But now I can’t remember the other firsts.  First trip to the grocery store, first load of laundry, first bubble bath.

Then there are other firsts.

I can’t remember who first asked: “how was your trip?”  That’s likely a good thing.

When teachers say there is no such thing as a stupid question, they don’t mean this one.  Not that it’s a stupid question, but only that is boggles the mind.  FYI and for future reference, 2 years isn’t a trip… it’s a toddler.  And how do you deal with toddlers and the terrible twos?  You appreciate the growth and development being experienced, forgive the awkwardness of their social interactions and make sure not to feed them too much sugar!

End of rant.  Deep breath in, rant out.  That’s better.

Seriously though, what I can say is that every time someone asks “What’s next?” An internal struggle begins as if each new time it is asked, the first happen all over again. While the interrogators have meant no harm, I’ve nonetheless tried a few different comebacks:

- “Self-imposed and nomadic homelessness is quite in vogue these days.” (i.e. I live out of a suitcase and call anywhere home)

- “I just want to enjoy reliable electricity and hot water for now” (and I don’t know how long it’ll take to decide when I am done enjoying these luxuries)

- “We’re in-between-adventures” (usually a positive way of saying unemployed)

- “Nothing” (OK, that was unfair as a statement, but the reaction was pretty funny)

But it’s not good enough, is it?  Come on – they ask – what’s are you going to do now?  Where are you going to live?  Are you staying in Canada?  What about work?  Where are you going to find a job?

WHAT IS NEXT?

It’s not a bad question, really.  It’s not even a complicated one.  And while I know we should have a well-packaged answer, the reality is that we don’t have one that will satisfy even the least curious nor the best-intention inquirer.

YET.

Some volunteers go back to their homes and their old job.  Some head back to school or “reoffend” by volunteering again.  We are not that different.  We’re still working from the same storyboard – only it’s now adjusted to our new experiences and to the lessons we have learned.  Going “back to” isn’t part of that game plan.

Going forward is… At least we know the direction of travel if not the destination…

Two years ago we embarked on this adventure with the hope of gaining new insights that would propel us into a new future that was filled with what we most wanted to do with our lives.  In this way, it’s been a blessing.  We know so much more about what makes us tick, what gets us up in the morning, and what sustains us through challenging situations.  We know where our hearts are and what we most want to do going forward.

An interesting cosmic thing has been happening lately that has made the game plan look like a tactical response to an alien invasion.  Each time decided to “take a break” and go check out a particular tennis shop in Montreal, something happened which prevented not only that shopping trip, but the rest of the week’s activities were also turned upside down. We were beginning to think that this store was cursed, or that any well-laid plans on our part are contrary to the forces of serendipity. Then it started happening with other stores too… So we just stopped thinking more than two-days ahead.  At most.

Either way, we are approaching our “what next” dilemma with extreme flexibility.

So we most sincerely ask you to forgive us for not answering the question directly.  Even if we tried, we would have to rewrite the story in a few days and then we’d all be confused.  For the moment, this is what we can say for sure about how we are reintegrating and what is next:

Greg’s approach is one of situational opportunity.  Within a couple of weeks of our return, he answered the door when opportunity first came knocking.  He’s presently filling in a short-term need with CUSO International which had him visiting two Latin American countries, doing multiple trips to our lovely Canadian capital and working with a whole new group of hardworking staff and volunteers.  All of this while he’s figuring out what the “next challenge” really is and where it might be taking us.

As for me, I have taken a challenge and conquer approach.  I have been getting my little project ducks in a row and have begun to coach them, each in turn, about how to become beautiful swans.  I learned how to knit socks and I wrote my heart out for National Novel Writing Month.  All of this while I’m doing what I can to support our common dreams and figuring out how best to pack and repack a mosquito net.

Big decisions ahead.  We’ll call it the “next first” and celebrate it as an answer to all major life questions.

As we sat in the deserted airport terminal, we could see the deluge going on outside – sheets of rain, spectacular lightening and roaring thunder to break the early evening sky in half.  It was a crazy day.  And a crazy 2 years.  And now it was ending with… yeah… thunder and lightning!!! Was that a message???

Nah.  It was just a way for us to have a little of everything on our last day – what we loved, what we’ll miss and what drove us up the wall!!!  Here’s how it went down:

5:30am – Wake up.  Eat first breakfast.  Get tennis clothes on.

6:30am – Arrive at Yaoundé Tennis Club.  Meet up with Coach Bruno (a.k.a. Paracetamol – although with a nickname like that it’s a wonder why the workouts still hurt!).  Have hour-long lesson.  Forehand, backhand, volley, volley, smash then serve, serve, serve until Coach Bruno says we did well enough to bring the session to an end (because you have to end on a good shot, yes?).  Give onlookers (sheesh, are there even more today?) a final bow. Get pictures taken with Bruno and Hervé – the only ball boy dedicated enough to show up at that ungodly hour, but smart enough to know that’s how to make money to pay for school.

Greg, Hervé and Caroline pretending to hit a bonus ball

8:00am – Get home.  Shower.  Greg heads to office –grabs second breakfast (last spaghetti omelette!).  Caroline gets nouriss soy yogurt (last one in Cameroon!) for second breakfast and finishes the packing.

Rest of morning is a blurr… Transfer the last electronic files.  Pack the running shoes.  One more e-mail to write.  Grab flight itinerary.  Put final touches on that last report.  Passports, check.

