Llandeilo 2 Cameroon

Leaving on a jet plane

2010-04-27T09:57:00.000-07:00

More goodbyes - 13 of us new volunteers arrived together just 8 weeks ago and with just 4 of us going back to the UK together, it feels like a family parting, not knowing when we will see each other again. We've supported each other while settling in, made deeper connections as individuals through the intensity of this experience in Cameroon, and I hope we can continue to keep in touch across the continents.

A long bus journey to Yaounde gave us the chance to drink in the sights and sounds of rural African life for the last time. We noticed areas of comparative wealth - like the large town of Bafoussam where garden plants are on sale in pots to adorn the homes of the richer residents. Yaounde, the capital, was just as hot and humid as we remembered. The hotel electricity flicks off every evening, but luckily comes on again later so we get air conditioning, and I actually used a blanket for the first time!

Tedious paperwork at the VSO offices, reclaiming travel expenses, seemed to take most of Friday, and was rather a dull end to our relationship with VSO Cameroon. Not that we expected a thank-you party, but some sort of end-of-placement review would have been nice. We were glad that our flights were confirmed, after all the uncertainty of the volcano problems, and celebrated our last night in Cameroon with a candlelit dinner (no choice as the electric had gone off again!)

On Saturday we did the tourist thing - by taxi to the central market, a huge spiral of a building, where we were instantly snapped up by men wanting to lead us to our purchases. (They also wanted us to have their babies, marry them, take them to the UK etc etc). We also visited the cathedral, to hear wonderful singing at a wedding, then went off in search of more traditional crafts.

A big market at Tsinga is the place to go, full of stalls with wood, pottery, metal and basket work, musical instruments, masks - everything you could wish for. It was hot, and I watched a football game across the road while waiting for my friends to finish bargaining. No room in my cases for more stuff - thank goodness I've given away so much already.

All packed up and at the airport by 6:15pm, we queued for 4 hours or more to check in, hassled by an increasingly drunken man who seemed to think he owned our trolley. I'm quite good at French but couldn't understand why he wanted us to clingfilm our bags. When we finally reached the check-in we realised why it all took so long; several people had to weigh and search all the cabin bags, and at least 4 people separately checked passports and visas. Please note - pack all your souvenirs in the hold luggage. By the time we got through, the airplane was boarding, and we had to hurriedly spend our last francs on Swiss chocolate!

A comfortable but late overnight flight got into Paris with barely enough time for passengers to run and make the connecting plane to London. Only when we arrived at Heathrow did we realise that 2 of us had missed it, and so had our luggage! Still, I was glad to get the bus to Swansea - a whole seat to myself - and having no heavy cases certainly made it easier to manage the bus/train up to Llandeilo.

How quiet it is! To be truly on my own, for the first time in 2 months, seems strange. Nice to see my home (freshly painted while I've been away) and cats, talk to my daughters in lengthy phone calls, share a bottle of white wine with friends, admire the garden's spring flowers, get my hair cut. The luggage arrived late Tuesday afternoon so now I can unpack and try to wash out the red dust of Cameroon. Time now to reflect on lessons learned, to think about how to share my learning with my organisation and others, and how to continue to help people in Cameroon to develop in the way they want.

So long, farewell

2010-04-23T01:43:00.001-07:00

The last few days in Cameroon - finishing up my work and saying goodbye to all the lovely people I've met here.

On Tuesday morning I sat in on my last TAP committee meeting. The Transparency Accountability and Participation committee was set up as part of the Santa Council partnership with VSO, and comprises some councillors, staff members and VSO volunteers. I've been working with them throughout, and I'd suggested using this meeting to review their one-year action plan, 6 months after it was developed. It's all very well to create action plans, but the real challenge is to make sure that people implement them - just like back home in Wales!

The meeting crystalised some of the problems faced in organisational development here - people came and went so we started an hour late, only 2 people had brought their copies of the plan so someone had to walk over to the council offices to photocopy it again, some actions had not yet been costed, outcomes not specific enough, monitoring not built in securely. But we smartened it up, and I think my presence helped to reinforce the long-term volunteer's approach, emphasising the effective methods but leaving the decisions on content up to the local people, whose plan it is.

This VSO approach was clear when we organised a 2-day workshop on the Local Economic Development Plan. Originally devised in 2005, the plan hasn't been effective since 2006. A review late in 2009 had restarted the process, and the workshop in April aimed to set it off again with a new 5-year plan and a LED committee to implement it. This time the Council has already allocated 2.5 million francs in funding, so there is a better chance of effective work with the broad aim of raising income levels.

A mixed group of about 35 people included councillors, members of village development associations, common initiative groups (mainly farming), representatives of central government departments and finance groups. We presented methodology like action learning and SMART planning, which many have experienced already. The TAP committee facilitated small group work, reflecting on the lessons learned from past experience and deciding on the way forward, making outline plans for 5 economic areas. For me it was very interesting to see the outcomes. Some of the goals look rather unrealistic but it is definitely their plan, and they will need to get expert assistance in each area of economic activity in order to tune it more finely and get it to work.

My main task here was on helping the council to engage more with the community, so I ran a workshop last week for the councillors. There were some lively small group discussions, devising strategies for dealing with issues and problems they face in trying to interact with the community. It is much more emotionally political here - hostility towards councillors of an opposing party, rivalries with traditional rulers, some village organisations not letting the Santa councillor speak!

Some input from Wales was well received, ideas like having community champions, using local radio, publishing councillor allowances and developing a code of conduct for councillors. I've already had good feedback from the workshop, as the First Deputy Mayor used some of my material when he spoke to a village association on Wednesday, telling them what their councillor should be doing for them!

So, on Tuesday afternoon came my send-off. Speeches, presents, photographs, a late lunch - I was fine till the 3 council boys gave me a framed certificate with thanks for their training in Excel! Overwhelming. The Mayor invited me round to his home afterwards for a glass of wine and his wife gave me a jar of her ground-nuts. They proudly showed me their pigs out the back - very cute piglets.

The Mayor had been busy all day with the Senior Divisional Officer, as there has been serious trouble between 2 villages over a land dispute (fighting with guns!) What a mixture of responsibilities here, the Mayor sorts out stuff like that, getting all the traditional rulers in together, but then he has to ask the SDO for permission to fill 6 vacant posts as revenue collectors and the like. Imagine if the Chief Executive of Carmarthenshire County Council had to ask permission from WAG to fill a clerical post?

Ah well, I could stay here years and not understand it all. I would like to stay longer, or at least, come back and see how they are getting on. I'm hoping for emails and skype to keep me in touch with what's happening here, with other volunteers, local people, action plan updates...

She's leaving home

2010-04-20T13:28:00.000-07:00

Monday morning at 9 o'clock ...

Sad moment, all packed up ready to leave Foncha Street, where we've enjoyed many happy, joyful times over the past 6 weeks. I've seen Gweneira off at the bus station, where she's travelling to Yaounde to work at a government ministry for this last week. And I'm waiting for a truck bringing the new inhabitants, then I will move over to a hostel for the rest of my stay in Bamenda.

Sharing a house with a stranger, in a strange land, is not everyone's cup of tea. Personality clashes, differing opinions and attitudes, domestic habits or just getting on top of each other - these can all prevent a harmonious home life.

It's been our great good fortune that none of these have been evident here in Foncha Street. Gweneira and I have shared a positive attitude to life in Cameroon, committed 100% to being here and making the most of every experience, good or bad. We've both loved finding our way around and getting to know some of the local people. The daily grind of life with dust, water and electricity shortages, computer problems etc has developed our adaptability and resourcefulness. And we've had so much fun!

There is nothing more important in a housemate than a shared sense of humour! We have laughed till we cried about some of the things that have happened here, and at ourselves in dealing with them. Puzzling over people's behaviour, unpicking cultural differences, questioning corruption and incompetence, celebrating the kindness of strangers and the rapport with colleagues - our long conversations have helped us both in coping well with life in Cameroon.

As far as work is concerned, we've been a good match. Gwenno's public relations and community engagement experience gave me tremendous support in my work with Santa Council, generating ideas on the why, what and how to improve their 2-way communication with their public. Similarly, my education and training background has helped Gwenno to prepare her work on developing organisation marketing profiles and in running a workshop on effective communications for national volunteers and staff.

Our own communications with folk back home have been complementary. Gweneira is a good writer, sending informative and humourous emails back to an enthusiastic audience in Ceredigion. She's also written articles for the Cambrian Times newspaper, and I'm sure this experience will lead her to do more writing. My blogs are shorter and less personal, but I've been encouraged by Gwenno's enthusiasm and we've had fun choosing pictures to illustrate them.

Developing local people has been a shared interest too. I'm impressed with Gwenno's encouragement for a young national volunteer, Elfrida, to take on a leading role in the organisation profiling. While I've done some computer work with young council staff, improving their skills and training them to teach others. We hope that this staff development can continue after we leave, as young people are so important to Cameroon's future prospects.

