So we headed out from Mogode, and got on the dusty path south towards Rhumsiki. The road ran along the east side of a valley and on the other side? Nigeria. As we drove along the scenery, which was already quite stunning, became increasingly bizarre and beautiful. (Unfortunately, I don't have any photos of it with me right now, I'll try to post some more from this whole trip on my next post). Towering volcanic plugs stuck out of the ground at seemingly random places, mammoth cliffs rose up and then descended just as quickly. We stopped a couple time to take some photos, and then again right outside of Rhumsiki at the top of a hill where we could see the town, a couple mountains, and a gigantic volcanic plug. Pretty crazy stuff. When I busted out my camera, everyone insisted that I take their photo, so now I have about 15 photos of people from my soccer club on my camera, and I'm a little hazy with some of their names.
We got into Mogode and pulled up to a hotel where we were told we had an hour to go around and check things out. Well, at this hotel there was actually a pool overlooking the big valley and the volcanic plug. Beautiful stuff, but Baudouin (the french guy) and I decided to walk around town instead and explore a little bit. We didn't want to sit at the nice, Western tourist hotel with a pool in the middle of nowhere. Why did this place even have a pool? I'm positive no local from the area could actually afford the price (1500 cfa) to swim there. We walked through some neighborhoods and came out to one outlook and marveled at it for a little bit. Some kid carrying around a bunch of trinkets and shoddy, 80's-style post cards came up to us and quite politely, though insistently, told us we needed a guide, a tell-tale sign that you're in a touristy area. Well, Baudouin looked at the kid and said "Oh my, you don't see me guide? He's standing right here!" At which point I said "What is this? You don't know me? How can you not know me, I live here!" The kid got pretty confused and rather than trying to argue the merits or our statements, kept insisting that we needed a guide. After a couple minutes of playing around with him we started walking away back to the main road. So, naturally, he followed us. We stopped after about 50 feet, told him, "Thank you for the offer but we don't want a guide." He just looked at us and we started walking again, so he did, too. After a few steps we stopped again and Baudouin asked him, "So you understand French, right? We don't want a guide. Please leave us alone." He again insisted that I didn't know where the good things to see in town where but he could show us for a small fee. I then looked at Baudouin and spoke my first words in English in a couple days and said, "Do you think we should just throw a rock at him?" I was joking but man was it a bad time to realize the kid spoke some English, too, because then he started hounding us in broken English about needing a guide. We cut him off and got pretty firm with him and asked him where he was going. He said into town, so we told him "Go then." As he started to speak again, we just kept cutting him off and telling him to basically get lost. He walked about 20 feet, stopped and turned around but we kept motioning for him to continue. Once he was out of site, we started walking again and took a different path to the market.
We got to the market and after walking around for a few minutes I looked at Baudouin and said "It's the same stuff as in Ngong." He responded that he was thinking the exact same thing. We found the bilbil (traditional millet wine/beer) market and then asked one guy who was standing there with his son if he knew a woman who made good bilbil. He led us to one mama's stand and we sat down and playfully asked her if her bilbil was any good. She was somewhat older with facial scarring and tattoos stretching from her forehead to her chin and she was wearing a really bright, intricately designed panye (flashy african fabric) dress. She looked at us blankly after the question so we then asked if we could have some bilbil. Again the blank look. So then I switched to fulfulde, and again she just looked at us and then at the guy who led us there. He then started rattling off in what I can only imagine was Kapsiki and she gave us two wooden bowls of bilbil. (Side note on Kapsiki: ever wonder what Mandarin, Greek, and Housa sound like when mixed together? Kapsiki!) We drank our bowls, thanked the mama, paid, and left. I don't remember the bilbil being particularly good, but we were a little afraid of the recent Cholera epidemic around to go bilbil hopping and try everyone's different brew.
We started walking back towards the hotel and ran across some veterans in a little boutique. I bought a bottle of water (100 cfa more than normal--another touristy sign) and even saw some post cards. How did Rhumsiki become such a tourist destination? Sure, the landscape is really pretty but the town itself is pretty unimpressive and the level of harassment you get from kids demanding pens, 25 cfa, and to be your guide was really annoying. And again back to the pool: why was there a pool in the middle of nowhere?! Bah. I'm glad I went to Rhumsiki, but I don't know that I'll be going back any time soon. Beautiful? yes. A bit of a tourist trap? yes.