Circa 1:00pm – Head to favourite lunch place:  St.Tropez – Chez Patrick.  Place is full as always.  90s music playing on the radio – fellow volunteer Calla sings along.  Plates arrive.  Man, that’s a lot of food!  Hand over the little green sauce.  It feels like the last meal.  Wolf it all down. Get pictures with Patrick, the staff, and Patrick’s mom!  Chuckle, chuckle.  All the customers are left waiting for their meals while we’re playing… sorry folks.

2:00pm – Go back to office.  Pack up.  Can’t say goodbye.  Run around the office serving everyone some nice natural pineapple juice (thanks to Patrick).  Staff smiling now.  That’s better.  Last hugs.  (Keep Menge away from Caroline, he’ll make her cry)  Front office staff filled out the in/out board with new information:  out is today, back in: May 5, 2012.  (Keep EVERYONE away from Caroline, she’s only pretending to be strong).  One more laugh.  OK… let’s bolt.  (Pull Greg away, he can’t let go).  This is too hard.  On est ensemble.  We are together.

Greg's plate of smoked pork roast and Caroline's mega vegetarian plate

the St-Tropez Staff - out of the kitchen

2:30pm – Grab one last souvenir from the craft shop on the way home.  See if our friend is working at the newsstand at the grocery store.  It must be his afternoon off.  Good, can’t handle more goodbyes.  Keep walking home.  The banana lady is not at her street corner today.  Don’t need bananas anyway.  Don’t need to think about any more “lasts”.  Keep walking.  Pick up the pace – watch for cars.  Today not a good day to test if they will stop before they hit you.

3:00pm – Take shower – can’t stink on the 30+hours flights back.  Zip up the last of the bags.  Do the dishes.  Try to clean up… total failure.  (Sorry Calla!!!)  Why did time decide to accelerate now?

3:45pm – Félix, the taxi driver, calls.  He’s early.  Can we hurry it up?  He’s kidding, right?  Nope.  And what Félix says is law.  Better ramp it up a notch. Urg.

4:00pm – Call Honoré, the caretaker/guard, to please pretty please come help carry the bags into the taxi (are we going to be overweight?) and grab a few things we were giving to the family. Rose, his wife, comes down.  We’re given blessings of protection – the BIG guy is watching after us.  We’re told to come back.  We’ll be missed. (especially Greg, but that’s an entirely different story to be told at a later date)

4:15pm – In the taxi.  Headed to airport.  Did we forget anything?  No matter – there is no turning back.  New horizons ahead (literally and figuratively)… looking stormy (literally)…  it’s going to be a bumpy ride (hopefully restricted to plane ride).

6pm onwards -  A furious texting frenzy to our friends and colleagues while waiting as we discussed the best way to say goodbye without being sad, making others sad or rubbing it in (because Caroline is 30 hours away from the first bubble bath in 2 years and everyone knows it!).  Good thing they all have a good sense of humour… or forgive us for ours.  Or ignore our antics.  Option 3 seems a good one now.  Still not hungry (thanks Patrick)

Patrick, the man responsible for a few too many lunch-time over-feedings

Nearing 8pm – Run over to the waiting area.  We needed to cross security in time to wave hello/goodbye to Pat, a fellow volunteer returning from vacation on the plane that will whisk us away in an hour.  Security officers don’t seem to mind the craziness of waving, dancing and otherwise acting really goofy.  We lose nothing in the final search.  Yeah!  No bribes, no fuss.  That was a very nice gift.

8:30pm – Use up the last of the phone credits by calling our parents just to be sure they remembered we were on our way back.  Just in case.  Never know.

8:35pm – The crew announce that our seats are boarding.

8:36pm – Last received call:  Coach Paracetamol.  Wishing us a good journey home.  Ending our day with the joy of how it began.

Coach Paracetamol - keeping good form even on the last day!

9:00pm – Plane is airborne.

So really, it’s no wonder we got a little hyper yet melancholic when we got onto the plane.  The day, the week, the month, the years.  It all starts to come into a strange sort of perspective.  We’re still mulling it all over.

Just doing it without the benefit of a mosquito net.

“what are the opportunities to increase the economic success of myself, my family and my community?”

Just think for a moment … how you would answer that question in your own community?  Then read on below to see just a few of the opportunities these 6 people from Bamenda and Wum came up with – and these are only the few that I forced myself to narrow it down to!

Our IDF Photovoice team!

Having worked in this field in Canada and the US, I can tell you right now that few of us could gather the breadth of images and stories the small group of IDF volunteers and beneficiaries did in a week’s time.  And I say this because, once you tick all the boxes of challenges they have faced – being orphaned, disabled, unemployed, living in quarters without garbage collection, potholed dirt roads, thievery, you name it – they highlighted some great [read: achievable] ideas for future work.  They not only took pictures that showed the reality of their lives and their community, but they provided a long list of opportunities that have the true [read: credible and feasible] potential to make a difference – for themselves, their families, their community, IDF and VSO Cameroon.

The economic development part of my brain could see the possibilities.  Take any of those energetic people and let them be who they really are for IDF: role models.  Let them speak about what they did to reach where they are.  Let them teach others about what they do.  Let them be the marketing arm for sensitization about sanitation and waterways, building bridges and roads, building places where community can come together, and training orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs) to have the confidence and the skills to take care of themselves.

Let them be the faces and voices of dedication towards greater local economic success… Already in this one photovoice project, they have demonstrated that they already are.