Volunteer life here is no picnic, no luxury holiday, as I hope my blogs have illustrated. Without a positive approach it would be easy to be depressed by sights of poverty and fears that nothing will ever get better. Here in Foncha Street we have been uplifted by each other's support and pleasurable company. Gweneira has left, and this is home for us no more. We hope the next residents, long-term volunteers, will enjoy their 2 years here as much as we have enjoyed our 6 weeks.

A day in the life

2010-04-19T13:29:00.000-07:00

Up at 6:15 - is there water? Yes, fill the bottles and buckets quick before it goes off. Fill the big pan and put it to boil, so we can top up the water filter later. Make myself a cup of tea from the filtered water, and squash a few ants with the hot teabag - death from the skies! Banana and yogurt for breakfast, with malaria tablets, garlic pearls and vitamin B.

When Gwenno is out of the bathroom, nip in and wash in a bowl of cold water, head to toe. If I'm washing my hair, I use some of the heated water just to get some lather from the shampoo. Pour bottles into the cistern to flush the loo (yes, the water is off by now!)

If our cleaner comes she usually arrives about 7. To be honest, she's not that good at cleaning. We have to do the bathroom and kitchen, but she does wipe the floor once a week, washes clothes in cold water and irons some of them. She's a lovely lady and we've gained a lot from the insight into local life she brings, and knowing we are supporting her family for a short time.

I get dressed and clean my shoes (though I'm not sure why I bother!) I set off first, so Gwenno padlocks the gate behind me. Then catch a taxi to Finance junction, wait 15 minutes or so, then another taxi up to Santa. Buy a bottle of water and trudge up the hill in the heat, to a meeting which is unlikely to get going for an hour or so.

Work usually consists of meetings, talk, planning workshops. After the meeting I hang around; I don't have an office so I go to Kareen's house where she makes me a cup of good Cameroonian coffee. Kareen (long-term volunteer) hasn't had water for a week but she lets me use her loo!

At 2pm I go to the council office, where Godwill, Stanley and Bismark are finishing up their day's work. These are young general clerks, and I'm helping them improve their spreadsheet skills so they can teach other council staff. They are enthusiastic, a great bunch to teach - when I show them a new thing in Excel, they say "Wow!"

By 4 we are all flagging, so I give them homework and set off down the hill. Catch a taxi and we are packed like sardines. A rather large lady is sitting on my left thigh, and by the time we get to Bamenda I can't feel my left foot. I get out and almost fall over, but a man grabs my elbow and supports me. "Tap your foot", he tells me, "it's just cramp". He holds me up till I can feel again, then walks me down to Mobil, where he grabs a taxi for me.

Off at Foncha junction, and into the internet cafe. It's hot, connections are slow and it takes me half an hour trying to download emails. My foot is OK now and I walk home, where Gweneira is on her computer. Water is still off, but electricity is on. We chat about our day then decide what to cook.

Washing tomatoes means using filtered water, carefully washing knife and chopping board too. Spring onions are harder, washing the dirt off first, peeling then washing thoroughly in filtered water. Gwenno swats a cockroach with her flipflop. I light a candle in case the electricity goes off while we are eating, which it does!

Luckily the light comes on again, and I manage to do a bit more work on my laptop, clean off the virus it picked up in Santa today and prepare for the day ahead. The water comes back on late, and i wash a few things - the dust means I can only wear something once, and it's impossible to scrub enough to get a white blouse clean. Gwenno irons her clothes inside out, to kill off any insect eggs in the seams.

By 9:30 the electricity has gone off, the radio stops so we know it's throughout the city. I put my head torch on and go to bed. Once tucked up in the mosquito net I read a little and listen to the rain, now pounding on the tin roof. I fall asleep when it eases off, to wake now and again during the night - woken by odd noises, rain, heat or just the discomfort of my very hard bed!

Money (that's what I want)

2010-04-19T08:14:00.000-07:00

Waiting in Express Union for money, crowded, hot and stuffy, gives me an opportunity for people-watching. I go to collect funds sent by VSO in Yaounde to pay for a workshop. The first time it was utterly confusing, but the helpful security guard sorted us out. First I complete a pink withdrawal slip with full details of the payment and the password - this came in a text from VSO. I put the slip in my passport, and drop it in a cardboard box on the counter. Nervous at letting go of my passport, I watch it carefully, especially when other customers block my view. When the box is full, a clerk pulls the contents through the metal grill, and starts to process them on her computer.

I listen for my name. She calls out "Rosalind Joy" and pushes a printout to me to sign. This goes back in, and after a while I see her put it on the pile for the cashier. This lady sits in a separate barred enclosure. When she eventually calls out a name, people go to her and collect their cash and documents, counting them carefully and putting them away safely before leaving the building. This is banking for those with no bank account, no plastic cards, who deal only in cash - like us, while we are here in Cameroon.

Change is a problem, due to a real shortage of currency. Trying to break a 10,000 note takes careful planning, buying a pack of 6 water bottles at 2,300 from Nicoline in our nearest store will usually do it. You buy phone credit in multiples of 500, and calls cost around 100 a minute. For transport you need coins of 100 - 500; I pay about 150 now to get into the town centre, then 500 to go 20km to Santa. For street market traders coins of 25 - 100 are best; a mango is 50, bunch of bananas or carrots 100, one small apple is 100. Traders do their best to give change for large notes, going into nearby shops, but you'll wait a fair while.

It's always best to have the right money in bars. People drink a lot of beer here, and it's strong; a bottle of beer (.65l) is 600. A meal of fufu corn, rice and beans in a chop house is 150. Grilled mackerel on the street is 700 and a plantain is 100. Local VSO volunteers meet up at the International hotel in Bamenda on Friday nights. When we go, we pay 3,000 each for a bar meal of shrimps in garlic and tomato sauce with chips, and 5,000 to share a bottle of red wine - our one bit of luxury and it's delicious!

Most local people couldn't dream of eating in the International hotel. The minimum full-time wage is officially about 23,000 CFA (central african francs) but many have less. Our local barman told us he earns 20,000 a month, and his rent for a 2-room house is 10,000. For a 2-bedroomed house, we pay 2,000 a month for electricity and 1,000 for water. If bills are not paid within 10 days, they add on 5,000 surcharge. The electricity company acted rather strangely with the last bill, refusing to accept payment when Yusuf, our fixer, first went there. Were they trying to delay our payment so they could fine us?

Yusuf is studying for A levels at the moment, and wants to go to university. At fees of maybe 200,000 a year he is going to need help. Our barman Cheery's 12-year-old daughter hasn't gone back to school after Easter because he can't manage to pay her school fees, which total 85,000 a year. He has 2 younger children too, as does our cleaner Anne. School supplies like stationery are expensive here, at 2,500 for a ream of paper. Few people have computers or internet access - our Internet cafe charges 200 for 30 minutes, 100 to print one A4 page. There's a thriving market in second-hand text books, some of which are very old and out-of-date.

A lot of people are telling us about school fees and other debts now. They know we are leaving, and they only have this chance to tug our heart-strings and open our purses. Cameroon people are quite open at saying what they need - they will just ask straight out for something. This took some getting used to, like when I was making my breakfast and our cleaner came into the kitchen and said "Give me some of your bread". I cut it in half for her. A lady on first meeting Gwenno told her "I want something from your bag". If you refuse, nobody takes offence. But local people do share readily, with neighbours, relatives, their church.

Eric, the security guard at our lodgings, had told us about his ambition to produce music, so we gave him 5,000 to buy a microphone headset. He was delighted, and invited us round to his 2-roomed home last Sunday afternoon. His family made us very welcome in their small living space, and insisted on fetching soft drinks. We gave chocolate to their older girl and she took one bar outside right away to give to the neighbour's children. Eric played his music and sang "Thank you God". His wife sincerely thanked us for the headphones!

In community work there are differences from the UK, because people here just do not have reserves of cash to cover their expenses. They live much more hand to mouth than most folk in the UK. This means that we have to include "motivation" in most things we do. A financial incentive to attend a workshop, for instance, has to cover transport costs, plus we provide a good hot meal. Councillors only get 10,000 a month allowance, and yet their constituents expect them to attend, buy drinks and contribute donations at every village event in their area - which includes 4,000 to 5,000 people.

Employees, including those in public service, often don't get their salaries on time. They can wait months to get paid, having to ask the landlord to let them off the rent and borrow from other people to get by. Small unofficial credit unions help out. "Njangis" are like clubs of friends, paying in money regularly and giving it to each in turn. Again it's this communal, co-operative approach to life. One young man told me that in his extended family, they are making sure that everyone is educated to the same level. So he won't be able to go to college until his siblings and cousins have also reached college entrance level. Wow!

As time goes by

2010-04-17T06:22:00.000-07:00

Waiting patiently - is that a skill we have to learn? If so, Cameroonian people are experts. I'm certainly much better at this than I was a few weeks ago. Waiting to download emails in the Internet cafe, or to upload photos for the blog, I wish I'd brought my knitting!