Anyway, we got back to the hotel where a few people had gone swimming and a couple others were eating a meal. Somebody had even gone to get his fortune told by the "crab talkers," a group of guys who talk to little sand crabs and apparently can predict your future. Eventually we piled back into the bus, some people grabbed some beers for the road, and we headed out.
About twenty minutes in, one of the veterans pulled out a box of condoms and started tossing them around the bus. Why? Don't ask me. Well, about a minute later, an empty Guiness bottle started being passed around the bus and what was on the top? An unrolled condom. I feel like that kind of sums up the veteran's club of ngong: empty beer bottles and unused condoms.
The ride back was pretty long, but once we got back onto the pavement in Mokolo things were a bit easier. By the time we got to Figuil, though, I was uber-tired and basically a walking zombie. I ate a little bit of meat, a couple beignets, and drank a soda and actually felt a bit better. With the late breakfast and the walking around in Rhumsiki, I'd forgotten to eat lunch, and judging by the general energy level I think many people had. Well, once we were about 45 minutes outside of Garoua, we started singing. We went through so many celebratory and festive songs that everyone's spirits were lifted. We stopped for a few minutes in Garoua to drop somebody off and then continued on to Ngong where we threw open the windows and let anybody who was near the road know that we were back and in very good spirits.
Home, sweet home.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Trip to Mogode, Part III: Back With Avengeance
Well, the game was relatively uneventful. Amadou scored about 10 or 15 minutes in from a shot a third of the way down the field that just lofted in over the goalie's head (he was too far out). Mogode equalized at the start of the second half and I came in on the right wing a little bit after that. I fed a near-perfect ball to the president of our club, who was playing forward, but he bobbled it a bit and couldn't get a proper shot off. With about 5 minutes left to go, we took off two of our players and put in Rachel and Flo, the wives of two of our members, and the crowd went nuts. "Women playing on a man's soccer team? Incredible!!" I got moved around the field a bit as we frantically tried to see if we could knock in a winner. With a few minutes left (and the sun almost below the horizon) one of our defenders tripped up a Mogode striker who was on a fast break. Since he was the last defender and the only person left between the striker and the goal would have been the goalie, it should have been a red card. Thankfully, the ref just gave a free kick and to Team Mogode's complaints he said, essentially, "You're here for the brotherhood and to make friends! Not just to win!" Wise words.
So the match was a 1-1 tie. After the game we split up and went back to our respective houses to clean up. I took a bucket bath and Mbirama, the man of the house and my host, insisted that the water be heated up over the fire first. I tried for a while to persuade him that it wasn't necessary and I could shower with cold water with no problem. After a while, though, I just gave up. Sometimes it's better to accept the hospitality and be grateful, even if it's really not necessary. To top it off, the water was actually too hot! It wasn't necessarily burning but I was kind of uncomfortable at how hot it was.
Me and Mbirama wandered around Mogode a bit because I wanted to buy him a beer. Well, we went over to one bar and walked in and it looked like there was a little community group meeting happening. Everybody stared at me so I said "bonsoir." I could have broken the ice a little better with Fulfulde if we'd been somewhere else but this was Kapsiki country and people don't speak Fulfulde too much around there. We sat down and after some discussion we realized the bar was out of beer. Well fantastic. So we went to another bar down the street where they did have beer and a few other veterans were hanging out. Well, I didn't get to buy him a beer because he immediately paid for it. So much for trying to be a good guest, this guy was bending over backwards to be a good host.
We wandered over to the restaurant/community center/main bar in town where we were holding our party that night and eventually things got started. Mbirama was drinking beer like a fish and kept tagging along with me the whole time. I guess it was fine but I was enjoying talking with my friends and other members of the Mogode community as well. He even jumped right into my conversation with the Commandant of Yagoua (the general in charge of the troops in a big city in the extreme north) who was visiting his family here for the weekend by saying, "Hey, do you know me?" I kinda tried to keep my distance from Mbirama and circulated around to the other tables which was too bad because the Commandant I'd been talking to was really interesting. He even thought I was Canadian at first. I asked him if that was supposed to be a compliment, but he didn't get my joke.
Eventually we ate, some standard Cameroonian fare: shish-kabob style meat, grilled fish, ndole, rice, plantains, etc. It was pretty decent but by the time all of the food got out, some of it had become pretty cold. Naturally, because I'm a nasarra, I was one of the first people asked to go up and grab my portion. Again, this is a time where it's best to just accept it and move on, if you argue people will think you aren't grateful.