I wish I could show you all the pictures and stories from the project, but alas, I’ve painstakingly reduced it to these so you can see for yourself just a few of the opportunities they presented…

Photo by IDF 1240

This woman is frying akra beans. You can see the woman is well protected from the fire. There is an opportunity to teach others how one can be self-employed.  That woman is self-employed. The opportunity is for others to learn. She works very well.  We can see the number of people that eat there.  You would not believe yourself.

When I leave my church in the morning and I pass and buy akra I will take for my breakfast. Even those with only 100 francs can eat there.  If the woman doesn’t sell, I don’t have my breakfast.  Her business is very important because it contributes to the local economy.  Because the day this woman doesn’t prepare this food, you will see those truck pushers who are rushing to come and eat, when they come and don’t see her, you will see them standing there like orphans.

This picture shows typical northwest traditional dress regalia and culture. This is actually my handwork – what I do. When I left school I struggled to pick a job somewhere and decided to open small workshop since I grew up with this.

Economically it is what I am feeding my family and helping other people in the community.  Through this I have discovered that self-employment is easier. I have trained no less than 100 children.  The picture you see is one of my apprentices who is working there. Economically I can say that this has made me not to regret that I wasted my time in school because I use my academic knowledge on the designs that I put there.

I am proud with it because I trained many people who feed their family and train others and the thing keeps on going.  Now it is like a hot cake for us because the government itself is developing some interest now in the traditional northwest regalia because now we are using them for instance when we were going there for the World Cup, most of the Cameroonians were using this, when we went for the Nations Cup, most of the Cameroonians used but the NW regalia.  Any political figure in Cameroon who want to signify with this and the northwest people and the northwest.

Photo by IDF 1243

Photo by IDF 1243

This picture shows what I do for work as a shoe mender. This is my apprentice in the picture and he is disabled man.  I want to show that he can do more than one able can – he is my first apprentice. My mother was dead, my father was dead.  I am an orphan and IDF helped me enter into this work. They asked, “you want to go to school?” I said, “no – I have my brother and my sister and they are doing nothing. If you can really help me to have something to be doing or selling something.”  They said, “you can come and train for business”, I said “OK you can put me to any workshop that I need, I can do best in doing the work”.  Now I am patron (boss) by myself and I can train many people.

The picture is showing what a disabled man can do.  If you are disable you cannot stay in the house.  You can do something.  Even you can move your crutches like this one by his side.  Even people like this can work.

Photo by IDF 1238

Here you see a point where the inhabitants of my community they do dump refuse. On one side of the bridge you see it is very clean at present.  On the other side you see they are dumping refuse on that other side which is not my community.

If you look closely, the other side is another quarter where there is no garbage beside the stream after a sensitization campaign. Under IDF, we went out and sensitized the quarter about the poor disposal of raw sewage and refuse. I took a small portion of our community to do my study. I went around to every household.  I collected the refuse from the household.  I came to some land I had left, I selected the metallic substances, like I grouped copper, iron, tins, plastic container.  What is remaining like this in the picture, I made a pit for compost manure.  After that, I realised the amount of refuse being dumped on our own site had dropped.  So I went on and then I saw that from the copper a kilo sold for 1700 francs so the bits of copper I received I could use to raise small income.  Then also from the market women I made contacts and I collected from the ones who sell huckleberry, their own refuse I had another use not for compost.  Aluminium a kilo is 600 francs.  Then the compost manure, at times, in the season when the farmer do cultivation, you can have a quart of compost manure for 1000 francs.  That is how we can recycle sewage from our own homes.

If another person was doing what I am doing on the other side of the river, that’s enough indication that this other side could be clean.

Photo by IDF 1240

I am owner of this small place and this is where I try to earn a living. You have some shoes, curtains, and a few dresses plus those machines.  The opportunity I have in this business because I came to Bamenda after working for a company that for two years did not pay us. I was in Yaoundé, I was forced to come back, being harassed by the landlord everywhere I was going and I came back home.

God so blessed, I have a father that man who is very pushful.  He went on retirement in the days of the Western Cameroon and his pension is 6000 francs.  6000.  Not 60,000, not 16,000.  6,000.  So my father is a hard worker that he is like that, he goes to the farm.  He works like a woman.  He told me “my child, let’s not stay like this.  You are from Yaoundé, you are back home, you are not paying rent, let’s be going to the farm and working.”  And it is from that farm that after we sold some of our items from the farm, I had small money that I could start this small business like this.  Though small as it is, I am happy with it because the opportunities that comes out of this is that I pass my time here.  Where you have a place to pass your time, you avoid many problems like gossiping all those types of things in the quarter.  It helps me to generate income.  At least I can sell an item there that will buy books for my children.

I took this picture to show that one must not have a very big capital before starting a business.  You can even start with the least you have.  And while this is going on your knowledge is developing, you can sell one things, and buy two or you still buy just one. It helps at least, there are days that I come there that I will have 500 francs to go and manage and buy food for me and my children.  Not the suffering we used to suffer in Yaoundé when they were harassing us up and down.  So it is very important to me in that way.

Photo by IDF 1239

This is the main road in my quarter. You can see how clean it is, you can see small business persons a motor taxi on the road, a salon and wood being sold by the roadside.  This is an opportunity to show how my quarter is booming economically.