Shopkeepers wait for customers, sitting patiently. They don't try to "look busy" as I was told to do when working as a sales assistant for a Saturday job. No, they just do what they need to do, then wait. If someone comes by, they get up to serve you, eagerly. If they don't have what you need, they run to fetch it from another trader. Then they sit down again to wait.

Standing at the roadside, waiting for taxis, all you can do is stand. No chance to read a book, you have to keep a lookout and whenever a likely prospect comes near, you call out to them. If they don't accept your business, you just wait some more. At the motor parks, you may get in a taxi right away, but then you still have to wait for it to fill up. No point in being impatient - it won't get you anywhere any sooner.

Meetings never start on time. We plan to start at 9am, and the VSO volunteers are ready. One councillor is always on time; he sits. He might close his eyes for a while. He talks to you if you want, or just sits while waiting. Someone else comes, then goes outside again. When enough people have been spotted, we go to round them up, or phone them. The meeting usually starts around 10.

One meeting started 3 hours late - the volunteers were all on time, but the one paid staff member didn't turn up till 12, without letting us know. We just get on with discussing what we can. I arrived once to find a farming lady stretched out on a bench in the Community Education Action Centre. She had come for a meeting but the Director wasn't there, so she just lay down to sleep!

Workshops always start late. We are a bit tense, organising a workshop for councillors and not knowing how many people will come. The workshop is scheduled with registration at 8 am in the hope that sufficient people will arrive to start at 9. By 8:30 I am trying to find the rest of the committee, to brief them on the group work. By 9:50, half have arrived, and we start gathering them in from chatting outside, so we can start an hour late. It's a bit like sheepdog trials, round them up to bring them in. We even ring a brass bell! A few more people drift in during the morning.

One problem with starting late is that lunch is at least an hour late. It's hard to get people back to work after a break, so they prefer to work through, even if lunch is not till 3pm. Breaks are tricky; allowing even 5 minutes for a breather means that not everyone comes back. Do we wait for them? No, carry on regardless. They may have gone to make phone calls, or to another meeting, or to a local bar ...

Waiting for food is getting easier now. I'm used to having hunger pangs through the day, and being glad of a few plantain chips or an apple to keep me going. When we go to a restaurant we can expect a long wait, easily an hour or more between ordering and getting anything to eat. Maybe they've had to go buy the ingredients at market, or butcher an animal, or light a wood fire under the grill. And getting the bill, that's a whole other matter. Sorting it out between a group of us, getting the waiter to tot it up again and take off those extra items nobody owns up to having, and then looking for change!

Well, guess I'll have to write another blog about money.

Happy birthday to you

2010-04-15T08:12:00.000-07:00

Many thanks to family and friends who sent Happy Birthday messages to me - yes, I did enjoy my day.

Easter Monday leaving Limbe - the joy of finding a 4 star toilet at the motor park! If you're ever waiting for a bus at Mile 4, just walk along to the petrol station, buy some excellent plantain chips in the shop and politely ask if you may use their WC. It has water!

Arriving at Mutangene, a helpful young man from Amour Mezam bagged us seats on the bus to Bamenda, already crowded and almost full. We were 7 on the back seat, and every row the same, packed like the proverbial sardines in our tin can. Padded by my ample rear, I was OK but Linda and Gweneira felt the painful effects of the metal framework, and Gwenno's sunburned back was an added discomfort.

In Cameroonian style I nursed a baby for the mum on our row, and he played with an empty water bottle. Shortly after setting off, the whole bus was treated to a sermon from a young man a few rows ahead. "I've been a bad man", he confessed, and Gwenno muttered "Well if you want to be good, give me your seat!"

Thanks be for good driving or whatever, we reached home safely, in daylight. It felt so good to be really clean again in Limbe, with hot showers and water whenever we needed it, then just a few hours later back to Bamenda's brown dirt roads, pouring rain and no electricity in the house.

Tuesday morning, my birthday and a trip up to Santa for a 9am committee meeting. Walking into the building, I was rather surprised to see the large table covered with carved wooden figures, typical Cameroonian artwork, and an unknown young man sitting there along with Derick and Kareen, volunteers. He introduced himself and I chatted to him about the pieces, which were quite good. When the rest of the committee arrived, there was a brief discussion about how we could hold a committee meeting with the table covered like that, and he packed up his goods and left. Later, we worked out that everyone had assumed someone else had invited him along, but in fact he'd just turned up at the office on the chance he might sell something!

After the meeting, I invited everyone for lunchtime drinks. Councillor Mbuh Samuel said we should put some meat in the belly before beer, so we went to the mimbo house (bar) he favours. The landlady put a large bowl of chunks of meat in gravy in the middle of the table, and gave each of us a small enamel bowl. Along with a piece of meat, we got an oblong loaf of white bread and a fork. Quite tasty, and it was OK to leave the bones and gristle; well I left them anyway.

Everyone sang "Happy birthday" to me, with an unexpected second verse: "And how old is she?" Faced with the whole bar then looking at me, I had to tell them. One thing that's nice about Cameroon is that age is a good thing. So I am Madame Rose or Mami, and people shake hands with me with their left hand supporting their right arm, to show respect for a senior or more authoritative person. Wow!

Later I visited Angeline in her office at the Municipal Treasury. I've never been in a Treasury before, except at the Tower of London, which was not a bit like this one. Council facilities here are not exactly plush. Very few computers, no Internet or email. The council chamber has only one electric socket and no ceiling so that rain on the tin roof drowns out any chance of debate, and as for the toilets - well, a photo can't really do them justice.

Back in Bamenda, Gwenno and I went out to our favourite local chop house - dinner at Mr Bobs. Peter, the chef, trained at catering college and we fell for his cheerful smile and white hat the first time we spotted him at the roadside. He grills whole mackerel and serves them on a metal platter with pepper sauce. A neighbouring stall cooks the fried potatoes, and the supermarket sells us a litre carton of red wine, and supplies wine glasses. We sit on the wooden terrace behind the grill, and Peter brings us a bowl and warm water to wash our hands, then we eat the whole lot with our fingers.

On this special occasion, the rains came just after we'd finished eating, so we retreated inside the chop house to polish off the wine. The chop house is just a bare room, open front, simple wooden seats and tables. We set off home as it grew dark, not the best night for my head torch to expire, but the rain had quieted the street life and we had no hassle on the way.

Definitely my best birthday in years!

Surfin' CFA

2010-04-11T05:32:00.000-07:00

"It's not Hawaii", I told Linda on the phone. "Don't expect a luxury hotel and shopping mall - it's still Cameroon."

Three of us Welsh volunteers had booked a weekend break in Limbe, down on the Atlantic coast. We wanted to see Mount Cameroon, second highest in Africa, swim and relax for a brief spell half way through our placements.

The Atlantic coast - big waves crashing on the rocks, red kites soaring overhead, beautiful beaches, small boats out fishing - just like Wales! Oh, except that it's really hot and humid, the sea is warm and the beach is black volcanic sand.

Limbe is in a lovely bay, with fishing shacks strung along a dark beach at the south end. Our hotel, the Miramare, is an easy walk along a dirt track to the edge of town, crossing the river as it flows down to the beach. Out in the sea are little islands and an oil rig, lit up at night. The sea is too rough for swimming off the rocks here, but a good pool, cleaned every day, attracts a lively crowd of Cameroonian families to party there.

At the top of the road leading down to the Miramare are the Botanic Gardens, a peaceful place to wander and seek some shade under the palms. An old quarry within the gardens, transformed into an arena, is used for weddings and other celebrations. There's a Commonwealth War Graves site, with moving memorials to soldiers from Cameroon and elsewhere who fought for Britain in two world wars.

Zooological Gardens bring out mixed feelings. Call them a Wildlife Rescue Centre and they appear much better to our 21st century principles. We walked up there and were shown round by a guide who told us stories of young animals rescued after their parents were killed by hunters for bush meat. It's an illegal trade but still popular, and there's an international market for meat, ingredients for traditional medicines and remedies, from protected and endangered species.

A baby gorilla found in a taxi has now grown up in safety to rear its own young. We watched enthralled as families played and lazed around in the heat. Sure, we could see gorillas at London Zoo, with hordes of other people eating ice creams. Here we were almost alone, seeing them in their own climate zone, with a background of tropical foliage and open hills. Fantastic!

(photos thanks to Gweneira, Friday's designated photographer)

Our "must do" list included a boat trip. Stopping for cold drinks in a lovely bistro overlooking the sea, we spotted a poster and Linda phoned the number. The man at the next table got up - "Hey, you're ringing me!" So, next morning we fastened up life jackets and clambered into an open motor boat with 3 barefoot young men, then zoomed off from the Limbe beach with a flourish.

A couple of minutes later the engine coughed and spluttered to a halt. Embarrassingly close to shore, we watched the flat pirogues of local fishermen drifting past, using only one oar! Then, off again, and out for a closer view of the oil rig, "Noble Don Walker" painted on its side. Do they really have names like boats? Interesting to see someone being hoisted up in a basket from a boat, right up to the platform high above, like James Bond.