By this point it was beginning to get pretty chilly. Mogode is up at a higher elevation and gets pretty cold at night at some times during the year. This was one of those times. I was only wearing a short-sleeve shirt and my jeans. I got Amadou to let me wear this sleeveless hoodie he had which helped a little bit. Around 11ish, we did the standard thing where all the members get introduced and line up in front of everyone. "Et maintenant, nous avons Monsieur Harley, avec le Peace Corps." (And now we have Mr. Harley with Peace Corps.) It's pretty funny that certain people don't use the French translation of Peace Corps (Corps de la Paix) but instead on not only using the English name but also pronouncing the P and S at the end. C'mon guys, it's a French word to begin with.
I stayed for the first two obligatory dances and then Mbirama and I headed out, after I'd given him my free beer tickets so he didn't have to pay for the ones he'd been tossing back. I think I told people I had a headache (partially true) but really these types of Veterans parties get really boring for me and I was freezing. I went back and immediately hopped in to bed and went to sleep. I was a bit cold that night because I only had a sheet covering me but I managed and woke up a little after sun rise.
I went for a walk with Mbirama who wanted to go visit one of his friends who had been sick. Well, we got there and the guy immediately offered me a beer. As it was 8 AM I turned it down and instead asked for some tea. Mbirama took the beer and I was given a bit of tea and bread. After a few minutes Mbirama got up, left the room with his beer and left me with his friend who was just getting over malaria. That was a little bit awkward for a while because I think both of us felt obliged to make conversation. we were somewhat constrained because I was having some difficulties understanding the accent and he was having a hard time mustering the energy to speak after his bout with malaria. After about 10 minutes Mbirama came back and we took off back to his house.
We hung out for a little bit there, and I was getting impatient because the previous night I was told to arrive back at the restaurant place at 8AM for breakfast and then loading up for the long ride back to Ngong. Well, by now it was about 9. He kept insisting that I wait, be patient, he wanted to give me some breakfast. I was very grateful but the dude did not want to understand that I wanted to get back to where I was supposed to be. I know how bad this sounds, but his hospitality was starting to turn into a bit of a weight on my shoulders. Eventually I just said screw it, if the veterans need me, they'll call me, and I'll just wait here. Well, we had some meat in an oil-tomato sauce with bread and then they even got me a nescafe. Finally after that was done, I had some pictures taken with him and his family, and then we hopped on his moto to go to the restaurant. After we pull out a few feet he stops and says, I forgot something. Fantastic. Well, he went back into his compound and comes out with about a 10 kilo bag of unshelled peanuts. "It's a gift for you from me!" he told me.
I had some more breakfast at the restaurant and the veterans were slowly trickling in. Some were already on their second beer (it was about 10 am). I bought myself and Amadou a couple Djinos (like a fruity soda) and then for good measure I tried to buy Mbirama one too, but he asked to trade it for a beer. He had been so hospitable to me, even when it annoyed me, that I didn't really have the heart to tell him no. We gave some speeches to the Mogode members present about how grateful we were for the good time and how much we appreciated it. The president of the club said that we would actually be taking two buses back to Ngong, one for us and one for all of the babies they made that night. Holla.
So we loaded up the bus, hopped aboard, bid adieu to Mogode, and headed off to Rhumsiki, about 10 k down the road and a big tourist spot in Cameroon...
So the match was a 1-1 tie. After the game we split up and went back to our respective houses to clean up. I took a bucket bath and Mbirama, the man of the house and my host, insisted that the water be heated up over the fire first. I tried for a while to persuade him that it wasn't necessary and I could shower with cold water with no problem. After a while, though, I just gave up. Sometimes it's better to accept the hospitality and be grateful, even if it's really not necessary. To top it off, the water was actually too hot! It wasn't necessarily burning but I was kind of uncomfortable at how hot it was.
Me and Mbirama wandered around Mogode a bit because I wanted to buy him a beer. Well, we went over to one bar and walked in and it looked like there was a little community group meeting happening. Everybody stared at me so I said "bonsoir." I could have broken the ice a little better with Fulfulde if we'd been somewhere else but this was Kapsiki country and people don't speak Fulfulde too much around there. We sat down and after some discussion we realized the bar was out of beer. Well fantastic. So we went to another bar down the street where they did have beer and a few other veterans were hanging out. Well, I didn't get to buy him a beer because he immediately paid for it. So much for trying to be a good guest, this guy was bending over backwards to be a good host.
