Well, life has gone on. I'm becoming more zen-like in my life. This new state of being was imposed on me by the client or baggage handler at Amigo Voyage (my travel agency to Bafia) who stole my market bag containing: unread mail, new shoes, clothes, lesson plans, my backpack, makeup, food, medicine, etc. I just hope they enjoy all my stuff from America. And the cheese.
The last few weeks since Bodo's death have been difficult, mostly because of school and losing my bag. Fred & I are adjusting to a much quieter house without him. (I think secretly Fred enjoys the extra attention he's getting, but I know he misses his friend.) We buried Bodo in the backyard, underneath the papaya tree. The Cameroonian who dug the hole thinks I'm crazy, but who cares? It was a short, sweet funeral.
We've had several holidays recently. We got a day off for Ramadan. There aren't many Muslims in Bokito, but I ate dinner with a few of them. That day I attended the traditional ritual (see pictures & story in previous posts). Jessica la Petite is recovering from menigitis and seems to be doing well.
I can't decide if school is worse or better this year. A fellow PCV pointed out that it all seems much easier this year because we know we won't ever have to do it again. That makes sense. I won't have to fill in 1st sequence grades for ~600 students by hand again. Only 5 more sequences to go!
I haven't made definite Christmas or Thanksgiving plans yet, but I have some stuffing mix & gravy packets so it'll be a little bit like home. I do miss seeing the seasons change!
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
Traditional Ritual
I arrived last for the traditional rite on a hot Saturday morning, late in the rainy season. Several illnesses had menaced my mbombo, namesake, in recent months and her mother’s family decided it was because a required rite had not been performed. Once a woman gives birth to a male and female child, certain rituals must be performed by her family. In order to perform the ritual, her husband’s family is obligated to provide a female goat that has recently given birth, a chicken, a case of beer, a quantity of palm wine and money.
I found a delegation of Therese’s family seated in a semi-circle, facing her, her husband and his mother. Once I sat down, the negotiations began. Her husband begged off a certain sum of money, saying that times were hard because of the baby’s hospitalizations. Each time her family demanded an item, he and his mother disappeared from the circle. Moments later they reappeared with the requested object.
First a goat was produced. Her family rejected it, saying the goat was sick. Her husband insisted the goat was healthy and had bore two kids five days earlier. He claimed he didn’t have enough money because the baby’s medication was so expensive. Her family vowed the ritual could not continue without the specified amount of cash. Her husband left and minutes later, returned with more cash. The case of beer followed a jug of matango, palm wine.
Everyone filed outside for the ritual. Therese’s eldest brother, as chief of the family, conducted the ritual. A gourd filled with water freshly pumped from the well, was cut open. He tossed a lemon into the bowl and pronounced a speech in patois.
A sacred vine was wrapped around Therese’s body and a wreath made for her head. Each of her children also participated. A bracelet of vines was tied to each child’s wrist. The chicken appeared from within a sack, and one of its toes was cut off with a machete. The chief dropped it into the water.
He then plucked feathers from the underside of the chicken and posed them on the heads of Therese and her baby. He held aloft the squawking chicken and a fistful of leaves. Then Therese and her children passed underneath, circling him five times in succession.
Next the goat was dragged in front of the chief. Three strong men held it aloft. Again Therese and her children walked underneath its body, each time brushing the top of their heads against the goat’s back. Spectators observed in silence, and passersby were chased away. Family rituals involving a wife and her children are private.
After they had turned five times around the chief, the goat was sacrificed. The men held its legs still as the chief sawed open its neck with a sharp machete. Blood bubbled into the gourd, overflowing onto the earth. The last stroke had to be delivered by the baby’s mother. Therese boldly grabbed the machete, and brought down one swift stroke on the exposed neck, severing head from body.
The goat’s head was swept across Therese’s forehead, pressed into her belly and back. Each child was presented, in birth order, to receive the same treatment. Her two-year-old twins began to cry and had to be coaxed forward.
Last, the leaves were dipped into the mixture of blood and water and flung onto each person. The chief chewed a lemon and spat the pulp onto each spectator’s bared chest, beginning with the wife’s family and concluding with her husband.
A prepubescent female buried the goat’s head away from the ritual site. The two halves of the lemon were impaled on sticks and posed over the doorway of the couple’s bedroom. The gourd was smashed at the entrance of their house.
After the ritual had been concluded, food and drink were served.
I found a delegation of Therese’s family seated in a semi-circle, facing her, her husband and his mother. Once I sat down, the negotiations began. Her husband begged off a certain sum of money, saying that times were hard because of the baby’s hospitalizations. Each time her family demanded an item, he and his mother disappeared from the circle. Moments later they reappeared with the requested object.
First a goat was produced. Her family rejected it, saying the goat was sick. Her husband insisted the goat was healthy and had bore two kids five days earlier. He claimed he didn’t have enough money because the baby’s medication was so expensive. Her family vowed the ritual could not continue without the specified amount of cash. Her husband left and minutes later, returned with more cash. The case of beer followed a jug of matango, palm wine.
Everyone filed outside for the ritual. Therese’s eldest brother, as chief of the family, conducted the ritual. A gourd filled with water freshly pumped from the well, was cut open. He tossed a lemon into the bowl and pronounced a speech in patois.
A sacred vine was wrapped around Therese’s body and a wreath made for her head. Each of her children also participated. A bracelet of vines was tied to each child’s wrist. The chicken appeared from within a sack, and one of its toes was cut off with a machete. The chief dropped it into the water.
He then plucked feathers from the underside of the chicken and posed them on the heads of Therese and her baby. He held aloft the squawking chicken and a fistful of leaves. Then Therese and her children passed underneath, circling him five times in succession.
Next the goat was dragged in front of the chief. Three strong men held it aloft. Again Therese and her children walked underneath its body, each time brushing the top of their heads against the goat’s back. Spectators observed in silence, and passersby were chased away. Family rituals involving a wife and her children are private.
After they had turned five times around the chief, the goat was sacrificed. The men held its legs still as the chief sawed open its neck with a sharp machete. Blood bubbled into the gourd, overflowing onto the earth. The last stroke had to be delivered by the baby’s mother. Therese boldly grabbed the machete, and brought down one swift stroke on the exposed neck, severing head from body.
The goat’s head was swept across Therese’s forehead, pressed into her belly and back. Each child was presented, in birth order, to receive the same treatment. Her two-year-old twins began to cry and had to be coaxed forward.
Last, the leaves were dipped into the mixture of blood and water and flung onto each person. The chief chewed a lemon and spat the pulp onto each spectator’s bared chest, beginning with the wife’s family and concluding with her husband.
A prepubescent female buried the goat’s head away from the ritual site. The two halves of the lemon were impaled on sticks and posed over the doorway of the couple’s bedroom. The gourd was smashed at the entrance of their house.
After the ritual had been concluded, food and drink were served.
Monday, October 01, 2007
RIP Bodo
After our trip to the vet this morning Bodo stopped breathing. I'm not sure what happened but he died. I'll be taking him back to post this afternoon and will bury him in the yard. He was a very sweet cat and I'll miss him. He is survived by his brother Fred.
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