Great views of the coast, but Mount Cameroon still hiding in clouds, then we pulled in to a small island. No longer inhabited, we climbed steep steps up to the top, to see the remains of the village. The people left 30 years ago, moved to new villages on the mainland. The boys told their story, showed us the 2 remaining huts, left as a memorial. Each year villagers return to pour libations for their ancestors, who were each buried under their huts. Pigs were kept in a cave just above the tide line, and they traded fish for other goods on the mainland. Now birds are the only inhabitants, dropping seeds so plants and trees are spreading across the flat top of the island.

(boat trip photos thanks to Linda, Saturday's designated photographer)

A longer wait for the engine to start this time, involving the boys taking it apart, cleaning fuel lines and putting it all together again. I wondered how we would manage for water on the island, and whether anyone would notice our absence. When we finally got back, hungry for a late lunch, the office girl told us the engine was new. "It is now, " we said!

Easter Sunday, still 2 things on our list - to see Mount Cameroon and to swim in the sea. Jeremy, our friendly hotel gatekeeper, booked a taxi for our trip along the coast to "the best beach in Limbe". On the way we stopped at the place where lava last flowed out of the volcano, in 1999. Climbing up wooden steps and picking our way across the black rocks and cinders, we admired the way plants take hold in such an unpromising environment - life survives!

The Seme Beach hotel at Mile 11 lets non-residents in for 1500 CFA (Central African Francs), including a ticket for a free soft drink. There's a natural rock pool in the Seme river, which comes straight off the mountain, cold and clean. The water is so good that they bottle and sell it. Jumping in is a shock, welcome in the heat.

Ah, but the beach! Wow. Hot black sand, warm sea, big surf for jumping and being knocked over; strong currents and waves but life guards on surfboards to keep watch. A wide long stretch of sand - horses to ride, space for a never-ending football game. The river spreading out over rocks on to the sand; children lying at the river mouth to let the cold water wash over them.

Great music from the beach cafe's sound system; people dancing their way to the sea. Some families dressed for church, having photographs taken in this beautiful setting. As the tide comes in, football stops and a vigorous volleyball game begins on the grass court, then they all dive into the river pool to cool off.

We didn't want to leave. Never! Sun-baked, we headed up to the main road and caught a taxi. Then, halfway along the road, peering through the taxi window, someone caught a glimpse - Mount Cameroon emerging from the clouds at the last possible moment! Excited squeals, appeal to the taxi driver, we stopped briefly to get a good look at this massive mountain and Linda managed to take a shot. What a great way to end a fantastic weekend!

On the road again

2010-04-09T10:43:00.000-07:00

Going on holiday is always an adventure, well it should be. Nowadays it often means waiting around at airports, queuing to get through security and finding you've left an unsuspecting item in your hand luggage that sets the scanners off, then paying a huge amount for a tiny bottle of water to take on the plane, where the food is indigestible but you eat it anyway out of boredom, and regret it later.

If you want more fun in your travel, come to Cameroon. The Amour Mezam bus company yard at 7am on Maundy Thursday was quiet at first, taxis unloading, people buying tickets and snacks for their journeys. It's hard to remember our arrival here a month ago, shell-shocked from the journey from Yaounde, overwhelmed by the noise and bustle, scared by the confusing melee of people, buses, motorbikes and taxis.

Now the three of us, Gweneira, Linda and I, felt totally capable of coping with this long weekend trip away on our own. Our bus to Limbe, 361 km to the south west, was a 30-seater and we bought good seats near the front. Our luggage was piled up waiting to be loaded on the bus roof, and we waited too (we're getting good at that).

Wandering round the dusty yard, taking photos, watching people, talking to mums with babies and bus drivers relaxing in their office, investigating what was in that funny looking basket ... fascinating. People take all sorts of stuff on the bus, their produce to sell and the goods they have bought - hens, plantains, furniture...

Traders pop into the bus or sell through the window, and there's plenty of choice. We bought Magic Chalk cockroach killer, slightly dodgy CDs of Cameroon bands, grapefruit drink and nuts.

Before setting off we needed to use the bus station toilets, and this was an experience somewhat unlike Heathrow. Two young lads were running the place, and one asked Gwenno whether she needed a pee or to use a cubicle. Pee was 50 and cubicle was 100 francs. We all chose the luxury version. The other lad was on bucket swishing duty, western style loo but no flush, and men just peeing in the open yard in front of the cubicles. When Gwenno left, the lad asked for her email address!

Our bus finally set off at 11:30, and was then really efficient. Enough space for the 30 passengers, fairly fast but safe driving, beautiful varied scenery - mountains, valleys and right down to the flat plains by the sea. The roads were much better after we left the north west region – with tarmac and even white lines!

We got snacks like fresh pineapple from vendors on the way, snoozed a bit in the heat and tried to take photos through the window (not very successfully). There was a "comfort break" stop to use a pretty awful hole in the ground toilet (shared with mosquitoes) but we noticed the Cameroon travellers just peed at the roadside - probably a healthier as well as cheaper option. Neither men nor women have any inhibitions about this here.

Landscape changed, from the northwestern red soil and houses made of the red mud blocks, to lighter sandier soil and houses made of wooden planks, sometimes with decorative carved motifs. These homes were set down, in lusher growth than we see in the north west just now. Hotter and much more humid, more tropical to see and feel.

Further south we found large plantations of eucalyptus trees and of palm oil, with blue plastic bags collecting the oil. These monoculture crops bring income from exports, but are fairly destructive of the environment and particularly the water catchment.

Arriving at Mutengene near Limbe in late afternoon, we swapped to a smaller bus for the last leg to Limbe's motor park, to be met by taxis ready to take us right to our hotel by 6:30 – just 12 hours after leaving home. Ah, the sea, hot showers and air conditioning! Of which, more in the next instalment.

Food, glorious food!

2010-04-06T09:25:00.000-07:00

The richness and variety of fresh, seasonal produce here is a pleasure! Almost everyone here has a "farm" - more an allotment size in towns - where they grow food for their family at least. A local told me you can't live in Cameroon if you don't have a farm!

Food is much tastier than in the UK - very little distance travelled, very little input of artificial fertilisers, much more free range and organic, and much fresher. Yes, food does go off quickly, but you buy food easily more often. Market and roadside vendors may only sell one type of fruit or vegetable at a time, but overall you can get a good varied diet if you cook for yourself.

Hey, I'm living in a country where they grow pineapple and coconut! This is so good, the pineapple juice runs down your chin, and I poured 2 full glasses of coconut milk out of one coconut (500 francs). Up in Santa just now I bought ripe avocado pears for 100 francs ( about 14p), loads of these in this area at the moment. Mangoes and pawpaws are just coming ripe. I had 3 mangoes here last week for 200, then I got about 8 big pawpaws (papaya) a bit further south for 100 yesterday, brilliant with fresh lemon (3 for 100 francs).

The market traders have different kinds of groundnuts, in shells, shelled or even ground for you ready to cook. Yams and cassava are not in season here yet, but you can buy them from other regions. Mushrooms have been coming in, strange types I've never seen before; I took a photo of the ones I bought just in case a doctor needed to know what we'd eaten. Great fried in olive oil with onions and garlic, as the lady advised me.

What I'm not buying is meat. Can you guess why? (hint - look at the photo of a typical butcher's.) They seem to sell a lot of tripe, tongue and basically every part of every animal. Fancy some chicken breast fillets? Forget it! Chicken is sold live, so unless you want to kill and pluck it yourself, (which I've done in the distant past but have no wish to do here), you pay someone to prepare it for you. Incidentally, women are not supposed to eat chicken gizzards, for some power reason these are kept for men only. Let them have gizzard if they want!

Takeaway food is not exactly Big Mac. You can get lots of stuff on the street. Some mornings I like to pick up a little sort of breadcrumbed fishy pasty (25 francs each), or maybe a scotch egg which is dough rather than sausage meat. They serve that with a dab of hot pepper sauce for 100. Puffball doughnuts are fried in hot oil over wood stoves, mostly in the afternoon, then people bring the leftovers around in the mornings in big plastic containers.

Barbecues are everywhere in the afternoon, grills over big logs with fish, mainly mackerel, delicious sold with pepper sauce for 700 francs. There is also meat and some massive cooked eels - I haven't been able to face these to try them. There are grills for whole plantain (long green banana type fruit) and corn cobs. Fried plantain is a great alternative to fried potatoes, and plantain crisps are a good snack food to help work meetings along!

Summer holiday

2010-03-31T10:16:00.000-07:00

Yes, we're going on a bus, to a beach, hopefully no cliff richard driving though!

this is just a quick note to say - bye for now. Gweneira, Linda and I are settiing off at 6:30 tomorrow to brave the bus station, get our tickets and take ourselves across country south to Limbe. We want to see Mount Cameroon, have hot showers in a hotel (hoping anyway!) and swim in a warm sea.

no doubt a lot more mosquitoes, 33 degrees hot, but we are leaving laptops behind and can relaaaax!

back on monday evening, inshallah!

