I hate starting posts with an apology, but after over another month of no updates, it again seems appropriate.
January was possibly the busiest I’ve ever been in my life: my family’s visit, semester grades due, directing my first play, rewriting the drama and English curricula for our school’s reaccreditation, chaperoning a field trip to Mt. Cameroon, and submitting my AP Lang syllabus to the college board. Oy. (On top of that, poor Brian had malaria—I’m happy to report that he’s fine now, though.) February was our beacon of light throughout all of that, and it’s been a much saner month so far.
By including my family’s visit in the list of why-January-was-crazy, I don’t mean to imply the visit itself was hectic; I just didn’t accomplish any of the other things I needed to do while they were here. We had a wonderful time with them, and it made both Brian and me a bit homesick.
Our first side trip was to Cameroon’s northwest province. You can see our route on the map below. We took the road going NW out of Yaoundé, through Bafoussam, up to Bamenda (where we stayed on the way back), and then slightly east to the Ndarawa Tea Plantation (not shown on this map).
My dad took most of the photos in this post, and it was fun to see things through his eyes since everything was still new to him. It really made Brian and I realize how much we’ve gotten used to in our day-to-day routine. For example, trucks with these huge, dust-covered logs used to turn out heads, but now we hardly notice them.
This is another sight that used to make our jaws drop, but now we’re completely accustomed to how much people carry on their heads here…even when riding motorcycles. (Don't worry, he has someone in front of him who's driving.)
Here’s a typical roadside market.
Buses here are always loaded to the brim, and Dad tried repeatedly to photograph one with live goats or pigs strapped to the top; however, that initial beat of astonishment was just enough of a delay that he kept missing them. You can picture it, though, if you take the bus below and mentally add some live animals above the driver’s door. (Sometimes the goats just have a rope around their necks and are walking around on top!)
This is another sight that used to make our jaws drop, but now we’re completely accustomed to how much people carry on their heads here…even when riding motorcycles. (Don't worry, he has someone in front of him who's driving.) 
Here’s a typical roadside market. 
Buses here are always loaded to the brim, and Dad tried repeatedly to photograph one with live goats or pigs strapped to the top; however, that initial beat of astonishment was just enough of a delay that he kept missing them. You can picture it, though, if you take the bus below and mentally add some live animals above the driver’s door. (Sometimes the goats just have a rope around their necks and are walking around on top!) 
We had rented a van for the trip (a task that was an education in and of itself), and it kept overheating, so we had to make frequent stops to fill water bottles in creeks and refill the radiator. One stop was planned, though: lunch at a waterfall called the Chute de la Metche. At the bottom of a long set of stairs, the waterfall’s spray was a welcome relief from the hot, dusty drive.
Here’s the whole family (with even a rainbow behind us).
We climbed back up to the top of the falls and watched this man casting his net into the current.
About 25% of Cameroon’s population are animists, meaning they worship nature and believe plants, animals, rivers, etc. have souls. Near where this man was fishing was the hut of the falls’ caretaker, and the site was ringed with burned patches of earth where he had made recent sacrifices. As he rolled the little bundles of wood, plants, and spices that were part of each offering, it felt disrespectful to take pictures of him, but it was certainly fascinating to watch.
Here’s the whole family (with even a rainbow behind us). 
We climbed back up to the top of the falls and watched this man casting his net into the current. 
About 25% of Cameroon’s population are animists, meaning they worship nature and believe plants, animals, rivers, etc. have souls. Near where this man was fishing was the hut of the falls’ caretaker, and the site was ringed with burned patches of earth where he had made recent sacrifices. As he rolled the little bundles of wood, plants, and spices that were part of each offering, it felt disrespectful to take pictures of him, but it was certainly fascinating to watch.Just before we reached Bamenda, James—an ASOY driver whose home village is in this NW province—stopped the van at an overlook called Sabga Hill. This area is much more mountainous than Yaoundé, and the view was beautiful.
