Yesterday I was walking home down a dusty road around 5:30. I was hot and tired from a long day of research, reading and writing. I was hoping that my host mom had made that yummy yogurht drink, and that tonight, we would be able to catch up on our favorite soap opera and finally find out if Miranda would take back Leonardo.
I turned a corner and noticed a girl about my age running towards me. She was wearing beautiful purple and green fabric, and was moving as fast as she could with her long and narrow skirt. Then I noticed what she was running after: a large black goat, who seemed to be gallopping just slightly faster than she was. She called out loudly to the delinquent goat in Fulfulde but he ignored her.
My first instinct: I want to help this girl. The goat was running about four feet to my left. I stepped a little in that direction, thinking I would block it or convince it to turn around. The goat immediately understood my action and veered off even more to the left. Crap.
It was then that I realized that I had no idea how to catch a goat. Even if I could get it to run into me, what would I do? Grab it by the tail? In its middle? By its stubby horns? It wasn't my dog, it didn't have a collar. I'd seen those goats wadding around in trash piles, and I believe that they will eat pretty much anything. Would it try to eat my arm?
I decided that the best thing I could do in this situation was step aside and let this girl solve her own problems. She had infinately more experience in the goat world than me. As she ran by me, and smiled and wished her "bonne chance" and she nodded back at me. The entire exchange took about seven seconds, but it kind of sums up the way I feel about "helping" Cameroonians. They know a lot more about what they need than I ever will. My attempts to "help" could cause more problems than they would solve. If the girl had stopped and asked me for help, and explained to me just what to do, I would have been happy to support her in her efforts.
On another note: In contrary to a blog entry a few weeks back, there are a remarkable variety of words that people shout at me as I walk down the street, not just "Nassara". I decided to keep track this morning as I walked into town:
Madame Le Blanc
Ma Blanche
Ma soeur (my sister)
Ma chérie
White man
White woman
Ma fiancée
It can get a little exhausting, but overall, it seems to just be a way of being friendly and saying hello.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
what I've learned
So, I've been in Ngaoundéré for a little more than two weeks. I'm still just getting to know the city, and I still feel like I learn something new every single day. I don't have time to share everything now, but here are a few of my favorite lessons:
Lesson One: I am Overstimulated
My first few days in the house, I couldn't help but feel sorry for my host mother, Fadi. She practically never leaves the house, and spends most of her day cleaning, taking care of the kids, or just hanging out. When I spent more than a few hours at the house, I became very ansy and bored. As I left the high walls to explore the city every day, sometimes, I couldn't help but thinking, "thank god I can get out!"
As usual, my feelings regarding Fadi's life say much more about me than they do about her. Somehow, I overlooked that Fadi seems to be one of the happiest people that I've ever met. I'm the one with the problem here. At home, I check my e-mail about five times a day; I follow the complicated lives of the characters in my favorite HBO series; I usually have a novel going; if I want to listen to music, I choose from the thousands of songs on my Ipod. Am I really so addicted to being busy that I can't sit and chill out for a few hours without going crazy?
Lesson Two: How to Bargin
Still working on this one, and honestly, don't know if I will ever excel. I usually regard paying the extra francs as a small fee for avoiding confrontation with a stranger. But little by little, I'm learning, because you really can't get through a day here without knowing how to name your price. The other day, I tried to find a taxi home in the rain. After spending a few minutes looking in vain, I finally found an empty one and hopped in. Then the negociations began.
The driver wanted 1000 CFA (about two dollars), about five times the normal Cameroonian price. No way, I said. I suggested 350, which was very high for the distance I wanted to drive. He told me to be nice because he was an old man, I told him to be nice because I was a student. After about five minutes, I busted out my cellphone and told him that if he wouldn't take me, I would call my good friend Gaston who drives a nice moto. The driver stepped on the gas.
Lesson Three: I will marry a lawyer
I learned this lesson from a traditional fortune teller. After placing my hand on a bed of sand, he drew several geometric shapes and lines. After he analyzed them, I learned that my future partner will be an attorney at law. Sweet.
Lesson Four: A little more Fulbe
I try to learn a bit more of the language as I go along. My favorite expression: "waddatako" which means "impossible!". I remember as "what-a-taco."
Thats all for now, hope all is well!
Lesson One: I am Overstimulated
My first few days in the house, I couldn't help but feel sorry for my host mother, Fadi. She practically never leaves the house, and spends most of her day cleaning, taking care of the kids, or just hanging out. When I spent more than a few hours at the house, I became very ansy and bored. As I left the high walls to explore the city every day, sometimes, I couldn't help but thinking, "thank god I can get out!"
As usual, my feelings regarding Fadi's life say much more about me than they do about her. Somehow, I overlooked that Fadi seems to be one of the happiest people that I've ever met. I'm the one with the problem here. At home, I check my e-mail about five times a day; I follow the complicated lives of the characters in my favorite HBO series; I usually have a novel going; if I want to listen to music, I choose from the thousands of songs on my Ipod. Am I really so addicted to being busy that I can't sit and chill out for a few hours without going crazy?
Lesson Two: How to Bargin
Still working on this one, and honestly, don't know if I will ever excel. I usually regard paying the extra francs as a small fee for avoiding confrontation with a stranger. But little by little, I'm learning, because you really can't get through a day here without knowing how to name your price. The other day, I tried to find a taxi home in the rain. After spending a few minutes looking in vain, I finally found an empty one and hopped in. Then the negociations began.
The driver wanted 1000 CFA (about two dollars), about five times the normal Cameroonian price. No way, I said. I suggested 350, which was very high for the distance I wanted to drive. He told me to be nice because he was an old man, I told him to be nice because I was a student. After about five minutes, I busted out my cellphone and told him that if he wouldn't take me, I would call my good friend Gaston who drives a nice moto. The driver stepped on the gas.
Lesson Three: I will marry a lawyer
I learned this lesson from a traditional fortune teller. After placing my hand on a bed of sand, he drew several geometric shapes and lines. After he analyzed them, I learned that my future partner will be an attorney at law. Sweet.
Lesson Four: A little more Fulbe
I try to learn a bit more of the language as I go along. My favorite expression: "waddatako" which means "impossible!". I remember as "what-a-taco."
Thats all for now, hope all is well!
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