Namesake Babies, Nursery School Programs, and Namaste: Week Two of Life In My African Village

Although no less busy or enlightening than my first week, I can already tell that I’m feeling more comfortable here in Kembong, and therefore, this week was that much more rewarding, not to mention filled with exciting stuff. Monday started off with “making sport” (as exercising is called here) with Tita (one of the policemen that was formerly employed by the Peace Corps in Yaoundé) and David (my landlord). We ran down to the GHS (government high school) at one end of town, and then ran back to do some stretching at the dirt track area on the Presbyterian school grounds across from my house. Although there were multiple weird stares as we all jogged along, it was so worth it – not only had I been wanting to run for a while, but the action of being seen around the community, while valuable in and of itself, was heightened by the fact that I was exercising with two prominent community members, thus pinpointing me as a serious player in the community. I suggested that sometime in the future we could all do one of the exercise by doing one of the yoga video sessions that I had brought. Being that yoga isn’t really a thing here, I seriously doubt that this will actually happen, but hey, doesn’t hurt to offer. I also decided to conduct ‘protocol’ (lots of meet and greets) with the various schools in the community to introduce myself, state my purpose for being in Kembong, yadda yadda, after having heard from the students/kids that daily visit me that they originally thought that I was a tourist, but after having stayed for several weeks, figured that I was either A) a crazy person, or B) something more than a simple tourist, since what person would be crazy enough to want to spend a significant amount of time in an African village at the beginning of the dry season?! Conducting protocol was extremely valuable on a number of levels: firstly, I was able to express to the students that my name is “Aunty Vaaaaall” or “Aunty Vah-leer-eee” (said with an emphasis on all three syllables), and not “Aunty White Man” or “White Man”; secondly, that I’m not a doctor or nurse and although would be more than happy to discuss any and all health concerns, the kids should not come to me in lieu of going to the health center for treatment/medicine; thirdly, that I’m incredibly interested in getting to know the community, learning the Ejagham dialect, and interacting with all of the community members, essentially extending an open visit invitation to any of the children; and finally, that although I love to give the kids snacks (the villagers have a habit of giving me fruit in bulk (‘hey, here’s a gigantic popo (as papaya is called here) that there’s no conceivable way you can either keep or eat before it goes bad/gets overly ripe!’), I cannot feed all of the children that come to me telling me they are hungry, nor give any medicine to children and adults alike that show up at my door telling me they are sick – essentially: although I am a Health PCV, that doesn’t mean that I’m here to replace the clinical services at the health center. Several hours later and a case of near laryngitis later, I had successfully visited the government technical college (not actually a college, but more like a trade high school), the government high school, the government nursery school, and the Presbyterian primary and nursery schools, leaving only the Catholic and government primary schools left for January (as the schools were doing wrap up activities before the holiday break). I was grateful that the teachers in each of the classrooms had assisted me in translating what I had said (even though I had spoken very slowly in English) into Pidgin, so that the children were sure to understand it. Overall, it went very well, and especially at GHS, where I was able to speak with the health club coordinators and brainstorm ideas for the future for health activities within GHS, in the other schools in Kembong, and for the community as a whole. The students also invited me to their ‘Social’ day on Wednesday, wanting me to do a presentation on HIV/AIDS – a topic not only relevant in Africa, but especially for this target group that is likely to become sexually active in the next few years (if not already). I’ll also be assisting the GTC with the formation of a health club, starting in January. I left the government nursery school (the preschool/pre-K equivalent in the States) with an invitation to their holiday party on Wednesday, which I graciously accepted. Tuesday brought the arrival of the weekly antenatal clinic at the health center and the village market. After having helped with the clinic the week prior, I was eager to assist the pregnant women with the intake forms, taking their height and weight, and then helping Pauline with the actual examination (palpating the belly, checking the position of the baby, and checking the baby’s heartbeat – even having heard it several times by this point, it never fails to utterly amaze me). I also chatted with the Chief of the health center, as he wants me to conduct some disease surveillance for the four diseases with the potential to reach epidemic proportions (the Cameroonian government has declared that if even there are suspect cases of any of the following diseases, samples must be sent to Yaoundéé, and if even one case is positive, the area is declared an epidemic zone with various accompanying actions): tetanus (both adult and child), measles, polio, and yellow fever. Just as a note for all you worriers: I’ve been vaccinated for all those, so have no fear. Essentially what the Chief wants me to do is to be on the lookout for anyone exhibiting symptoms, and I suggested that we use the health clubs at the schools as a further means of reaching the community – if there’s a suspect