Everybody's talking

2010-03-28T09:44:00.000-07:00

Santa's full Council meeting doesn't look much like a Welsh one at first glance, but dig a little deeper and there are interesting similarities!

The meeting on 26 March was unusual because first there was the installation of the new Secretary General, a role that's a mix of Town Clerk and Chief Executive, the manager of the council staff. Lots of dignitaries, family and members of the public were there, plus a group of musicians and dancers.

The dignitary list was headed by the Senior Divisional Officer for Mezam, who is the President's representative, and he oversees the council meetings and business. The list also included the Divisional Officer for Santa (another government representative), Regional Chief of Local Councils, representatives of political parties, their Royal Highnesses the Fons and Ardos, Gendarmerie Brigade Commanders, Chief of Special Branch and heads of government services. Top table included the Mayor and 4 Deputy Mayors, then all the councillors at tables forming a large square, and the public ranged around the sides. An official cameraman filmed a lot of the proceedings, but I must admit the presence of so many police made me rather hesitant to take many photographs!

After the ceremony we all got a snack - a plastic bag containing buttered sliced bread, a mini pastie, piece of chicken and piece of fish - and a soft drink. Then outside for photos and more dancing from the music group, before the council meeting eventually got under way.

The Mayor gave a nice speech, updating the council on various projects. He welcomed Gweneira and me as new VSO short-term volunteers, so we stood up for everyone to see us. We were really glad we had our new Cameroon outfits; we got lots of compliments during the day as this was clearly appreciated. Hopefully my photos will show the range of clothing - from traditional embroidered North west regional costume to western-style suits and dresses.

(photo of the 5 VSO volunteers in Santa)

Full council meetings only happen 3 or 4 times a year, and they last one to two days. Most of the work is done by committees, especially the executive committee of Mayor and Deputies. The agenda for this meeting was mainly to adopt the accounts for 2009, and this was discussed for about 3 hours.

Some Councillors got quite heated at times, especially over their allowances! Other contentious issues included lack of progress on road improvements (badly needed everywhere in the region). The council had a big shortfall in revenue raised, so a lot of expenditure had been cut. The Sanitary Inspection tax, for instance, only raised a sixth of what was budgeted, as apparently some villages don't have latrines.

One tax was for firearms, and we were interested to learn that people set off guns at funerals (called "Cry Dies") and a woman was accidentally shot dead at a funeral recently. Much discussion about the failure to collect this tax - with laughter and applause from the public when one of the top table pointed out that all the councillors had guns and should set an example by paying up their tax here and now!

On expenditure, I was interested to see that a big amount for bank charges caused very little comment, compared to the discussion on councillor training expenses, for instance. The chair of finance was very firm, especially with those raising something irrelevant, saying "I withdraw the floor from you". Then to move business on, asking "Are we together?" When it came to a vote, the Mayor was asked to leave to allow a free vote. The representatives of political parties all stood up to see how councillors were voting, and the cameraman walked round the table to film everyone with hands up!

After the accounts were approved, the Senior Divisional Officer gave a little summary in which he pointed out the Agenda had not included minutes of the previous council meeting, nor reports from committees, and he instructed the Mayor to do this at the next one. A clear indication of how much central government control there still is here, compared to Wales - decentralisation is very much a work in progress.

The SDO and entourage of police left at this point; everyone had a breather and we took the chance to leave. It had been a long day, sitting quietly at the side of the hall, and we needed to get back to Bamenda before dark. Council goes on until it's over, with a meal later on, and if the agenda hasn't been completed they stay over till the next day. Very interesting, so glad we had this great opportunity to see how it's done, but thankful that our council meetings have time limits!

Handbags and gladrags

2010-03-25T04:02:00.000-07:00

Shopping for clothes with a couple of girl friends - whoopee! The Bamenda main market can be a bit overwhelming at first, but on an early morning trip with our housekeeper Anne, Gwenno and I had an excellent guide.

What a great choice of colourful fabrics! We'd both decided to have clothes made in local style, and as Anne is a seamstress by trade, she offered to make dresses for us. Cotton cloth in a huge range of traditional and modern patterns is abundant, some made here in Cameroon and some from Nigeria.

You buy a fixed length of 6 metres, and that's enough for a blouse, long skirt and headscarf. Anne brought us a big magazine with Hello-style photos - including a "Big babes" section! We could design what style we wanted, and she measured us and made up our frocks in a day or so. We're looking forward to showing them off at the Santa council meeting on Friday - a surprise for our hosts!

As we'd expected, most people do dress formally for work. The professional women I've met usually wear traditional or modern dress and jacket outfits; men wear traditional or suits, or just smart shirt over trousers. Traditional men's wear is a long tunic/coat over matching trousers, and a hat - looks great, very colourful.

Flipflops and thong sandals are amazingly popular, considering the state of the roads we all have to walk along. Men's shoes are really pointy but their feet look quite wide to me, as people go barefoot so much. I wonder, do they get bunions?

Lots of people wear western-style clothes, some new but there's a massive market for second-hand clothes. I gather they come from those so-called "charity collections" bags that people are always leaving on my doorstep. Companies collect our free cast-offs, bale them up and ship them to Africa, where local entrepreneurs buy them and sell them in markets and roadside stalls. So you see people in Tshirts advertising Bradford and Bingley!

Lazy Sunday

2010-03-22T08:57:00.000-07:00

Sunday in Bamenda means church for a lot of people. Cameroonians don't understand the concept of atheism - or the British tradition of Sunday trips to the shopping mall! In this north-west region, 80% are Christian, 20% Muslim, and an unknown percentage also carry out traditional African religious / spiritual rites according to custom and need.

Last Sunday our housekeeper took me to the local Redeemer Baptist church, where I received a grand welcome from the congregation of 400. I was impressed with the way they used Powerpoint to show the order of service and words of all the hymns and Bible texts! There was a band with drumkit, keyboards and guitars, a good group of girl singers, and an engaging sermon titled "Why worry?" Everyone wore Sunday best, mostly traditional clothes and one family were in gorgeous matching outfits, both parents and son in gold/green fabric. As a visitor I had to stand up and be introduced in front of everyone, then shake hands all round.

I talked to an American evangelist who makes wheelchairs for a local charity, and the man shown here, one of the congregation, was delighted to be photographed. There appears to be no state support for disabled people, so churches play a big role in providing support to individuals, as well as providing some of the general education and health services. In church, I was struck again by how well-behaved the children are. Even tiny ones sat through the first hour of the service before going down to Sunday school, with no crying, whining or even much fidgeting!

This week was more of a lazy Sunday. Cameroon is currently suffering the effects of the harmattan wind bringing awful dirty dust from the Sahara, making the sky overcast and the air choking. Plus we have major road works nearby, causing even more chaotic traffic than usual.

So this morning I went across town to the Ayaba hotel to swim in their outdoor pool. At 10:30 in the pool there was just me and a stunning girl in a tiny pink bikini, who told me she's training for a swimming competition next week. I stalked a red-headed agama lizard to get its photo before some children came to hunt geckos around an open-air stage. Some guys playing tennis, others watching the match, loud French pop music on the pool stereo, dragonflies darting a foot above my head - just like being on holiday!

A new luxury hotel has recently opened, the Azam, and we'd been told there's a French chef who makes beefburgers "to die for"! It turned out to be a long way out of town, but was well worth the trip. A very international style, but after 3 weeks here that was actually a nice change (definitely 5 star toilets!) We were the only guests for lunch, the food was brilliant, not expensive and I got my first cup of espresso since leaving the UK!

10 green bottles

2010-03-20T05:54:00.000-07:00

Water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink!

Well that's a bit inaccurate really, as we can get plenty of bottled mineral water from our local store. We drink between 2 - 3 litres a day each, depending on the heat. And Gweneira lived on little else for 5 days while she was flushing out some kind of bug.

Flushing - that's a word that features larger in our volunteer vocabulary than it ever did in Wales! Getting and collecting enough water to do the necessary takes quite a bit of our time, and we've been lucky to have running water from the tap for part of most days so far. Up in Santa, my colleague Kareen had no water for 8 days, and was overjoyed when it flowed long enough to catch up on some washing. Stand pipes are in each area, and we see people crowding round them with large containers and wheeled trolleys.

There is such a serious water shortage here that each locality has some kind of rationing. One problem as an inhabitant is that there's no regular schedule, so it's unpredictable. When we have water, we rush to fill all our containers. This morning I counted 96 bottles full, plus all the large buckets and bowls we possess. We collected about 4 buckets full of rainwater the other evening, dirty stuff but OK for the loo.

For washing and cooking vegetables, making hot drinks and rinsing crockery we use water that we boil and then filter. It doesn't taste great, so neither of us enjoys drinking it cold, but it is clean. So when we have running water, we boil up a large saucepan of tap water so we can fill up the filter.

