Adventures with Julia

Friday, March 23, 2018

After a lovely afternoon and evening at the Hilton Hotel in N’Djamena with internet and wifi and a delightfully clean, cool swimming pool, I was up late on the 21st getting my Chad post out as well as the information post on Cameroon. Shortly after going to bed the cramps hit me and I spent most of the rest of the night in the bathroom. Some anti-diarrheal meds finally curbed the situation, but I was completely exhausted the entire next day.

The drive from N’Djamena to Bangor was long, very hot and bumpy. The bus we were in had no suspension and our driver felt obliged to nearly stop for every bump in the potholed asphalt road. On top of that the AC quit after a short time and we all struggled with the heat. Our new guide, a Spanish native named Willie who has lived in Cameroon for 20 years, wanted to please us with sightseeing stops. All I wanted to do was get to the next hotel and go to bed. However, we stopped for a cluster of Musgum tribal houses, that looked like tall bee hives with stucco finish inside and out. A little later on we stopped for a good sized road side market. I stayed in the bus. Just too hot for me to manage. While in the bus, many people passed by and I got a few photos without having to move. I saw one boy pouring a small portion of what looked like moonshine for an old lady, who drank it right down. Once he saw me watching him he walked away. Wonder how brisk his old lady sales are.

Back on the road it felt like the bumps got deeper and bigger and the bus went slower the further we got from the city. Around 2:45 the driver stopped so he and the other muslims traveling with us could pray. That was only a 10 minute stop. I noticed that no one asked about lunch or for a bathroom stop until 4pm. In spite of drinking lots of water the heat was dehydrating us and we had no appetite. About 4:30 we pulled into the Hotel Moderne of Bongor. Modern it was not. Every one had problems with their room. We had a major hole in the bathtub and had to carefully watch where to stand not to fall into it while taking a shower that had one temperature – tepid. Meanwhile, the water in the sink went directly through the sink onto the floor. Our AC worked when the power was on, but that was intermittent. Dinner, the first of many identical meals provided for us in Chad, consisted of fried chicken cut in strange pieces, fish in a tomato and onion stew, rice, french fries, green salad, dried bread and fresh fruit for dessert. None of us touched the salad, even though we agreed that it looked good. I ate some rice and fruit and went to bed.
Even though the whole hotel was dirty and even the sheets on our bed were not clean, I was too tired to care. I dropped off about 8pm and woke up around 2 when I got hot because the AC was off. Fortunately the power was on, I got the AC going again and dropped off again. Then at 4am the power went off for good. Fortunately the night had cooled down some and we were able to continue sleeping.

This morning, Friday, the 23rd we were all up and at breakfast at 7. Everyone had a tale to tell about their night at the Moderne. I felt grateful to have had a good night’s sleep and be functioning again. Back on the same bus, we pass through Bangor, which was not much of a town, got to the TChad immigration station on the banks of the Logon River and spent a hour waiting for the police to stamp our passports. While waiting, Willie told us the tall statuesque people we were seeing belong to the Massa Tribe, which dominates this part of Chad and Cameroon and are largely fishermen. The women wear skirts and tops made from colorful fabrics that look similar to styles we remembered seeing in Dakar years ago. Once those formalities were over we walked to the edge of the river and climbed into a long, thin motorized pirogue to cross the placid quarter mile wide, but shallow river. At the top of the river bank, we went through another 45 minutes of waiting for the Cameroon immigration police to review and stamp our passports. We were each asked what we did before we declared ourselves retired. We all contemplated fantastical occupations but settled for something plausible when our turn came.

Shortly after 10am, we climbed into a new bus. Wow!   Great AC, good suspension and, even better, a good, dirt road. We passed by many small farms where people were tending vegetable gardens before the day gets too hot. Suddenly we stopped at a new cluster of Musgum Tribal houses. This tribe is made up mostly of farmers and they seem to get on fine with the Massa people. The clothing on the Massa ladies tending these houses, was equally colorful and dressy. One handsome woman gave us a tour of the houses, which are on display for tourists and not inhabited. Current houses are larger and more contemporary.

Toupouri women doing a traditional tribal dance at the culture center near the Chad border.

Not long after that stop we arrived at a small museum and Cultural Center where local dancers from a third tribe, Toupouis, were expecting us and had several performances planned. There were three groups of women dancers and one group of men.

One of the happy dancers and her baby

The women wore costumes and danced to bongo drumming and gourd rattling music. the small male group each played a different antler horn. The sound was quite musical and it was interesting to watch the men play. A small museum of old and not so old artifacts had a few interesting pieces: shields that also function as doors to dwellings and nicely carved iron bracelets caught my eye.

