I heard this same story in three different versions in two days. The source is the same, a UNESCO sponsored training in Bafia that my colleagues attended last week. I’ll relate the funniest.
A gang of bandits arrive at the house of an old man and his family. The bandits have no machetes or weapons of any sort, but they’re armed with a syringe of infected blood.
The chief bandit says “Old man, tell us where you hide all your money or we’ll inject you with this syringe full of AIDS.”
All his children tell their father, “Give them whatever they ask for! Oh, a syringe full of AIDS is terrible! As soon as they inject you you’re as good as dead.”
The old man says, “Okay, okay, I’ll get the money. It’s in my bedroom. Just wait here.” The old man goes into his bedroom. He emerges a few minutes later. “There’s no money here. Inject me.”
The bandits are baffled. “Old man, didn’t you hear us? Don’t you understand? This is a syringe of infected AIDS blood.”
“Inject me.”
“Old man, you’re crazy. You’ll be dead of AIDS.”
“I said, inject me. I’m not giving you any money. Inject me! I’m not afraid of your syringe. I put on a condom!”
Hahahaha.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Summer Break!
23/4/07
I’m sorry, dear readers, for taking so long to write a new entry. I didn’t have my laptop with me on our travels and I won’t get to Yaoundé again for awhile. Perhaps I’ll upload this another time. I hope to get to the West sometime soon. We have a lot of work to do for the end of the year, but once the school year is finished (officially the 1st of June) I’ll be bored out of my mind, unless I find some secondary project to work on. And by secondary project I mean repairing/painting my house and working in the garden I keep saying I’ll start. Maybe I’ll finally start experimenting with fermentation like my stage mate Ben, who makes all sorts of weird things in his spare bedroom (for example, pineapple wine/vinegar depending on the sugar content, yogurt, etc).
We had our third trimester staff meeting today. Staff meetings happen three times per year and are usually a recap of the last trimester and the opportunity for people to yell at each other. The discipline master reads off all sorts of embarrassing statistics, like the number of hours of absence teachers have, plus the names of female students who got kicked out for being pregnant. Or, as he said, “les filles en gestation” which means exactly what it looks like—girls who are in gestation. I’ll admit I have a respectable 6 hours of absence (cutting out early for long weekends). My counterpart has 40.
After meetings like this, the school buys everyone a beer. So I got “Castel-ised.” Castel is my Cameroonian beer of choice, and lucky for me its available everywhere you go. It’s the Cameroonian Budweiser.
Bodo has worms. Disgusting how I know this, indeed. If you’ve ever had worms you know why. If you haven’t, you can imagine.
So this past week was the worst in memory. Everyone around me seemed to be dropping dead of mysterious, or well-known but well-advanced, maladies. One of my students died of “poisoning”. A friend’s older sister, and the mother of a 6eme student, died of typhoid fever. Our wonderful neighbor back home passed away after a long illness.
I heard about another friend’s cousin, who played basketball in the States, collapsed on the court and died shortly after. So I’ll be attending several funerals in the coming weeks.
04/5/07
African Funerals
I have attended two funerals in as many weeks. Typically funerals are held on Friday and Saturday. Friday morning the family goes to the morgue for the “levée du corps.” They take the coffin to their home and lay the body out in state. Friday evening friends and family gather for the wake-keeping. This can include all manner of food, beer and palm wine along with much dancing and singing. The idea is to celebrate the person’s life and to never leave the body alone. Saturday morning the body is taken au village (if not already there) for the burial.
First, a witness recounts the deceased’s illness or cause of death. This can take over an hour. Before the body can be buried, both families (that is, the mother and father’s side if it’s a child or the spouse’s family if the deceased was married) must be satisfied with the explanation. In laws have been known to argue and accuse for hours. Typically, if the deceased died before his time, witchcraft or poisoning is suspected.
For example, the deceased student was poisoned by an older brother. I’m told he was beaten with sticks at the funeral.
And the basketball player’s mother’s family were unsatisfied with the father’s family’s account of his death and held up proceedings for at least two hours. The argument was conducted in patois, so I didn’t understand the particulars.
After everyone is convinced no foul play occurred, a church service is conducted and the animation begins. I had no idea what this meant, but apparently “une animation” is code for all the women folk to begin wailing in agony, crawling on the ground, and crying profusely. This display of grief was quite unsettling. Men are expected to restrain their wives and daughters; it appears almost choreographed. Men and close female friends drag the crying women on the ground or carry them if necessary. The women are taken away to cry and scream inside the house as the men gather around the gravesite and bury the body.
It is bad luck for women to witness a burial.