When someone looks at this picture they can see how the sanitation situation in the quarter is very stable by keeping the roads clean.  Like after selling her wood, the woman will have to sweep her portion to keep it clean so she can use it next time.  Why is this important?  Because this road is something we have been crying for so many years and finally got accepted by providing us this road.  Now you can see small business by the roadside.  This proves that the quarter is growing economically.  Up here is a new building being constructed for more stores.  It means it is inviting more investors into the quarter.  And on my own part, it is very important because the more inhabitants come, the more I will have registrations for my association. 

The secret is you must know how to talk to people.  Be friendly, don’t be arrogant, don’t be rude.  Try to make them your friend.  Make some jokes with them.  It’s been long about 8 years with IDF.  She (IDF’s coordinator) taught me how to associate with people, she taught us how to talk to people, how to talk to community.  And they will all gain what you gain as if it’s magic.  That is it, that is my secret.  It comes from IDF.  Because she taught me all that before I was even became the manager which I now have to manage all the services.  It’s because of IDF, the knowledge I get it from here.  To know how to talk to people that’s all.  Because to bring people together and let them understand is very difficult.  So if you can do that, then I think you don’t have any trouble.

There were 5 participants – some beneficiaries, some volunteers, some who were a little bit of both.  In the week and a half period that the project ran, they took 189 photos and covered the gamut of intervention ideas:  microfinance, agricultural enhancements, training for orphans and vulnerable children, income-generating opportunities, business support, etc.

Many of the pictures and stories they shared really stood out.  Here are a selected few of those that illustrate their thoughts and ideas.

photo by MUSAB 1244

The woman standing in this picture is my wife she is a business woman. She is a dress making. She make a business. She sells thread, needle. She makes patterns. So the woman is selling to her customers. According to her life was so difficult for her  when she was not working, but now as she is working she is able to feed herself, pay her rent, take care of her family. She is happy. She is saying that if she has enough capital she thinks she will make it better than this.

Photo by MUSAB 1238

Photo by MUSAB 1238

[In the first picture] you can see that’s him before.  Before he was using a truck to transport people’s goods from one place to another and they usually give him something.  With that thing he can help himself since he’s an orphan. After when MUSAB came in they helped him through his mother. His mother is a widow.  So they gave her a loan. With that loan she saw that the child was somehow push full, so she helped the child by giving the child capital. He decided to keep fowls. As you can see those are his fowls there. Now they are grown up. He can now sell some. When he sells he can go to evening classes. So he has gone back to school. He uses his manure in the farm.  He has been raising chickens for 2 years. He feels very happy because now at least he can pay his own school fees. He also helps the family.  He learned how to raise the fowl from talking to people. The mother is also helping him. When the mother learns from educational talks she takes it back to the house and explains it to him.

Photo by MUSAB 1233

This picture shows your girls who go to the market and learn plaiting.  MUSAB can also involve their girl OVCs (Orphans and Vulnerable Children) in this plaiting.  Train them for plaiting and they can go out and manage themselves, employ themselves, feed themselves and their family and also take good care of the community by plaiting the women so that the women should look fine.  Also [they earn income to] educate their own children and families.

Photo by MUSAB 1236

Photo by MUSAB 1236

Photo by MUSAB 1236

I am a widow with eight children in a two bedroom house.  Out of my income-generating activity, I am able to do many things like pop-pop, akra beans, pancakes and what we call in Hausa language masa.  [The impact of MUSAB] is that I am able to help myself and my children to feed, clothes and even send some to a vocational training for tailoring.  It’s important to others because when my children are out for selling [the food products] and it got finished before reaching others, they get very angry at them.  That’s what makes me feel I’m important to others.

Not so sure we intended to change lives, but hey if you can pardon my lame commentary… if life is giving you scraps…  make a quilt!

Oh, enough with the silliness…  Here is what the original plan was:  do a two-day hand quilting training with women infected/affected by HIV so that they can quilt as a support group and then perhaps, with experience, turn it into an income generating activity.

But we didn’t manage to get funding to make it really formal so…

Instead, this is what took place: Oussematou gathered two gentlemen around her (another woman – a seamstress no less – was also supposed to come but cancelled due to a death in the family) and we did a quick one-day quilting lesson!  The idea was that these three apprenticeswould then start to train others when they feel more confident with the needle.

shhh... the quilters are concentrating

Right, well… maybe not doing the whole changing lives thing, but at least there’s a chance for this bit of skill to carry forward.

I picked a relatively simple pattern – friendship star – and put together a bunch of handouts, including visual instructions and other sample templates.  Then I grabbed my sewing kit, invited fellow quitling volunteer (Cornelia) to join in and turned IDF’s conference room into a quilter’s retreat!

the sample inspiration piece - a frienship star

It was an absolute blast AND a learning lesson for me about teaching hand quilting.

Besides Oussematou who had learned to quilt some years ago, the other two gentlemen had quite different skills.  One is self-employed doing traditional North West Cameroonian embroidery. The other, I suspect, had never before stitched even a button onto a shirt.  So now I totally understand the amount of patience and creativity necessary to teach in general, but also to teach people of different skill levels. It’s very interesting teaching to someone who has allergic reactions to following instructions!

Yes, I know, you can’t teach perfectionism or at least you probably shouldn’t try.  I thought it best to let them make some mistakes along the way so as not to break their spirit and try their patience (as they were trying mine!):

“Sure you can use black thread to sew yellow blocks on your practice piece!”