Washing ourselves usually means using a bowl, bucket and scoop. We do have a shower, but no water ever comes out of it - pressure much too low! Being a softie, I add some boiled water to my bowl when washing my hair. I've been thankful for a tip from a neighbour at home to bring dry shampoo - it's so useful here. But then washing my hair in a bowl just shows how dirty it is - brown water as if I was rinsing out hair dye!

Of course we all do our clothes washing in cold water. I have no idea how Cameroonian people manage to keep their clothes so clean. You see Omo-white shirts crisply ironed, on people living in far worse conditions than us. The laundries are too expensive for most people, and there's no such thing as a laundrette, though I have seen washing machines out for sale by the roadside.

Ironing is essential, for anything that's been dried outside. Have I mentioned the tumbu fly? It lays eggs in any clothing or sheets drying in fresh air, then when they hatch they burrow into your skin! To prevent that you have to use a hot iron on everything, especially the seams - even bras and knickers!

Why does Cameroon have all these water problems? Especially with the amount of rain we've had in the past week, it's hard to understand. Some villages have no steady water supply at all, even for health centres, and it's certainly a priority on most wish lists.

I've asked for reasons, of course. First, electricity is a problem - lots of power shortages and surges, which affects water pumps. Bad weather knocks our electricity off most evenings now. Then the pipes are inadequate - certainly domestic plumbing wouldn't win any prizes, so I guess the same applies to the main systems. Infrastructure issues loom large here, and it's beyond me, but it certainly makes me appreciate what we have in Wales. I won't waste a drop in future!

Day tripper

2010-03-20T03:48:00.000-07:00

A day out in Cameroon is not exactly like a Women's Institute day trip in Wales. There are no organised trips from Bamenda, and it involves a lot of co-ordination. Heather, one of the long-term volunteers, had been planning a trip to Bambalang Lake for a while, and our arrival meant enough numbers to make it worth while.

Why Bambalang? Hippos! Who could resist? So, meet at 7 on Saturday and load up 2 minibuses, hired by Heather's friendly moto driver Nelson. Then set off north for an hour's drive on tarmac road, with great views of rugged hills. Rather Scottish, in the misty light. Delayed a bit by a runaway cow in the outskirts, we got to Ndop by 9ish, to pick up more volunteers and stock up with bread and cake.

Then off the road, bumping along very rough dirt roads for another hour or two, dust blowing in the open windows, snapping photos of farming villages as we hurtled past. We had to stop at the Fon's palace, and troop inside to sign a register and pay a fee for permission to visit the lake. Crowds of people were there, come to hear the Fon make an announcement. This was not for us to witness, and as we drove out, some caught a glimpse of the juju dancers coming out of the palace.

Relieved to get down when we reached the lake, wide and peaceful in full sunlight, we packed ourselves into an open boat and pulled out. Don't bother asking about lifebelts, overcrowding, leaks, engine, comfort, shelter - OK? You can guess the answers if you've read my blog so far. Boatman, 2 minibus drivers, 2 guides, 13 volunteers. No, there wasn't a chilly bin full of cold drinks either. And I can guess my insurance didn't cover this trip!

So, a beautiful wide lake, seeing the occasional fisherman in a flat boat, lots of large birds of prey, herons, egrets. We skirted the edge of the lake at the far side, looking for upright bamboo stalks moving in the water, with no wind - a sign of a hippopotamus swimming underneath. No joy. Not a glimmer of a sight.

Signs of a gathering storm drove us across to land on an island, where a group of villagers go to catch and smoke fish. They build simple shelters but I noticed the TV aerial! First chance of a toilet stop (free range), stretch our cramped legs and admire babies, relax while our guides discussed hippos and weather with the locals.

Yes, hippos are over there, they said, and we set off again, right into the storm, till common sense prevailed and we turned round to head for safety. The rain poured down, drops like pebbles, soaking us to the skin. Heather thought I had fake tan, as the red dust streamed down my face into my white blouse!

Reaching muddy land at last, we piled into the buses and set off back along the track - ruts and potholes now full of water, bus skidding, leaning over dangerously - another Alton Towers experience! The drivers were in a hurry because there are sometimes armed robbers on the Ndop road - you can see the bends where they ambush passing vehicles at dusk, and of course a group of white people would be a prime target.

But here I am, all safe and sound, just a white blouse now tan and it serves me right for wearing one. We live and learn!

Santa baby

2010-03-19T04:15:00.000-07:00

Commune de Santa where I'm working is in a lovely spot. It's high up among the hills, with fantastic views and a cooler climate. The people are very friendly and sociable. When I'm introduced, people shake my hand and say "You are welcome". Even little children are taught to shake hands!

So far I've only been in the main village of Santa itself, which is on the main road between Bamenda and the capital Yaounde. The council area covers about 530 sq km, with around 200,000 people and 10 villages. They have schools, health centres, churches, a radio station, markets and lots of bars.

Markets are important here, since most people are in farming. They grow Irish potatoes, cabbages, carrots, avocados, bananas, yams, coffee and other crops, and keep animals like cattle and pigs. There's forestry and furniture workshops, a big potato marketing shed and buyers come from nearby African countries to buy crops here.

It's volcanic soil and there are crater lakes but Mount Lefo is not active, at the moment anyway. Now the rainy season has begun, we should see waterfalls, but it does make getting around even more difficult!

Can you hear me?

2010-03-17T09:06:00.000-07:00

Writing a blog is a bit like dropping pebbles into a deep dark well, waiting to hear a faint splash.

I know some people are reading the blog, because I've got a few followers, and one or two emails, but that's all. It would be really nice to get more comments, followers and general response, to encourage me. The Internet cafe is slow, electricity is intermittent at home especially in the evening after work, so it's not like just sitting at a fast PC on broadband!

I was also hoping that my work colleagues would use the blog as a resource in adult community learning. It's a relatively painless way to include education for sustainable development and global citizenship, as well as some communication skills, if our tutors referred to the blog in classes (not just ICT classes!). They could use it to raise issues like gender and equality pro-actively, and generate discussion.

So, if anyone is reading this, let me know! If you have questions, I'll try to cover them in the blog, or by email. And if you can publicise it more, please send the link to anyone you know.

Best wishes to all my friends and readers!
Ros

I get around

2010-03-17T08:04:00.000-07:00

Public transport is quick, available and cheap here. You just have to ignore comfort and safety!

To go to work in Santa, I walk to the end of the street and stand there. When a yellow taxi slows down, I lean in and say "Santa park?" and if the driver is willing to take me I get in and off we go. I say "good morning" to the other passengers and we all squeeze up. On the 3 miles into town the driver stops to let people in and out, collecting the fare as they leave. There are fixed rates for most normal journeys so I always keep my cash in hand, and a close grip on my bag.

Santa Park is not what it sounds like. It's a petrol station on Commercial Avenue, and most taxis to Santa set off from a traffic island there. So I arrive and look for a cab which has a few people in and around it, and say "Santa?" and the driver nods. When he has enough people we all squeeze in and off we go.

On my first day travelling up to Santa on my own, there were 8 of us in the taxi including the driver. Three on the back seat is OK, but 4 is a real pinch. It's 20 km uphill most of the way, spectacular views if you have leisure to look.

Mind, I prefer that to sitting in the front. When Gweneira and I had to sit on the front passenger seat, my left leg pushed up against the gear stick and Gwenno half on top of my right one, well I could hardly stand up when we got out, 40 minutes later. I just staggered to the next taxi and flopped into it!

Oh, I forgot to explain how 8 fit in the car. It's straightforward really - the driver gets out to let someone else in on his side, usually a slim man, and then the driver sort of half sits on top of him. The passenger sticks his arms in the air, or behind the driver and poking out the window, it's quite amazing really how they do it. And drives like that.

One day the 2 middle guys got out just before a junction, we drove past it and round a bend and waited so they could walk along and get in again. I've heard the council is trying to stop overcrowding so they must have been avoiding a checkpoint. Presumably it's OK to have 4 in the back, 5 if you include the baby on its mother's lap.

Of course there are no seatbelts, and I don't like being in front because I can see the road. Going down a steep road at 90km sharing the front seat with a mother and toddler was just a bit much for me. Though I do choose older drivers if possible - advised to do so as they have families so tend to be more careful. They slow down for the speed bumps and zigzag around potholes.

I think I'm getting a lifetime's worth of roller coasters here, if I can live through it. And I haven't even tried the moto taxis yet (yes it's motorbikes with no helmet and no more than 2 passengers plus a small child on at the same time!)

Downtown

2010-03-14T07:51:00.000-07:00

Living in Bamenda is amazing experience, it's hard to choose what to convey to readers elsewhere. The town is spread out wide and far, with a steep escarpment called "Up Station" where the British lived when they ran this part of Cameroon. The view is often hazy, with humidity and dust, but it's nice up there, cooler.

