Village Life

A few days after my arrival we set out on my first site visit: a small tomato farm in a remote village.

Let me back up. I am here in Cameroon working with CEFASE, a grassroots organization that supports rural education in agriculture, domestic violence, clean water and health issues like HIV/AIDS and malaria prevention. CEFASE trained the villagers here in advanced composting techniques so they could hopefully grow enough tomatoes to be able to sell some in the market.

The village was located about an hour outside of Yaounde; a trip we made squished four-across the back seat of a mini-bus.  Upon peeling myself out of that rickety sardine can, I discovered that the remaining 12km would be done on the back of my old friend:  the boda motorbike.  Woo!

The views from the boda were amazing, as was the feeling of the wind through my hair after the poorly ventilated (read smelly) mini-bus.  Cameroon, being just north of the equator on the west coast of Africa, is a lush and hilly country offering sweeping views at pretty much every turn.  The sunsets here are dramatic, even from our small yard back in the city.

After awhile, our boda driver pulled over at a seemingly arbitrary spot in the road and indicated for us to get off.  It was only then that I noticed a narrow path leading off into the bush.  Apparently, we were hiking it in from there.

After about an hour of trekking through the deep woods, we emerged into a clearing with, miraculously, a concrete house.  This is the home of the mother of one of CEFASE’s collaborators, Isabelle and her thirty-year old daughter, Filo, who has Down Syndrome.

 

There is no electricity at the house, and a large marble grave features prominently in the front yard.  Despite my initial fear, the pit toilets were a pleasant surprise.  While featuring a wider and more vocal variety of bugs, they were cleaner and did not assault your nostrils or come with your own pig symphony.  One might even feel the tiniest bit clean after a shower in there.

As I went to brush my teeth that night, I encountered one of the most beautiful night skies I have ever seen.  Perfectly clear, in the middle of the bush with no real lights for miles – it was absolutely stunning.  I didn’t think that many stars existed.  I could have spent hours out there just staring.

Obnoxiously early next morning, I woke up to find Filo peeking at us through the room dividing curtain.  When she saw me, she ran away giggling only to return a few minutes later and continue staring. This continued until I finally gave up and just went back to sleep; suppressing the eeriness.

Kate had come to the village to interview some of the locals on the transfer of health information.  I joined her on a few of her interviews, the first being the village’s local health representative whose name I did not catch.  In that role, he is responsible for the distribution of any donated drugs and for teaching his fellow villagers how to administer them.  He was elected to this position by the community, but his full time job is still farming and building houses.  Interestingly, his father was a traditional medicine doctor (meaning tree bark and plant cures) and taught much of these skills to his son.  The man intends to practice traditional medicine when he is too old to farm any longer.  He said he believes in the power of modern medicine, but unfortunately they don’t always have the money or access to modern drugs so they are forced to rely on traditional methods.

Next we spoke to his wife about her role in selling the farmed goods to the market place. Lacking transportation to the far away towns, the villagers must rely on resellers who come to the village every so often to purchase their excess produce.  This is how the family earns money for things they cannot make themselves – such as fabric or pots/pans. The tomato farm was designed to create steadier stream of produce and thus revenue, but until that point these people would sell the various fruits they could just gather from the surrounding trees.

The people here are living a life of subsistence.  And it is not easy!  They are constantly busy: getting water, cutting firewood, gathering and cooking food, or tending to the garden and livestock.  Food is only what you plant, kill or gather.  Visitors always came by with an armload full of fruit – mandarins, grapefruit etc—that they had picked on the way.  Fresh and organic!

After another morning viewing session from Filo, we set out the next day to meet the representative of the village chief (the chief himself lives in the city of Douala) who would escort us to the tomato farm.  On our way, we ran into a large group of people on a hillside.  Celestine went to greet them, and as we approached we realized they were digging something: a grave. Apparently, a few weeks before two men had gotten into a fight and one had stabbed the other.  The burial was to be the next day.  No one mentioned what became of the stabber…

The walk to the representative’s house took about an hour down a winding dirt road.  When we arrived, we greeted the entire family briefly before setting out on yet another lengthy bush hike to the tomato farm.  I was following the representative, who was haphazardly hacking at things with a giant machete…all while wearing flip flops.

To be honest, the farm itself was not much to look at.  The harvest season had passed, but there were still some tomatoes that were too small to sell but worthy of consuming.  We all stuffed our pockets, toured the composite site and kicked up some weeds before heading back.  Once there, we talked with the chief representative and others who had participated in the program about how the project went, the revenue they generated, what the next steps were and if there was a need for any future projects with CEFASE.

By the time we were done chatting, it was dark outside.  Lit by the glow of one iPhone and our confidence in Celestine, we set out down the rugged road with pockets bulging with tomatoes and other fruit we had acquired.  The trip itself was slow but largely painless – marred only by the deafening sound of insects and the ferocious barking of an unseen dog. 

The next morning Celestine turned up dragging a large branch from a palm tree.  She threw it down and said “please, let’s make a broom.”  Sure, no problem Celestine.

As we learned, to make a broom you pull the center vein of the palm leave out, strip it clean with a knife, let it dry and then tie it together.  Let me tell you – it takes A LOT of leaves to make a broom, but the work was soothing in a way.  Plus it made me feel all traditional and African-y, which is always cool.

On the fourth day, we set back for Yaounde.  To be honest, I would have been perfectly content to spend many more days in the village.  It was interesting, beautiful, and peaceful– largely because I was banned from doing much of the heavy lifting that living there entails. 

Like much of Africa, life there is hard in the village.  Large parts of your day are dedicated to things that back home we think nothing of – getting water, doing dishes and making food (which requires first chopping wood, starting a fire and careful planning when you only have two pots).  But the work seems in a way rewarding.  I know someone back home who would even describe it as his dream lifestyle.  Personally, I think it would be nice for awhile, but at the end of the day….I still want pizza delivery.