“No, no, it’s no problem if you have the sewing lines on the outside, it’s just for practice!”

“It’s no matter if you turn the pieces around so it’s not a star anymore, we’re just practicing!”

“Right, so now that the two pieces are pinned together you can sew along the sewing line you drew – except you didn’t draw the lines as instructed. Oh well, then I guess you can just eyeball it.  We’re just practicing.” 

But, on the inside of course, my little voice was screaming and my quilting genes were crying just a little!!! I kept telling myself that when they see it all come together and they see their own mistakes, they will start to appreciate the teachings and the need for greater precision.  In quilting, a few millimeters do make a difference, but I guess that’s hard to believe until you see the results yourself.

All in all, it was a really fun day.  We littered the floor with bits of fabric. We lost out templates beneath a pile of remnants (thanks Cornelia!), and, for all my nervousness, we did not lose my grandma’s sewing scissors!  More silent curses were uttered in threading the needles rather than in doing the stitching – so I know things were going pretty well.

Best of all, everyone completed one block and attached the backing to it.  Everyone started doing some “stitch in the ditch” work around their star, and I showed them how to complete the binding so they could properly finish another day.  So, yeah, quite literally… quilts without borders!

Everyone left with a smile on his or her face (including me! – well OK maybe mostly me!)… and a few more scraps have now become stars!!!  Friendships one at that!

As always, I had no reason for the sleepless nights.  There is space in IDF’s heart for coaching and a great desire to continue the relationship with Coaching the Global Village who provided me with the curriculum, the funding and the support to make it all happen.

I had connected with 5 of the training participants a few weeks ago and had a better idea of where they were at individually.  We’d been able to speak one-on-one about their coaching experiences so far, and what challenges they had faced.

This last day of training, however, was aimed at doing knowledge-sharing between the participants and also at further solidifying their coaching skills so that they can continue to grow as coaches.  I had planned a full-day of experiential learning, and while a great laid out plan helps, it was tossed out the window in the first five minutes!  Because of unforeseen difficulties with another IDF project, we had to cut the training short, but by strong request from the participants, we didn’t shirk the work one tiny bit!  If I had had a checklist, it would have been nearly filled!

coaching training in action

The highlights for me in this marathon coaching training were that I am now truly convinced this group of people see the value in coaching as a tool for development.

To start from the end, I asked the participants to conclude the day by preparing a passionate sales pitch that they could employ in convincing their colleagues, the community volunteers in the field and their many partners, to include coaching in their activities. I didn’t know what to expect (always a gamble to use expressions like “sales pitch” when you don’t know if it translates in the local receiving culture!).  But I was impressed. They all said that even though coaching wasn’t mainstreamed in Africa yet, they believed they could be at the forefront of its adoption into their activities.

IDF may not be the first organization to receive coaching training in Africa, but the feeling that they are innovators is a gargantuan motivator – it gives them the opportunity to be, feel, and act like pioneers.

The training itself – a continuation of the Creative Leadership Conversations methodology – went quite well:  We reviewed the mainstays of coaching.  We spent a long time discussing how to build relationships that create the space for effective coaching.  We talked about the long-term approach to working with hard to reach groups.  Participants shared their thoughts about how they thought their listening skills were improving.  They collectively commiserated about the difficulty of fully clearing one’s mind, being entirely focused and present in a coaching conversation.

Every opening I had, I asked them to comment on the cultural differences and challenges coaching and the CLC methodology presented.  For instance, it is unusual, they said, for persons in Cameroon to have a “vision” as we define it in the West.  I kept being told by other people that usually people live day-to-day, hand-to-mouth.  To clarify visioning, however, I shared with them that in Canada we often ask small children “what do you want to be when you grow up” and that we fully expect an answer (no matter how farfetched).  I didn’t think this was the case here, but I had to check.  They agreed with my assessment.

So I braved the follow-up question:  “how does this affect your coaching if people do not have a vision and do not set goals and do not plan for the future?… And while we’re at it how can they be accountable for actions without any of the above?”

They told me that was the challenge.

I asked, feeling a little cheeky by that point, if we should forget about visioning as a coaching tool in the Cameroonian context.  That nearly started a riot!  (NB: this was just the reaction I was hoping for!)

“No”, they said, “it’s just the opposite!  We have to train the adults who did not grow up having a vision to see the value in it, and then they can help us train the children so that they start working towards a goal. That way they not just stay in school but want to work towards a career.  We have to create a change in this culture because having a vision will make them work towards something.  We need this as a life-skills building. It’s necessary!”

I get goose bumps just thinking about it.  After two years of working in Cameroon, I was starting to think my cynicism was clouding my vision (pardon the pun).  I could see from their animated discussion that coaching wasn’t just a tool they could use to empower their beneficiaries and improve their working culture.  The four participants – these shiny new coaches – are actually seeing this as a tool for cultural change!

My, oh my, what have I started now?  Visioning as a grassroots cultural revolution???  Yikes.  But then again, Yippie!

They tell me that the concept of time in Africa (or how they themselves see it anyway) makes visioning a foreign concept.  They know there is a challenge to making this more engrained in their activities.  They talked about – and made action plans towards – the development of awareness building of coaching as a tool and visioning as an agent to positive change.

Wow.

By then, even the remaining discussion on Emotional Intelligence – that it matters less what we know than how we use what we know – we were rolling around in gold.  We looked back at their shared experiences and were able to comment on the fact that they were, unknowingly, building their EQ skills each and every day.  Just by the fact that they were asking for confirmation and support for the way they had used coaching in various instances was evidence enough.  Still didn’t do it justice, but the groundwork has been laid.