The centre of town is Commercial Avenue, lined with street traders, shops, bars, businesses, the central market and the grandstand. Traffic (especially the yellow taxis) is chaotic, and you have to learn to walk nonchalantly across the road like the locals, rather than scuttling like a scared rabbit!

Street stalls sell all sorts of stuff: you can top up your mobile, eat freshly cooked doughnuts, barbecued fish, roast groundnuts or fried plantains. Taxi drivers just pull over suddenly to buy a roast corncob, then eat it while they drive. A woman wiped her hands on her apron from frying doughnuts to sell me phone credit!

Apart from this main avenue, there's a real mixture of residential, commercial and industrial businesses on all the streets. Along the dusty road to our hotel was a car repair shop, a furniture maker, and a bar as well as many houses. Our hotel was not exactly as it looks on the front - the barbecue area in the back yard was interesting!

Feels like home

2010-03-12T06:35:00.001-08:00

At last, on Tuesday we saw our new home, in Foncha Street in Bamenda, and moved in!
Arrangements here, we've learned, are very flexible to say the least, and we are definitely learning to go with the flow. I'm sharing a house with another Welsh volunteer, Gweneira, for a few weeks anyway, and we'll be collaborating to some extent in our work.

Ibrahim, the VSO programme officer, and Kareen, the VSO long-term volunteer with whom I'm going to work, took us round to see the house. It's a nice size, 2 bedrooms, large lounge/dining area, small shower room and small kitchen. The laundry is out the back. We have cold running water, electricity, fridge and gas rings to cook. It's in a secure location with a yard surrounded by high walls, solid metal doors, window bars, gates and the row of houses has both a day and night guard.

Everything gets dirty so quickly that there was a layer of brown dust over everything, and leaking taps and toilet, with a lot of rubbish and stuff left by the previous tenant. So Ibrahim got on the phone to the cleaner recommended by previous VSO tenants, and she turned up within a few minutes. We struck a deal and went off for lunch and to collect our luggage.

Wow - what a difference after a few hours! Anne is a real treasure, sweet and hard-working. She'd cleaned the place over and washed all the sheets. Another call to Yusuf, a young neighbour, brought his help to get a new gas bottle and fix up our mosquito nets. He called a plumber - who came and fixed leaky things the following afternoon - would you believe it in Wales?

We've made the place our home - local cloths hanging on the walls, Welsh teddy bear, family pictures. Battling with the ants and cockroaches in the kitchen is non-stop, but no worse than in southern Europe (so far). We've shopped, eaten and drunk locally, introduced ourselves to people and started to make friends.

Our cleaner comes at 6:30 for an hour or so, but we wake soon after 5 anyway with the morning call to prayer from the muezzin, and a cock crowing. We do feel a bit strange sometimes, waking in the middle of the night when the rain hammered on the tin roof. But sitting here now, listening to Norah Jones on my laptop while we write up our journals, it feels so relaxed to be living in a house in Africa!

She

2010-03-11T00:55:00.000-08:00

African queens and princesses danced for us - wow!

Our first day in the north west, Sunday, and we behaved like tourists. VSO took us to Bafut, about 20 km away, where we were treated to a tour of the Fon's palace and museum guided by his second wife. A well-dressed English-speaking lady, who's a home economics teacher, she explained so much about the local history and culture. These are my words, not hers, so any errors are mine.

Many villages have a Fon, a tribal leader who has a lot of power and respect from his people. The man who became the first Fon of Bafut came to this area about 500 years ago and united several groups of villages under his leadership. Nowadays people come to him for guidance on problems, and there are many traditional rituals carried out by powerful secret societies.

We saw the large stones where criminals - thieves, adulterers - used to be tied naked and executed or given to lions, in a big open area so everyone could watch. This ended in 1914, when the Germans came. An alternative punishment for some crimes was ignoring people - nobody would speak to them at all. The criminal would be so ostracised that they would either leave or commit suicide!

There's a large museum where Gerald Durrell, the English writer, lived and wrote his book "The Beagles of Bafut", which I must read. We saw wood carvings, weapons, clothing, beds. Plenty of animal skins including a massive boa constrictor skin from their land near the Nigerian border, which they keep as a reserve.

The Fon has 4 current wives and plenty of children and siblings, who all live in the houses within the palace compound. When his father died in 1968 he also inherited his father's wives, including his own mother! Our guide explained that this means he takes on the responsibility for looking after them. The queen mother had died a week or two ago aged 80; they say she is "missing" rather than "dead". The Fon still has 3 of his father's wives as well as his own four.

The Fon himself chooses his heir from among his sons, "the best behaved" according to our guide. He doesn't tell the heir, but the secret society know and they sort it out when the Fon is "missing". Our guide said if the heir knew he might run away, to avoid the responsibility!

The ceremony includes all the women parading naked, to ensure the new Fon has a long life! They

have a big feasting annually for the grass-cutting. The most important building has a thatched roof, and they repair one side each year. People have to go out and collect the grass, and beforehand the men go hunting to get enough food to feed all the roof-repairers.

Yes, it's a very patriarchal society. But we can see benefits in the extended family which we in the UK have lost. Care in the community means care in the family, and the strong social cohesion prevents a lot of the problems we face.

No Woman No Cry

2010-03-10T22:53:00.000-08:00

International Women's Day on Monday 8 March was a tremendous gathering of women here in Bamenda, and all over Cameroon - wonderful to see!

Women band together in groups for a variety of purposes - women's empowerment, informal credit unions, farmers, churches, social groups. They wear a uniform for the group, and many make a special one with cloth printed specifically for International Women's Day each year. One really struck me - a group called the Women's Employment Empowerment Process had the slogan - Women Weep No More.

In Bamenda they marched in their groups along the main Commercial Avenue in the centre of town, past the grandstand. It reminded me of trade union marches in the UK - but all female. After the parade and speeches, came the partying! All the bars were crowded with groups of women, drinking beer.

In our hotel there was a marquee in the car park, with plush seating and tall stands of flowers, as if for a wedding, and the public spaces were thronged. Thankfully the music didn't go on all night - many people like to go home early as the taxis finish about 9pm.

On this one day, women don't have to work. Of course, the rest of the year belongs to the men!

Travelling light

2010-03-08T11:53:00.000-08:00

Road travel in Cameroon is a real marathon. To get the bus from Yaounde to Bamenda, someone had to go buy the tickets early in the morning. Then at 8am we packed ourselves into taxis to the bus station - a vibrant, smelly, crowded place - where we eventually found our seats at the back of the 70-seater.

Once we got going, at least there was some air through the windows, but I can't say it was a comfortable ride! Lucky to have only 5 on the back row, with narrow seats, a real problem for the 2 tall guys among us. The road was mostly tarmac but very bumpy in places, so we were both shaken and stirred during the 7 hour trip.

Children on the bus were lovely - really well behaved in spite of the long hot journey. In front were two women and 4 small children under 5, all on a bench seat for 3, dressed as if for a wedding and quiet as mice.

Views were tremendous. Passing close-ups of the city, people working, shopping, selling, then giving way to rural life, back-breaking work on small plots of land. Plantains everywhere, few animals to be seen, the landscape changing from forest, shrubs, drier grassy areas.

On the city outskirts the bus was pulled up by police, who checked our visas and identity documents. A couple were taken off the bus and we waited to see what would happen. Some men got off to pee at the roadside. Then the couple got on again, having paid an instant fine perhaps? and the bus set off again. Apparently this is quite common, an extra income source for policemen. Bus and taxi drivers seem to know which are the genuine police road blocks and which are thieves.

During the 360 kilometre trip we stopped once for food and toilet. Food was hastily bought from roadside stalls: roasted plantains, peanuts, barbecued fish pieces, and a strange sort of pudding made of pistachio, melon and fish wrapped in leaves. Vendors held up goods to the bus windows at every halt on the road, or got on the bus if they could.

As we reached the north west we saw carrots and cabbage, signs in English - a man got on the bus to give us a real pedlar's spiel about this fantastic detergent in a bottle, our first experience of pidgin English. He seemed to be saying you put your knickers in the bottle, shake it a few times and pull them out clean!

We don't need no education

2010-03-07T13:01:00.000-08:00

We all knew there are problems here - that's why VSO work in this country - but I think the reality is only just hitting us. First during the training sessions and then travelling north west to Bamenda on the public bus, we are seeing more and more of how people live. We've learned a lot about the main VSO programme areas here - education, HiV/AIDS, participation and governance. As education is my professional interest, here's a bit of what I've picked up (my views of course, this is not an official VSO blog).

Women's lib? You gotta be joking. Overall in Cameroon 35% of people are illiterate; but in the Far North region, 72% of women cannot read and write. Over half of school age girls don't even register for primary school - of those who do, over half don't go on to secondary education. One in 5 are married at the age of 15.
Why?

People think girls are less intelligent than boys
No point investing in educating girls because they marry and leave home
It's better to keep girls to work in the home
Girls who do go to school get scared by the bullying and physical punishment, so they drop out.