Our next stop was to visit a Sultan,(chief) who was also expecting us and invited us into his home for drinks and sesame seed balls, made with sticky water to hold them together in a ball. Tasty. The Sultan, has been appointed the Administrator of the area and oversees civil disputes. He had several young boys demonstrate their horsemanship to us and showed us a building the Germans built in the 1850’s that he says he will remodel into a nice new palace..…one day. Wishful thinking.

Then lunch at a restaurant near the Sultan’s home. The meal was a copy of dinner the night before, with an avocado and tomato salad we all felt safe eating. Then we hit the road about 2:30 for a long 4+ hour drive to Garoua. At first the road was good and the roadside was free of plastic and trash, but after an hour, as we entered the Moudang tribal area, the road deteriorated and the trash increased until it was nearly everywhere. Am not sure there is any relationship.

About 2 hours into the ride, a sand storm from the south, called a harmatanm, came up that nearly blocked out the light. When it passed, rain began and continued intermittently for over an hour. When it was done the temperature had dropped considerably and we actually turned down the AC. The landscape is still nearly flat with occasional ancient volcanic hills popping up above the terrain. Much of the land has been farmed and the many cotton and millet fields are fallow as the locals wait for planting season, which begins in May, just before the big rains come in June. The same with large bundles of thatch, which are leaning against nearly every building we pass. Everyone gathers the thatch and waits to put it on their roofs until just before the rains. Everyone pitches in and helps each other get the work done. Sure a lot to do just before the rains hit.

After dark we pull into Garoua and make it to the Hotel La Tour D’Argent just in time for dinner, which was…yep…the same as lunch and dinner the night before. I ate some rice and fruit. At this rate I will loose a bunch of weight. Mark is not eating much either. The room is small, but much cleaner that the Modern Hotel the night before and the power and AC work. The bathroom is a trip. When the hotel was built, showers must not have been included in the plans. All the rooms now have exposed plumbing with a hot water heater perched above the shower head. When you are using the shower, the toilet next to it gets wet along with you and the floor. On request we thankfully received a second towel. The double bed we had to share was very firm, so we did not roll into each other. The pillow was equally solid and firm. We were both glad we had our blow up pillows. Except for actually getting too cold, we were comfortable and slept reasonably well.

Saturday, March 24, 2018

By 7:30 I was hungry and glad to have freshly cooked scrambled eggs, bread and coffee. Our new guide, Wandji, arrived in time to tell us what our next plans include. First we will drive 3.5 hours to the village of Poli in the Faro Valley south of Garoua. About 2 hours on potholed asphalt and 1.5 hours over very rough dirt roads to the village. Then we will spend time visiting the Saturday market in the village, before continuing the short drive to Camp Bukaru, where we have lunch and check out our individual round, brick and thatched roof abode, home for the night.

It all came to pass as Wandji said. Along the way to Poli, we bought 6 mangoes for 300 francs (about 75 cents) and passed a couple of police check points with no problems. Abdoul had made sure our papers were in good order. Wandji talked about Cameroon as we drove along. It takes about 1000 francs to buy a good meal, but most people earn only 500 francs a day. In the country people grow their own food to get by. City dwellers are dependent on food coming from rural areas and need a good job to pay for necessities. He thinks that 200,000 francs per month is what it takes to have a home and a comfortable life and believes 40% of the population is able to manage this. Mark and I both question the percentage. Fuel is expensive. Even though Cameroon exports oil, and the government subsidizes it, the cost at the pump is 650 francs per liter, a little over $1.00. In Liberia it is only 200 francs. Primary school is free and compulsory and supposedly 80% of the population is literate. Secondary school is not free, but affordable by many families. The government will provide high school scholarships for students who demonstrate superior ability. What we saw were many empty looking schools and lots of school age kids on the streets and wondered if the problem is lack of teachers and supplies. Meanwhile, health care is not free. Only people with AIDS and pregnant women and small children with malaria receive free medical treatment. Doctors and hospitals are expensive for everyone.

18 wheeler enroute to Poli with soft drinks. Very bad road.

As we neared Poli, the dirt track was a rollercoaster of continuous potholes, that made our ranch roads seem like a superhighway. The only other traffic was an 18 wheeler headed for Poli with a load of soft drinks. Very slowly we followed it until there was just enough room to squeeze around it.

A Mbororo woman at the market in Poli. Notice the tattoos and scarification on her head.

The Poli market was colorful, if not large, and was clearly a place for young people to make contact with each other. It is also a tribe of people that use facial tattoos as a beautification technique.