Lastly we worked on a “passionate” action plan (which led to the sales pitch mentioned above) for growing a coaching culture in IDF.  We developed actions that would bring the organization closer to their vision:  a greater use of coaching in the organization which would lead to the empowerment of beneficiaries to reach their own vision and goals – a vision that is now clearer and achievable!

Good job IDF coaches… and good coaching!  We are together.

“My shirt smells like manioc. My pants smell like mold. Today I introduce a new fragrance to the world – Eau de Cameroon!“

It’s really too bad that blogs can’t be scratch and sniff.  Honestly.  If you want to fully understand what our unabridged and uncensored experience in Cameroon has been, you really need to see it, feel it and smell it.  We draw the line at tasting it.  At least for this particular topic of the week.

And while we are beyond overdue for posting the outcomes of the three photovoice projects from last month (it was very exciting and the results amazing, but the best things come to those who wait, you know, so patience people!) sometimes we have to pause and… nope, not have a cup of tea… nope, not watch the flowers bloom or the clouds drift away in the sky…

This is Cameroon.

This is Yaoundé: we watch the mold grow.

Right before our eyes.  Just like magic!

All kidding aside though, Yaoundé has a warm, humid tropical climate.  During the rainy season, laundry will take 5 days to dry.  Sometimes it feels like things will never dry at all.  It makes me cry which creates even more moisture and makes it take even longer.  And all this causes the most gloriously favourable environment for the cultivation.

Nothing is sacred to mold.  And small victories are many for those who wish to fight it, but big ones are scarce.

Here are the items that have, at one point or another, fallen victim to the mold monsters:

-luggage and backpacks

- leather sandals

- motorcycle helmets (this picture has not been modified, altered or manipulated in any way!)

how do you say "yuck" in pidgin?

- all of Caroline’s purses (which led to many a curses!)

- jewelery (madness, I say, madness!)

- wooden chopsticks (which we only realized after they were already in use –ALWAYS ALWAYS look before you put anything in your mouth even when trying to have a nice romantic evening by candlelight)

- baskets & pot holders

- nearly every article of clothing (nope, that’s not ring around the collar… it’s a fresh batch of fuzzy mold!)

- books, note pads, folders

- extension cords, electrical cords, surge protectors

- my wallet (while inside my purse no less)

- the broken umbrella we had forgotten about in the back of the closet

- the wooden spoon I usually cook with (that gets scrubbed before use)

- the very precious scrabble game (another 5 letter word for evil but gives less points)

- the portable radio (“this just in from the BBC Africa:  “mold is attempting a coup d’état!”)

- camera cases and nearly all of bits and pieces

- the medical kit (stay healthy and you don’t need the kit… but the consequences are that it will mold over!)

- the sleeve to Greg’s coffee maker while we were on vacation

- my best spool of quilting thread (still rather angry about that one)

- and anything ignored or unused for a week or so.

Now of course, the mold isn’t so discriminatory.  It has launched an all out assault on the walls too.  Although bleached and scrubbed, the fuzzy wuzzy new life form is quickly emerging from the cracked wall at an alarming pace.  It’s quite an interesting phenomenon, really.  Our very own scientific experiment.  Maybe the cure for cancer is growing in our apartment and we don’t even know it!

within days of Greg's manly scrubbing with bleach... it's baaaaackkk!

While we do our best to vinegar and bleach our belongings on a regular basis (I hate cleaning even more now), the mold is much more focused and determined than we are.

We’re fighting the good fight.  It may win many of the battles, but this is war… and we’re not backing down!

Postscript:

We realized that the motorcycle helmets were not getting enough ventilation being stored in our closet, so we brought them to the office where they would benefit from greater air movement.  And it’s been working.  However, today another volunteer tried on my helmet (a perfect fit!) and instead of mold (which would have been awful), a colony of ants erupted and landed on her head.  Our office mates came to the rescue, the ants were, shall we say, “relocated” to heaven, and the helmet is off on a new adventure.

If it isn’t one, it’s the other.  But I digress.

And she was right… but if you want to see anything in Cameroon, you kind of have to let go of any possible principle you might have and accept to pay bribes for the most mundane things.  Like putting foot in Oku.

It’s a good thing that who you are with makes all the difference to how you feel about your experiences.  It was a great day thanks for this group of lovely NW folks regardless of the “incident”.

We began the day early from Bamenda, first Cornelia, Kay and I.  Then we picked up Myra and Florian in Ndop before making the long ascent towards Oku.  I had been on this road back in December when we did the Ring Road trip.  Though now in the rainy season, the scenery was even more lush and green.  The road also had more potholes, but that just contributes to the “African massage” and the building up of a much stronger stomach. Mine was upside down for most of the morning’s journey.

a view from the road

This part of Cameroon, I would say, is one of the prettiest.  I’m biased though because I love mountains and hills.  I also think that the small villages along the way, with their mud construction and thatched roofs make for a beautiful setting.  Our goal that day, besides the lengthy Sunday drive, was to get a peek of the lake with rests up in the mountains.