The air was a little hazy since it was (and still is) the dry season, but it was still fun to look down at Bamenda.
The air was a little hazy since it was (and still is) the dry season, but it was still fun to look down at Bamenda. 
As we got closer to the tea plantation, the landscape kept changing. Cameroon is not that big of a country, but it has rainforests, savannahs, mountains, deserts, beaches, and all the transitional regions in between. This part of the drive reminded me of the southwestern U.S. in terms of coloring and rock formations.
The palm trees by the side of the road, however, reminded me that this was definitely not Utah.
The palm trees by the side of the road, however, reminded me that this was definitely not Utah. 
It was a very long day of driving, and the van almost didn’t make it up the last big hill before the tea plantation. (We all had to get out to reduce the weight, so James could coax the van up the slippery sections of gravel and dirt—I’m sure we were quite the sight running after it, cheering James on!)
When we arrived at the guesthouse, the power was out, so we bought candles from some random guy walking by, and each took a candle and saucer to explore the place.
We ended up playing pit, yahtzee, and 10,000 by candlelight into the wee hours of the night.
We ended up playing pit, yahtzee, and 10,000 by candlelight into the wee hours of the night.The next morning, we were able to get a better sense of our surroundings. Here is the exterior of the guest house…
…the fields next to it…
…the plantation’s mosque (we were awakened by the call to prayer that morning)…
…and the owner’s house.
…the fields next to it… 
…the plantation’s mosque (we were awakened by the call to prayer that morning)… 
…and the owner’s house. 
Everyone at school who’d been here before insisted we had to do the horseback ride on the grounds. None of us are exactly horse-lovers, though, so I was a little skeptical, but I eventually decided that we might as well try it since we’d obviously never have the chance to all come here again. The guys in charge of the horses gathered the ones we’d be riding in a little corral—when we saw that there were seven horses but only three saddles, we knew we were in for an experience.
Here’s Brian on his horse. With his backpack and cap, he reminded me of an oversized kid at summer camp.
Here are Dad and John waiting for the rest of us to be ready.
Our friend Anjana came on the trip with us from Yaoundé, and they saved the smallest horse for her.
Emily wasn’t so sure about the whole thing, and I couldn’t blame her since her last horse-riding experience was on the crazed “Maude” on a family trip to South Dakota when we were little.
She adjusted well, though, and was a good sport about the whole thing.
Here I am on the trail. One guy was in charge of the whole thing, but it was the little boys who lead the horses that we enjoyed the most. They live on the grounds and work with the horses whenever they aren’t in the plantation’s school. I’m not sure I’ve ever put my life in the hands of ten-year-olds before, but they really knew what they were doing.
Here’s Brian on his horse. With his backpack and cap, he reminded me of an oversized kid at summer camp. 
Here are Dad and John waiting for the rest of us to be ready. 
Our friend Anjana came on the trip with us from Yaoundé, and they saved the smallest horse for her. 
Emily wasn’t so sure about the whole thing, and I couldn’t blame her since her last horse-riding experience was on the crazed “Maude” on a family trip to South Dakota when we were little. 
She adjusted well, though, and was a good sport about the whole thing. 
Here I am on the trail. One guy was in charge of the whole thing, but it was the little boys who lead the horses that we enjoyed the most. They live on the grounds and work with the horses whenever they aren’t in the plantation’s school. I’m not sure I’ve ever put my life in the hands of ten-year-olds before, but they really knew what they were doing. 
The landscape along the trail was absolutely gorgeous, and this was one of my favorite views. The little patch of trees on the crest of this hill looked like something out of movie.
Parts of the ride went right through the fields of tea. The leaves were a bright green, and it was surreal to be completely surrounded by it.
Our destination was this waterfall that just seemed to come out of nowhere—we couldn’t even hear it until we were right next to it.