These cultural, religious, social attitudes and behaviours are deeply embedded. VSO are working with teachers to change their techniques to be more girl-friendly, with education management to increase participatory strategies, and raising general awareness to change attitudes - a massive job.
Currently Cameroon is devolving the responsibility for education, health and other social services to local government. VSO are working in partnership with councils, community groups and other non-government organisations to increase participation in local decision-making processes and improve local governance.

I'm going to be doing organisational development work with Santa council, near Bamenda, to help increase their effectiveness and engagement with their community. Other Welsh colleagues are working with other councils and community organisations in similar ways, and one is evaluating the effectiveness of this whole short-term volunteer programme.

In the city

2010-03-05T08:29:00.001-08:00

Street life - yellow taxis hooting, elegantly dressed ladies picking their way along the hole-ridden roadside, stalls selling peanuts and phone cards, a photocopier in the middle of a rubble-strewn building site ... with people queuing up to use it. Dusty, dirty, noisy, fascinating.

We've been lucky to have enough water at the hotel. Yaounde is short of water, and some districts have no water for one day a week. People have to fill containers first thing in the morning, then none till next day. But everyone is clean, with clean clothes and polished shoes. They say it's better to be late than not well dressed!

Last night we had our first real power cut, in the middle of dinner out in a small grill place. Two of us had our head torches (good on us Welsh women!) and thank goodness, with no street lights to see our way around the potholes. Don't look down them, you don't want to know! The storm took out the hotel air conditioning, but left the satellite TV intact to see the Cameroon football team's international against Italy. Those bars with their own generators were doing extra well last night!

Then today, our first tropical downpour. We abandoned our hotel terrace when the rain came through holes in the canopy - and watched the canopy take off a few minutes later! Should I bother to buy an umbrella? With the rainy season about to start, this was a good taster session - raindrops is too gentle a word for this stuff. The street quickly emptied as everyone took what shelter they could find. Now, it's cooler. We don't really have dusk here, just the rush hour traffic and then it's dark. I keep missing it, just have a quick shower and - oh, it's night. I'm betting that everyone has their torch tonight!

A picture of you

2010-03-05T08:27:00.001-08:00

Cameroon is so rich in natural resources, it's hard to understand why the country is so poor. Our in-country training here in the capital, Yaounde, is just a first step at finding out. I certainly don't expect to get all the answers in the 8 weeks that I'm here.

In VSO UK training they talk about a foreign culture as being like an iceberg. We volunteers are like seagulls landing on the iceberg for a short stay. How do we find out what's happening beneath the surface? Find some friendly penguins and ask them!

We've met friendly VSO staff and volunteers, each willing to share a bit of the puzzle. We're doing a bit of shopping, going out for meals, using our varied levels of French to talk to local people.

A visit to Mont Febe monastery and museum gave us fine views over the hazy city, spreading over its hills. The museum gave us a glimpse of a rich ancient culture, with over 230 ethnic groups and languages. Folk here smile a lot, and we could see that in the wood and clay figurines from older times.

People feel a strong loyalty to their kith and kin, their community, in ways we seem to have lost in our world. These cultural differences are going to be the toughest things to learn, and to accept that things are not better or worse, just different. As an example, a cultured, western-educated, middle-aged professional told us that when he goes back to the village, he doesn't speak his opinion until his uncle has spoken, and then he does not contradict his uncle in front of other people. He has to find another way around it. Tact, discretion, empathy - a lot to learn here.
I'm looking forward to seeing the land when I travel to the north west province on Saturday. Cameroon has the whole of Africa in one place, (about twice the size of the UK I think). Three volunteers are going up to the Far North, a desert region bordering Chad with temperatures in the 40s. Ten of us (including the 5 Welsh volunteers) are going to the north west, a hilly region of grasslands, arable crops, forests.

Our trainers tell us there is an abundance of food in Cameroon, with a wide variety, but 40% of the people go hungry. Seven out of about 20 million population live in poverty. What can we do to help?

Welcome to my world

2010-03-02T04:05:00.001-08:00

Storms in France on Sunday led to early morning flight cancellations, but being in a group with other volunteers made the delays much easier to bear, and gave us plenty of time to start getting to know each other. Air France's "involuntary reroute" took us via Casablanca and we flew over the Sahara in the dark - so much dark, no light pollution here!
Arriving in Yaounde past midnight, our welcome by the local staff was warm and immensely helpful, easing us through customs formalities and delivering all 12 of us safely to a hotel. Hot and humid, an impression of smoke in the air, ramshackle industrial buildings on the road from the airport, reminded me of Greece.
Amazed to find an ensuite bathroom with W.C., fridge, TV, aircon and a fleecy blanket! It's not luxury but better than I expected of a volunteer organisation. Another woman mentioned that her room door seemed to have been jemmied at some time - yes, so has mine. I put the chain on the door, did my best to fasten the windows shut and hoped nobody would climb on to my balcony.

Disturbed dreams of mosquitoes woke me early, and from my window I watched groups of smartly uniformed children walking to school. Adults stopping at a street stall, some women in traditional brightly patterned frocks, a man carrying a large bundle on his head, people shouting at a car - what was that all about?
On the shady side of the hotel, I will soon find out just how hot it is out there today!

These foolish things

2010-02-27T15:33:00.000-08:00

Packing for an 8 week trip is not easy - I've just spent 2 days on it! I've had official advice from the volunteer website, plus conversations and emails with previous Welsh volunteers, which meant I've ended up with an amazing amount of stuff.

The weather will be hot and dry at first, but I'm going up into the north west hills so it should be cooler than in the capital, Yaounde. Then when the rains come, someone told me rain bounces off the road and it's cool. But if you're used to 30 degrees or more, what feels cool?

Clothes have to be smart, and there's a big emphasis on keeping your shoes well polished. I have to make a good impression to live up to expectations and show the proper respect for my new colleagues and the others I meet.

Then there's the medication. As well as my malaria tablets, I've been advised to take pretty well anything I might need for whatever may happen - from athlete's foot to verrucas! I've got about half a litre each of anti-mosquito stuff and Factor 50 suncream; plus shampoo, shower gel ... it all makes for very heavy luggage. Of course, I shan't be bringing all this stuff home, whether I need it or not (and I hope not!)

I'm also taking pens, pencils, paper, teabags - all recommended as gifts for local people, a way of making good connections. It's going to be important to build up relationships if my work is to be effective.

Anyway, the bags are packed, and I'm ready to go. Just a last minute problem of how I'm getting to Swansea tomorrow for the National Express coach to Heathrow...

I heard it through the grapevine

2010-02-26T14:46:00.001-08:00

Sometimes information for volunteers comes like drips from a leaky tap, then suddenly the water pressure is turned up and we almost drown in the torrent.
Two large files hold my downloads from the VSO website - country briefing, health and safety, equality and diversity, programme area plans and updates.... It's hard to take it all in, but I've gained an overall impression of Cameroon as a country with immense difficulties.

One striking fact is that if I had been born and lived there, I'd probably be dead by now! Life expectancy is not much over 50. And the infant mortality rate is pretty high - I can only imagine the impact of losing your babies, thank goodness it never happened to me.

VSO's training at Harborne Hall in Birmingham has been inspiring. Excellent co-trainers work hard over intensive weekends to open our eyes to cultural difference, learn new ways to facilitate groups and focus on genuine participation. I've loved it, felt more inspired by this than any other training course, including my PGCE.

So much is gained by meeting other volunteers - a marvellous mix of ages, skills and experience. People have different motivation but all want to make a difference. Life isn't just about survival in our western european luxury, upgrading our phones and TVs seen as the measure of success. These volunteers seek to do far more than that. And it's clearly a life-changing experience, even for those, like me, who are only going for a short time.

What's going on?

2010-02-22T12:00:00.000-08:00

Excited, anxious, hyperactive, indolent, enthusiastic, cautious, optimistic...

In just a few days' time, I'm setting off to spend 8 weeks in Cameroon in West Africa. No, it's not a holiday - I expect to work hard most of the time, and face some pressure to get results.

I first heard about this scheme a couple of years ago. "Wales for Africa" - the Welsh Assembly Government were putting money and effort into development work in sub-Saharan Africa, forging links between organisations, schools, and communities.

A branch of WAG had set up a project for Welsh public sector managers and leaders to do short-term work placements through VSO, an international volunteer organisation. The idea behind these "International Learning Opportunities" was that of shared learning. The people who went out to Africa would share their transferable or specialist expertise, helping to build the capacity of local people to develop in their own way, to achieve their own goals. Returning to Wales, they would bring their own learning back to benefit their home organisations and the public sector in general.

Great idea isn't it? WOW, I thought, wish I could do that! At the time, no way. But then last July my boss sent me an email. Public Service Management Wales was holding a drop-in event in Lampeter University to publicise this ILO scheme. Why not go along? So I did.

And now, many months later, here I am, getting ready to depart at last!