We stopped midway up to let the car radiator cool down, all of us except for the driver thinking that smoke coming out of the hood wasn’t a good sign!  It gave us a chance to look around a bit and take in the views.  Kay got a few nice snapshots of some kids passing by.

nice place for a piggy hangout

We’d been told that we really should go pay our respects to the Fon by going up to his palace and bringing a gift.  I was extremely suspicious of this request by the locals – we’ve had this misadventure before.  Once in the main village we purchased a box of wine – also apparently called palace water.  We then took a stroll out towards some of the handicrafts shops, mainly to stretch our legs after the bumpy 2+ hour drive.

We came to the same shops I had been to in December – they seemed not to have changed much at all.  Filled floor to ceiling with woodcarvings of all kinds, there is a definite beauty to the work they do here.  Most of the pieces are so enormous; one can’t even imagine how anyone could take them home.  Some are borderline inappropriate for children – it just adds to the charm.

Some carvings - some as tall as me!

no comment - at least none that will not embarrass me later

Oku is also home to one of the largest and best-known honey production.  There are several beehives visible from the main road, and most shops carry the products as well.

one of Oku's many beehives

By this time, it was part lunch and we were antsy.  Our goal was still seeing the lake, and we had passed it on the way to the village but hadn’t stopped.  So we were anxious to do the right cultural protocol, pay our respects to the Fon and head back out.

the Sunday drive gang waiting on the tire change

This is a difficulty.  While we want to be good visitors and observe the requested customs, we are also bound to be taken advantage of.  And in this case, it was just that.  We drove to the Fon’s palace (where we also got a flat tire! One more slight road misadventure).  We looked in his gift shop, spoke a few words to the Fon himself – a former teacher and school principal.  He thanked us for the palace water.  We told him how beautiful the place was.  And then made our way to sign the book… which was nothing of the sort.  The Fon’s agent asked us for cold hard cash:  10,000 FCFA ($20) per person because we were tourists, but he’s bring it down to 5,000 FCFA because we were volunteers.  That was for seeing the lake and for walking around.  We argued.  We said we’d skip seeing the lake altogether since the “entrance fee” was more than we could afford.  He said we needed to pay him regardless of whether we saw the lake at all.  Just for physically having set foot in their community.

or should that be "tourist extortion centre"?

And if you are a tourist in Cameroon, let me assure you, this isn’t unusual.  And it makes it that much harder to mentally accept wanting to get to know this country any better than on the surface.

But what is there to do when you do want to see more than the inside of a stinky cab in the city or the grabby and shady parts of the market?  You swallow your principles and values, and you offer up something. In this case, Kay, who saw the incoming dark skies of rain that could make our return trip a muddy mess, put a final offer on the table of 10,000 FCFA for all five of us.  And then we said we’d go.

And we did… back on the road, the radiator still smoking and small prayers for no more tire punctures, we headed back to the lake.  The misty fog was rolling back in and the peek-a-boo view revealed itself for a quick moment.  It is a peaceful place from the top of the mountain looking down at the lake.  We’ve been told it is a magnetic lake and that aircrafts cannot fly overhead.  Perhaps the helicopters don’t want to pay the Fon for the privilege either.

We lunched in the car on the return, bouncing all about, bits of bread, avocado and cheese flying.  But the rain never caught up to us!

We had a beautiful day (I got a hellish sunburn though) and the beauty of the countryside remains a spectacular sight.  So if you don’t mind the hassle… it’s a great place to explore!

and finally... Oku lake!

1. Grilled fish on the street
2. Walking sock sellers
3. Huge avocadoes
4. River Soy strawberry-banana drinks
5. Saying “on fait comment alors”
6. Kids at Good Shepherd Home / Abangoh orphanage
   

   Cuties from the Good Shepherd Home

7. Small children carting even smaller children around
8. Finding cockroaches already upside down dead
9. Grilled plantains at Makanene
10. Buying cashews in Bamenda
11. Amusing the ladies at the La King when picking a new pagne for a dress
12. Any conversation about how the rainy season hasn’t started yet when there’s a downpour outside
13. The beautiful scenery around Bamenda and Ndop
    

    Great views from a hike near the town of Santa

14. Chatting with the guy at the newspaper stand at Dovv
15. Toothless grins from my banana lady
16. The teeny tinny translucent lizards on the living room walls
17. The joy of finding and then eating cheese
18. Not caring about mismatching or colour coordinating clothing
19. Maman Clémentine at the MFundi market
20. Vanilla Soy yogurt in a bag
21. Tennis “camp” in Bamenda
22. Fresh bread daily
23. Walking to work
24. Custom made clothes
25. Being told “c’est en rupture, madame” when the pharmacy has run out of drugs
26. The excitement when the water comes back on
27. Watching ladies carry trays of bananas on their heads
28. Buying fruit on the roadside for next to nothing – 11 avocadoes and 32 mangoes for $2!
    

    All this for a dollar! Gotta love mango season!

29. Smoked roast pork from St Tropez Restaurant
30. Amazing fruits and vegetables!
31. Watching TV shows on the laptop “beneath the mosquito net”
32. “Preventing” malaria with gin and tonic
33. The thrill when word spreads about finding western products in the grocery store
34. All the other volunteers we’ve gotten to know
    

    Fikir, Greg, Caroline, Cornelia, Nia and Danielle

35. Menge (we know you’re reading this) and many others!
36. Taxi rides across town for under 50 cents
37. Expecting to see the unexpected
    

    and that is how celery is transported to the market!