case, the person should come to the health center, or me (if I’m closer to where they are), and we’ll travel to the health center to conduct the necessary bodily tests. On another exciting health note, through both active and passive surveillance for children with bowed legs, I’ve found over 11 children (all under 5 years of age) that have the condition. Again, I can’t say definitively that calcium deficiency is the cause, but I certainly don’t think that having the children and their caregiver come to the health center to get the calcium supplements (which also contact vitamin C) and vitamin A supplements would hurt them in any way. Although this is both very sad, but fantastic news from a health standpoint, I’ve come to realize that it has tainted my view of children: wherever I go, after giving a cursory glance to the child’s face and greeting them, I look down to inspect the legs for evidence of bowing…. probably not the best strategy to make friends. On a sobering note, I also discovered the first step of what the Kembong health center does for disposal of medical waste: there’s a huge garbage bin that’s positioned outside the health center and anything from bloodied cotton balls from the IVs that have been administered on the roughly hewn wooden benches outside the health center rooms, to the needles used to administer them, are thrown into the bin – definitely not the best situation, since the bin is accessible to anyone and everyone, children included. Although I don’t know if this has been a problem in the past, I’m thinking there has to be a better initial step in medical waste disposal; even moving the bin inside so that there’s no risk of the public getting into it would be better than the current situation. Ah well, I’ll add it to the rapidly expanding project list. On a happier note, there was a woman at the health center who had just delivered a healthy baby girl, her third child, and asked me to come up with some American names to choose one for their child, or so I thought. When I presented them with a list that Teckla (the other nurse at the health center) and I had compiled, they said ‘Oh no no! We want to name our child your name! Will you let our child have your name?’ After having experienced many interesting lost in translation moments with my name (Valery is a common boys’ name, but only in the Anglophone regions – gaaah! See ‘Blooper Reel’ post for more explanation), I thought it would be a good idea to name the child ‘Valeria’ instead, so now there is a baby Valeria Ruth in Kembong. Think of ‘Valeria’ being pronounced not like ‘malaria’ (in my opinion, the prettier pronunciation of the name), but rather like ‘diarrhea’ with the difference in syllable emphasis – the irony is that I was trying to give the child a name that sounded nice and with which she wouldn’t get teased, and due to the foreignness of the name, it didn’t end up that way – haha, oh well, it’s the thought that counts. And needless to say, I felt very honored, and as familial and name associations go here, the baby is now considered like a daughter to me. On Wednesday, I went to the GHS Social and found out that my little presentation maybe in front of 15 people turned into me giving the presentation with a microphone in front of the entire school. After taking my position with the rest of the student council as a guest judge in front of the gathered students, I gave my presentation about prevention and transmission of HIV/AIDS…and have never been met with more blank stares in my life. Even though I was speaking slowly, loudly and clearly, either the students didn’t really understand what I was saying, or wanted me to stop talking with them so that they could get to their more exciting events of the day (probably a combination of both). After talking with the Chief of the health center and Pauline, we agreed that it would probably be more comfortable for the students to come to me regarding family planning questions, rather than come all the way to the health center. With this in mind, and given that male condoms are currently being distributed for free at the health center (normally they are 5 CFA – super cheap, even in Cameroon), they gave me a bunch of male condoms to distribute if any male or female Kembongians came requesting them from me. From the Social, I went to the nursery school holiday celebration, where I was surprised to be invited as a guest of honor to sit at the head table. The children’s program for the day included: singing, little skits, rhyme and Bible verse recitation, and a model walk competition (in which both girls and boys participated). During the model walk, one of the teachers narrated with comments that included: ‘oh look at this little American girl! She walks just like she’s been living in America for five years! Just look at that walk’ and ‘oh, now this is a little German boy right here! He has just come back from living in Germany with that walk!’ Needless to say, the commentary was hilarious, made even more so as I was the only foreigner in the room, and none of the others there had ever been outside of Cameroon. A less amusing moment was when the children went to recite their rhymes, one of which being “I am a banana, color me yellow, eat me and I will give you vitamin C, vitamin C, vitamin C.’ This is problematic for a number of reasons: firstly, bananas don’t actually give you vitamin C, but rather vitamin K (potassium); secondly, the teachers are teaching this rhyme wrong and inadvertently teaching the children wrong information that could negatively affect their health; and finally, the students are reciting this rhyme not only at school, but at home and in the community, thereby serving to perpetuate wrong information for future generations. Dealing with this too will be added to the project list. The rest of the week passed with several more highlights. The first was when Besong (the man who is going to give me the blue sapphire) came to my house and, with the two other children there (two of my favorites, Kelly and Vincent) decided to start teaching me the Ejagham dialect, giving me a history of the language in the process – super cool. I now have the basic greetings in my language arsenal, and am really looking forward to learning more! The second was Julia coming to stay with me on Friday (since the rest of the cluster is gone at IST – in-service training, conducted six months into your service – Julia and I have been trying to get together either at her place in Afab or mine in Kembong to keep each other company). After listening to some of her tales from Afab, I have a newfound appreciation for life in Kembong with reliable running water and welcoming, wonderful people. Other highlights were: having the carpenter come to install my self-designed kitchen cabinets and armoire, meeting more people in the community (especially as I went to the Catholic mission church this week), and going to a traditional wedding. The traditional wedding was held in the backyard area of one of Pauline’s uncle’s compound, and was really neat. The ceremony started off with a female member of the bride’s family (typically her mother or stepmother) leading out different women, one-by-one, hidden by a sheet, and the bride’s father and groom had to guess which one was the bride (the guessing process could be aided by bribing the mother to be able to touch the sheet-clad woman). After the correct bride was brought out and guessed, the bride and groom (each clad in the traditional wedding garb of blue), sat down and waited as the elder men (in this case, the bride’s father) handed out rations of palm wine. After several men had come up and chugged a gigantic glass of warm (and incredibly strong) palm wine, the father turned to me and said ‘now it’s the mokara’s turn’ (mokara is the term for ‘white man’ in Ejagham). Apart from being incredibly surprised that he thought highly enough of me (I had met him the day before the ceremony) to warrant me getting a portion of palm wine before other male elders in the community (a big deal), terror set in as I thought about the prospect of having to chug warm and strong palm wine in front of the hundred or so guests seated outside (did I mention that Pauline, my host for the wedding, had promptly abandoned me upon arrival, citing business at the health center? Gaaahh!). I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I realized that he was getting a separate glass (yay for the prospect of no meningitis since I wouldn’t be sharing a glass that 10 men before me had drank out of!) and that since I was a woman, could serenely drink the palm wine at my seat in the audience – phew! After giving it a valiant effort of drinking half, I passed the rest off to my pseudo-host for the event, a woman I had never met who Pauline had told to answer any questions I had while she was gone. After the palm wine ceremony (only select members of the audience got the palm wine), popcorn and peanuts were passed out in addition to beer and other drinks while the bride and groom where questioned to determine whether or not they were actually fit and ready to marry. By the time that the huge tubs of food were brought out, the bride, groom, and representatives from both families had gone inside the house to hash out the details of the bride price (around 500,000 CFA that the groom’s family would pay to the bride’s – again, conversion rate is roughly 500 CFA to $1). After the food and drinking, then came the dancing (dancing is really big here – everyone from small children to elderly individuals is expected to dance, and seemingly really enjoys it). Another huge highlight was accidentally stumbling upon the initiation parade/ceremony of the Ekpe society, the most prominent secret society in Kembong. I am highly interested in the kind of countercultural elements of the community, like traditional medical systems, including witchcraft and sorcery, and the functioning of secret societies (although they’re not really ‘countercultural’ here, but rather just another element of the culture). From what I’ve learned from various community members, the Ekpe secret society is ‘secret’ in the sense that they have secret rituals in which only the male members can participate (only men can be members of Ekpe, but there’s a branch called ‘Nkanba,’ or ‘Nkanda,’ in which females can participate). The secret rituals are part of larger public ceremonies (more like parades) throughout the village proper. The society has several levels, the highest of them being seseku (pronounced like ‘sissykoo’), which are differentiated by the wearing of crocheted white caps that are decorated by small conch shells, feathers, and anything else the wearer feels is significant, and a towel or scarf laid over the left shoulder. The society, as Pauline herself said “doesn’t include any bad juju,” meaning that the society doesn’t do human sacrifices or anything else like that, but is rather a type of village disciplinary action. For example, if a man beats his wife and is a member of Ekpe (or even if he is not), and Ekpe members find out, the Ekpe members will come to the man’s house and tell him that the ‘ngbe’ or ‘mgbe’ (the mythical tiger symbolizing peace, success, and goodness) has left the house and gone into the bush, and the man must make some reparations (not just by paying a few CFA, but a pretty hefty sanction so that the man really feels the punishment) so that the ngbe will return to the house through a ceremony that other Ekpe members will do. Very interesting stuff. Although every day is often a rollercoaster of emotions, I’m learning and doing a lot in my village, and for the vast majority of the time, enjoying the hell out of it.