One of several pretty women at the weekly Poli market, where young people come to socialize.

French is spoken by most as well as tribal languages. Although the country is officially bilingual, we have not encountered any English speakers so far.

Another colorful lady who kept everyone laughing.

We managed to get a few good photos before the heat got to us and we climbed back in the bus, wishing we could spend the night in it. Wandji tells us that 75% of the population in Cameroon is Christian, 25% is Muslim and 100% is Animist.

The camp has 11 cottages and we are the only guests. After a wonderful lunch of hot pasta with meat sauce and fresh watermelon and mango, I finally felt pleasantly full, with no queasiness in my tummy. Now it is nap time until 5pm.

Mark showing a Mbororo boy his photo.

From camp, Abdoul took us for a walking visit to several nomad huts. The people we meet are part of the Mbororo Tribe.

A Mbororo village scene. THe woman is cooking Mealy pop, their version of grits. A typical hut is behind.

Each couple of huts is home to a family and a hundred feet or so from the next family. In each case a woman was busy preparing the evening meal, while kids stared at us and tried to sell us beaded jewelry and the men posed for photos.

A young Mbororo girl and her sibling.

The women are much more reticent about us taking photos even after they see what it looks like.

A teenage girl shows us her tattoos and her scarification that marks her as a Mbororo woman.

The women all have tribal scarification along their hair line as well as facial tattoos. For them it is a mark of beauty. The young women are indeed quite pretty.

A Mbororo mother feeding her baby. I got a photo with a mixed signal.

Mbororo wealth posing in the setting light

Back at camp, our dinner was a spinach and beef concoction that looked OK, but did not sit well with me. I had watched the lady preparing it and cleaning the greens in local water and should have know better. However, I was the only one who had a GI reaction. Back on anti-diarrheal pills. Am sure glad we remembered to bring them. It was a long, hot night. At 5am I was happy to have a cold shower.

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Stale bread, jelly and hot water with Nescafe was breakfast. At 7am we gladly departed Camp Bukara. We were in the air conditioned bus only a half hour, but it felt good. Then we began a 4 mile hike to spend the day and night with the Dupa Tribe who live in the hills off the beaten path. We have come a long way for this experience and hope it will be worth the trouble.

Our first encounter with Dupa people. The women are shelling ground nuts and the man is spinning cotton yarn.

After about 3 miles we crest a hill and find three people sitting under a tree. The man is wearing a loose top and shorts and is spinning cotton into yarn. The two women are naked, except for green leaves gathered in front and back at the waist. They sit shucking ground nuts into a large bowl made from a gourd. They seemed unperturbed by our presence and continued their work. We were surprised, but tried to act as if nothing was amiss and waited for the rest of our group and our guide to catch up. Wandji informed us that these were 3 Dupa people who were waiting for us and we were welcome to take photos.

The approach to the Dupa Village

After spending some time with them, we continued our walk to their village, arriving about 10am just ahead of the heat. There we met 20 or so other tribe members and were shown the shady place they had prepared for us to use as a camp site. It turns out Abdul, our logistics guy, knew the tribe and was able to communicate with them and get us invited to spend time with them.

The Dupa VIllage Elder, who claims to be 104, welcomes us to his village.

Although we felt awkward, we were invited to watch the village elder counsel a couple village members, who each paid him with a chicken for his service as a healer. Then he offered to counsel each of us.

The Elder accepting a chicken in exchange for counseling the man about his health.

He showed us one of the tools of his trade; a bowl with water, a few rocks, a sea shell, a piece of cactus and a small ball that floated. He stirred the water and the contents with his finger, pulled out 2 items and handed them to each of us in turn. We held them in our closed palm for a minute and handed them back to him. He returned them to the bowl and swirled it with his finger again and then smiled and motioned to each of us that we were welcome and shook our hands. Silly, but serious to him and his tribe. While he was “counseling” each of us, we were told that he is 104 years old and that he remembered being a porter for the Germans when Cameroon was under their control. We all thought he looked to be a very strong and healthy 50-70 year old at best. No where near 104.

The Dupa Elder, his 15 year old son and the flute player.

He proudly introduced us to his son, who is about 15, also strong and healthy, but still without facial hair. Once he has face hair he will be considered an adult and must leave his parent’s home and form his own family unit, although he does not need to move far away.

Our camp next to the Dupa Village. Took this photo in the early morning.

There being nothing else happening, we organized our lunch of rice and canned vegetables and tuna. Not exciting, but edible. Then we set up our campsite with tents, bed rolls and supplies that had been carried in by people Abdul had hired. We wiled away the day watching the Dupa go about their day.

