more paved roads in the South. We saw several people using laptops on buses,
which you never see in the North. I’d
also note that President Biya himself is from the South. Before the past election, he hadn’t even
ventured up North for over seven years.
Northerners complain they are underrepresented politically and that the government
neglects the North. The education system
is also stronger in the South. If you
meet a Cameroonian outside of Cameroon, chances are he’s from the South- they
are better able to mobilize the means to send their children abroad. Many ethnic groups have a reputation for
being dynamic go-getters, using parent associations to pool money for funds for
study abroad.
The South is relatively more developed, but I’ll mention
here a few of the development challenges we witnessed in the South. We observed large shantytowns around the
edges of the biggest cities, many of the villages we passed had an industrial
ugliness about them, a certain shabby destitution that Northerners avoid by
living off the land. As for agriculture, when you see the color of the rich
black loam of Southern fields, compared to Northern sand, you’re tempted to say
the South must not have any soil fertility problems!!! But the Agro volunteers we visited pointed
out many fields overgrown with the weeds that indicate impoverished soil. Heavy rains combined with the hilly
topography cause soil erosion, just as heavy winds and deforestation do in the
North. Slash and burn agriculture is also
still widely used in the South, as evidenced by the charred squares
pock-marking the rainforests we visited.
Finally, you could say that 3. Southerners are bolder, louder,
more aggressive, more animated. A carful
of Southerners will more often than not banter rambunctiously and harass the
driver the entire way, whereas in the North it’s actually possible to have a
trip where companionable silence is maintained.
Driving through Southern cities you see people yelling at each other
with huge animated gestures all the time.
It’s funny how arguing is such an accepted part of the culture; I once saw two guys on a bus screaming at
each other as if each had taken the other’s wife, then half an hour later after
the matter was settled they were laughing and chatting like old friends.
Life is more animated in the South. There is always fun, fast music playing in
the street, more partying, drinking, dancing, etc. We saw truckloads of people on their way to funeral
celebrations, big parties held weeks after death to celebrate the life of the
deceased. There’s lots of Christian
fervor- “I love Jesus” signs and paraphernalia everywhere, people reading
Bibles on the bus, beginning trips with group prayer, etc. Even Southern fashion is louder, brassier,
tackier. Lots of crazy hair styles with
fake hair added in. When a Southerner
comes North, you can tell they’re from the South right away just judging by
their mannerisms. There aren’t too many who
come up North. Actually, Southerners
kept asking us “What are the people like up North?”
This region-to-region diversity in Cameroon makes
Peace Corps training tricky. You have to
find a way to make a generalized agroforestry training useful to a wide range
of environmental contexts. Volunteers
who will be working with cacao farmers in the rainforest are in the same
training group as those who will be assisting millet farmers in the
desert. I learned about tree species
that can’t even survive where I work.
The same goes for Health volunteers who will be dealing with kwashiorkor
and other signs of malnourishment, others diabetes and being overweight (women
in the North are rail thin, whereas there are a lot of overweight women in the
south).
After climbing Mount
Cameroon Cameroon .
I’ll close with a little Southern lingo for you. Your word of the week: “Ashia!” “Ashia” is a very versatile word. Southerners use “Ashia” all the time, to
sympathize and encourage people facing difficulty. Missed the bus? “Ashia!” Running up a really steep hill? “Ashia!” Purse
stolen? “Ashia!” Caught in the rain? “Ashia!”
It can mean “du courage!,” “I feel you man,” “I’m sorry,” or “Go go go!”
It’s as if to say, “I feel for you, but we all have our problems- we’re
in this together, it’s not so bad.” Say
it to yourself when things go wrong, it’s very cathartic, calming. Try it out on other people, if they’re having
a bad day. “Ashia!” to you all.
rain glorious rain!!!
moto trip through the Northwest
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