Here’s the whole crew looking dusty and sweaty…and very happy to be off the horses for a while. J
On the way back, we saw some wild horses on the hillside. There are hundreds of wild horses on the land around the plantation, and it was pretty neat to see them galloping around completely free.
Here’s a shot out across the valley; it really was a beautiful area.
For the first half of the ride, the little boys walked with the horses, but on the way back, they were tired, so most of them rode behind us and helped us steer.
We had a lot of fun chatting with them on the ride—quite the little characters. (It was nice to be in the Anglophone region of the country where we could communicate better than in French-speaking Yaoundé.)
One of the older boys rode on his own on this horse he’s been breaking in. It was cute to watch the younger kids stare in awe every time he rode past—they obviously hoped to follow in his footsteps some day.
Here’s one last picture of the scenery—the combination of green hillsides and purple flowers was truly breathtaking.
Parts of the ride went right through the fields of tea. The leaves were a bright green, and it was surreal to be completely surrounded by it. 
Our destination was this waterfall that just seemed to come out of nowhere—we couldn’t even hear it until we were right next to it. 
Here’s the whole crew looking dusty and sweaty…and very happy to be off the horses for a while. J 
On the way back, we saw some wild horses on the hillside. There are hundreds of wild horses on the land around the plantation, and it was pretty neat to see them galloping around completely free. 
Here’s a shot out across the valley; it really was a beautiful area. 
For the first half of the ride, the little boys walked with the horses, but on the way back, they were tired, so most of them rode behind us and helped us steer. 
We had a lot of fun chatting with them on the ride—quite the little characters. (It was nice to be in the Anglophone region of the country where we could communicate better than in French-speaking Yaoundé.) 
One of the older boys rode on his own on this horse he’s been breaking in. It was cute to watch the younger kids stare in awe every time he rode past—they obviously hoped to follow in his footsteps some day. 
Here’s one last picture of the scenery—the combination of green hillsides and purple flowers was truly breathtaking. 
After the ride, we all gingerly walked back to the guesthouse. We had to bring all of our food for the trip, but a woman from the plantation came and cooked it for us. We spent the evening eating heaping plates of pasta, playing games, and watching the sunset over the hills.
The next morning we headed back towards Bamenda and made a stop at the Prespot pottery workshop. Primus, the head of production, gave us a tour of the facilities. They take the clay from the creek bed behind the workshop, and then mix it to the right consistency in these vats.
The group is fair-trade certified, and Ten Thousand Villages carries some of their products. I actually remembered seeing some little soap dishes with frogs like the ones on the pot this man is making back in the Ames fair-trade store Worldly Goods! Small world.
Primus gave us a demonstration of the pottery wheel—a process that never ceases to amaze un-artistic me.
He explained each step as he worked, and after only a few minutes he’d made this perfect vase.
Here’s the first oven where the clay pieces are fired.
We all took a look inside.
One of the last stations we saw was where they make the little figurines for nativity scenes and the Noah’s ark sets. Primus told us that at the workshop’s artist’s school, everyone starts out learning the same things, but after the first year or two the students decide whether they want to specialize in carving figures or making pottery on the wheel. All in all, it’s a three-year program.
Here’s another shot of one of the ovens—I loved the colors of the bricks.
At the end of the tour, Emily and I talked to Primus about how the workshop functioned on a more logistical level. She took lots of notes for tips she could apply to her work with the Peruvian women.
Our final stop was the workshop’s store. Everything was so beautiful, and we all went a little nuts with the buying.
As we were leaving the shop, we saw these wild poinsettia trees and were reminded that—despite the warm temperatures—it was really only a few days before Christmas. Crazy.
The group is fair-trade certified, and Ten Thousand Villages carries some of their products. I actually remembered seeing some little soap dishes with frogs like the ones on the pot this man is making back in the Ames fair-trade store Worldly Goods! Small world. 
Primus gave us a demonstration of the pottery wheel—a process that never ceases to amaze un-artistic me. 
