Life in Tourningal

I’m about to embark on my fourth journey to Yaoundé via train, in less than 2 months…that maybe a peace corps record. Yet, all of my trips to Yaoundé have been warranted; IST in Kribi, parents visit, parents return to Yaoundé (and another trip to the beach) and this time around, HIV/Gender Youth and Development meeting. I figured since nearly all my work will revolve around HIV/GYD activities it would be very worthwhile to join the committee—hopefully it will be just that.
Life in Tourningal after having been away for nearly a month and a half, for the most part is great. My parents visit went rather smoothly; Kudos to them for being able to bear the conditions with little to no complaints. They also did not become ill, which is quite a feat in Africa. They were met with much hurrah. In a village of 1,000 people, when any newcomer, yet alone a white person comes to visit, it makes headlines. Upon disembarking from the car, we were immediately invited to a wedding 15 minutes later and had a streamline of visitors chez moi for the next 2 days. The very traditional wedding, and very typical, was quite the culture shock for the rentals. The 18 year old girl, having never met the 55 + El Hadj of my village, moved into Tourningal….she is his fourth wife.
So then the parents left and life for me has been normal since; i.e. teaching at college, women’s group visits, planning projects, etc. etc. About a day into the village, I became bored, but now thanks to the new ipod have at least 3 hours of music every few weeks or so to look forward to! Somewhere along the line I figured organizing a summer camp would be a great idea since I was fortunate enough to grow up in summer camps and work at them. The week long summer camp at Tourningal, called Njamu Jam or “Good Health” in fufulde, is not based on a traditional American theme, rather reproductive health and life skills, i.e. leadership, planning, sex ed etc. In addition, the cost of this camp is probably a tiny fraction of any American camp, we are basically only paying for lunch for the kids. SO, enshallah all will go well and at least 25 kids will for one week break the monotony of their agricultural-raising cattle based summers and do something different for a change.
In addition, to the camp, have been trying to bring in resources to the village, i.e. magazines, journals, books etc. I have started brining in an adolescent- 17ish magazine that is strewn with health messages to village which has gone rather well. Since the kids have not grown up with books of any kind, their reading level is pretty low; thus many kids even in seventh grade level cannot read 4th grade level material. Perhaps in the months to come a library of some type will be formed, enshallah.
Well, socially life in village is about the same. With no restaurants, cafes, bars, etc. etc. honestly it is not too jam packed. Highlights socially are probably going over to my fufulde mother’s house each night and after eating a heeping plate of food (literally she refuses to let me go hungry, and consequently I fall into a food coma each night) I sit around a lantern listening about people’s days/problems etc, all in fufulde. Occasionally we might drink coffee or tea. Perhaps we might watch a film. Normally the films are all religious based. If they are at Muslims houses they usually will talk about Islam. If the film is at a Christian’s house they have to do with the New Testament or Christain-Islamic debates; probably not the type of films that I would be watching in America. Some of my best friends in village are 8-15 year olds. I seem to be a hit with this age group, attracting on average 20 or so kids an afternoon to my house. They come to “read” English magazines. They come to play cards. They come to simply sit and watch me do whatever I may be doing; brushing my teeth, sweeping, drinking coffee. They will literally wait for me to come home, run down the street and then follow me into my house. It is fine, except when the kids start to touch/play/ask and destroy things….then I shoo them out. It’s quite a routine. I’m sure the mothers of Tourningal appreciate my presence for I have turned into a quasi day care center in the afternoons. Perhaps I should start a community center?
Well, that’s about it…..life is progressing, rain is a falling and I’m dreading this long upcoming voyage. On va faire comment? Hope all is well! Come visit. If Betsy and Jim can, you can too. Les gens de Tourningal vous saluent. Ummatoore pat haa Tourningal hoofnoo mon. Everyone in Tourningal says hello! Peace

Ham Ham--a northern delicacy. Not quite. But it is a lot better than what I normally eat. Consists of grinded up peanut balls without the peanut oil and a vegetable-oily sauce.Bottom photo is of our car stuck for a few hours en route to village. A 200 km village that took 7 hours.

Pirogue near the Kribi waterfalls that enter into the ocean. Part of the group at Fufulde IST. My Fufulde teacher is on top of the car.

Some friends from Stage at the Beach

Gruber, Ben and I

The Beach

The Beach
My life up here is certainly not like life at the beach. There is no water of any sort, no fish, restaurants, bars, cafes, ocean breeze, or relaxation. There is also no nudity of any sort. The dress attire is in fact, a 180 from life at the beach. However, I just got back from the beach (and a whirlwind tour of Cameroon) and I soundly can say even at the beach I missed my small, remote village. My whirlwind tour of Cameroon is followed next week by an American parental visit….needless to say, I will be quite a tired person. It has been nearly 3 weeks since I have spent more than 24 hours at my post. I feel incredibly guilty for having other obligations that keep me away!
For our 3 month training we went down south to Kribi. Stepping of the train in itself was culture chock. After having lived up north where long boubous dominate, women in anything shorter than a skirt above their knees is a sin, seeing people praying on the side of the streets is commonplace, and the scenery is dry; going down south was a 180 and made me really appreciate the north. Yet for a small vacation, Kribi was absolutely fantastic for a variety of reasons: sharing post stories with friends, complaining in English, grrrrrrrrreat food---fish, porc, chicken, fruit, swimming, greenness, being able to dance, and the list continues….
Jumping ahead 2 weeks, I.just got back from nearly a week in Garoua, the capital of the north province. Garoua is a larger city, with more night-life than Ngaoundere, my closest city. It is famous for its hippopotami that grace its mud-filled river and…well, how hot it is--not too much else. But as a hub for the Northern provinces, it has a metropolitan feel and more asphalt laden streets than in my province. The reason for this northern voyage was to work on my fufulde skills, the language that I need to know at my post. Since they didn’t teach us any fufulde during training and left us with having to teach ourselves (which has been a fun/ sometimes stressful experience) they decided to bring the northerners together for an expedited course. The courses themselves were not too exciting, sitting for 6 hours a day never is too extraordinary; however, it was great to reiterate important fufulde points and to visit new part of the country.
Well….that brings me to this next week, that I’m sure will be an adventure in itself; having my parents come visit. Hopefully we will all make it through the next 7 days. Hopefully the party that my village is planning for their arrival will bring much joy and not too much food sickness. Best wishes to all. Mi don tamma himbe pat don be damma. Allah hokku en jam. Sey yesso, Amina