As time goes by

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

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

"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

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!

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

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

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!