He explained each step as he worked, and after only a few minutes he’d made this perfect vase. 
Here’s the first oven where the clay pieces are fired. 
We all took a look inside. 
One of the last stations we saw was where they make the little figurines for nativity scenes and the Noah’s ark sets. Primus told us that at the workshop’s artist’s school, everyone starts out learning the same things, but after the first year or two the students decide whether they want to specialize in carving figures or making pottery on the wheel. All in all, it’s a three-year program. 
Here’s another shot of one of the ovens—I loved the colors of the bricks. 
At the end of the tour, Emily and I talked to Primus about how the workshop functioned on a more logistical level. She took lots of notes for tips she could apply to her work with the Peruvian women. 
Our final stop was the workshop’s store. Everything was so beautiful, and we all went a little nuts with the buying. 
As we were leaving the shop, we saw these wild poinsettia trees and were reminded that—despite the warm temperatures—it was really only a few days before Christmas. Crazy. 
We loaded up the van with all of our pottery (I still don’t quite know how James got it all in there) and drove the rest of the way to Bamenda. It’s one of the biggest cities in Cameroon, and the traffic was pretty intense.
We all laughed at this store along the roadside. People here absolutely love Obama.
We all laughed at this store along the roadside. People here absolutely love Obama. 
In Bamenda we stayed at a Baptist mission that was like a hostel. Patience, the woman in charge, was very sweet. When I called to make the reservation and mentioned that some of the guests would be visiting from the States, she asked if we could possibly bring her some M&Ms. We brought her two big bags of both plain and peanut, and she was so excited that she literally jumped up and down with delight.
In front of the mission was an area where artists could sell their work.
Anjana bought a seed game similar to mankala, and this local man taught her how to play. James (leaning over) was giving her lots of tips, as he’d grown up playing the game in his village.
We couldn’t resist taking a photo of this sign by the parking lot of the mission—apparently the Baptists are giving Catholics a run for their money in terms of using guilt as a motivator. J
Anjana bought a seed game similar to mankala, and this local man taught her how to play. James (leaning over) was giving her lots of tips, as he’d grown up playing the game in his village. 
We couldn’t resist taking a photo of this sign by the parking lot of the mission—apparently the Baptists are giving Catholics a run for their money in terms of using guilt as a motivator. J 
After we got settled, we walked down the street to a fair-trade craft store. There were some fascinating pieces.
We had dinner at the adjoining restaurant and sat out on the balcony with curtains of seeds hanging down behind us.
It was a long wait for the food because they had to go to the market and buy what we ordered, then return and grill it outside. In the meantime, we traded stories with Anjana and chatted over cold beers. (Dad took this photo looking into the mirror that was next to our table.)
Several of us had grilled fish, and Mom and Dad split a huge plate of Poulet DG, a traditional chicken recipe from the area. Emily and John also sampled the regional dish jamma jamma, which they enjoyed. Everything was delicious!
We had dinner at the adjoining restaurant and sat out on the balcony with curtains of seeds hanging down behind us. 
It was a long wait for the food because they had to go to the market and buy what we ordered, then return and grill it outside. In the meantime, we traded stories with Anjana and chatted over cold beers. (Dad took this photo looking into the mirror that was next to our table.) 
Several of us had grilled fish, and Mom and Dad split a huge plate of Poulet DG, a traditional chicken recipe from the area. Emily and John also sampled the regional dish jamma jamma, which they enjoyed. Everything was delicious! We returned to Yaoundé the following morning, and this billboard caught my eye. These cell phone ads featuring the Lions soccer team are everywhere, but this one was right on the border between the French- and English-speaking provinces. If you look closely, half of the ad is in French and half is in English. It seemed an appropriate marker for our transition back to trying to piece together what was being said around us. Let’s just say our French has improved, but we’ve still got a long way to go.
1 comment:
Hilarious!! Thanks for the great post!
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