One Year Anniversary
June 18, 2007 marks an entire year of life in Cameroon. That is a very long time. I think I could survive the two years without going home except lately I’ve been dreaming of air conditioned movie theatres. And also a haircut at Trim (plus a pedicure/manicure at a fancy Brentwood spa). And the frozen food section at Krogers.
11/5/07
The school year is nearly over. Classes have effectively ended. Non-exam classes take their final exams next week. Exam classes have been composing the “white exams” which are practice tests written by their teachers. The Baccalaureate begins on May 29. The last exam, the BEPC, ends June 15.
Life is winding down. I’m facing extreme boredom.
I’m sorry, dear readers, for taking so long to write a new entry. I didn’t have my laptop with me on our travels and I won’t get to Yaoundé again for awhile. Perhaps I’ll upload this another time. I hope to get to the West sometime soon. We have a lot of work to do for the end of the year, but once the school year is finished (officially the 1st of June) I’ll be bored out of my mind, unless I find some secondary project to work on. And by secondary project I mean repairing/painting my house and working in the garden I keep saying I’ll start. Maybe I’ll finally start experimenting with fermentation like my stage mate Ben, who makes all sorts of weird things in his spare bedroom (for example, pineapple wine/vinegar depending on the sugar content, yogurt, etc).
We had our third trimester staff meeting today. Staff meetings happen three times per year and are usually a recap of the last trimester and the opportunity for people to yell at each other. The discipline master reads off all sorts of embarrassing statistics, like the number of hours of absence teachers have, plus the names of female students who got kicked out for being pregnant. Or, as he said, “les filles en gestation” which means exactly what it looks like—girls who are in gestation. I’ll admit I have a respectable 6 hours of absence (cutting out early for long weekends). My counterpart has 40.
After meetings like this, the school buys everyone a beer. So I got “Castel-ised.” Castel is my Cameroonian beer of choice, and lucky for me its available everywhere you go. It’s the Cameroonian Budweiser.
Bodo has worms. Disgusting how I know this, indeed. If you’ve ever had worms you know why. If you haven’t, you can imagine.
So this past week was the worst in memory. Everyone around me seemed to be dropping dead of mysterious, or well-known but well-advanced, maladies. One of my students died of “poisoning”. A friend’s older sister, and the mother of a 6eme student, died of typhoid fever. Our wonderful neighbor back home passed away after a long illness.
I heard about another friend’s cousin, who played basketball in the States, collapsed on the court and died shortly after. So I’ll be attending several funerals in the coming weeks.
04/5/07
African Funerals
I have attended two funerals in as many weeks. Typically funerals are held on Friday and Saturday. Friday morning the family goes to the morgue for the “levée du corps.” They take the coffin to their home and lay the body out in state. Friday evening friends and family gather for the wake-keeping. This can include all manner of food, beer and palm wine along with much dancing and singing. The idea is to celebrate the person’s life and to never leave the body alone. Saturday morning the body is taken au village (if not already there) for the burial.
First, a witness recounts the deceased’s illness or cause of death. This can take over an hour. Before the body can be buried, both families (that is, the mother and father’s side if it’s a child or the spouse’s family if the deceased was married) must be satisfied with the explanation. In laws have been known to argue and accuse for hours. Typically, if the deceased died before his time, witchcraft or poisoning is suspected.
For example, the deceased student was poisoned by an older brother. I’m told he was beaten with sticks at the funeral.
And the basketball player’s mother’s family were unsatisfied with the father’s family’s account of his death and held up proceedings for at least two hours. The argument was conducted in patois, so I didn’t understand the particulars.
After everyone is convinced no foul play occurred, a church service is conducted and the animation begins. I had no idea what this meant, but apparently “une animation” is code for all the women folk to begin wailing in agony, crawling on the ground, and crying profusely. This display of grief was quite unsettling. Men are expected to restrain their wives and daughters; it appears almost choreographed. Men and close female friends drag the crying women on the ground or carry them if necessary. The women are taken away to cry and scream inside the house as the men gather around the gravesite and bury the body.
It is bad luck for women to witness a burial.
One Year Anniversary
June 18, 2007 marks an entire year of life in Cameroon. That is a very long time. I think I could survive the two years without going home except lately I’ve been dreaming of air conditioned movie theatres. And also a haircut at Trim (plus a pedicure/manicure at a fancy Brentwood spa). And the frozen food section at Krogers.
11/5/07
The school year is nearly over. Classes have effectively ended. Non-exam classes take their final exams next week. Exam classes have been composing the “white exams” which are practice tests written by their teachers. The Baccalaureate begins on May 29. The last exam, the BEPC, ends June 15.
Life is winding down. I’m facing extreme boredom.
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