The process of making Sorgum beer.

One woman, who seemed to be in charge, went about the process of making sorghum beer with jugs of water carried from the nearby creek drainage and sorghum. She poured the mixture into a cloth sieve and squeezed the liquid through the cloth, then added another mixture and did it again, the squeezed the cloth very tightly and emptied the remaining contents into another bowl. She repeated the process over and over until she had make a at least 2 gallons of the beer. Then the beer was heated over an open fire and something I could not identify was added. She stuck her whole arm into the pot to stir the contents thoroughly. It could not have been too warm as it had not cooked very long. Then she scooped a large portion into a bowl for the elder, who slurped it down with gusto. He offered us some, but got no takers. Wandji told us the beer should be left to ferment for several days to give it more kick. Apparently, the family did not want to wait.

It was then mid-afternoon and the village grew quiet as people napped, so we did too. After awhile, I wandered around the village and encountered 3-4 individual family compounds, clustered near the communal space we occupied. The houses, or huts, were each about 12 feet in diameter and made of mud and bricks with pitched straw roofs and a door opening. One such hut was clearly for women and children only. Here there was more activity. The women sat around chatting as they did chores and prepared the evening meal. Everyone appeared to be healthy. Some were even plump. All of them had lovely, lustrous skin, strong muscles and great posture. They were comfortable within themselves and seemed happy with their life style. We learned that they are animist and believe in living in tune with nature, which means that they wear as little covering as possible and live a simple existence using very few things from the modern world. The only store bought items I saw were bullion cubes for flavoring, oil to cook with and cigarettes. They live a day’s walk from the nearest market and can sell and buy goods there.

Fetching water at the nearby creek. They have lined the area with rocks and sand to keep it clean.

There were corrals for their cattle and for fields for raising their vegetables. I wandered all around looking for their source of water, but did not find it until a couple of ladies headed out with empty pots on their heads. So I followed them and sure enough, just where I had not looked, was a small, but clean, clear. cool source of creek water. Each of their gourds looked like it could hold a couple of gallons of water.

Two young ladies returning with water.  We were told that the one woman’s breasts were badly damaged from a fire when she was little.  She is lucky to be alive.

Once they had filled them, using smaller gourds as scoops, the stronger one helped the other lift her gourd onto her head, then hoisted her own gourd and off they walked back to the village, about a hundred yards away.

I watched and smiled as they sautéed onions and bullion cubes in some oil and then boiled water to make mealy pop, the African version of cooked grits we have seen in many countries on this continent. I was very sorry not to be able to communicate with the women. It was clearly a lost opportunity. I can only imagine the stories they could have shared. From our guide we were able to learn that there are 12 families in this small area and 52 Dupa communities like this one with around 1000 people living in the Poli Valley. Infant mortality is high, so the population does not increase much. Their only source of medical treatment comes from the village elder, who offers advice only. There are no school education and no conveniences. They truly live in and with nature.

The Dupa men sharing dinner.

The Dupa ate their meal before dark. The men ate separately from the women and children. Each group ate with their hands from one bowl.

The women and children sharing their evening meal.

After the meal, they brought out their musical instruments and prepared to dance. While they made preparations, we had our dinner of spaghetti with a stewed chicken sauce that was prepared by one of our porters. It was one of the chickens that had been given to the elder by one of the men he counseled. We had been suspicious when we saw a plate of feathers being carried out of the camp area. They certainly killed it quietly as we did not hear a peep from the bird.

The ladies lined up ready to dance.  The one with the green cloth is carrying her baby.

Then the music and dancing began. Their instruments included a drum, a cow bell like gong, a home made flute and their voices. They could make about 4 different sounds or tones. They were not dancing for us, as I originally thought, but for them selves as this is their ceremony for the start of the seed planting season. We were clearly incidental to their activity and they payed almost no attention to us.

The women led the singing and seemed to choose which song and dance would come next.

Dancing the Dupa way.

It was all a bit monotonous to my ear, but the dance steps changed subtly and the songs varied as well. They continued until well after dark with only a small fire for light. Before they were done, we had all retired to our tents at 7:30 and were contemplating how we would get through the night on the hard ground with little water and only nature for our needs. After the music and dancing stopped, about 8:30, the women seemed to get into a row with each other and there was a lot of shouting among them. One of the children broke into tears and the place was a racket for about 30 minutes. Finally, the whole place grew quiet and we settled in for the long night. I took pills to help sleep and actually felt rested in the morning. This was the only day we did not travel and proved to be our most interesting experience in Cameroon.