38. Fabric fabric everywhere!
39. JC’s chicken – rotisserie cooked & then deep-fried!
40. 650ml beers – for $1
41. Romantic mood lighting caused by low voltage
42. The game of getting rid of torn money
43. Reading inspirational (and otherwise) messages on back of taxis
44. Honoré, Doudou, Dalita, Rose and Alfred
45. Bougainvillea lining the streets in Bastos
46. Critters (some more attractive than others)
    

    this guy knows how to blend in

47.  Guys walking around with shoes on their heads
48. Waking up early (yes, it is Greg saying this!)
49. The train ride to Ngaoundéré
50. Looking forward to going home

OK that’s an outright and blatant exaggeration.  The work we have been doing for a week and a half has been going well.  Greg’s even calling this almost like a vacation because even though we have worked nearly every day since arriving in Bamenda, the pace and intensity of the work has been very different.

The entire month of July we were running ragged getting back in the swing of things in Yaoundé.  There was a full week of “Program Planning Process” to develop a new strategy for VSO’s work in Cameroon.  Then Greg was on the writing team for the PPP proposal, while I was on the “meeting the other NGOs” team checking to see if there were potential partnerships to accompany this proposal.  Finally we had to catch up on the work we hadn’t been doing.  I had to write a post-mortem on the less than stellar ending of my local-partner placement (don’t ask).  And then we had to plan for the 2 photovoice projects we are currently running in the NorthWest.

All of this to say that it’s been crazy and most of what we were doing would have made for very boring (over)work blogs.   Although we’ll be very happy to share some of the amazing photos and stories of the 2 photovoice projects we are now facilitating, a few random things have taken place which, hopefully, will amuse a few of you enough to forgive the long blog absence.

Here are three of the latest tales from beneath the mosquito net:

Where’s the beef?

Riding in a taxi cab last Tuesday, we came up behind a very laden yellow taxi ahead of us.  Nothing unusual with that.  Except of course that the taxi cab was full… of cow parts!!! Sticking out of the trunk was, at least, two cow heads with horns, a couple legs and what appeared to be enough meat to feed a small village.

Bumpers of taxi cabs here are usually painted with a slogan or prayer.  In this case it was: “Not what you think”.

Yeah… not sure what the people riding in the back seat were thinking either.

Then today, we were once again – by pure luck of course – riding in a taxi behind the cow-taxi.  This time it was a little less loaded… only the cow stomach was hanging out of the trunk!

Our love-hate relationship with power outages and floods

Some weeks ago, back in Yaoundé, we were lazing around (yeah right!) when, as often happens, a large thunderstorm came through and knocked out the power.  It was dusk at the time, and so we didn’t need candles.

However, within seconds the sheets of rain became too much for the still unfinished roof of our apartment complex and rain started to pour in.  The water started to pour into the hallway, then into our apartment – flooding the entrance, the kitchen and the pantry.  Without any light to see how successful our mopping efforts were (not a good time for the headlamps to be out of juice!), we did the best we could.

So we thought that would be enough for our “power-flood” adventure in Cameroon.  Until 2 nights ago.

A friend let us know that the next day would be a region-wide power cut.  The power company had announced that it would be from 7am to 5pm.  Great, we thought, no problem.

Only, of course, it wasn’t to happen that way.  Sometime between 1am and 2am, the power disappeared and we were left in total darkness.  Not a problem in the middle of the night really… until…

Yup, you guessed it… the flood!  This time it wasn’t rain but an overflowing toilet in the guest room next to ours.  Our friend Aysha, also in the NorthWest working on the photovoice projects, woke up around 6am (still in pitch dark) and had a rude awakening when setting her feet down in over an inch of water and raised the alarm.  The flood had cascades along the tiled floors from the toilet in question, out in the hallway and into our two other rooms.  The rooms are quite small and we had (which we will not do again!) placed much of our photovoice equipment on the floor, plus our own computers and cameras.

None of our equipment was damaged – except for one of the project’s participant notebooks which are still attempting to dry out.

Sh*t happens, but in this case we were a little extra annoyed.  The occupant of the room where the flood emanated from – a worker of a well-known development agency – had not only noticed the problem at least an hour earlier but said nothing.  When the three of us awoke to the consequences of his silence, he made a speedy escape… driving away in his big NGO SUV before the sun even made an appearance.

We spent the rest of the day – without power while drying out the casualties – taking a rest from a rather eventful early morning rude wake-up call!

Forgive me all Buddhists

After the events of the previous early morning, I thought I would sleep like the dead.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite the case.  I had only experienced a few “saut-de-crapaud” for most of the night.  Sometime around 5am, I’d manage to curl up in a little ball and was starting to feel some proper zzzz.

All of the sudden I felt something run across my arm. I bolted upright, screamed and shook Greg up while going into undignified hysterics.  With the light switch on the other side of the room – I grabbed the little “buddy light” and scanned the perimeter where my arm and face had been.

You’d think that sleeping beneath a mosquito net would be a safe haven, but that’s a bold faced lie.  Whatever it was (we think a very large spider), Greg bashed the thing with great force (the kind used in the middle of the night when you’re not entirely awake). Then my knight in sleepy-shining armor carted away the humongous (only slight exaggeration) carcass.  After an appropriate amount of time, with significant coaxing by my hero and all bundled back up on the opposite side of the bed, I managed about an hour of sleep.

When I made the bed in the morning, I found two LARGE legs of the obviously dismembered nightly visitor lying on what had been my sleeping spot.

Still grossed out.