We wandered over to the restaurant/community center/main bar in town where we were holding our party that night and eventually things got started. Mbirama was drinking beer like a fish and kept tagging along with me the whole time. I guess it was fine but I was enjoying talking with my friends and other members of the Mogode community as well. He even jumped right into my conversation with the Commandant of Yagoua (the general in charge of the troops in a big city in the extreme north) who was visiting his family here for the weekend by saying, "Hey, do you know me?" I kinda tried to keep my distance from Mbirama and circulated around to the other tables which was too bad because the Commandant I'd been talking to was really interesting. He even thought I was Canadian at first. I asked him if that was supposed to be a compliment, but he didn't get my joke.
Eventually we ate, some standard Cameroonian fare: shish-kabob style meat, grilled fish, ndole, rice, plantains, etc. It was pretty decent but by the time all of the food got out, some of it had become pretty cold. Naturally, because I'm a nasarra, I was one of the first people asked to go up and grab my portion. Again, this is a time where it's best to just accept it and move on, if you argue people will think you aren't grateful.
By this point it was beginning to get pretty chilly. Mogode is up at a higher elevation and gets pretty cold at night at some times during the year. This was one of those times. I was only wearing a short-sleeve shirt and my jeans. I got Amadou to let me wear this sleeveless hoodie he had which helped a little bit. Around 11ish, we did the standard thing where all the members get introduced and line up in front of everyone. "Et maintenant, nous avons Monsieur Harley, avec le Peace Corps." (And now we have Mr. Harley with Peace Corps.) It's pretty funny that certain people don't use the French translation of Peace Corps (Corps de la Paix) but instead on not only using the English name but also pronouncing the P and S at the end. C'mon guys, it's a French word to begin with.
I stayed for the first two obligatory dances and then Mbirama and I headed out, after I'd given him my free beer tickets so he didn't have to pay for the ones he'd been tossing back. I think I told people I had a headache (partially true) but really these types of Veterans parties get really boring for me and I was freezing. I went back and immediately hopped in to bed and went to sleep. I was a bit cold that night because I only had a sheet covering me but I managed and woke up a little after sun rise.
I went for a walk with Mbirama who wanted to go visit one of his friends who had been sick. Well, we got there and the guy immediately offered me a beer. As it was 8 AM I turned it down and instead asked for some tea. Mbirama took the beer and I was given a bit of tea and bread. After a few minutes Mbirama got up, left the room with his beer and left me with his friend who was just getting over malaria. That was a little bit awkward for a while because I think both of us felt obliged to make conversation. we were somewhat constrained because I was having some difficulties understanding the accent and he was having a hard time mustering the energy to speak after his bout with malaria. After about 10 minutes Mbirama came back and we took off back to his house.
We hung out for a little bit there, and I was getting impatient because the previous night I was told to arrive back at the restaurant place at 8AM for breakfast and then loading up for the long ride back to Ngong. Well, by now it was about 9. He kept insisting that I wait, be patient, he wanted to give me some breakfast. I was very grateful but the dude did not want to understand that I wanted to get back to where I was supposed to be. I know how bad this sounds, but his hospitality was starting to turn into a bit of a weight on my shoulders. Eventually I just said screw it, if the veterans need me, they'll call me, and I'll just wait here. Well, we had some meat in an oil-tomato sauce with bread and then they even got me a nescafe. Finally after that was done, I had some pictures taken with him and his family, and then we hopped on his moto to go to the restaurant. After we pull out a few feet he stops and says, I forgot something. Fantastic. Well, he went back into his compound and comes out with about a 10 kilo bag of unshelled peanuts. "It's a gift for you from me!" he told me.
I had some more breakfast at the restaurant and the veterans were slowly trickling in. Some were already on their second beer (it was about 10 am). I bought myself and Amadou a couple Djinos (like a fruity soda) and then for good measure I tried to buy Mbirama one too, but he asked to trade it for a beer. He had been so hospitable to me, even when it annoyed me, that I didn't really have the heart to tell him no. We gave some speeches to the Mogode members present about how grateful we were for the good time and how much we appreciated it. The president of the club said that we would actually be taking two buses back to Ngong, one for us and one for all of the babies they made that night. Holla.
So we loaded up the bus, hopped aboard, bid adieu to Mogode, and headed off to Rhumsiki, about 10 k down the road and a big tourist spot in Cameroon...
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